#thinking n pondering n wondering n contemplating

[moreknives]

thinking abt when gerard said he knew mcr was over bc he didn’t feel anything anymore when he got on stage vs when he visibly got emotional when everyone screamed for demolition lovers

[gubsbuubs]

I hate it when you're right

(18+)

Pairing: Jake Peralta x Female!Reader

Warnings: Friends to lovers; LOTS of teasing, slow burn?, Smut; Creampie; Dirty talk.

Request:Could you do a Jake Peralta x Reader work partners to hookup? Like they’ve been work partners forever, until one night way too late at the bar they hook up? And realize “oh fuck maybe i do like him like that?”

A/N: Hi, my loves! I´m not dead I swear. Here's the first Peralta smut, hope everyone enjoys. 🍒

English is not my first language - My requests are open!

"How much longer is this going to take?" Peralta's agitated voice echoed through the dark alley as he paced back and forth, his restless energy practically bouncing off the walls.

I understood his frustration; we'd been waiting for what felt like hours, when in reality, it had only been about forty minutes. Compared to the nearby street, this alley was dark and dank; graffiti adorned the walls, and the air smelled faintly of waste. At the end of it stood an abandoned store, rumored to be a hotspot for illegal drug deals. After receiving a tip earlier this nigth, we had been staking out the area in hopes of catching distributors. Slowly, I watched as Peralta's impatience grew, and I couldn't help but wonder if our tip had just been a false lead.

Amidst the distant sounds of traffic and the faint hum of the city, Jake's distressed movements seemed amplified; every passing car and distant footstep only seemed to fuel his uneasiness. Honestly, I couldn't blame him; this place gave off major creepy vibes, but we had a job to do, and that meant keeping our cool and waiting for the right person to arrive.

"Hey, take a breather," I suggested, attempting to soothe his nervous demeanor. "You're coming off a bit suspicious."

He halted in his tracks, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that. I just can't stand waiting, you know?"

"I understand, but we really need to keep it together," I stressed, aiming to ease his tension. "Can you just stand there and act normal?"

"I'm tryiiiiiiing," his voice tinged with a hint of whining as he continued pacing.

"Well, try harder," I urged, "You look like a total cop right now."

His pacing halted abruptly, and he turned to me with wide eyes, a look of realization dawning on his face. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," he muttered frantically. "We look like cops, and we´re getting shot in the face."

"Relax, Peralta," I chuckled, trying to inject some levity into the situation.

"Y/n" He sighed deeply, standing in front of me with his hands in his pockets,"I don't want to get shot; my face is my prized possession." His brow furrowed as he confessed dramatically.

I tilted my head, "Come on, Peralta," I quipped, a playful grin tugging at the corners of my lips. "If you get shot, I think your face would be the least of our concerns. I mean, you'd be dead!"

"Man, I should've prepared a character for a cover-up," Jake exclaimed, shaking his head ruefully. "We can't just stand here looking like this... like cops."

"Well, it's a little late for that now,"

He let out an exaggerated sigh, crossing his arms in frustration. "Let me think of something," he declared, his hand moving to his chin and rubbing it thoughtfully as he pondered our predicament.

I couldn't help but chuckle softly as I glanced around at the dimly lit street nearby, feeling the tension slowly dissipate as Jake's panicked expression softened into one of contemplation.

But then, with a sudden clarity, Jake snapped his fingers, "I've got it!" he exclaimed.

His words were accompanied by his familiar, stupid, and playful smirk. It was a look that spelled trouble, and to be honest, although I knew nothing good would come out of his mouth, I couldn't help but feel intrigued.

"Spill it, Peralta," I said, my hands tucked into my jean pockets, adopting a casual stance as I awaited his response. With Jake, you never quite knew what you were going to get, but you could always count on it being entertaining, if nothing else.

"You see, Y/n," he approached slowly, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as his left hand found its place against the wall behind me, anchoring me as he leaned in. "I was thinking..." he trailed off, his tone dripping with exaggerated suspense.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes playfully at his teasing manner. "Oh, here we go again," I retorted gently, halting his advances with a hand on his chest. "Another one of Jake's brilliant ideas, right?"

"Come on, Y/N, don't be like that," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and pleading. "You know you love my brilliant ideas."

"Oh, absolutely," I replied with a touch of sarcasm. "They're right up there with 'let's infiltrate this wedding' and 'let's dress up as clowns for the undercover operation.'"

"Hey, those are classic moments in my detective history," he protested, a grin spreading across his face. "One day they'll make a movie about me."

I couldn't resist lightly patting his chest. "Sure, buddy, for sure."

As Jake leaned in closer, I couldn't deny the surge of warmth that spread through me. Despite my attempts to conceal it, his proximity was starting to affect me.

Jake and I had a playful dynamic, often flirting with each other, and he wasn't shy about expressing his interest; he even told me countless times how I was "missing out" on a chance to be with him.

And don´t get me wrong, while I did find him undeniably attractive, I was hesitant to entertain the idea of taking things beyond friendship. Our coworker-turned-friend relationship was something I cherished, and I didn't want to risk complicating it with romantic entanglements.

So, no, nothing ever happened apart from the casual, harmless flirting. Our banter kept things light and enjoyable, never crossing the line into anything more serious. Despite the occasional temptation, we both understood the importance of maintaining boundaries in our friendship.

"Seriously, hear me out on this one," he continued, "What if we… I don't know… pretend to make out? It's the perfect cover-up!" His suggestion hung in the air, and for a moment, there was silence as we both processed the absurdity of his idea. His head fell to the side, awaiting my response with a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

"You wish, Peralta." I laughed and shook my head. "I mean, I know you'd do anything to steal a kiss from me, but making out in a dark alley? That's a bit too romantic even for you, don't you think?"

"Hey, it was worth a shot, right?" As he moved to step away from the wall, I caught movement at the beginning of the street behind him. Acting quickly, I grabbed him by the tie, the one he always refused to wear, and shot him a warning look. Understanding my silent cue, he lowered his head to mine, trying to appear inconspicuous as he whispered in my ear. "Is it them?"

"Maybe," I quietly answered, my heart pounding as I realized we were being watched. The figures stood at the beginning of the street, whispering to each other; they wore on to us for sure.

"Oh my god, they know, don't they?" he whispered, his voice tinged with worry. "What do we do, Y/L/N? I don't want to get shot in the face," he pleaded, his panic palpable.

Fuck I hate when he's right...

"Screw it," I whispered, my voice filled with determination. Pulling him closer, I crashed my lips into his. He immediately reacted, his arms encircling my waist as he pinned me against the wall. His lips were softer than I imagined, but his hands were rough as they traveled up my sides to rest on the back of my neck, pulling me even closer. Although the kiss was a desperate attempt to obfuscate the approaching perps, it was evident that Jake was definitely enjoying it more than it was intended. I couldn't help but give in to the moment as our kiss intensified as his tongue traced over my lower lip, kindly begging for more.

The footsteps grew louder, signaling the approach of whoever was out there. Without a second thought, his hand found its place on the back of my thigh, pulling me in closer. With my leg lifted around him, our bodies pressed together, and his fingers lightly held me in place.

Abruptly, the footsteps ceased and a voice cut through the moment. "Hey, what are you guys doing here?" one of the men asked, his tone cautious.

Jake broke the kiss. "Do you mind?" He retorted sharply, giving the guy a pointed look, before catching my lips again. I eagerly responded, letting my hands tangle up in his hair as he leaned closer to me.

The two guys just chuckled and exchanged knowing glances before sauntering off to the end of the alley. It worked; the stupid plan actually worked.

I waited until the footsteps were barely audible before breaking the kiss. I raised my head to get a better look, and Jake let his lips travel, leaving warm, open-mouthed kisses down my chin and into my neck. I bit my lip as I suppressed a moan I knew I was holding, glancing to see the two figures waiting by the door. "Jake, they're just standing there." I breathed out.

"Keep your eyes on them," he ordered, as he pressed himself against me.

I fought to keep my focus, torn between the intoxicating sensation of Jake's lips on me and the need to maintain our cover. Despite the overwhelming desire to lose myself in the moment, I stole quick glances towards where the perps stood, ensuring we weren't drawing any unwanted attention.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a new figure emerged, a brown bag in hand, joining the other two with a casual greeting. My heart pounded in my chest; it was going down, and we were going to get these guys. "Jake... Jake," I whispered urgently, breaking our embrace. His eyes met mine, and he immediately understood. Without hesitation, we sprang into action, charging towards the unsuspecting trio.

"NYPD!" Jake's voice boomed, cutting through the tense silence with commanding authority as he brandished his gun. I followed suit, drawing my own weapon, the weight of it familiar and reassuring in my hand. The perps froze, their faces registering shock as they realized they had been caught red-handed.

—xx—

It had been a few days since that night in the alley. With the intel we extracted from the three guys Jake and I caught, we successfully dismantled one of the biggest drug operations in Brooklyn. And to top it off, we managed to nab the ringleader himself. It was a major win for the team and definitely a cause for celebration. So naturally, we found ourselves at Shaw's, ready to toast to our victory.

"To the Nine-Nine," Captain Holt's voice resounded with strength as he lifted his glass high in the center of our circle. "To the Nine-Nine," we all echoed, raising ours in unison. With cheers and the clinking of half-empty glasses, we celebrated our hard work.

"Now disperse," he announced, his tone carrying a hint of warmth. "I want you all to have fun tonight; you deserve it." and with a wave of his hand, he indicated for us to move from our celebratory circle, encouraging us to enjoy the rest of the evening.

With that, I abruptly turned to face the bar, my attention drawn to the array of bottles lining the shelves. Caught off guard by a sudden collision, I stumbled backward, my balance momentarily disrupted. As I blinked in surprise, I found myself locking eyes with Jake, his hands reaching out to steady me by the waist. A rush of warmth flooded through me at the contact, and for a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as our gazes lingered.

"Whoa, sorry about that," I mumbled, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks as embarrassment washed over me.

His expression turned sheepish as he offered a tentative smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine warmth. After a brief moment of silence, he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Hey, no worries," he said lightly, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. Raising a hand, he scratched the back of his neck in a self-conscious gesture. "Guess I should've watched where I was going, huh?"

Our eyes remained locked, neither of us willing to be the first to look or moove away. "Well, at least we're not in an alley this time," I blurted out, trying to break the awkwardness with a touch of humor. He chuckled softly, the tension between us easing slightly as we both shared a small laugh.

"Dark alley or not, this was a great case," he said, his tone softening as he spoke. "I loved working with you, and I think we did a great job." His sincerity warmed my heart, and his light squeeze on my side felt like a silent reassurance.

Taking a step back, I broke away from his hold, trying to compose myself. My heart raced with the sudden rush of emotions. "Well... um..." I stammered nervously, my mind scrambling for something coherent to say. "I think we should celebrate. I'll be with Rosa at the bar," I continued, my voice wavering slightly as I awkwardly backed away from where we stood. "I'll see you around, Peralta."

As I approached the bar, Rosa's amused expression was already evident. Her playful tone cut through the air as I settled onto the bar stool beside her.

"What the hell was that?" she quipped.

I offered a weak shrug, attempting to play it cool. "What was what?" my voice slightly shaking as I avoided her knowing gaze.

"Oh, come on," she teased, gesturing toward the table behind her where Peralta and Charles were now seated. "That little dance back there, the eyefucking," she continued.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, no eyes were fucking back there!" I held my finger up in protest, trying to suppress a nervous laugh.

She sighed and took a sip of her drink, her gaze thoughtful. "Man, what the hell happened on the stakeout? You guys have been so weird…the glances, the lingering touches..."

"Hey, we have been doing none of that," I lied, attempting to deflect Rosa's probing with a forced casualness. Deep down, I knew she wasn't the only one who noticed. Despite being preoccupied with the bust operation for the past few days, I couldn't ignore the subtle shifts in Jake's behavior around me. He looked at me more often than usual, sat closer, and his touches lingered longer. I understood it all too well. I wasn't oblivious. We shared a kiss, and it wasn't just any kiss. There was something there—something I couldn't shake off.

"Bullshit," she retorted, "I mean, I understand tuning Boyle out when he talks, but Jake is literally not listening to a single word."

I glanced from my drink to the booth where Jake sat, slumped against the leather cushions with his legs spread out. He appeared relaxed, toying with his whisley glass that sat on his thigh. His gaze was already on me, peeking through his lowered eyebrows.

Our eyes met, and in that moment, I found myself unable to look away from him, captivated by the intensity of his gaze. What the hell was this man doing to me? It was as if every fiber of my being was drawn to him, despite my best efforts to resist.

"See, you're doing it again!" Rosa exclaimed loudly, her voice cutting through the chatter of the bar.

I immediately shook my head, laughing nervously. "Oh my god! Doing what, Diaz?" I turned toward the bar, signaling for another round of drinks, hoping to distract both of us from the uncomfortable topic.

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening as she leaned in closer. "The. Eye. Fucking," she punctuated each word.

"Rosa! No!" I exclaimed, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "No eyefucking going on," I added quickly, hoping to put an end to the teasing before it went any further.

"I know you kissed him," she said casually, her tone soft but firm, leaving no room for denial.

"What? No, that's not true!" My voice probably went up an octave, betraying my attempt at denial.

Rosa didn't waver, analyzing my reaction with a knowing look that seemed to cut straight through me.

"Fuck," I shook my head, looking to the side in resignation. "Okay, fine, I did, but it was only for the mission," I admitted reluctantly.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Sure, sure, just for the mission."

"Oh, shut up," I lightly smacked her arm, playfully annoyed. "Who told you anyway?"

"Let's just say I have my sources,", a sly smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Diaz!" I threatened, pointing my finger at her. "Spill it now or else!" My tone was half-joking, but there was a hint of determination in my eyes.

"Okay, okay," she conceded, raising her hands in defense. "It was Boyle."

"Boyle knows?" My eyes widened with shock. If Boyle knew, then everyone knew.

"Yeah, apparently Jake was glowing," she confirmed, "All smiles, couldn't stop grinning like a kid in a candy store." She took another sip of her drink, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "So Boyle insisted, and eventually, he spilled the beans."

"Man, that's so embarrassing," I groaned, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks as I buried my face in my hands.

"Why?" Rosa regarded me with a serious expression.

"Well, because, you know... it's Jake," I mumbled, struggling to find the right words. "I don't want to... to..."

She held knowing look in her eyes, like she could read my thoughts, "To what?"

"Well, you know... be with him... I don't want that," Despite my attempt at denial, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I wasn't convincing anyone, not even myself, that I didn't want Jake.

"Man, it's obvious you guys want to be with each other; just go for it," she said with a shrug, her tone matter-of-fact. "I mean, he's still eyefucking you across the room," she added, gesturing once again in Jake's direction, her point crystal clear.

"He is, isn't he?" I lightly smacked my forehead, as if to hide my face, letting out a chuckle. I felt a sense of relief wash over me; deep down, I knew she had a point.

Glancing over to Jake, it seemed like he hadn't moved an inch since I last looked at him.

"He's not the most subtle," she said, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

I pondered for a moment as I swirled my drink. Well, if Jake was willing to put himself out there to show his interest so openly, then maybe I should do the same. Maybe it was time to stop dancing around each other and just go for it.

"I have to fuck him, don't I?" I quipped with a smile, my voice low and filled with a hint of mischief.

Rosa burst into laughter at my bold declaration, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "Well, you don't have to, you know?" she replied between giggles, shaking her head at my blunt honesty.

I finished my drink and set the glass down with a determined nod. "I think I do," I admitted, my voice firm and resolute.

Rosa grinned approvingly. "That's my girl," she said with a proud nod.

"See you tomorrow, Diaz!" I said, giving her shoulder a friendly pat as I left the stool and made my way towards his table.

As I approached, Jake supported a knowing smile, his gaze unwavering from mine, completely focused on me, completely tuning out the random story Boyle was spewing about.

"Hey guys," I announced as I reached the table, "I'm not feeling really well," I admitted, but my tone lacked any hint of tiredness or distress making Jake's eyebrows perk up at my unconvincing excuse. "So I'll just head home, I think I can still catch the last train." It was a statement crafted with a specific purpose in mind—a subtle cue for Jake to follow me. So, I waited for the response I knew was coming, and Jake didn't disappoint.

Quickly drowning his drink, he stood up from his seat. 'No, no, train, come on!' His fingers motioned in an approaching gesture. 'I'll take you home.'"

"Oh…But!" Boyle exclaimed, "But you said you'd take me home…"

We stood in silence for a moment and watched as Boyle's expression shifted from confusion to realization in an instant. Standing up from his seat, he enveloped Jake in a bear hug, practically lifting him off the ground in his excitement. "You know what? It´s a great night! I guess I'll take a stroll along the river," he exclaimed cheerfully, patting Jake on the back before waving us goodbye.

The car ride had been silent so far, the only sounds filling the air were the gentle hum of the engine and the soft background music playing from the radio. Despite the lack of conversation, I couldn't shake the feeling of Jake's eyes on me, his scrutiny palpable, and I was keenly aware of the warmth creeping up my neck. Glancing over, I found Jake stealing glances in my direction, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Eyes on the road, Detective," I said, my finger lightly pushing his chin in the direction of the road, a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

His grin widened, but he quickly turned his attention back to the task at hand, his fingers tapping lightly on the weel. "So, you weren't feeling well, huh?" Jake quipped, "Must be that sudden wave of 'I-can't-resist-Jake syndrome,' huh?"

Raising an eyebrow, I turned in my seat to face him slightly. "Oh, you think you're so funny, don't you?"

"It's a burden, really," he added with an exaggerated sigh. "Having to be this funny all the time,"

"Sometimes I wonder if you're compensating for something with all that humor."

"Oh, please, like you're not secretly enjoying every moment of it." He let his head fall back sligthy as he let out a troathy chuckle. "I couldn't help but notice how your eyes kept wandering over to me tonight. Got a little crush, Y/n?"

"Please, Peralta, don't flatter yourself. I was just admiring the artwork on the walls" I remarked with a sly smile as I leaned closer, my arm resting behind his seat and my breath brushing against his cheek. "You, on the other hand, were really pushing it out there. I mean, could you have been more obvious?"

"Oh, come on," he glanced over at me. "You can't fool me with that excuse. I know you were totally checking me out."

"Maybe…" I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper, a playful glint in my eyes.

"Of course you were," he replied, his hand moving from the steering wheel to rest lightly on my thigh. "And can you blame yourself? Of course not. I mean, look at me."

"Please, Peralta, you're not that irresistible." I scoffed while looking down at his hand, trying to maintain my composure despite the growing warmth between my legs.

"Oh, I beg to differ," he murmured as his fingers now traced gentle circles on my thigh, "Admit it, Y/N. You've been dying for me to touch you like this."

My breath caught in my throat, and I simply let out a chuckle as I slumped back against my seat. "You're trouble, you know that?" I shook my head, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in my tone, as I let my gaze drift out the window.The familiar facade of my building stood tall against the city skyline as the car gently came to a stop.

"Yeah, guilty as charged," he murmured as we stepped out onto the sidewalk.

With a coy smile, I glanced back over my shoulder. "You know that if you're guilty of something, you shouldn't be confessing your crimes to a cop."

"Well, lucky for me, Detective, you've been off the clock for..." He glanced at his watch as he trailed closely behind me, "...3 hours and 38 minutes now.

"I might be off the clock, but I can still cuff you, Peralta," I said, tapping the handcuffs at my waist.

As I turned the key and my fingers fumbled with the locks I heard him inching closer. I could feel the warmth of his body as he pressed against my back, with gentle precision, he lowered his head, and I felt his breath grazing the nape of my neck.

"Me, in cuffs, at your mercy?" His lips brushed against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Oh, but wouldn't that be the highlight of your night?" His voice was low and filled with playful suggestion.

With a soft laugh, I finally managed to open the door, turning to face him, my heart pounding with anticipation. "Are you projecting, Peralta?" I countered as I met his gaze, slowly backing away, inviting him in as he approached me at the entryway.

He quickly stepped in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The room felt suddenly smaller, warmer, with just the two of us. As he reached me, he circled his arms around my waist, pulling me closer "Mehh, maybe just a little,". His fingers deftly undid the zipper of my leather jacket, and his eyes didn't tear away from my chest.

"Like what you see, Peralta?" I quipped, letting my hands meet his own on his chest.

"Yeah," he chuckled as he leaned in to press a kiss on my collarbone. "You changed your curtains, didn't you?" He added playfully, his breath warm against my skin.

"Oh yeah?" I slowly started undoing the buttons on his shirt. "I can't believe you´d noticed that."

As we reached the sofa, his hands guided my jacket off, the leather slipping down my arms with a subtle force. Our eyes remained locked as the leather pooled at my feet.

I gestured with a tilt of my head for him to take a seat, and with grin he complied, his fingers skillfully undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt. I couldn't help but admire the way his muscles flexed under the fabric as he discarded it to the side. Then he eased onto the sofa, spreading his legs and letting his arms rest casually on the back of it, lightly tilting his head back.

As I removed my pants, he drew in a deep breath, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on me. Straddling him, I rested my hands on his shoulders, sensing his firm grip on the back of my thighs for stability. With my knees on either side of him, I gradually eased myself onto his lap, the heat of his chest pressing against mine, still covered by the random top I threw on this morning.

"No perps today?" he joked, his hands settling on my ass while his nose lightly brushed against my chest, inhaling my scent. "I kind of enjoyed the audience."

I shook my head as I leaned down to grab his chin, urging him to meet my gaze. "Just you and me, Jake," I murmured against his lips. "What do you think?"

"Well, Y/n," he whispered, "I think you should really kiss me."

"Yeah, I should," I nodded, but just as our lips were about to meet, I pulled back slightly. "Or maybe I'll just leave you hanging," I teased as I leaned back, keeping him at arm's length.

Jake's eyes widened in surprise. "You're playing dirty now, huh?" His hands cupped my flesh forcefully as he pulled me forward, spreading my cheeks slightly and pressing me against him. The sudden movement elicited a gasp from my lips, feeling the subtle grind of his crotch against mine. A soft moan escaped me as I surrendered to the satisfying friction rocking my hips against his bulge.

"Maybe," I teased once again, leaning in close before pulling back again. I intensified the grind of my hips as his hands moved to my shoulders, sliding the straps of my top down, the fabric gathering around my stomach, exposing more of my skin to his hungry gaze.

"You're killing me here," he protested as his fingers traced the delicate lacy edges of my bra.

"Oh, but where's the fun in making it easy for you?"

As his head fell back against the sofa, a deep exhale escaped him, a mix of frustration and pleasure. Seizing the opportunity, I pressed my lips against his neck, relishing the shudder that ran through him, accompanied by a low sigh of pleasure. My hand lightly closed against his throat, keeping him in place as I continued to kiss upward, tracing the line of his jaw with eager lips.

"You're driving me insane," he growled, his voice thick with need. Grabbing me by the nape of my neck, he pulled me into a kiss.

As our bodies pressed together, he skillfully unclasped my bra, freeing my breasts to his eager touch. His mouth descended upon my right nipple, and as he sucked and nibbled, I couldn't help but grind against him with more force.

I tugged on the hairs at the back of his head, urging him closer, craving more of his touch. His fingers trailed down my abdomen, teasing the hem of my panties before boldly slipping beneath them.

I gasped as his cold fingers met my warm skin. "Fuck, Jake," I breathed out, my voice trembling with desire.

"Oh, my name sounds so good when you say it like that," he confessed, his fingers moving slowly against my clit. My head rested on his shoulder, and his fingers continued to explore my soaked folds, "Yeah, just like that, doing so well," he praised as he lightly brushed my entrance, slowly dipping his middle finger inside of me.

With a desperate urgency, I moved my hands to his sides, tugging at the belt loops of his jeans. "Off, off," I managed to say.

He nudged his hips forward, lowering his jeans and boxers just enough for his cock to spring out. I immediately took him in my hand, stroking him lightly as a pornographic moan escaped his lips.

His hand then moved my panties to the side, allowing me to guide him against my clit before lining him with my entrance. Slowly, I lowered myself on to him, feeling every inch of him stretching me as he filled me completely.

His right hand met the back of my neck once again, pulling me into a kiss, as his left cupped my ass with force, aiding me with the up and down movement of my hips.

God, you feel incredible," he groaned against my lips, his voice husky with desire.

With a breathless laugh, I whispered back, "You're not so bad yourself."

A playful chuckle escaped him "Always got something to say, don't you?" He teased, his hips rising to meet mine with eager intensity.

My head fell back, overcome with pleasure, as the familiar coil of ecstasy began to build in the depths of my stomach. "Fuck, don´t stop.". His movements remained steady, his hand reaching out to play with my clit, intensifying the pleasure coursing through my body. "God, Jake... it's... it's too much," I gasped, desperation evident in my voice as my hands clung to his shoulders and arms for support.

"Oh, I can't fucking last with you sounding like that," he admitted, letting his forehead rest against mine.

"Then don't," I whispered, my voice barely audible amidst the sounds of our heavy breathing and the pounding of flesh. His pace quickened, pushing me closer as I arched my back. "I´m cumming.. Oh.. Fuck"

A moan escaped his lips as he watched me with intensity, his eyes tracing every contortion of my face as pleasure surged through me. I felt the wave of bliss crash over me, my body trembling with the force of my release.

In that moment, I could tell he couldn't hold back any longer. "Do it," I urged, locking my gaze with his and giving him a reassuring look.

"You sure?" His eyes searched mine, seeking reassurance.

I nI nodded eagerly, feeling my body tremble as I sensed him pulsating inside of me. The sensation of him nearing his climax, his moans reverberating through the room, was intoxicating and overwhelming in the most delicious way imaginable. As he released into me, I let out a satisfied sigh, capturing his lips once again.

We remained intertwined, his arms wrapped around me protectively, as his cock still throbbed gently inside me. His fingers traced soothing patterns on the small of my back, and I nestled closer to him as his lips found their way to my forehead, planting a tender kiss.

"You know? I hate when you´re right," I whispered, my voice soft against his skin.

"About what in particular?" He chuckled.

I smiled against his neck, feeling a warmth spread through me. "About... this," I confessed, lifting my head slightly to meet his gaze. "That I'd been missing out."

"Well, lucky for you, Y/n, we still have plenty of time to catch up,"

--XX--

Tagg: Hi my loves, I took the liberty to tagg everyone who liked my post about writing smut for peralta - Hope you enjoy <3

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[dhampling]

the gate girl!dadstarion, 1.5k

He knows vaguely where the building is - he’s sure he’s passed it on one of his late night jaunts - but you’re coming along too. He knows he’s prepared for this moment, down to the most minute detail.  - astarion is a school-gate dilf on his first pick-up adventure with you. wc: 1.5k a/n: dadstarion fridays! wooooo! hope you enjoy - love, dal x

“Come on. We’ll be late.”

Your hand meets his with a toothy grin.

Astarion teeters a little.

He knows vaguely where the building is - he’s sure he’s passed it on one of his late night jaunts - but you’re coming along too. 

He knows he’s prepared for this moment, down to the most minute detail. 

Weeks spent designing the overcoat now covering his clothes - almost feltish in texture, a deep blue with gentle golden threading. Brass buttons. The smallest red ribbon detailing in the seams. The fit is immaculate, despite the fact he had to take his own measurements. The gloves match beautifully, just as he’d intended.

Shoes polished within an inch of their lives. Shirt and trousers pressed to perfection. Hair neatly coiffed with assistance from your gentle hands.

He grimaces.

“She’s going to think I’m weird.”

“Is this for her, or you?’

He takes a moment. Examines both sides of his glove with a flex. Sniffs pointedly. 

‘She’s not going to think you’re any weirder than she already does. She’s your little freak.” You grab at his sides playfully and he shimmies around your clutches, breaking into a timid laugh. 

The dark skies of Deepwinter are primed to allow Astarion his first ever school pick-up. 

He hasn’t slept, you know that. Bag in hand holding the gift he’d spent the short day hidden away working on. Your matching scarves around your necks. The biting chill beyond the threshold of your hearth.  

Eyes round in a contemplative lax as his hand rests atop the door handle. 

“I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

Your eyes roll fondly into your skull.

“Yes. Now, get moving.” 

It takes you enclosing your hand in his for the door to open, immediately facing a brutal fracas of ice-cold winds lapping at your face. 

“How in any realm is a child expected to walk home in this? Ridiculous!” He shuffles from foot to foot as he chunters while you lock the door and pocket the key, looking up to the stars.

“With a coat. And gloves. And…’

You point to the bag in his hand as you interlink your arms.

‘A scarf.’

Astarion gives a small smile, pressing a chaste kiss to your head.

‘Come on, now. We might get there in time to see her out the door.”

-

The walk there isn’t the leisurely gander Astarion had dreamt of when he’d thought of this moment. 

In his head it was always late summer. Sunblushed.

And yet as you turn your head to him in your giddy half-canter; cheeks flush and breath clouding the space around your perfect head, he can’t believe he ever imagined it any other way.

The stars overhead are familiar as they always have been. The slightest slippy tread of frost on the cobble. Windows around you lit with candles and the loud taverns you pass en-route seem well hunkered-down.

He finds himself pulling you closer with each corner turned, stumbling to keep with your gait.

And then, there it is.

A huddle of parents waiting out in the cold, hands rubbing together; a low hum of chatter. School gates still closed. When you greet some of them with familiarity - one or two even getting a hug as you make your way to your preferred circle - and introduce him as your husband, his heart swells. 

He didn’t realise you were friends with these people. That these fellow parents could be people to have anything in common with in the first place. Astarion is hardly the enigma he used to be within the city walls and they know of him. They know you’re with him.

But none have ever seen him in the flesh.

There’s a minute where he ponders what they think of him. How you’d described him, how they may have looked at your daughter under the orange gloaming light of Leaffall and wondered which features of hers came first from him as opposed to you. How they’d pieced him together in their minds.

He feels a little out of place as you chatter - hyper aware of each stolen glance in his direction. The whites of new eyes flickering in the darkness. 

It isn’t often he meets new people anymore. Even his client roster is exclusive. 

“Why would I tell you how good-looking he is when he isn’t even here to hear it?”

He tunes back in. They all look, you included.

“Hm?”

“Marta-’ 

A faux accusatory glance on your face as you look over to the human who - Astarion presumes - is Marta. 

‘Asked why I hadn’t told the group just how attractive you are.”

The way the most blinding smile breaks over your ruddied cheeks. He melts behind a scoff.

“Actually darling, Marta has a point. I’m hurt, frankly.”

Gods. They’re all laughing. Your gaggle of school-gate friends and he has them laughing.

“No, it’s just dark. See him by light. Then you’ll change your minds.”

You huddle closer despite the brazen lie and the group laughs away. He throws in a small chuckle for good measure and presses a kiss to your head once more.

They’re all relatively harmless, he decides.

What do school gate friends do? Why have you never invited them over for wine or something? 

“I mean - Astarion, what do you think?”

“Hm?”

“They’re showing a rather keen interest to come over one evening for dinner. Inconspicuous, I’m sure.” 

He looks around warily. Can they read his mind? Is someone here a weird school gate mind reader freak? What the fuck?

Your eyes narrow at Marta in jest.

Oh.

If you’re even showing the slightest hint at wanting the doting husband, the doting husband he will give you. Freely and willingly. Far too easily. Naturally.

“Oh! Whatever you want, my love. Anything.”

Astarion takes your head in his hands and brings you close for a warm kiss, eyes softening as he holds you in place. A gentle smile against the harsh wind.  

“What’s in the bag?” Another asks in a jarring fettle. Your head whips round. He answers softly. 

“I- I made the little one a scarf.” 

A coo arises from those huddled around the two of you. 

“He’s a tailor. A good one, too. Really good.” 

You nod with a smile, looking at him. You’re mid-cycle and the idea of your daughter spotting him with those big eyes makes you a bit weak.

A saccharine voice from somewhere in the mix - “He’s immaculate, honey. I’m a little jealous?” 

If he can blush, Astarion feels one coming on. This feels staged. 

“He can’t take his shoes off without kicking them up the wall. Or catch spiders.”

-

As you resume your quiet chatter amongst the group, Astarion catches the door open in the near distance and a soft amber glow pouring from it from the corner of his eye.

It’s a trance. He looks over the heads obscuring his view, the tips of his toes touching the ends of his pristine shoes. 

And there she is.

Absolutely perfect. Small, searching the crowd for the parent she knows will be here.

Then she sees him.

It’s not difficult from afar, even in the dark - she recognises the shock of white hair anywhere - and the look of sheer confusion painted on her face shifts to unfettered joy in seconds.

Gods. She’s running. Tiny legs, bag flailing in her hand. Shouting-

“DADDY!”

As she hurtles towards him, he realises he’s never seen her run like this. She can’t run like this in the house. It’d be enough to make him sad if he weren’t so wholly elated.

He crouches just in time for her to barrel into his open arms.

The way he cups the back of her head is as if he hasn’t seen her in years, spinning her as he stands and holds her at his hip. She’s babbling something wicked and all of it sounds like utter nonsense and he’s so besotted it doesn’t even matter.

His little girl, out in the world. Being a person. 

And it’s him that she chooses to run to. 

“Charming! Hello love!” You shuffle closer and plant a large kiss on the back of her head, taking the bags from her hand and hoisting them up over your back in a routine twirl.

You take Astarion’s hint of a glance toward his bag and roll your eyes fondly, feeling for the scarf and slipping it back into his hand.

“My little darling! Hello! I have something for you - close your eyes.”

He haphazardly wraps the scarf around her neck with one hand as she bristles against his hip, wiggling her shoulders in some impromptu happy dance.

“Look now! You match us!” He exclaims. 

She opens her eyes and squeals with glee you haven’t seen at the school gate before, ever.

And true to his word, the scarf wholly matches both of yours. Embroidered with small golden stars on navy fabric. Her name in some immaculate loopy hand. Far too big for her at present, but warm on this coldest of evenings.

“I love it daddy. I want another one.” She nods acutely and smatters his face in small kisses. 

As you look to Astarion, he raises both brows in amusement at her request. She tucks her head in under his chin.

“Come along now. Let’s get you warm by the fire.”

✦

[chokepoet]

Cruelty & Empathy 18+

gif by @romulussy

Summary | A night alone in the office has Roman and his assistant escalating their tension past a point of no return. The aftermath of which leads to confessions that will change the trajectory of their relationship forever.

Genre | Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Content | anxiety, biting, blood, bondage, choking, crying, dom/sub tones, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of past physical abuse, power struggles, thigh riding, sadomasochism, slapping, spitting

Word Count | 8.5k

A/N: Y’all this fic is fuckin’ filthyyyy… but like in a romantic way??? I wasn’t going to share it but my best friend insisted. If y’all hate this I volunteer as tribute for boar on the floor lmao

Roman Roy’s Office | 10:33 pm

He was sprawled out across the couch as if this were his family’s private estate. It might as well have been. The building’s climate control always seemed to be blowing a peculiar air. One that felt like his father breathing down the back of his neck at all times. Left calf draped over the backrest, right hand cradling a whiskey, and head tilted back over the armrest. His once-slick hair now hung limp, with loose strands reaching for the carpet below. His upside-down gaze willed me to stop my attempts at meeting our deadline and to focus solely on him instead.

My bank account's dwindling had my morals emaciated. They’d weakly played tug of war with my last braincell when I'd accepted Roman’s job offer nearly two years prior. About 6 months into being his assistant, I found myself earning another role: his best friend. His only friend. My typing picks up speed as I contemplate what level of fucked-up I had to be in order to actually enjoy this job. I decide it must have been top-tier when my thoughts drift to the one Roy that had me feeling this way.

In the past 22 months, I came to understand Roman better than anyone else ever had. He somehow wormed his way into gaining just as much insight into me as well. It made me feel strangely protective over him. Oddly enough, he seemed to reciprocate. We still rarely aloud ourselves vulnerability in the presence of the other. We much preferred self-immolation. I don’t think he ever intended to grow so attached to me. He certainly would never admit to it. If you had asked me if the feeling was mutual, I’d lie through my teeth.

I loved him madly.

I don’t exactly know when or how it happened. I do, however, vividly remember when I first realized he held something soft for me.

Siena, Italy | 4:21 am

He was drunk off his ass, his head resting on my shoulder. He had been leaning into my frame for support long before he even needed it. Roman mumbled something about liking me because I was the only “sad sack of shit” in the office who could make him laugh. I asked him why I was a sad sack and not just a regular sack. He blew out a huff of air, causing his lips to trill. The sound was quickly preceded by the flipping of his wrists in a few circles.

“Isn't it obvious?” I nudged my shoulder against his head.

“Because I work for your sorry ass?”

He clumsily tapped the tip of my nose with his right pointer finger, nearly blinded my left eye in the process.

“Bingo, bongo, banjo.” The nonsensical words tumbled out and the rest of his drink tumbled in. “Itstheeyes.” I’d been unable to make out the slurred syllables mumbled just under his breath. For all I knew, they could’ve been Latin for ‘bastard’.

“What?” He dropped his now-empty glass into a historic fountain as we passed. I stopped to try and fish it out, but he dragged me away. I remember wondering if he had made a wish on it in his drunken haze. Rich and careless enough to pretend it was a penny. Maybe that had been why he was so adamant about me not retrieving it. My mind wandered as I pondered what Roman could have possibly wished for. His father's approval? An endless supply of luxurious Korean face creams? A pair of stunning Italian supermodels to lean into instead of me?

Tripping over his own two feet, I instinctively gripped his bicep. Stubborn as ever, he shoved me and muttered something along the lines of 'fuck off'. God forbid he’d take my help. Throwing my hands up, I left him to walk alone a few steps ahead of me. He weaved for a while before slowing his pace until he could lay his head back on my shoulder.

A beat passed, where the only sound was the soft crunch of our shoes against the weathered cobblestone. I caught one of his bleary eyes peeking over at my face. Content with whatever it was he found, he nodded to himself.

“Yep.” He popped his lips on the 'p' and absentmindedly kicked a pebble from our path. “It's the eyes. Sad sack of shit eyes. You've got 'em.” The laugh that had left me seemed much too loud as it ricocheted off every crumbling brick ahead of us. Roman smiled proudly for a moment. “I love your laugh.” The words were said mostly to himself. My cheeks warmed considerably.

“Really? It's obnoxious as all hell.” His brows furrowed, and he shook his head.

“No, it's fuckin’—fuck off. No, it's not.” He kicked another stone. “It's pretty. Pretty like… like your face.” Pretty. “Nothin’ like a hyena.” Hyena? “I think I'm gonna puke.”

He did.

Roman’s Office | 10:47 pm

“Hi.” A small voice lounging across from me pulls my attention. I look up from the computer and rest my head in my hand, my elbow propped on his desk.

“Hi.” I smile softly with a raised brow.“Need somethin’?” The grin that breaks across his features is almost childlike. His big brown eyes could even be mistaken for innocent; I knew better.

“As a matter of fact…” Extremely happy to have garnered my attention, he pulls himself to a sitting position. “Yes!” With a swift motion, he slams his whiskey onto the coffee table. The sharp sound of glass on glass reverberates throughout the room.

“Yes?”

“Yes?” His voice drops into a cartoonish impersonation of my own. His hand was still clasped around his drink for some reason. Flipping his face up to me with a saccharine simper, he adds, “Will you kindly suck my cock?”

“Will you kindly go fuck yourself?” My impression of him was just as cartoonish as his of me. The hand holding my head returns to typing. Groaning loudly, he lets go of his glass to dramatically fall back into the couch.

“Will you? ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ bored!” He drags out his words until they turn to whine. “This is fucking boring. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes, you’re extremely boring.”

“Hurr-hurr.” He mocks while crinkling his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m anything but and am widely known as delightful company.” A snort escapes my nose and Roman smiles.

“Really? I thought you were widely known as a terrible person.” He rolls his eyes as I quote his cousin.

“Yeah, yeah fuck you.” He gives me the finger. I flip him off in return. “The fuck does Nosferatu fuckin’ know anyways?” The nickname makes me chuckle and has Roman mimicking Greg. “Oh, I—I couldn’t help but—couldn’t help but notice that my gargantuan height may be alarm—alarming the schoolchildren. I—is that why Iverson is um c—crying? Or is he like, I—I mean, is he… y—ya know… special?”

The laughter still bubbled up uncontrollably even as I tried maintaining focus on the task at hand. My passive interest towards Roman was annoying him to no end.

“Come on! I want entertainment! Entertain me, woman!” I roll my eyes. A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him. “Come—Come on…” His hands outstretch in my direction, middle and index finger beckoning quickly. “Come show big daddy watcha got.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, my typing stops and I fully turn my attention towards him. His face contorts in a grimace already knowing what was to come. My brows raise as I slowly repeat his words back to him.

“Come show big daddy what I got?” Roman’s hands drag down his face and he groans loudly as soon as big leaves my mouth.

“Oh, fuck y—shut the fuck up.” He sinks lower into the couch with high hopes of it swallowing him whole. The smile that breaks across my features is downright malevolent. I couldn’t recall having ever seen him this embarrassed. Surprising, considering all the lewd shit he spews at me daily. There was something sick inside me that enjoyed it. The urge to play cat rather than mouse overtakes me.

“No, no, no. I just want to understand you clearly, Mr. Roy.” Our dynamic had never been much of a professional one. I couldn’t recall the last time I had addressed him so formally but I wanted to really get under his skin. Oddly enjoying my place in its prickled embrace. Rising from my chair, I place both palms on the desk and lean forward with a pout. “Are you saying you wanna shut me up with your cock, big daddy?”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw! Weawwy, Daddy? Jus' 'cause I won't suwck yo big thick cock?” At that, a cushion flies towards my head. I narrowly catch it as I’m doubling over in laughter. He’s standing now, hands overtly animated.

“I swear to GOD, I’m going to fucking—fuck! Fuck you! Out the window!” He’s angrily pointing towards the giant window panes beside him. “I’m going to throw you out the fucking window!”

“Oh wow, you’re gonna fuck me out the window?” His face was the deepest shade of crimson I had ever seen it.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear to Christ I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” I was doing a piss-poor job at stifling my laughter.

“I just fucking told you. Ass through glass.” He dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“Bullshit.” Finally looking at me, I cross my arms. His eyes flicker to my chest. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Are you saying I don’t have the balls to murder you?” The words come out in a bemused laugh. “I could murder the fuckin’—murder the shit out of you. Easily.”

“Okay.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I feel a dark coil in the back of my mind start to twist. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? You want me to—to what? Throw you through the goddamn window right now?”

I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue. If there was ever a time to find out if my suspicions held true, for some reason, I decided that now was the time. The office was definitely empty at this hour, and the privacy blinds were drawn, so no cameras. Risky as all hell, but if things go south, maybe I could play it off as riffing. I could be quite the convincing liar when I needed to be. My mother saw to that.

“See? I knew it.” With hands on my hips, I tilt my head to size him up. My tone shifts into something silky as sin. “You won’t do shit.” The air begins filling with static causing Roman’s lips to twitch. “You and I both know it. Don’t we…” I slide out from behind the desk, feeling taller as I grow closer. Feeling bolder seeing him swallow. “Romulus?” Using his father’s nickname for him causes his nostrils to flare. A clench in the jaw, a quick exhale. I fucking knew it. “So why don’t you just…” Fully standing in front of him now, I look down with a smirk “sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up for once in your life.”

The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.

The electric silence between us started to prick at my skin. My bottom lip twitches as it fought against every instinct to fill the silence with some form of an apology. To try and turn my sudden shift from dominance back into normalcy. His eyes dart to my mouth immediately; he knows.

“Make me.” His head slowly tilts upwards, as do the corners of his lips. The heat that had been slowly brewing between us for well over a year licks up my thighs. He was sneering up at me as we stood toe to toe. His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam. The look on his face said everything. He saw me, he had me, he called my bluff, he won.

No.

My hand wound itself in the silky hair at the nape of his neck and I use it to jerk his head back. His jaw immediately goes slack. Something akin to a whimper escapes his throat. Surprise has my brows raising and Roman feeling embarrassed. His heavy lids fall and he turns himself away. Reaching up with my free hand, I grip his jaw until he’s facing me once again.

“Look at me.” He does in an instant and I’m flooded by a mixture of emotions. Relief, power, love. I never want to forget how he looks beneath my hands. The way his pupils eclipse the hazel of his eyes. The way his freckles scatter under the pinkish hue of a blush. The way his lips part slightly as his breath shakes out across them. Just as my eyes dance across his every feature, his do mine. Is he etching my features into his own memory?

He attempts to lean forward but I hold him steady. Roman wanted to kiss me but I wanted to tease. I press my lips beside his mouth before trailing them along the smooth path of skin leading to his ear. Sucking his skin into my mouth, I bit gently. A soft sound of content slips from his lips, so I trace up the shell of his ear with my tongue. Upon my return, I bite down once more; harder this time. Just as my teeth release him, the fist tangled in his hair gives a sharp tug. His hum bleeds into a moan that has me squeezing my thighs together. A cool plume of air billows past my lips along the now damp skin; goosebumps erupt immediately. I slide my hand from his jaw until my fingers wrap around his throat to hold him.

“Do you like this, Rome?” The soft whisper has him murmuring his satisfaction. “Come on…” I lightly squeeze his throat. “Be a good boy and use your words.” When I pull away to look at his face, I find his lids are nearly shut.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows in an attempt to steady himself. It doesn’t. “Y-yes, I like it.” He could barely look me in the eyes and it made my stomach flip in the best way possible.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.” The words slip out before I have the chance to stop them. He inhales sharply, and the air seems to rattle through his skull. His eyes quickly leave mine as his face warms considerably. My heart beats as if it were trying to rip itself from my chest and collide with his. The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again. My teeth dig into my cheek until the taste of blood envelops my tongue. I'm raging a war with my own body in silence. This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.

His pulse was racing underneath my thumb. My voice cascades over his flushed skin as I let feather light kisses rain upon him. His first name glides along the tip of his right cheek, his last over the tip of his left. Hovering just out of his reach, I whisper into his open mouth.

“Tell me what you need.” He desperately tries to press his lips into mine but I just pull back. He grunts in frustration.

“Just fuckin’ kiss me already.”

“No.” Releasing my grip, I shove him into the couch. He trips backwards, gracelessly collapsing into the cushions. I climb onto his lap with my knees pressed to either side of his hips. With one hand, I weave my fist around his tie and pull him to me. My other grips his jaw tightly. “You wanna try that again?” His jaw clenches beneath my fingers. His eyes were wild as they flared up at me. Suddenly, his hands lock onto my hips, hard. He pushes his face into my fingers until the tips of our noses bump together.

“I said, just fucking kiss me and I meant do it now.” His words were caught somewhere between a hiss and a growl. He never could handle the word no, so his response shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. The power I’d been holding over him was now leaking through the lace under my skirt. My thighs instinctively flex around him and it has him digging his fingers in harder. A liquid heat spreads through my chest at the thought of later seeing the bruises he was surely leaving behind.

“Well?” My teeth clench and the hand holding his jaw twitches. The attitude lacing his voice drug it’s nails up my spine as I’m reminded of how entitled he could be. He wasn’t supposed to be the one making demands anymore. His smile twitches as a darkness blooms behind his glee. “You wanna hit me don’t you?” My grip loosened; my lungs suddenly feeling like he held them in his fist.

“W-what?” I didn’t want to hit him. Did I? He was selfish, he was arrogant, and he could be so goddamn cruel. Still, the urge to physically harm him was something I had never once encountered. Knowing the history of his childhood and having bared witness to his father’s present day violence against him had made me hyper aware of the constant pain pulsing below his surface. My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.

Oh—he wanted me to hurt him.

His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to. “I-I don’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Again, my teeth clench and my grip retightens on his jaw. His smile grew. Mother fucker knew what he was doing. He was basking in it.

He reaches for my hand wound in his tie, quickly unraveling before bringing it to his throat. His own then slide towards my ass. Gripping tightly, he pushes me down against his length to make sure I felt how badly he wanted this. He throbbed against my center; he wanted it bad. “Listen to me. You’re gonna let go of my jaw and you’re gonna fuckin’ slap me, aright?” I nod and release him. “Fuckin’ hit me.” As I draw back my palm, his tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip.

Slap.

My palm makes contact and brushes across his cheek. It was a sad attempt really. Weak. Even though I knew he wanted it, needed it, something inside held me back.

I was still scared of harming him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Come on!” He roughly digs his fingers into my ass, significantly harder than before. “I said fucking slap me!”

Crack.

I slapped him. Hard. His face jerks to the side. My hand stung as it instinctively goes to cover my mouth in shock of myself. His lips twitch before slowly turning up in a demented grin. A bloom of red seeps out from his bottom lip and his tongue slides across it. With the taste of his own blood, his smile widens. He laughs softly to himself and I slowly lower my hand.

“There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.

I force our mouths apart with a pull of his hair; desperately needing to catch my breath and clear my head. Panting heavily, we stare into the depths of the other in quiet disbelief. This was really happening.

“You sure you want this?” I needed to hear him confirm that he did, in-fact, want to go where we were obviously heading. I knew Roman long enough to know he had serious intimacy issues. Their seeming lack of presence in this moment had me in a whirlwind. He pressed himself into my center once again, his nails bruising crescents into my skin.

“What do you fuckin’ think, dumbass?” I let go of his throat and dig my own nails into his jaw to grip him harshly. He openly smiles with swollen lips.

“Tell me then. Tell me exactly what you want.” His expression falters and his jaw tenses beneath my fingers, eyes flickering from mine.

“You know what I fuckin’ want.” His words seep through gritted teeth. I press my forehead to his. Ever so slowly, I begin rhythmically grinding my hips down upon him. The friction causing his eyes to slip shut. A loud groan escapes from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Roman, I swear to God I’ll stop.” He doesn’t say anything so I still my hips. Umber eyes shoot open and he tries to move me himself. I won’t budge. “I will get up and I will fucking leave you here like this. Pathetic and alone with nothing but your hand.” As the words leave my mouth, so do my hips leave his. His brows snap together and tries in vain to pull me back down again. Still, I don’t budge. “I will walk out this door and you will never fucking see me again. Is that what you want?” The threat was hollow but said with a bite that had shaken me. I was falling into this role a little too easily, a little too well.

He gapes up at me when I completely let go of him. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I attempt to push myself off. It’s him who doesn’t budge this time. He yanks me back down with every ounce of strength his small frame contained. The sudden action has all the air escaping my lungs. With a hand clasped to the back of my neck, he seizes me into a searing kiss.

“Whatever you want.” The words frantically rush into my mouth. “I don’t care.” Fighting against the grip on my neck, he finally gives. I pull back to contemplate his words. Tilting my head slightly, my gaze falls to his tie. An idea begins forming as I slowly untie the silk. My nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt has him intently studying my face. Whatever I want.

Cupping his warm face in one hand, I smear the blood of his bottom lip with my thumb. He parts his mouth and sucks it in. With my other, I reach for Roman’s and slide his own thumb into my waiting mouth. As I swirl my tongue around him, Roman’s eyes darken and he sucks me harder.

Pulling from his lips with a pop, I rub my now wet thumb against his nipple. A soft moan is let loose. My tongue continuously plays with him inside me. He shudders as I pinch the bud beneath my fingers before doing the same to the other. Letting go of his hand, I reach forward to pinch both simultaneously and he groans loudly.

My cheeks hollow around his thumb as he slips it from me. He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.

“Give me your wrists.” The order was partially muffled against his mouth.

“Huh?” The question was mumbled into my lips.

“I said,” Threading my fingers into his own hair, I pull him back. “give me your fucking wrists.” With a dramatic tug, his tie is jerked from underneath his collar in a rush. He sat still, blinking up at me. The walnut shells of his eyes fall into my hands. There was a slight apprehension, a nervousness to them. “Do you trust me, Rome?”

“Y-yeah.” His voice was hushed as he presents his hands to me and I slowly start wrapping the silk around his wrists.

“We can stop at anytime. You know that, right? Just say the word and I’ll stop immediately.” My reassurance seems to irritate more than comfort. He rolls his eyes with a tilt of the head.

“Would you fuck off? I’m fine.” A crease digs itself into the bridge of his nose and my actions immediately still.

“I’m not going to fuck off unless I know that you know that you’re safe with me, okay?” This dominate role was far from the submissive one I was innately familiar with. We obviously had never discussed boundaries and I didn’t know where the lines were anymore. “I need you to know you can speak up. That I’ll stop the second you tell me to.” Roman looks like he’d rather get a root canal than continue this discussion, but I don’t care. This was far too important. “I need you to know that your comfort is important—that your feelings matter.”

“I fucking know it, alright?” He snapped before groaning and throwing his head back. “God, what the fuck else do you need to know before you just shut the fuck up and get on with it already?” My hand quickly finds its way to his throat with a squeeze. He seems more than pleased by this response.

“Do you wanna fucking cum?”

“Clearly I wanna fuckin’—“ My other hand slaps over his mouth and I can feel him smiling underneath my palm. Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.

Roman didn’t want my empathy.

Roman wanted my cruelty.

“Then are you fucking stupid? If you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll make damn sure to have you crying like a little bitch before I even think of letting you cum.” His eyes blackened as he watches my succubuss unhinge her jaw to swallow me whole. “Got it?” He nods quickly. Rapid bursts of air shoot from his nose across the back of my hand. “And lose the fuckin’ attitude.” Removing my hand, I slap him across the mouth; handing myself over to his desires completely.

Having finished binding his wrists and setting them behind his head, I rise from the couch. Standing between his ankles, I unzip my skirt and let it fall to my feet. The muscles in his forearms flex. His tongue peaks between his lips as he gawked at the damp lace between my thighs. Sliding my finger below his chin, I tilt his head until he meets my eyes.

“You know what I want, Roman?” My hand takes home around his throat once again. Now having his full attention, I feel him swallow as he shakes his head. His excitement was palpable. Settling my right knee between his thighs, I nudge it gently against his hard length. His nostrils flare with a sharp inhale. “I want you to watch me get myself off on your thigh.” He groans loudly. I couldn’t tell if it was out of desire, frustration, or a mixture of both but the response delighted me nonetheless. Placing my left knee to the other side of his thigh, I fully seat myself upon him. “Knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“Fuck.” Slowly grinding against the fabric of his thigh, my lashes flutter at the sensation. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. I was dripping wet and could already feel myself swiftly ruining his ostentatiously expensive pants.

“How does it feel Roman? To have me use you like this?“ A whimper meets my ears. His eyes transfixed on my clothed center sliding roughly against his thigh. There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it. “To ruin you like this?” His smokey gaze flickers up to mine and I use the moment to grind myself harder against him. The rough friction elicits another moan from me, louder this time. “This is all you’re good for—” My final word comes out in a whine causing Roman to tear into his bottom lip hard enough to draw more blood. “Tell me. How does it feel?” I nudge my knee into his throbbing member once more and the deepest groan ripples through his teeth. His arms jerk against his binds as I use my free hand to sharply twist his nipple. “Answer me!”

“Good! It feels—Fuck.” The sentiment came out hoarse and husky. He shoves his head back into his tied wrists, thrusting himself against my knee. “Feels so f-fuckin’ good.” Digging my thumb into his pulse point, I slide my knee back. He whines; all hopes of friction dashing in an instant.

“No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” He’s a whimpering mess beneath me; eyes wide and watery. I wanted to drown myself in the sight and never touch the light of day again.

My thong bunches to the side from the aggression in my movements. Now fully bare against him, a shiver rushes through me as my clit kisses the luxurious fabric of his thigh. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“If you don’t fucking behave I swear to God I’ll leave you like this—tied up and soaking for whoever to find.” The bite in my threats were losing their edge. My voice lost somewhere between a moan and sigh. An impending orgasm flicks it’s tongue at the base of my spine.

“Wouldn’t want it to be your father who finds you like this, would you?” A mangled whine shakes itself from his throat and has me smiling.

The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper. The taste causes a sigh to slip from my mouth into his.

“You’re close. I-I can feel it.” His voice tight and high-pitched as he starts to slightly bounce his leg. “You’ve f-fucking drenched me.” The jolting of his thigh into my clit has my head falling into his shoulder; grinding harder and faster against him. The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip. I was at the brink. “I-I wanna feel you cum.” He’s whining as he starts to bounce his leg faster; face buried in my hair. His shaking breath against my cheek has my entire body erupting in goosebumps. “P-please lemme f-feel you cum.” His beg hitches to an even higher pitch. His thigh nearly vibrating under me, desperate pleas rippling through me. Every nerve ending in my body felt ablaze.

It was all too much.

A scream rips from my lungs and I sink my teeth into the flesh of Roman’s shoulder. He tasted of salt and brimstone. My nails frenetically scratch into his skin as my thighs tremble and squeeze. Groans barrel up from his chest to mingle with my own. My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.

The heaving of our chests pressed tightly together slowly lulls me back down again. My fingertips absentmindedly painting shapes into his skin with the blood I’d drawn from his waist. Sparkles of light and voids of soot twirl across my vision. An indention of my teeth remained etched into his shoulder. He shudders when I press a soft kiss onto the bruised skin. My head falling heavy when it replaces my mouth to lean into him.

I’m suddenly reminded of Roman’s own much needed release upon finding his hips desperately grinding circles into empty air. He’s whimpering; body begging. My hand still cradled his throat so I languidly brush my thumb along his pulse point. His heart was racing.

“Do you need to cum, Roman?” A loud, high-pitched whine answers me.

“Please.” The word comes out in a choked sob. “I need—“ He was fighting against his binds, the silk digging painfully into his wrists. “Please.” He frantically presses open mouth kisses into any inch of my skin that he could reach; pleading with glassy eyes. “Please lemme cum.” I leave his throat to gently cup his cheek and smile softly before pulling back from him. “No—“ He stops himself when I thread one hand into his hair and place the other bloodied one atop his chest.

“You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?”

“Yes.” The answer comes out in a quiet quick rush of air. “Y-yeah, I am.” My hand finally reaches his pulsing length and it twitches beneath my fingers. He immediately ruts against my palm and I squeeze him before jerking his head back.

“Stop.” He clenches his teeth but surprisingly does. Tensing beneath me, using every ounce of self control to still himself. He was trembling beneath my grasp. Frustrated tears caressed his lashes and began streaming down his flushed cheeks. His breath was coming out hard and shallow through flared nostrils.

A memory flashes through my mind: Roman’s captivated stare watching his glistening thumb press into my bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” Again, he follows my orders instantly. Hovering my face above his, my lips purse with a drop of spit. He catches it with a moan that I immediately kiss into my mouth. “Cum.” My voice drops just above a whisper against his raw lips. “Make a mess of yourself.”

He instantly begins fucking himself roughly into my grip. The heat of his flesh searing me through the fabric. Grunting into my open mouth as I tug his hair into the cushions just below his wrists. His hands opening and closing before locking into tight fists. “Look at me.” His eyes shoot open. “Such a good boy for me.” A familiar emotion swirls through the sliver of hazel around his pupils. His lids flutter as he fought with everything in him to keep himself rooted in my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Roman.”

His hips shoot from the couch as he explodes and spreads me open across his thigh. The sensation causes my breath to catch in my throat. A gravely yell rips from the deepest parts of himself and tears apart every muscle in my body. He pours everything he has into the fabric beneath my hand with wide eyes never leaving mine. He collapses hard with shuttering breaths; body limp and twitching.

I release him to bring my palm to my lips; the slightest bit damp from him. My tongue paints his taste into my memory with pupils blown. Jaw slack, he watches intently through heavy wet lashes. His muddy eyes fill with that same emotion I had seen from him earlier.

“Lemme taste you.” The request was nearly silent but it rattled me like a wail. If I was any further from him I wouldn’t have heard it, but I did and couldn’t believe he had asked. Lifting my hips slightly, I run two fingers through my sensitive folds and shiver. He immediately takes notice and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

My fingers tremble as they rise towards his mouth. He inhales deeply before parting his lips for me. Slipping into the velvet of his mouth, his eyes flutter shut. His pointed tongue runs up between their gaps before flattening to drag back down. He was savoring every drop as if he were a starved man lost at sea. An involuntary hum reverberates from his throat into my skin and his cheeks seem to darken even more. He playfully bites down with sparkling eyes when I slip my fingers from his warm mouth.

The sight had the blood pounding in my ears beginning their familiar chant: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ It overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help but pull him into one last searing kiss. Tasting myself on his tongue had my head spinning. Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth. Cupping his cheeks in both hands, my thumbs brush away the damp paths left by his previous tears. His forehead suddenly creases beneath mine.

“You okay, Rome?” He shakes my hands from his face and turns away from me. My own brows knot together in worry.

“I’m fine.” His face further contorts upon hearing how his voice cracked. It might as well have cracked my ribs right along with it. He clenches his jaw before gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His hands form into tight fist behind his head. He was trying not to cry again.

My fingers twitch in my lap and it takes everything in me not to wrap him in my arms. Instead, I reach for his wrists and bring them forward. They felt heavy and limp in my hands. Right as I began my attempt at untying them, a small sniffle brings my attention back to Roman’s face.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know?” I try to gently reassure him but it only deepens the tortured disgust in his features.

“I said I’m fucking fine.” The words are spit with a venom that eats through to my bones. Feeling me search his feature has him crumbling before me. Fresh tears immediately start spilling down his cheeks and into the pits of my soul. I couldn’t help but reach for him. He surprisingly lets me cup his cheek, so I gently turn him to face me. His eyes squeeze tighter below my lips as I lightly kiss their corners. The small gesture of affection has a mangled sob ripping from his chest. Fully burying his face into my hand, he lets himself weep into my palm.

Brushing back the strands of hair sticking to his sweat, I feel my own eyes filling with tears. Refusing to let myself cry, I leave his hair to clumsily attempt untying his wrists with one hand but the knot had grown significantly tighter. No doubt from Roman constantly pulling against it all this time.

“Hey, Rome?” He responds with a mangled sound in the back of his throat. A desperate need to comfort and free him started anxiously clawing at my throat. “Listen, I know you’re totally fine and everything but I’m actually not.” His watery eyes glance to me, not registering that I’m joking. “The she demon that possessed me, she—the bitch was a Girl Scout from hell. This knot’s tighter than a goddamn hangman’s noose.” Roman pulls his face from my hand while rapidly blinking. The sounds of grinding metal fill my ears and their smokey scent tickles my nose. I flash him a goofy, albeit nervous, smile and the gears inside his head finally click into place.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” There was no bite to his words, having spoke them through a bemused chuckle. He wipes his nose with back of his hand and inhales the remnants of his vulnerability. Grateful relief balms the scrapes at my neck left by worry’s desperate claws.

His smile falters when I suddenly get up and leave him; it's as if a burst of panic fills his chest. However, when he watches me pick up a pair of scissors and the joggers from his gym bag, I sense the tension in him ease slightly. It's only when I climb back atop his thigh that he appears fully relieved. The weight of my warmth sinking into him seems to ground him.

After tossing his change of pants onto the cushion beside us, I carefully slide the blade under his tie and free him. The silk had dug in painfully, leaving nearly raw indentions in it’s wake. I mentally make a note to check my purse for some soothing lotion later as my fingers lightly brush across his skin. My thumbs begin rubbing into the muscles of his forearms. Roman was studying my face intently.

“These feel okay?” Shaking out his wrists, he rotates them a few times before letting them fall limp in my lap. It was his way of silently asking me to continue with my actions. He had far too much pride to express his desire for such a tender expression.

“Feels fine.” He fights off a shy smile when my hands pick up where they left off, massaging him gently. “My side on the other hand feels like fuckin’ cruise papers with the way ya shredded me.” He chuckles but I could still hear the residual emotion behind it. I lift the corner of his shirt up to take a look. The sight has my stomach instantly dropping; tangled weeds of angry wounds imbedded deep into flesh. Needles of red hot guilt begin sewing threads of shame up my legs. Looking down, I’m greeted with his blood caked under my nails. Memories of violence and words of degradation take ownership of my lungs.

“Fuck Rome…” My voice cracks and I suddenly feel my own tears holding a knife to my throat. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Roman quickly tears the fabric from my grasp and yanks it down.

“Oh shit. No no no no no—fuck fuck fuck.” His panicked expression made me feel so much worse. The canines of an anxiety attack drag up the nape of my neck like a threat. “I—I was fucking kidding!”

“I shouldn’t have d—done that to you. I—I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t—Rome, I didn’t mean them! The words—I—I’m so sor—“

“Oh dear God, would you fuckin’ stop.” He quickly cut me off but I had already dove to the deep end of a molten lava shame spiral.

“I—I made you fucking bleed Roman!” He rolls his eyes. “Multiple times!” His hands slap themselves onto the sides of my face, pressing hard into my cheeks.

“Yeah and you licked it up and it was the sexiest fuckin’—” I couldn’t open my eyes to look at him. If I looked at him I’d most certainly start crying. “I mean, I’m literally fucking drenched in cum right now.” My mouth was set in a hard line but my bottom lip quivered. “Come on now…” Nope, didn’t have to look at him. Turns out his voice alone could send tears falling. “I was kidding! I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” His fingers press into my skin harder as if he could force his sentiments to penetrate my skull. “I…I fuckin’ loved it. Like a lot. Okay?” My head was shaking back and forth trying to gain some control over my emotions, shake free of my tears. Roman didn’t know that though. How could he? I wasn’t speaking. He probably thought my actions were just my way of rejecting him. “Please don’t fuckin’ do this.”

My eyes crack open as I remove Roman’s hands from my face. The knotted look of bewilderment etched into his features summons the childhood phantom of my mother. Taking her disembodied palm to slap me across the mouth and rattle me with shrill screams: ‘You need to pull yourself the fuck together!’ I follow suit, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.

“Promise?” My question came out pathetic and small. I fucking hated it and I fucking hated crying. I’m being fucking ridiculous. Stupid.

“Again, and I can’t stress this enough, soaking in my own cum right now.” His reassurance comes with a laugh that tugs my frown up slightly.

“I just—I’m sorry. It was one thing in the moment but just like… I dunno. I’ve never done anything like that. I—I don’t know what came over me.” My face felt feverish as the backs of my hands wipe the shame staining my cheeks. “Seeing the aftermath just kinda, it just—The thought of actually hurting you makes me feel fucking sick, Rome.” I feel the back of Roman’s knuckle brush away the tears I had missed. Chancing a look at his face gifted me the softest expression I had ever seen from him. “I never want to cause you any real harm.” My voice sounded almost foreign, weak with emotion and vulnerability. Where did all my bravado go? Oh yeah, it’s dripping down my thighs.

“Well you didn’t, alright? I’m fine. Like completely. A-o-fuckin’-kay over here.” He throws me the okay symbol and tries offering me a reassuring smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But you were crying, Rome.” The smile instantly drops.

“That? No, I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head before scratching at his jaw. “It—it wasn’t because of that.” My brows furrow, and he groans, hands dragging down his face. “Look, I didn’t—I don’t—fuck!” He shakes his fingers through his hair and looks as if he’s about to rip it out. Refusing to meet my eyes, his stare finally settles on my hands lying face up in my lap. “It was your fuckin’—your hands, okay? It was your fuckin’ hands.” My eyes fall from his face and focus on the blood staining my fingertips. So it really was because I hit him. “The way you—“ He sighs. “The way you held me.” Oh. His head falls back as a long frustrated groan escapes him, eyes searching for heaven in the ceiling. “I dunno, okay? It just felt—it felt—“ He couldn’t finish. His eyes fall shut before he continues, his voice even quieter than before. “All I could think about was how you had looked at me.” I swallow before whispering just as quietly as he.

“How did I look at you?”

“I don’t know.” His voice grew thick with emotion once again. He shakes his head and finally meets my eyes; looking so defeated and sad. His pain bled me. “You’re always fuckin’ lookin’ at me like—like—“ Again, he can’t finish. He clenches his jaw like a threat towards the words caught in his throat.

“Like I love you?” His eyes squeeze shut and he turns his face from me once again; hiding himself from my words. I watch him clench and unclench his jaw until courage clenches my own. “Because I do love you, Roman.” Every muscle in his body seemed to tense beneath me, but I couldn’t stop my feelings from shattering their shackles. They’d been locked up for so long that their first taste of freedom sends them sprinting. “I love you so fucking much.” He clenches his fists, still unable to open his eyes and look at me.

I let myself lean into him and lay my head onto his shoulder. His fist start to unfurl and he lets his head fall against mine. A shuddering breath leaves him and he buries his face into my hair, hands tentatively resting on my hips. We sit in silence as I listen to his breathing slowly steadying. Once it had nearly returned to normal, I feel his lips gently press into my temple.

“I love you too.” The words were murmured into me, a heavy sigh follows after them. “You have no fucking idea.” The wilted buds of my heart and mind begin to bloom. My arms wrap themselves around him and squeeze him to me tightly. He reluctantly wraps his arms around me as well; slowly tightening his embrace until he’s clinging to my soul. Turning my head I press a kiss into the side of his throat and hear him sigh once again; the weight between us was dissipating.

“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.” The words he had stuttered out when trying to calm me drift to the forefront of my mind. “I—I liked it too.” The warmth of his skin embraces my shy confession. “What we did together, I mean.” I hear him snort and it has me smiling against him. The air was feeling lighter.

“I’d fuckin’ say so, ya fuckin’ banshee. You shoulda seen how fuckin’ hard you came. I mean—Jesus Christ, you were fuckin’ feral.” I hide my face further into his neck but can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from me. “And now you act all fuckin’ bashful and shit? How the fuck does that even work? You literally tied me up and road my thigh like a buckin’ bronco.” I bite his throat and my body shakes from his laughter vibrating through me.

“Fuck you! I’m complex.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He tangles his hands in my hair and pulls me back to face him. “You’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” He was smiling as he said it. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“The feelings mutual.” His smile only widens and he bounces his leg. I yelp in surprise, frantically gripping at his arms to maintain balance. He’s giggling uncontrollably. “You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy.”

“Ooo round two already, thigh master?” He bounces his leg again. I try to slap his chest but he catches my wrist with his freehand and pulls me into a kiss I’m never going to forget. It was different than all the ones we had shared prior. This one was so much softer, so much gentler. Our foreheads rest against one another. His smile against my lips illuminates every crevice once void of light; I was loved.

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 11

Y'all, this GIF is down right SPICY but it fit the smut in the story so well I had to ☺️

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Warnings: SMUT, Emma getting an attitude, Sy yelling, detailed PTSD flashback, bodily function/embarrassment, self-deprecating talk, language

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading! 

Part 10

I wake up still in the same position that I fell asleep in, on Emma’s chest and notice that my body feels incredibly stiff. Her gentle breathing and steady heartbeat are comforting even though I’m incredibly embarrassed and just want to pretend last night never happened. I have a feeling this is going to be a very long day. I notice the amount of light cascading in from behind the curtains must make it late in the morning, but considering I had a very active night I’m not surprised that I slept in. I carefully lift my head to see if Emma is awake and am startled when I see her big beautiful eyes staring down at me. 

“Good morning.” She says quietly.

“Mornin’.” I reply.

“How are you feeling?”

“Stiff. What time is it?” I ask her somewhat brusquely.

“It’s 9:38.” She answers after looking at the time on her phone.

I sigh and sit up so that I’m faced away from her. 

“Let me make us some breakfast. I’m hungry.” She quickly gets up and goes to the restroom to take care of her morning routines before she exits and walks to the bedroom door.

“Come down to eat after you’re done in the bathroom please.” She says quietly while I’m still pondering my next move as I sit on the edge of the bed. The tension and embarrassment oozes from my body as I sit there attempting to contemplate how to handle this. I haven’t been in this situation before. Alex has seen me have a small flashback at work once, but we didn’t have to talk about it. My grandparents certainly don’t know the extent of my PTSD because I purposely keep it from them. They don’t need to know how mentally damaged their loving grandchild has become. Aika is really the only one who has ever witnessed the extent of my depravity and luckily, she can’t talk or judge me for it. She’s just a silent witness who snaps me out of it with a bark or licking my face. Emma is the only person to ever see how badly it really is and I just don’t even know what to say to her. I force myself up and relieve myself in the bathroom before brushing my teeth and getting myself ready for the day. I look at my reflection in the mirror and wonder just how I got this screwed up before heading to the kitchen. 

Emma is humming to herself as if nothing has transpired as she flips pancakes on the stove. She has coffee brewing in the pot and has sat out my favorite mug that has a picture of a donkey on it with the words, “Do I Look Like a Jackass?” written across it. It was a gift from one of my warhorse buddies, Harper. 

When she hears me approach, she turns and silently fills the cup with coffee before handing it to me with a shy smile. Seems the poor thing is also trying to figure out what to say and coming up blank.

“I hope pancakes sound good to you. I also made some bacon and saw there’s some fruit in your fridge but I’m not sure how old it is.”

“That’s more than enough. Thank you.” 

I drink my coffee while she turns back around to work on the breakfast. Once it’s made, I set the table and refill our coffee cups while remembering to add the coffee creamer that I now buy specifically for Emma since she likes hers sweet. Just like her.

We sit down and I’m aching to avoid the subject but I know I just need to get it over with.

I clear my throat. “Breakfast looks really good. Thank you.”

“Anytime, baby.” She replies and I want to smile.

“I um… I’m really sorry about what happened last night. You shouldn’t have to see me like that or put up with it and I just want to apologize.”

“There is nothing to apologize for. I’m grateful you opened up to me a little bit, honestly.”

Unwillingly, I think to myself. I take a deep breath.

“Maybe, this thing between us is moving too fast.” I blurt out.

“By this thing, you mean our relationship? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought we were exclusive after our conversation the other day. Is this you trying to end things with me?” She says angrily.

“I’m just no good for you. You shouldn’t have to deal with a grown man who has nightmares.”

“I think that I should be the one to decide who or what is good for me. I’m a grown woman who has plenty of my own baggage and I’m not going to allow you to throw this away because you’re embarrassed or trying to protect me from the one person who doesn’t pose a threat to me.”

“I absolutely pose a threat to you!” I yell and slam my fist against the table. “Wasn’t last night enough to show you? I was wielding a rifle dreaming that I was back in active war. Damnit Emma! Don’t be naïve. I could have shot you, or hit you. I could have thought that you were the enemy and there’s no way you would have been able to fight me off! I should have ended things before it got to this point and I’m sorry that I didn’t. I was being selfish and wanted more time with you but I realize now how dangerous that is.”

“NO.” She crosses her arms and straitens her back defensively.

“No?” I repeat in quiet shock.

“No.” She stares at me with a look of fire like a mother chastising her child and even though she’s so tiny I feel myself cower back a little.

“You are ruining the best thing I’ve ever had because you are scared, Austin! And I understand how scary it was, believe me, I was there watching you fight a battle in your own mind. But I’m not afraid of you and I never will be. You need to understand that we both need each other and I am good for you whether you choose to believe it or not. You’re jumping to a conclusion either to punish yourself or me because you’re embarrassed that I know this about you now and I will not tolerate it. Last night, you protected me from what you thought was danger even in your flashback. You will not hurt me and I know it.”

I sit there for a minute stunned by what she said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’d be happy to tell you everything from my perspective if you could stop trying to dump me and actually have a vulnerable conversation with me like an adult.” She snarks.

Damn, she’s throwing some verbal punches this morning and it’s kinda sexy.

“Alright, I’m listening.” I announce and she takes a deep breath before speaking.

“I woke up to the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut and you running down the stairs. Aika jumped up and seemed concerned so I took her with me as I went downstairs, turning on lights as I went since you still had the house completely in the dark. I heard the backdoor slam open against the wall as you ran out and I held Aika back so I could shut the door until I could determine what was going on. When I turned on the patio lights I saw you run by with a rifle in your hands. I figured you might have heard an animal or intruder or something so I waited for a moment looking through the window before I heard you yelling. It was pouring rain so I struggled to hear you but you didn’t seem to notice the rain. You ran up against the backside of the house and were yelling different words, military lingo I guess, and aiming your rifle around the corner. Aika was going absolutely nuts barking and I almost let her out to get you but I wasn’t sure if your gun was loaded. Instead, I carefully made my way over to you and kept repeating, “It’s Emma, you are safe.” But when I got to you I could tell you were still actively dreaming, if that’s what we are going to call it. Your eyes were almost glassy but when I touched your shoulder, you immediately put your arm around me from behind to protect me and told me to get down and cover my head. You kept placing your body in front of me. I tried talking to you but you just kept asking me if ‘Lowell and Waites’ were still alive. I wasn’t sure what to say but I remembered the conversation that we had the first time I stayed here. I couldn’t get your attention since you were so absorbed in your mission, until I finally grabbed your face with my hands. That’s when you started to come back to me. You protected me from whatever threat you saw, not the opposite.”

I take a steadying breath and try to calm my heart rate. Hearing her talk about something I’ve done during a flashback is strange, because she’s the first to actually witness it and tell me what I did. I guess it’s like sleepwalking, or undergoing anesthesia where you remember specific events but they are different to what actually happened.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m not. I hate that you had to go through that in real life, and again in your flashbacks but I’m glad that I was there to see it. I think I understand you a bit more and I want to be there for you.” She says earnestly.

“If you want to apologize for something, you can apologize for trying to dump me.” She says moments later with an attitude.

I can’t help but crack a smile at her gumption. She is something else.

“I’m sorry for trying to dump you.” I whisper and she stands and comes over to sit in my lap. 

“I accept your apology.” She smirks.

“Thank you for refusing to be dumped.” I look intently into her eyes. She kisses me sweetly before tapping my forehead.

“Let me in here. I can handle it, I promise. I want to know everything about you, even the bad stuff.”

“I just… I’ve never let anyone in.”

“Okay, imagine this. What if I kept all of my trauma about Colin from you. I know it’s not the same, but just imagine I didn’t tell you about him stalking me, or why I am the way I am about things. You’d be pretty pissed, right?”

“Obviously.” I tell her. “But that’s because I want to protect you.” 

“Exactly. I feel the same way. Now imagine if I told you that I kept it from you because I just didn’t think you could handle my drama.”

I roll my eyes.

“I never said you couldn’t handle it.”

“But you’ve thought that. Haven’t you?” 

“Maybe” I mutter petulantly.

“You’d be livid with me.” She smirks at me knowing she’s made her point thoroughly.

“Alright. I get it.” I put my hands up in surrender.

“I can handle this and I want to know everything about you. Even the stuff you keep locked away for whatever reason.”

“It’s pretty dark, Sugar. I don’t like thinking about it and I don’t like the idea of you thinking about it.”

“Again, not your decision to make.” She says.

“I decide what’s best for me and what I can handle. I promise you, I can handle this and if you just get that through your thick skull and let me be there for you, we’ll be good as gravy.” She said while thumping my forehead.

“Ow, woman!” I say before I tickle her sides. 

“Fine. I’ll be better about opening up. I just might need your help and your patience because I’ve kept all of my shit buried away essentially my entire adult life.”

“They teach you to do that in the military?” She asks with an eyebrow arched.

“Pretty much.” 

“Well, I’m going to help you undo that.”

“I don’t know that I’m going to like that process.”

“You’ll be fine.” She says before kissing me gently. “I’ll use my sexual prowess if I have too.”

“Seduce me to learn my secrets? You little minx.” She giggles at my joke and I breathe a sigh of relief that we can joke about it at this point.

“Do these flashback episodes happen often?” She asks.

“Nah, this is the biggest one I’ve ever had. I’ve had a few small ones, but nothing this involved before. Maybe once or twice a year before this. It’s usually triggered by something when I’m really tired.”

“What do you think triggered you last night?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say the storm. Likely the thunder was similar to an explosion or something in my dream.” I say quietly and she just nods and strokes my cheek.

“Do you have Nana’s brunch today?”

“Nah, she’s got some clothing drive thing at the church that she’s doing. I’m glad because I don’t need her scrutiny today.”

“Does she know about the episodes?”

“Not really, just always told her it was nightmares. I think PawPaw likely has an idea having been a veteran himself, but he keeps it to himself which I appreciate. I don’t need Nana trying to convince me to join some VA group to talk about my problems.”

“What’s so bad about those groups? I only ask because I have no frame of reference.”

“Nothing, those things are really good for some people but it’s just not for me. I tried once or twice after I retired and felt worse after them. Just not the type to get up in front of strangers and talk about my issues.”

“Survivor’s guilt.” Emma mutters and I glance at her somewhat annoyed.

“Think you’ve got me all figured out then?” I ask haughtily.

“No. Not at all as a matter of fact. I know there’s a lot more that you haven’t shared with me. That’s fine, for now. Just don’t get mad at me for being here for you. I don’t deserve that.” 

My iciness cools immediately and I agree with her. She’s just wanting to be here for me in a way nobody else has ever been.

“I’ll do my best, Darlin’.” I admit while tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“That’s all I can ask for.” She kisses me sweetly.

“What do you want to do today, Sugar? That is if you want to spend the day with me.” I ask her.

“Shut up, of course I do.” She says as she rolls her eyes and I growl at her. 

“Mmm.. I need to go to the grocery store and do some meal prep, but other than that I’m open to whatever.”

“Want to go to the store together? Hell, it certainly wouldn’t hurt me to bring my lunch a few days rather than eatin’ fast food all the time.”

“Ohhh! I love that. I can prep lunches for both of us.” She says excitedly and I can’t help but smirk at her.

“You don’t have to do all that work.” I say, thinking that I can cook my own.

“I really don’t mind. I have to cook mine anyway.”

“Alright, how about this. I buy all the groceries for us, and you cook the meals.”

“No baby, I’m offerin’ to cook for you. I don’t need you to buy my food.”

“Nah, that’s the deal Sugar Pie. Take it or leave it.” She arches her eyebrow at me and I can’t help but chuckle and smack her round little ass.

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it.”

“Military negotiation training continues to pay off.” I chuckle at her reaction. She attempts to tickle me, but I gently grab each of her wrists effectively handcuffing her hands by her sides. 

“Geez, Sy, I knew you were strong, but damn.” She says as she attempts to wiggle out of my grasp. She doesn’t realize that she’s also wiggling her ass against me and in a matter of moments, she’s going to feel what it’s doing to me.

I let go of her wrists and she acts like she’s done playing before she turns around quickly and shoves her fingers against my ribs. I jolt from the chair sideways as she laughs freely at what she thinks is winning this game.

“Oh, ya wanting to play?” I say with a smirk and when I reach for her she jumps up and takes off running. Before I even realize it, we are giggling like school children as I chase her up the stairs. The dogs are barking wildly and poor Aika has Mills jumping all over her in an attempt to start wrestling. They slowed me down by getting between me and Emma so she got a little bit of a head start. Eventually Aika gives in and the start playfully wrestling in the hallway. I catch her at the top of the stairs, my long legs being no match for her short but fast stature. Emma squeals exuberantly when I pick her up from behind and haul her over my shoulder. She’s panting and I realize I might’ve played too rough so I gently slide her down my body, taking care to be intentional with where I placed my hands.

“Shit! I didn’t think about your period. I didn’t hurt ya did I?” 

She smiles before shaking her head, “it ended last night. You didn’t hurt me baby, but thank you for checking.”

“Well in that case,” I say as I haul her back up on my shoulder, “I’m going to finish what I started.” She squeals again before smacking me on my butt.

I slap her ass that’s now exposed since she was still only in my shirt and grope it gently before throwing her on the bed on her back. I lay beside her on my back as we catch our breaths from our little game of cat and mouse.

“That was fun.” She giggles.

“Sure was.” I turn to her and smile. 

“Now what?”

“Well, I don’t think I’d let you go to the grocery store without pants on, so as much as I hate to, I suggest you get dressed.” I respond as I gently rub my big mitt against the soft skin of her leg.

“Mmm, maybe later. I don’t think I’m done playing.” She admits seductively before gently placing her hand delicately against my clothed cock.

“That so?” I ask her and she nods. My heart starts beating quicker as she begins rubbing against me.

“Right now, I think I’d like to get you undressed.” She says seductively before her hand slides under the hem of my shirt. I lean up and quickly pull it over my shoulders tossing it somewhere in the room. I’m about to lean over on top of her when she pushes me back and her hands slide under the waistband of my shorts and boxers. She grasps my erection firmly before pulling at my shorts and boxers to remove them, so I lift my hips to assist her. Once those are off, Emma begins kissing across my abdomen while simultaneously jerking my throbbing erection. My hands are everywhere and nowhere at once, like an overwhelmed kid given free range in a candy store.

“Fuck, Sugar. What brought all this on?” I rasp as I grab a handful of her ass.

“You trying to dump me.” She says and I pause and look at her concernedly. 

“Gotta remind you what you’d be missing out on.” She smirks before pulling my t-shirt off of her body and exposing her flawless breasts. She immediately pushes them against me and my responding growl has her grinning. Her warm, soft skin rubbing against my torso has me aching to take control and flip her over. Emma’s tiny hand still pumping my cock has me frozen and her gorgeous body, now only clad in a little pink thong has me hypnotized. I can’t stop myself from humping further into her hand as I feel her warm breath slowly making her way up my torso before sucking on my neck.

“Sugar, you’re playing a real dangerous game here.” I warn as she bites and sucks a hickey right above my collarbone. At the same time, I’m so hard that it’s painful and beads of precum are continually leaking from my slit as she uses it for further lubrication towards her ministrations.

Emma sucks on my earlobe before lightly whispering in my ear, “Ah, I like playing games with you.” Goosebumps erupt all over my skin and that’s when my resolve breaks.

Without thinking, I flip Emma over and tear her tiny thong to shreds as I rip in from her body. She gasps with either surprise or overwhelming need but I don’t pay attention as I pull her in for a brutal kiss. She starts to try and take control back by grabbing at my forearms, but I quickly trap both of her arms above her head using one of my hands to secure them. 

“Now who’s in control?” I ask her smugly as I take in her beauty. Her breasts, peaked and heaving from the excitement are so sexy that I ache just from looking at them. Her little belly ring shimmering in the sunlight that streams in from the window somehow makes me even harder.

“Still me. I say stop and I know you’ll immediately discontinue what you’re doing.” She smiles triumphantly.

I smirk at her, because she’s exactly right. She holds all the power here, and I’m damn glad she knows it. Seems she wasn’t able to have that in her last relationship and I’ll do everything in my power to see that she knows she’s in control. 

“You’re exactly right, Darlin’.” I say with a smile and her returning grin stuns me.

“Lucky for you, I like it when you take control and toss me around.” She divulges as she squirms under me and I can’t help but rut against her legs.

“That so?” I ask and she nods dumbly.

“Well ask and you shall receive.” I say before capturing her lips in a messy kiss. I trail my other hand slowly down her body before inserting my middle finger into her core and keen as she moans in pleasure at the intrusion. I pump a few times before adding a second finger and her body arches pleasantly off the bed.

“Fuck, Sy!” Emma shouts as I curl them in search of her g-spot. I grin victoriously when I know I’ve found it based on the reaction of her body. I start worshipping her titties that are so conveniently pressed right in front of my mouth and that seems to spur her on. I’m leaking all over her thigh as I’m so turned on but I need to get her there first.

I’m still holding her arms above her body and that’s how I keep her still as she squirms and moans exuberantly once her first orgasm washes over her. I observe the pure bliss ease across her facial features as she reaches her climax and I can hear the audible squelch of her arousal each time I pump my fingers into her core. After I’m sure to help her through it, I slide my fingers out and wipe the juices along my shaft, squeezing it to release a little bit of pressure as I do. I look at a completely blissed-out Emma as I pump myself a few times before I hear her quietly request, “Fuck me, Captain Syverson. Fuck me hard.” 

I groan before capturing her lips in a filthy kiss before I flip her over. I lift her hips up off the bed and am appreciating the view of her perfect little peach and round delicious ass in the air before she shakes it at me. I smack her ass before sliding in and barely giving her time to recover as I slam into her. 

“Y’okay?” I ask after she gasped loudly and she nodded before pushing herself further back on me. 

I groan and she does it again so I stay there perfectly still for a few moments as I watch the erotic way Emma fucks herself on my cock in doggy style position. Her back is perfectly arched and she flips that mane of hair over her shoulder as she drives herself back on me again. Fuckin’ hell. I can't help myself when I wrap her hair around my fist as I fuck her harder.

My hands are in tight fists as I’m trying to keep from busting a nut so soon after we started but I know I’m not going to last long. I grab ahold of her hips and drive myself into her sopping wet core and focus on getting the angle right. I know I’ve gotten it when I feel her flutter around me. 

“Yeah? Ya like that? Takin’ Sy’s cock all the way up in your tummy? Mmm, mmm, mmm, you look so fucking good like this, Sugar. This perfect ass slamming against me as I fuck that sweet, juicy peach.” I tell her and her moans get louder.

“Tell me, Darlin’. Tell me how it feels.” I probe her.

“Ah! Fuckkk! You feel so good, baby. So big and… and full and deep. Fuckin’ me better than I’ve ever had.” 

“Yeah? This is easily the tightest, tastiest little peach I’ve ever had before. You were made for me. Made to take this cock.” I say and she moans. I slide my hands from her hips and grope her ass before putting my thumb around her tight little ring of muscle.

“You gonna let me in here one day, Sugar?” She clenches all around me and I almost blow my load.

“May…maybe.” She says as I continue to rut into her. I add a bit more pressure with my finger and feel her clamp down on me as her second orgasm ravishes throughout her body. 

“Fuck, Sugar, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. I’m gonna cum.” I tell her and she moans as I piston in and out of her at a quicker pace to reach my high. My balls are heavy and full and I grunt as they tighten to my body when my orgasm washes over me. I still as deeply as I can in her wet heat as I paint her insides with ropes of cum and gently drape myself across her back that is now limp on the bed. 

Emma whimpers as I remove myself from her and I quickly push the leaking cum back into her when it starts to leak out. 

“Y’alright, Sugar?” I ask as she doesn’t move.

“Mmm.” She replies and I don’t know if that’s a yes or a no.

“Fucked you speechless huh?” I chuckle as I stand up and turn on the shower. The sweat dripping down my chest makes me want a cold shower, but I know Emma won’t have that so I get the warm water running before I go back to get her. She’s still completely spread out on the bed on her belly like I left her. I roll her over gently before lifting her up bridal style and carrying her to the bathroom. I set her on the toilet and am shocked that she pees without making me leave the room, but I don’t comment on it. She shuffles over to wash her hands before pulling her hair up into a messy bun. I wash my hands and check the shower temperature before she wraps her arms around me. I’m sweaty but she doesn’t seem to care as she rests her cheek against my chest. I aim the water on us and soap us up cleaning the sweat and the remnants of our tryst from both of our bodies. I kiss her forehead gently and she just smiles and nuzzles further into my chest with her eyes closed. After our shower, I quickly dry her off as well as myself before I clean up the clothes thrown around the room. Her little panties are in shreds and I remind myself to offer to pay for them as I throw them in the wastebasket. 

“You’re awfully quiet.” I voice aloud and she smiles.

“I think I’ve been asleep while standing up that whole shower.” She replies and I chuckle.

“You must’ve been. Didn’t even make me leave the room when you went to pee.” I joke and her eyes snap open in realization. 

“Oh my god, I didn’t. You saw me pee.” She says as she places her face in her hands in embarrassment. 

I laugh loudly because she must’ve not even notice me pee after her while she was washing her hands.

“It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone. I peed while you were washing your hands if that makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t. I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t even think, your sexpertise made me almost comatose. I claim insanity.” 

“You know I don’t care about that. You could even fart in front of me and I bet it would be adorable.” Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT. That would be mortifying. I would have to move out of the country.” She says dramatically and I laugh.

“You really think that we could live a whole life together, married with babies, grandbabies, and even great grandbabies and I wouldn’t see you pee or hear you fart?” I ask her seriously and am surprised when she shyly smiles.

“You think about us living a whole life together?” Truth time.

“Honestly, yeah. I’ve thought about it a few times. I know it’s early on, but it’s nice to think I’d be capable of having a future like that, and it’s even nicer to imagine it with you. Plus, it’s kind of hard not to when Nana is practically marrying us off in every phone call I have with her.”

Emma’s cheeks blush pink and I’m glad I was honest with her.

“I think that sounds amazing.” She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me and I swear my heart beats for this woman.

Part 12

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood

[bupia]

Bloodlust: Chapter 1 - Dracopia x Fem!Reader

Summary: With the news of a masquerade ball being hosted in your city, your friend invites you to go with her. Despite not being a fan of this type of event, you decide to give it a chance, unaware of the subsequent events that would unfold.

Words: 7.521

Warnings: None for now, this chapter is an introduction to the forthcoming events that will gradually unfold throughout the subsequent chapters.

A/N: This is about Dracopia, so be aware that Copia is a Vampire on this story. And, that his visual is the Cardinal look during 2019.

Available on AO3

As the week went by, another invitation from your friend, urging you to attend the grand masquerade ball that was about to happen in your city came. While the idea of such an event seemed both enticing and cumbersome, you couldn't shake off the feeling that it was a bit too antiquated for your taste. The thought of wearing a dress, adorning a mask, and dancing the night away felt like something that wasn't particularly aligned with you, especially on a weekend.

Nonetheless, it became increasingly difficult to decline your friend's insistence to join. You pondered over the idea, contemplating whether you could bring yourself to attend such a traditional event as the internal struggle continued and you weighed the pros and cons of going to this masquerade ball. After all, it was just for one night.

And now, here you were, standing before the grand doors of the old classic European building, wearing a borrowed dress from your friend. At least, the dress was a stunning masterpiece, its crimson hue setting you apart in the crowd even before you stepped inside. The off-the-shoulder style exuded both elegance and a touch of allure, while the voluminous skirt added an air of grandeur to your ensemble. The velvet material felt luxurious against your skin, the fitted bodice showcased your figure in a way that made you feel beautiful.

"Please, it's just one night," your friend said.

"I know it's just one night, but I still can't understand why you were so insistent on this," you replied.

"It's finally a big event in the city, and waiting until next year is just too long for me," she explained. "I promise I won't ask you for anything for the next... week." She broke into a giggle, trying to sweeten the deal.

"Alright," you sighed, giving in.

Her face lit up with a huge smile, and she practically bolted towards you, squeezing you in a tight hug that bordered on suffocating. You managed a small smile as you looked at her, reminding yourself that at the very least, her happiness was worth the discomfort of attending the event.

"Thank you for coming with me. You're simply the best," she exclaimed, releasing her hold on you.

"I wouldn't say the best, but I think we can manage to have some fun," you replied.

"Well, the important thing is that we're here together!" she said with enthusiasm.

"Yeah..." you replied, your enthusiasm not quite matching hers.

Adjusting the mask in your face, you took a deep breath, before your friend grasped your hand and guided you towards the entrance of the old building. The grandeur of the structure was undeniable – its vintage architecture; richly decorated walls and shimmering ornaments, with the soft glow of chandeliers spilled out from the entrance.

As you stepped in the ballroom, you were immediately greeted by the sounds of music that filled the air. The ballroom itself was a sight to behold, with couples twirling gracefully on the dance floor and guests mingling throughout the space.

Your friend's grip on your hand tightened as she led you further into the ballroom. "Isn't it amazing?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder.

You couldn't help but smile in response. "It's certainly something."

Your friend's excitement was contagious; you were well aware of how much she loved attending such events. While you were enjoying yourself to some extent, it wasn't exactly your first choice for a weekend activity. But, it was fine, you decided to have a great night with your friend no matter what.

"I think we should get something to drink, what do you think?" she inquired.

"I think is a great idea to start the night," you replied, offering her a warm smile.

She led you towards the bar, where the two of you found a cozy spot on the balcony, overlooking the grand ballroom below. The soft glow of the chandeliers illuminated the dance floor, casting a magical ambiance over the scene. Placing your drink orders, you leaned against the balcony railing, your eyes drifting over the lively crowd below. The hum of conversations and the strains of music created a nostalgic and vibrant atmosphere. It wasn't long before the bartender returned with your drinks, and you reached out to take your glass, feeling the cool condensation against your fingers.

"Cheers," your friend said, raising her glass.

"Cheers," you echoed, clinking your glass against hers before taking a sip of the refreshing drink.

As you sipped on your drink and looked out at the crowd, your gaze came to rest on a figure who stood out from the rest. He exuded an air aristocratic and sophisticated, his presence commanding attention without any effort with his graceful posture and controlled movements. His attire was impeccable. The classic cuts of his dark elegant clothing, with the high collar that hugged his neck added a touch of drama to his ensemble. The cape draped over his shoulders lent him a slightly theatrical, gothic aura, setting him apart from the others.

His mask, a half-face creation, concealed part of his features while revealing one of his eyes. The uncovered eye allowed you a glimpse of his age, he was certainly older than you. Still, your curiosity piqued, and you found your eyes inexplicably drawn to him. You observed from a distance, taking in the subtle gestures, the occasional smiles, and the way he interacted with those around him.

Your friend nudged you, breaking your reverie. "See someone interesting?"

You glanced at her and then back at the figure. "Not at all, I was just looking around and got distracted."

You averted your eyes from him, focusing on the drink you held in your hand, taking a sip through the straw. Despite your attempt to divert your attention, your gaze sliding over to him from the corner of your eye. To your surprise, he had his eyes fixed on you now and it felt as if he were studying every nuance of your being. The way his eyes roamed over you, from head to toe, sent a shiver down your spine. As his eye locked with yours, you quickly averted your gaze to the drink on your hand. You took another sip of your drink, feeling the cool liquid glide down your throat, trying to ignore the fluttery sensation in your stomach.

His unwavering gaze was captivating, and the intensity with which he studied you seemed to tighten that grip on your stomach even more. You fought the urge to bite your lower lip, reminding yourself to maintain composure.

"It appears you've attracted an admirer," your friend playfully remarked, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.

"Really? Who?" you feigned innocence, as if unaware of the person she was referring to.

"That man over there, he can't seem to take his eyes off you."

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you attempted to downplay the significance of the situation. "Oh, come on. It's a busy event, people are naturally scanning the surroundings."

Your friend's nod was accompanied by a suspicious expression on her face, and you responded with a gentle yet nervous smile, hoping to convey your innocence. She returned the smile, seemingly convinced. Feeling relieved, you finished your drink, grateful that she seemed to have bought your explanation. As the two of you moved away from the bar, you couldn't shake the feeling that his eyes were still fixed on you, a sensation that accompanied you as you walked towards a table.

As you settled into your chair, a sense of relief washed over you, and you let out a contented sigh. Just as your friend was about to join you, a woman appeared by her side, extending her hand in a friendly gesture.

"Care to dance?" the woman asked.

Your friend's cheeks immediately flushed with a deep shade of red, the color almost matching the crimson of your dress. Your friend hesitated for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the unexpected invitation. She looked at you, seeking some kind of reassurance.

"Go for it," you whispered, giving her a playful nudge.

With a nervous laugh, your friend accepted the woman's hand, allowing herself to be led to the dance floor.

Left alone at the table, you took the opportunity to observe the room once more. Your gaze inevitably found its way to the mysterious man. This time, however, he wasn't alone. He was engaged in a conversation with a woman, prompting you to consider that he might didn't come alone to the ball.

As you watched them, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. It seemed that your friend were wrong; he wasn't looking at you, you didn't caught his attention. Perhaps he was simply enjoying the night, socializing with other guests, and his occasional glances were purely coincidental.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost didn't notice when someone approached your table. Startled, you looked up to find a man standing there.

"May I join you?" he asked, his voice smooth and deep.

You blinked in surprise before nodding politely. "Of course."

He pulled out the chair opposite you and sat down, his lips curving into a charming smile. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the room."

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you lowered your gaze slightly. "Oh? Really?"

"Yes," he nodded. "By the way, I'm Benjamin," he introduced himself, extending a gloved hand towards you.

"Nice to meet you, Benjamin," you replied, shaking his hand gently.

Little did you know that from the moment Benjamin approached your table, the mysterious man had discreetly glanced your way again. His gaze lingered on you, his expression pensive and contemplative. The woman he had been conversing with seemed to fade into the background as his attention became solely focused on you and the conversation you were having with the man across from you.

"Did you come alone?" he inquired.

"No, actually, I'm here with a friend of mine. She's dancing at the moment," you explained with a chuckle.

"Well, that's good, because I've been hoping to ask if you'd like to dance," he replied, his hand extended toward you.

Before you could respond to his invitation, the man who had been observing you, approached your table but ultimately chose a different table, settling into a seat where he could continue to watch you from afar. You sighed in disappointment glancing in the direction of him. You turned your attention back to the man before you, grabbing his extended hand.

"I would love to dance, but I'm definitely not a good dancer," you admitted with a sheepish smile, allowing him to guide you onto the dance floor.

He chuckled softly. "Not a problem at all."

You and Benjamin stepped onto the dance floor, but, a shiver ran down your spine as you couldn't shake the feeling of his intense gaze fixed upon your back, leaving a sense of unease settled over you, as if you were being closely observed from afar.

As the music swelled around you, he took your hand and placed the other on your waist, his touch firm but gentle as he led you through the steps of the dance. You couldn't help but steal occasional glances at the man who had shifted his position. He still had his eyes fixed on you, but now, there was a hint of annoyance on his gaze. His annoyed look seemed to follow your every move, and you couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind.

The music changed to a slower, more intimate melody, and Benjamin pulled you a little closer, causing you to look at him. As you moved to the rhythm of the music, your attention was involuntarily drawn back to the mysterious man, whose fingers now clutched the fabric covering the top of the table with a visible tightness. His expression seemed to have shifted from mere curiosity to something more intense, his focus solely on you and your interaction with Benjamin.

"Do you know him?" Benjamin inquired, tracing the direction of your stare.

"Who?" You replied, redirecting your gaze back to Benjamin.

"The man you've been looking at."

You shook your head. "No, I've never seen him before."

Benjamin let out a soft laugh. "It seemed like you two knew each other, given the way you two have been exchanging glances."

Before you could respond, the music came to an end, and Benjamin guided you back to your table. Expressing your gratitude for the dance, your attention was momentarily diverted. However, your curiosity pulled you to steal another glance at the enigmatic man. Why was he so captivated by you? What was the purpose behind this peculiar staring exchange? And, perhaps more importantly, why were you playing this staring game?

Just as you were contemplating these thoughts, your friend reappeared at the table. You swiftly shifted your focus to her, a warm smile gracing your lips.

"So, how was your dance?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

She beamed, still catching her breath. "It was amazing! She's a great dancer. And she's actually really sweet too."

"That's great to hear!" you exclaimed.

"Now, what about yours? I definitely caught you out on the dance floor."

You hesitated for a moment, glancing briefly at the mysterious man. "It was... quite an experience."

You refocused your attention on your friend, yet the enigmatic man's actions lingered in your thoughts. His behavior was growing more peculiar by the moment – from his intense stares to what felt like a deliberate following of your movements around the ballroom. Why he hadn't taken the straightforward route of initiating a conversation left you intrigued and frustrated. As you sighed softly, the notion that your fascination might not be reciprocated by him crossed your mind, introducing a touch of uncertainty to the situation.

"What was that?" she inquired, catching onto your sigh.

"Oh, it's nothing," you replied, offering a small smile. "I suppose I'm just feeling a bit tiren from all the dancing, or maybe I've been overthinking things."

"I've got an idea that might lighten your mood," she began. "How about we grab another drink?"

Her suggestion drew a chuckle from you, and you nodded appreciatively. "Another drink does sound like a good plan."

With that, the two of you made your way back to the bar, where you placed your orders and leaned against the counter. The music of the event filled the air around you as you waited for your drinks. Lost in the ambiance of the ball, you found yourself watching people on the dance floor. The clinking of glasses and the sound of liquid being poured drew your attention back to the bar. You reached out to claim your drink, and then the two of you returned to your table.

"Oh!" your friend exclaimed. "I forgot to ask for a straw. Do you need one?"

"No, I'm fine," you replied with a slight shake of your head.

She rose from her seat and headed back to the bar. Suddenly, the man rose from his seat, adjusting his clothing, and began making his way towards you. Your heart raced, anticipation building. However, he came to a halt as your friend made her way back to the table, his uncertainty palpable as he seemed to grapple with the decision of whether to approach your table or remain where he was.

"Is there something on your mind?" your friend asked, noticing your distracted demeanor.

You sighed, taking a sip of your drink. "It's just... that man over there," you said, nodding subtly in his direction.

"Which man?" She looked around, scanning the crowd.

You leaned in, speaking softly. "The one behind you at that table, the one who's been staring at me."

She followed your gaze and let out a laugh. "Oh, you mean the spooky, mysterious type? He's been looking at you all night."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "It's not exactly flattering, it's kind of unnerving."

"Well, if he's been staring like that, maybe he's just too shy to come over and talk," she suggested.

"Shy or not, he's definitely making me uncomfortable," you admitted.

“He’s definitely intrigued by you,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Or maybe he’s just wondering why I keep looking in his direction.”

She chuckled. "Well, a little conversation never hurt anyone, right? Why don't you go over there and find out what's his problem?"

"If he's interested in talking, he can make the first move."

With a hint of annoyance, you crossed your arms and cast a pointed glare in his direction. However, he stood there, seemingly undeterred. Letting out an exasperated huff, you doubted he could hear your frustration, yet the intensity of his unbroken stare conveyed that the silent exchange might finally be reaching its conclusion. The man redirected his path, and you seized the moment to take another sip of your drink.

"You know what?" your friend interjected, her gaze fixed on the dance floor. "I think we should hit the dance floor again, I really want to dance again."

"Dance again? We just finished one, and I—"

Before you could finish your sentence, your friend grabbed your arm and pulled you up from your seat. You nearly stumbled and had to steady yourself by holding onto her shoulder. Both of you shared a laugh at the unexpected moment, and then she led you towards the dance floor where two lines were forming, with people on one side and another ones on the other, waiting for the next song to start so they could dance together. Your eyes traced the row of people in front of you, and at the farthest end stood he. For some reason, you found yourself yearning to be the one standing before him.

Your gaze shifted to the random partner who awaited you. With a small smile, you exchanged a brief, anticipatory glance. As the melody of the song swelled, your partner stepped forward, and you mirrored their movement with a graceful bow. They reached you, their hand found yours with a gentle grasp. Their other hand found its place on your waist, and together, you two began to move in sync with the rhythm of the music.

With each spin, perfectly synchronized to the music's rhythm, your partner changes seamlessly, whisking you away in a series of enchanting twirls.

The dance continued and the sensation of his gaze tracing your every movement intensified. With each twirl, you found yourself turning your head to catch his eyes, only to discover them unwaveringly focused on you. Twirl after twirl, his stare remained locked onto you, drawing closer with every rotation. Yet, just as you expected to find him in the next instant, he vanished from your line of sight.

Frantically scanning the surroundings, your eyes darted in every direction until the music reached its crescendo – and there he materialized, stepping in as your final dance partner just as you completed your last spin.

"Mi hai chiesto di venire e eccomi qui," the man said with a grin on his lips.

You looked at him in confusion, not understanding his words. However, before you could inquire further, he pulled you into a close embrace as a new song started. His gloved hands reached for your lower back and for your hand, holding you closed to him, almost pressing your bodies together.

The atmosphere shifts, and it's as if the world fades away, leaving only you and him on the dance floor. His strong yet gentle guidance leads you in a seamless dance, your steps effortlessly synchronized with the haunting melody. His gaze remained unwavering, focused solely on you, and his grip remained firm as he held you close. Despite the masked half of his face that concealed his eye, you found yourself unable to divert your gaze from his captivating green eyes.

He led you in perfect harmony with the music, twirling you and then drawing you in closely as the song played on. The finesse of his lead was such that you felt as if you were dissolving into his embrace. Your grip on his shoulder tightened, and you surrendered to the sensation, closing your eyes, letting him to steer you through the dance.

You surrendered to the comfort of his embrace, allowing your back to gently curve against his arm. Your neck arched back, baring its elegant curve, fully immersed in the moment as though you were ensnared in a spell within his arms. All you desired was to be completely enveloped in his presence, feeling his unwavering support in this instant, as if he would hold you regardless of anything else.

With the final note echoing in the air, you felt him guiding you toward the open space of the dance floor, his hold resolute. As you slowly opened your eyes, you met his gaze, his figure hovering above yours, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

With a practiced motion, he brought you back closer, his grasp secure around your lower back. Taking a deep breath, you tried to shake off the enchantment that had taken hold. Your head gave a subtle, almost instinctive, shake as if to break the spell that had woven itself around you. His hand found yours, and he delicately raised it to his lips, planting a soft kiss on your skin.

As the new melody filled the air, his hand gently found its way to your face. Anticipating another dance, you readied yourself, but instead, with a delicate motion, he shifted your hair, unveiling the vulnerable nape of your neck. Inclining toward you, he bestowed a lingering kiss upon your skin. The sensation of his pointed nose and the softness of his lips, accentuated by a mustache gracing the top of his upper lip, brushed against you, creating an impression of savoring your very essence.

"May I have a moment of your time, carissima?" he inquired, his voice a soft whisper close to your ear.

"Y-Yes," you managed to stammer in response.

He wasted no time in guiding you off the dance floor, leading you toward a discreet exit of the saloon. With confident steps, he ushered you to an empty balcony at the rear of the weathered building. The music's distant melodies faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in a secluded haven.

He turned to face you, his gaze intense. The atmosphere was filled with anticipation as the night breeze rustled through your hair. His hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he held it gently yet firmly.

"I must admit," he began, his tone smooth yet tinged with a playful glint in his eye, "I've been wanting to talk to you since the moment you walked into the ballroom." He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"Is that so?" you inquired, arching a brow in disbelief.

He nodded, his lips curving into a half-smile. "Infatti. I had quite a speech planned out, ma ore that we're here, it seems to have escaped my memory."

The confession caught you off guard, a mixture of surprise and curiosity flickering in your eyes. "Really? And why is that?"

He leaned in closer, his voice a velvety whisper. "Perhaps it's your captivating presence or this vestito cremisi of yours. Or maybe it's the simple fact that I haven't been able to take my eyes off you."

You felt a subtle warmth spreading across your cheeks at his candid words, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "Well, I appreciate your honesty."

A sly smile curved his lips. "Ah, but I haven't just been admiring you from afar, I've been devising ways to approach you, hoping to catch your attention." His grin widened, and he leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Perhaps you can help me fill in the gaps, carissima."

You raised an eyebrow playfully, appreciating his direct approach. "Are you asking for assistance in charming me?"

His eyes twinkled with uncertainty. "Is it working?"

You couldn't help but grin, with a playful chuckle on your lips. "Maybe a little."

"Ah, progress," he said, as if celebrating a small victory. "I've been practicing my 'smoldering gaze' for occasions like these, cara."

"Well, I must say, you're doing a fine job." You laughed, charmed by his candid confession.

He leaned a bit too eagerly and accidentally knocked into a nearby potted plant, causing it to wobble precariously until it fall from the top rail. "Eh!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening as he looked down at the broken potted plant on the ground. "It seems I'm not just a master of the 'smoldering gaze,' but also a true artist of goffaggine."

You looked down at the broken potted plant, as his self-deprecating humor made you laugh even harder. "A true renaissance man."

He grinned, scratching his head sheepishly. "A renaissance man that sometimes includes unintentional plant rearrangement, sì?"

"It's all part of your... allure," you chuckled, gesturing with your hands.

He let out a laugh, his eyes sparkling as he met yours. "Eh, sono contento di sentirlo. I must say, though, that breaking potted plants was not part of my grand seduction plan."

"Perhaps it's a new approach," you teased, "capturing hearts through horticultural mishaps."

He pretended to ponder this with an exaggerated expression, then shook his head with mock seriousness. "I might need to reconsider my strategy, sì?."

As he held your gaze, a comfortable silence settled between you, the unspoken words hanging in the air. The soft glow of the moon highlighted his features, and you found yourself captivated by him.

"So," you began, breaking the lighthearted atmosphere, "can I ask your name?"

"Ah, of course, cara!" he responded with enthusiasm. "My name is Copia."

"Copia?" you repeated, tilting your head to the side as you looked at him. "I've never heard a name like that before."

He chuckled softly, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Well, I like to think I'm as unique as my name."

"It suits you," you replied with a gentle smile.

He bowed slightly in response, his manner almost theatrical. "Grazie, carissima. And may I have the honor of knowing the name that accompanies such a lovely smile?"

You introduced yourself, and a warm smile formed on his lips. As he took another step closer, your heart raced in your chest, the proximity making you feel a kind of excitement and nervousness. The heat rose to your cheeks as you met his gaze, feeling a bit flustered in his presence.

"A name as beautiful as its bearer," he echoed, his voice soft yet filled with a genuine warmth that seemed to envelop you.

His hand, still gently holding yours, radiated a comforting warmth that traveled through your veins, soothing the jitters that had taken residence in your stomach.

"I must admit, cara, meeting you has been the most enchanting part of this evening," he confessed, his voice a velvety murmur.

He got his face close to your neck, and a soft purr escaped your lips as you felt his warm breath against your skin. His lips hovered near your neck, but he hesitated, his intense gaze meeting yours. The vulnerability in his eyes was evident as he pulled back slightly, a hint of flustered surprise crossing his features. The soft sound you had emitted seemed to have caught him off guard.

"Mi... Mi dispiace," he stammered, a touch of uncertainty in his tone. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I got carried away."

You smiled, a reassuring light in your eyes as you reached out, placing your hand gently on his. "It's alright, Copia. It's okay. You can do it."

He looked at you, uncertainty and vulnerability mingling in his expression. "Can I?"

Your smile grew warmer, and you nodded gently. "Yes, you can... you can kiss my neck."

Copia's hesitation was palpable as he stared down at your neck. Sensing the uncertainty that gripped him, you took a subtle step closer, getting onto your tiptoes. Gently cupping his face with one hand, you guided his gaze upward until his eyes met yours, the distance between your faces now mere inches.

"Or... you could kiss me," you added in a whisper that seemed to echo the soft rustle of the night breeze. "If you want to, that is. I mean, it’s entirely up to you — we don’t have to, of course."

Copia's gaze shifted from your eyes to your lips, his desire and vulnerability palpable in the intensity of his stare. His hand found its way to your hips with a gentle, yet possessive touch. His other hand ventured upwards, fingers tracing the delicate curve of your neck. Slowly and tenderly, his fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, until his hand settled at the back of your neck.

With a soft sigh, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the moment, as the warmth of his breath mingled with yours. The space between you dwindled, and his face drew closer, your heartbeats resonating in rhythm.

But before he could close the remaining distance between you two, the sound of your name being called reached your ears, a distant yet distinct interruption that caused Copia to step back from you. Your eyes fluttered open, the spell of the moment broken as you turned your gaze from him to the direction from which the voice emanated.

"There you are!" your friend's voice called out, accompanied by the soft patter of footsteps approaching.

You turned your attention toward her, leaving the balcony before she could catch you there with Copia. Is not that she couldn't see him, but you knew she would tease you about it later.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" she exclaimed, concern evident in her eyes.

You chuckled, trying to appear nonchalant. "Sorry for disappearing."

She nudged you playfully. "Oh, come on, spill the beans! What were you up to out here?"

You shrugged, feigning innocence. "Just enjoying the fresh air."

She gave you a knowing look, but thankfully, didn't push further. Instead, she held your hands in a tight grip and gave you a big smile.

"Guess what!" your friend exclaimed, her tone brimming with excitement.

"What?" you responded, intrigued by her enthusiasm.

"Ok, but before I tell you, you have to promise me you won't say a thing about it."

You chuckled, giving her a playful nudge. "Of course I won't. Now tell me, what is it?"

"So," she began, "Freyja – you know, the one who whisked me away to dance as soon as we arrived – well, she asked me if I want to... go with her to another place, and I said yes, so..."

Your eyebrows lifted, your curiosity piqued. "So...? Don't keep me in suspense!"

"So I won't be able to go back with you. Is it okay?" she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

You smiled reassuringly. "Of course! You have to go with her! This sounds like an amazing chance, and I can find my way back."

Her relief was evident in her expression as she hugged you excitedly. "You're the best! I knew you'd understand!"

She pulled away, a big smile lighting up her lips, before turning back to face the ballroom and waving in your direction. You watched her until she disappeared into the crowd. Taking a deep breath, you turned and walked back to the balcony.

"Copia, I'm so sorry for it," you began, your voice soft as you spoke aloud to the empty balcony. "It was just my friend, and she had some exciting news..."

Your voice trailed off as you arrived at the balcony, only to find that Copia was no longer there. The place where he stood was empty, it was as if he had dissolved into the shadows and you couldn't help but wonder where he had disappeared to.

You reached out, your fingers grazing the cold stone of the balustrade as you looked down. The empty balcony stretched before you, and the only thing there was the broken potted plant on the ground.

With a sigh, you leaned against the balustrade, your gaze fixed on the broken plant. The memory of his warm breath against your skin and the softness of his touch remained imprinted in your mind. The absence of Copia left you feeling a blend of disappointment and a lingering sense of wonder.

You shook your head and decided to return to the ballroom. Stepping away from the balcony, you navigated your way back through the bustling crowd, making your way to the door you had initially used to access the balcony. As you re-entered the ballroom, you scanned the area, your eyes searching for any sign of Copia.

However, it seemed that he had truly vanished. The ballroom buzzed with activity, created a joyful ambience. Yet, amidst the joyous ambiance, you couldn't shake the feeling that he had slipped away into the shadows of the night.

Resigned to the situation, you made your way towards the main entrance. As you reached the main entrance, you stepped out into the cool night air.

Before you could start your journey back home, a familiar voice called out from behind you – it was Benjamin.

"Hey! Wait!" he exclaimed, wavering in your direction. "You got missed, I was looking for you."

Turning around, you greeted him with a smile. "Oh, I left after the last dance to get some fresh air, and now I've decided to head home."

His expression turned concerned. "And you're going alone?"

You nodded. "Yes, my friend left the party with a partner, and here I am."

His concern deepened. "Please, I can't let you go alone at this hour to your home. Wait here, I'll go back inside to grab my coat. If you allow me, I'd like to accompany you."

You hesitated, uncertainty flickering in your eyes. "Ah... I'm not sure, but yes, I guess?"

"Alright, stay right here," he said before quickly making his way back to the main entrance.

You took a deep breath, watching as Benjamin disappeared through the main entrance. The cool night breeze seemed to whisper in your ear, urging you to avert your gaze in another direction. Your eyes turned to the balcony, a place where the evening had taken an unexpected turn with Copia. As you looked up, there he was, looking down at you from the balcony.

Your heart raced, and a mixture of emotions surged within you. Copia's mask was gone, revealing a face that seemed to shine in the moonlight. His eye glistened like a radiant moonbeam, captivating your gaze. You blinked rapidly, almost not believing your eyes, but it was undeniably him. Your lips parted in surprise, and your foot took a small step as if drawn by an invisible force. You were on the verge of calling out to him when the sound of footsteps approached you.

"Hey, I'm back," Benjamin said, walking towards you.

Your attention snapped away from the balcony, and your heart sank at the interruption. Copia's figure had vanished, leaving you with a whirlwind of emotions and questions. You offered Benjamin a smile, trying to push away the thoughts that had suddenly consumed you.

"Thanks for offering to walk me home," you said to Benjamin, masking the wistful note in your voice. "I appreciate it."

"Is my pleasure," he said with a warm smile. "Should we go now?"

You nodded, pushing aside your thoughts. "Yes, let's go."

Walking beside Benjamin, you turned your back to the old building. As you headed towards your home, you couldn't help but steal a glance back at the balcony, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of Copia once more. But he wasn't there anymore, and the only thing that accompanied you was the sound of your footsteps against the pavement, and the gentle company of Benjamin who had offered to walk with you. With a sigh, you refocused your attention on the path ahead, the sound of your footsteps mingling with Benjamin's as he walked beside you.

The walk back to your home was accompanied by an awkward silence that hung between you and Benjamin. Despite the reassurance of having someone to accompany you, the absence of meaningful conversation left a lingering discomfort. You were grateful for the company, yet your mind kept drifting back to Copia.

You couldn't help but wonder why your thoughts were so fixated on a stranger. Why did you feel an unexplainable longing for his presence, even though you barely knew anything about him? The memory of his strong yet gentle touch, the intensity of his gaze, and even his moments of clumsiness replayed in your mind like an unending loop.

But it was the almost-kiss that lingered most vividly in your thoughts. The closeness, the anticipation, and the way time seemed to stand still in that fleeting moment – it had etched itself into your memory.

After a few minutes of walking, you finally arrived at the door of your house. You retrieved your key from your small purse, your fingers gripping it as you turned to face Benjamin.

"Thank you for coming with me, Benjamin," you said, offering him a grateful smile.

He returned your smile, his eyes warm. "Of course, anytime. It was my pleasure to make sure you got home safely."

You nodded, a sense of gratitude and relief washing over you. "Well, have a good night, then."

"Are you not going to invite me to enter?" Benjamin's voice broke through your contemplations.

You turned to face him, a faint smile touching your lips. "Why would I?"

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Fair point. Maybe another time then."

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. "Definitely. Thank you for walking me home, Benjamin. It means a lot."

"Anytime," he replied with a warm smile. "Have a good night."

"Good night," you echoed, watching as he turned and walked away.

You entered your home, and closed the door behind you with a deep sigh. You slipped off your shoes and made your way to the living room. With a sense of relief, you unzipped your dress, letting it cascade down to the floor. The fabric pooled around your feet, and as you stood there, you allowed yourself a moment of solitude, the quiet of your home enveloping you.

You made your way to your bedroom, reaching for your bra to remove it. The sensation of being free from the constraints of formal attire was like a weight lifting off your shoulders. With a sigh, you unclasped the bra and let it slide off your shoulders, your back arching slightly as you stretched.

You were on the brink of crawling into your bed, ready to let the day's events settle into the background of your mind. Just as you reached your bed, you were startled by the sound of your doorbell echoing through your home. Your footsteps echoed as you made your way towards the door, a robe quickly found its way around you, and you prayed that it wasn't Benjamin again.

"Look, I appreciate what you did for me but now is not the best moment," you said, with a hint of annoyance on your voice.

As you opened the door, your heart racing. Your initial assumption that it might be Benjamin was quickly shattered as your eyes widened in astonishment.

A grin formed on his lips, and his voice was smooth as he spoke, "Oh, mi dispiace, cara. Were you expecting someone else?"

Before you stood Copia. Did he follow you to your house? The thought tumbled through your thoughts, leaving you bewildered and a touch anxious. You couldn't help but wonder if he had walked behind you and Benjamin the entire way. If he did, why? What was his motivation? Your heart raced as you tried to gather your thoughts.

The silence lingered between you for a moment, a thousand questions dancing on the tip of your tongue. As you met his gaze, you noticed he e wasn't wearing his mask by then, allowing you to finally glimpse his complete face. Bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, his green eye shimmered, but it paled in comparison to the radiance of his white one, a sight unlike anything you had ever seen before.

"I... I didn't expect to see you here," you finally managed to say.

A playful glint sparkled in his eye as he regarded you. "Ah, I suppose I have a knack for surprises, sì?"

"I... um, what brings you here?" you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he said with a half-smile.

"No, you're not intruding," you replied, your curiosity getting the better of you. "But... how did you know where I live?"

Copia's smile widened slightly, and he tilted his head in a manner that seemed almost conspiratorial. "Let's just say I have my ways."

"And by ways, you mean... follow me?" you inquired, raising an eyebrow in playful skepticism.

A playful glint danced in Copia's eyes as he leaned against the doorframe, his demeanor a blend of confidence and charm. "Perhaps not in the most conventional sense, but I wanted to make sure you got home safely, cara."

"Well," you looked around your living room and let out a light chuckle. "I guess I'm... safe?"

Copia's laughter joined yours, a warm and inviting sound that echoed in your ears. "Safe is a relative term, sì?"

As you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow at his cryptic comment. "Is it, now? What do you mean by that?"

He met your gaze with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "Safety can take on many forms, cara. Sometimes, the most dangerous things are the most tempting."

You couldn't deny the underlying tension that had woven itself into the atmosphere. Copia's eyes held a depth that was both alluring and mysterious, and you found yourself drawn further into him.

"Are you implying that I should be cautious around you?" you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of playfulness.

A spark of amusement danced in Copia's eyes as he stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until it was almost nonexistent. "Beh, cara, I'll leave that for you to decide."

You nodded, your gaze locked onto his eyes. Just as you were about to reply, Copia interjected with a soft chuckle. He gracefully moved away from the doorframe, giving you a gentle smile that held a touch of reassurance.

"I'm just kidding, cara," he said, his voice a velvet caress that seemed to fill the room. "I promise not to bring any kind of danger into your world."

"Yeah, you're a danger only to potted plants after all," you teased him, giggling.

Copia's laughter joined yours, the tension of the moment giving way to a lighthearted exchange. "Eh, sì, my eternal struggle against potted plants," he replied with a mock sigh. "It's a battle I fear I'll never win."

You couldn't help but chuckle, but a soft blush as Copia's hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch both unexpected and intimate. The warmth of his hand against your skin sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, and you found yourself drawn into his gaze once again.

"I must repeat," Copia began, his gaze turning thoughtful, "it's not every night that I find myself in such charming company."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a genuine smile touching your lips. "Well, it's not every night that a mysterious stranger decides to follow me home and confesses to being a potted plant menace."

Copia's eyes danced with amusement. "Giusto, cara! But, I hope you know that my intention is to ensure your safety."

"I appreciate that," you replied softly. "But I assure you, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."

"I don't doubt that for a moment," he said, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "I know you can take care of yourself, cara," he removed his hand from your face, taking a step back. "I should be on my way," he said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance. "You are safe here, and it's time for me to leave."

"Thank you for your company and for making sure I'm safe."

Copia's gaze held yours for a lingering moment. "Until we meet again, cara."

With those parting words, he turned and walked toward the door, his presence fading into the night as quickly as he had appeared. As you closed the door behind him, you found yourself leaning against it, your heart racing and your mind swirling. The encounter with Copia had been both exhilarating and surreal, leaving you with more questions than answers.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, allowing the stillness of the moment to wash over you. The memory of his touch, his voice, and his piercing gaze lingered, leaving an indelible imprint on your thoughts. You couldn't help but wonder if you and the mysterious man named Copia would really meet again.

Chapter 2

⸻ Grammar

Carissima: Dearest

Cara: Dear

Mi hai chiesto di venire e eccomi qui: You asked me to come and here I am

Infatti: Indeed

Ma ore: But now

Vestito cremisi: Crimson dress

Goffaggine: Clumsiness

Sì: Yes

Sono contento di sentirlo: I'm glad to hear it

Grazie: Thank you

Sorriso incantevole: Lovely smile

Mi dispiace: I'm sorry

Beh, cara: Well, dear

Giusto, cara: Right, dear

[tonyspank]

CHAPTER ONE | RECKLESS

Tara Carpenter x G!P Reader x Female OC

Warnings: zombies, fighting, thats all i think

A/N: twd helped me with this

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Once you get close enough to the woman, she starts running as well, leaving you no time to ask questions. You chase after her, desperately trying to keep up with her pace. As you follow her, your mind races with curiosity, wondering why she chose to help you. And was she the one who shot the gun?

You feel a mix of fear and intrigue as you contemplate the mysterious circumstances surrounding her involvement. Despite the unanswered questions, your instinct tells you that sticking with her is your best chance at survival.

The two of you run for a while until you reach the middle of the woods. She stops, looking around.

You take this as a chance to talk, "Where are we going?" You ask, trying to catch your breath. She turns to you with a determined look in her eyes, "Get in the car, and then I'll explain." She begins jogging, and you follow her, behind a few trees there's an old pickup truck.

Its worn exterior suggests that it has been abandoned for quite some time. As you both climb into the truck, you speak again.

"Okay! Now, can you explain? I'm lost on what's going on, where we're going, and who you are." She starts the engine, and the truck roars to life, its rusty parts groaning in protest. She glances at you before turning her attention back onto the dirt road.

"We're going to turn around for my sister, then we're going back to our home base. And my name is Tara Carpenter, there." You furrow your eyebrows, holding onto the door handle as the truck bounces along the uneven terrain. "Wait, your sister? I didn't see anyone," you say, trying to make sense of the situation.

"How do you think you're still alive? She was the one who shot that walker." Tara's eyes narrow as she recalls the intense encounter. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Tara's words hang in the air, leaving you speechless.

The realization sinks in that your life was saved by someone you never even saw.

"Wait, wait, wait! Did you just call them walkers?"

Tara sends you a confused look, "Yeah?"

"What about the ones that jog?" You ask, then mumble to yourself. "Joggers..?" Tara raises an eyebrow, clearly perplexed by your question. "Joggers? What are you talking about?" she asks, her confusion evident in her voice.

You quickly realize that your attempt at humor fell flat, and you awkwardly laugh it off, trying to change the subject. "Never mind, forget I said anything."

"Also, you said something about a home base? I appreciate you and your sister saving my life and all, but groups never do any good." Tara looks at you with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"I understand, but think about what could've happened if we didn't find you," she responds, her voice gentle yet firm. You ponder her words for a moment, realizing that she's right. You could've gotten bit.

"I'm not going to beg you to come home with us. Just think about it." You nod, acknowledging Tara's point. The thought of the potential danger you narrowly escaped lingers in your mind. Soon, you see a group of walkers and another woman in a tree, a sniper on her back.

Without thinking, you hop out of the truck, yelling, causing some of the walkers to turn their attention towards you. You take your knife out of your belt and start slashing at the approaching walkers, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

The woman in the tree notices your bravery and starts picking off the remaining walkers with her sniper rifle, providing you with much-needed backup. As you both fight off the horde together, you realize that this unexpected partnership might just be the key to surviving this terrifying ordeal.

With each swing of your knife and each shot from her rifle, the walkers are slowly but surely being taken down. The adrenaline-fueled teamwork gives you a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos, making you believe that maybe, just maybe, there is a chance for survival in this post-apocalyptic world.

The woman makes her way down the tree, quickly entering the truck. You stand there, looking overtop of dead walkers, wiping a bit of blood that got on your face. "What the hell are you doing? Get in the truck!" the woman yells, and Tara quickly nods in agreement.

You snap out of your daze and quickly jump into the bed of the truck, Tara wastes no time pulling off, leaving the gruesome scene behind. You lay on your back, spread out like a starfish, as the wind rushes past you, providing a brief moment of relief from the chaos.

Tara glances at you through the rear view mirror with concern before focusing back on the road ahead, her determination evident in her eyes.

As the truck speeds away, you can't help but wonder what you're about to get yourself into. Tara's sister knocks on the truck's back window, gaining your attention before she opens it. "I'm Sam, by the way." You give Sam a faint smile, grateful for the introduction.

"Y/N." You simply say. As the truck continues down the road, you feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness building inside you. The unknown awaits, and you can't help but wonder how this journey will unfold.

Your eyes snap awake at a loud slap against the metal truck. It's Sam. "We're here." You quickly gather your belongings and step out of the back of the truck, taking in your surroundings. A brown-haired man with a scruffy beard makes his way toward the three of you in a sheriff's uniform.

He introduces himself as Sheriff Dewey Riley and welcomes you to the small town. "Before you settle down, I'm going to have to take your weapons." You exchange a wary glance with Sam, unsure of whether to comply.

Sheriff Riley notices your hesitation and reassures you, "It's just a precautionary measure for everyone's safety. You'll get them back once everything is sorted out." Reluctantly, you hand over your weapons, hoping that this small town holds more than meets the eye.

Tara glances at you before whispering something in Sam's ear. You strain to hear what Tara is saying, but her words are too quiet. Sam nods in response, her expression growing more serious. Curiosity piqued, you wonder what secrets this small town might be hiding and what role Tara and Sam might play in it all.

"C'mon kid." Dewey says, nodding his head in the direction of the town. "Let's get you checked in." You follow Dewey, your mind racing with anticipation and questions about the mysteries that lie ahead.

As you walk towards the town, you're truly shocked. Everything looked so peaceful, as if there wasn't an apocalypse happening on the other side of the walls.

The sight of the seemingly untouched town only deepens your intrigue, making you even more determined to uncover the truth. As you approach the entrance, you can't help but wonder how this place has managed to remain unscathed amidst chaos and destruction.

Dewey took you to the doctor to get yourself checked out before introducing you to his wife, Gale.

She seemed like the leader of this place, with an air of confidence and authority that commanded respect. Her eyes held a glimmer of resilience, as if she had seen it all and still managed to keep the town thriving. "I'm Gale Riley, sit, please."

You sit listen to Gale's voice as it carried a sense of determination and compassion, instantly drawing you in.

"We've faced countless challenges over the years," she explained, "but we've built a tight-knit community that supports one another through it all."

"What is this place?" you asked, unable to contain your curiosity any longer. Gale smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up with pride.

"This place," she replied, "is a sanctuary for those seeking refuge, a haven where people come together to rebuild their lives and find hope amidst adversity, or the start of sustainability. Which is what the brochures we found say. This was a planned community with its own solar grid, cisterns, and eco-based sewage filtration."

Gale continued, "Me and my husband were led here. See, I'm a news reporter, and my husband was a sheriff in our old town. He was investigating a series of corruption cases that led to dangerous threats against our lives. We had to leave everything behind and start fresh, and this place seemed like the perfect opportunity for us to do so."

You nod at her words, still in disbelief about the place. As you take in Gale's story, you can't help but marvel at the foresight and ingenuity that went into creating such a self-sustaining community.

The idea of a solar grid, cisterns, and eco-based sewage filtration all working together seamlessly is truly impressive. It's clear that this place was designed with both environmental consciousness and the well-being of its residents in mind.

There's a knock at the door, interfering with your thoughts. You turn to see another woman, "Hi, I'm Sidney." She introduces herself with a warm smile. Sidney explains that she is a longtime resident of the community and offers to give you a tour, eager to share more about the innovative solutions and sustainable practices that make this place so unique.

Intrigued by her offer, you gladly accept, curious to learn even more about this remarkable community.

Gale gives you a tight-lipped smile before you walk out of her living room, following Sidney closely. As you walk behind Sidney, you notice her enthusiasm and passion for the community radiating from her every word.

She points out various landmarks and explains how each one contributes to the community's commitment to sustainability. As you continue the tour, you can't believe you were going to turn down this place not too long ago.

"Are you serious?" You ask Sidney, who quickly nods. "You're just giving me a house?" Sidney chuckles and replies, "Well, not exactly giving it to you. Gale will give you a job, and you'll have to earn your keep." Everything about this feels too good to be true.

"I know you're still feeling us out, but I'm glad you're here, Y/N." Sidney says sincerely, her eyes filled with warmth. "We believe in creating a sense of community here, and having you join us adds to that spirit, you know?" You nod at her, sending a slight smile her way.

"Well, then. I'll let you settle in, but if you need anything, don't be afraid to ask, I'm just a few houses down." Sidney's authentic warmth and offer of support reassure you, easing some of your initial skepticism. Her words about creating a sense of community make you feel more hopeful about this opportunity. "Thank you," you say.

Sidney sends you another smile before leaving. You slowly open the door to the home, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The space is cozy and inviting, with warm colors and comfortable furniture. As you step inside, a sense of excitement and anticipation fills the air, mingling with a hint of nervousness.

You make your way into the kitchen, resting your hand on the faucet before turning it. The sound of the rushing water is soothing, and you laugh, overwhelmed with amazement. It's been a while since you've been in a place like this, where everything is new and refreshing.

You take a shower, cleaning off the sweat, blood, and dirt that's been on you for the past couple of months. The tension in your muscles begins to melt away, and you can't help but let out a contented sigh. It's a small luxury that you've missed dearly during this apocalyptic time, and you relish in the simple pleasure of being able to wash away the remnants of your journey.

You quickly put on your bra, grabbing a towel as you hear a knock on your front door. Curiosity piqued, you wrap the towel around yourself and cautiously make your way to the door. Wondering who it could be. You open the door, revealing a redhead girl and a curly-haired boy.

The girl whistles at the sight of you, admiring your freshly washed hair and the towel wrapped around you. The boy, on the other hand, looks slightly embarrassed and averts his gaze. "I'm Quinn, and this is my brother Ethan," the readhead says, a small smile on her lips.

You feel a mix of surprise and self-consciousness as you quickly tighten the towel around yourself. Quinn's compliment on your appearance brings a blush to your cheeks, while Ethan's shyness makes you wonder what could have prompted their visit.

"Our dad is Officer Bailey, so whenever we get newcomers, he makes us introduce ourselves." You nod understandingly, realizing that Officer Bailey must take his role as a community liaison seriously. Though you start to realize you haven't been introduced to him yet, "Officer Bailey? I don't think we've met."

Quinn chuckles and replies, "Oh, don't worry! Our dad is always busy with his duties, but he'll definitely come by to meet you soon. He's not really the friendly type, but he needs to know everyone in the neighborhood." You hum, giving her a nod.

"Oh! Did Gale tell you about the get together that's happening?" Ethan speaks up, raising an eyebrow. You smile and shake your head, admitting that Gale hadn't mentioned the get together yet.

Ethan continues, "It's going to be a fun event with games, food, and a chance for everyone to socialize. You should definitely come, it'll be a great opportunity to meet everyone."

"Sure, I'll be there." You reply, genuinely intrigued by the idea of getting to know your new neighbors better. Plus, it sounds like a fun event that you don't want to miss out on.

"Great! Well, we'll see you then." He responds, smiling and giving you a friendly wave before heading off. Quinn follows behind him, giving her own wave and smile.

The event was your average get together, with people mingling and chatting in small groups. You were in a corner by yourself, drinking as you observed everyone.

"Socialize." You hear someone say, you turn to be faced with Sidney.

You smile at the woman, whose mouth drops dramatically. "Look at you! You look nice, cleaned up!" Sidney compliments your appearance, clearly impressed by your transformation.

"Thank you. It felt nice to have a hot shower again." You reply, grateful for the simple pleasure of feeling clean after a long time. Sidney nods sympathetically, understanding exactly what you've been through.

Your eyes leave the woman beside you, glancing over only to find Tara talking to someone else her age. Sidney's eyes fall to your point of view, and her smile widens. "Tara's a sweet girl."

Your eyes flicker between Sidney and Tara, letting out a chuckle. "I don't think she likes me." You admit taking another sip of your drink.

Sidney chuckles softly, shaking her head. "Oh, don't worry about that. Tara can be a bit reserved at first, but she warms up to people once she gets to know them better. Give it some time, and I'm sure you two will get along just fine."

"Sam told everyone how you helped her." Sidney says. You shrug, "She helped me first. Plus, we took down those walkers together, it wasn't just me." Sidney nods, a smile playing on her lips.

"That may be true, but teamwork is key in this world. But still, not everyone would have stepped up like you did. You've earned Sam's gratitude and respect." You blush slightly at the compliment, grateful for Sidney's kind words.

"Tomorrow morning, go talk to Gale. She has a job for you." You raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Why can't you just tell me?" Sidney chuckles, shaking her head. "Gale likes to give out the details in person. She's old-fashioned like that. Plus, I think she wants to see the look on your face when she tells you."

You can't help but laugh at the thought of Gale's mischievous nature. "Alright, I'll go find her tomorrow then. Thanks for the heads up, Sidney."

Sidney squeezes your bicep before walking away. "Y/N!" Someone calls out from Tara's group. They stand up, ushering you off. You smile at Ethan before deciding to walk over, curious to see what he wants. "Oh, it's pretty girl." Quinn smiles, you now appearant in her sight.

You return Quinn's smile and join Tara's group, wondering what Ethan wants to talk about. As you approach, Ethan greets you warmly and introduces you to the rest of the group. "Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Chad, Amber, Wes, Mindy, Anika, Frankie, Liv, and you already know Tara."

You exchange greetings with everyone in the group, feeling welcomed and curious about their dynamic. "It's nice to meet you, I heard you saved Sam's life." Mindy says, causing you to shake your head. "It wasn't that serious. She saved mine, to be honest." You brush off the compliment modestly, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

Mindy just hums, and Chad takes this as a chance to speak. "Did Gale give you a role already?" You shake your head in response to Chad's question. "Not yet," you reply. "She's supposed to give me one tomorrow, though." Chad nods, looking intrigued. "I'm sure she'll find something perfect for you. Gale has a great eye for talent."

Wes chimes in, adding, "Yeah, she's really good at matching people with roles that suit them." You can't help but feel a surge of anticipation for what Gale might have in store for you. "That's good to hear."

"How old are you?" Liv asks, and you turn your head to her with a smile. "21." Amber then speaks, "Really? You look younger than that." "Thank you, I guess it's good genes," you reply with a chuckle. Wes joins in, saying, "Age is just a number anyway. What matters are your skills and passion."

"Wes, what the fuck are you talking about?" Amber questions, squinting her eyes at the blonde haired boy. Wes shrugs, unfazed by Amber's reaction.

"We're going to go get some more drinks." Frankie announces to the group, interrupting his own conversation he was having with Tara. Tara and Frankie both get up, and you watch the two disappear from sight before turning your eyes back to the group, only to have everyone staring at you. "What?"

You ask, feeling a bit self-conscious under their gaze. Mindy chuckles and leans back in her chair, saying, "You like Tara." You blush slightly, shaking your head. You didn't even know the girl! But Mindy's comment makes you wonder if there was something about Tara that caught your attention.

Though you couldn't help but admit she was absolutely beautiful. Her long, flowing hair and radiant smile were captivating, along with her freckles that dotted her cheeks, adding a touch of playfulness to her overall appearance.

There was an undeniable aura of confidence that surrounded her, as if she knew she had a magnetic effect on people. It was intriguing to think about what it would be like to get to know her beyond just her physical appearance.

"No?" You mutter, furrowing your eyebrows, trying to convince the group. You couldn't understand how anyone could resist being drawn to her. There was something about her that seemed to defy explanation, making you even more curious about the person behind the captivating exterior.

Mindy just shrugs, "Whatever you say." Anika rolls her eyes at her girlfriend, "Ignore her. She believes she can sense people's crushdars! She does it with everyone."

You chuckle, and Mindy immediately defends herself. "I definitely have a sixth sense when it comes to matters of the heart," she playfully retorts. Anika smirks, teasingly adding, "You couldn't sense my crush on you."

Mindy thins out her lips and says, "Because you give off straight girl, babe."

Anika's jaw drops as she lets out a dramatic gasp. No, I don't!" Mindy laughs and says, "Oh, come on. You know it's true." Anika playfully pouts and replies, "Well, maybe I just wanted to keep you guessing."

Mindy leans in, kissing away her girlfriend's pout. "Guessing or not, I'm glad we're together now," Mindy whispers softly, their lips still touching. Anika smiles and pulls Mindy closer, savoring the warmth of their embrace.

"You guys are going to make me sick." Quinn says, earning a nod of agreement from Chad. Quinn rolls her eyes playfully and adds, "But seriously, you two are disgustingly cute." Chad chuckles and says, "Yeah, it's almost nauseating how in love you two are."

You smile at the group, happy to fit in so well. But your smile is gone once you see Frankie leading Tara to the front door of the house, obviously drunk.

You feel a pang of concern as you watch Frankie struggle to keep Tara steady. It's clear that Tara has had too much to drink, and you worry about her well-being.

You quickly stand up, earning confused looks from the group. You follow Frankie and Tara outside the house, not even sparing the group a second glance. "Hey guys!" You call out to Frankie and Tara, trying to get their attention.

"Are you guys okay? Tara seems really drunk, maybe we should get her some water and make sure she's alright." You offer your help, hoping they will listen and take care of Tara's well-being.

Frankie shakes his head, laughing. "She's fine, dude. Just go back to the group." You glance at Tara before squinting your eyes at Frankie. "Nah, dude, I think she should come back with me."

"It's fine. Y/N." Tara mumbles, her words slurring together. "I can handle myself." Despite her protests, you can't shake off the concern you feel for Tara's well-being.

"See. It's fine." He harshly grabs Tara's arm, dragging her down the few remaining steps of the home's entryway.

Tara mutters out an, "Ow." You shoot Frankie a disapproving look, but he ignores it. You quickly push Frankie away from Tara, placing yourself between them. "Tara, I don't think it's a good idea for you to go with him," you say firmly. "Let me take you home instead."

"⁠She's fine," Frankie seethes, reaching for Tara, but you push him, maybe a bit too hard, because he falls to the ground. Frankie's face contorts with anger as he scrambles back to his feet. "The fuck?"

He rushes to you, tackling you. As Frankie tackles you, you struggle to defend yourself, trying to keep him at bay.

The situation escalates quickly, with both of you grappling on the ground, desperately trying to gain the upper hand. You straddle Frankie, attempting to punch him repeatedly, but he manages to block most of your blows.

"Guys! Stop!" You hear Tara's panicked voice, but the adrenaline is pumping too hard for either of you to listen. The fight continues, with neither of you willing to back down.

You don't notice people starting to exit the house, drawn by the commotion. Some onlookers attempt to intervene, shouting for you both to stop, but their efforts are futile as the intensity of the fight consumes your focus.

You're roughly pulled off of the man, your heart pounding and your breath heavy. "Alright, alright, that's enough." A voice says from behind you, holding you back by your bicep.

You look around at the crowd, and Quinn mouths, "My dad." You shut your eyes for a second, realizing that on your first day in the community, you were already about to be put under arrest.

As you open your eyes, glancing over to Tara and then her friend group, Quinn's dad begins to handcuff you. You feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you as the handcuffs click into place. Tara's friend group watches in shock, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Fighting on the first day, really?" The gray-haired man says, shaking his head. You try to explain yourself, stuttering out an apology. "I didn't mean to start a fight, sir," you manage to say. The gray-haired man raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of your explanation.

"He was going to take advantage of her!" You continue, desperately trying to defend your actions. "She was obviously drunk and he was trying to take her home. I had to intervene."

The gray-haired man's expression softens slightly as he considers your words, but he remains cautious. "Well, we'll have to sort this out," he says, slightly pushing you to walk in front of him.

You take one last look at the crowd, your heart dropping when you notice a familiar face.

"Iris?" You mumble to yourself. She looks just as shocked to see you as you are to see her. Memories of your past together flood your mind, adding another layer of complexity to the situation.

[amourlyns]

❛ HEY VENGEANCE. ❜ ➜ ⁽ masterlist ⁾

✧ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: in which john price and simon riley discuss the past, present and future over a late night smoke.

✧ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: mentions of war, death, body horror, mental illness, child death.

✧ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: inspired by this post. enjoy some angsty, but soft john and si. added my own personal touches, so i like to think john went through something similar and that’s why he’s so greatly effected. + he has 2 kids, mac n rosie with his ex—wife clara. dedicated to @whittywhitty and @mawvax ‘s comic.

⟡ ⠀ | Words are never exchanged during these kinds of nights. Instead, smoke fills the space where words would lay.

There’s a bitter chill in the air that settles into John’s bones. Making a home in his marrow. Tonight, he’s accompanied by Ghost. Of course, Simon Riley would always be more than a phantom. John actively told him that— yet.

Yet it doesn’t click.

Because phantoms do not desire eulogies from their Captain, and phantoms do not seek absolution. They simply be. Somehow, Simon Riley does this all at once. Despite the façade, he’s still a man. A man who feels, a man of flesh and blood. There’s a twinge of guilt that spikes through John’s veins, he already knows that it’s too late to speak on such matters— too late for apologies on events he could not stop.

But he speaks anyways.

Some part of John really believes that Simon, not (Ghost) could read him like a book. Or at least try to. Before John can utter an apology, Simon’s gaze already settles on his superior. He’s expecting something, either words or actions. John realizes this, and speaks at once.

❛❛ I’M SORRY.. ❜❜

John shifts his weight, leaning into one leg. Simon glances towards John for a total of three grand seconds. He notices these three things. One, John Price’s brows furrow inwards when he’s contemplating something. Two, he gnaws on his beloved Clara Villa cigar when he’s stretched too far. Three, John Price loves too much.

It’s still profound to Riley, having someone apologize to him. Some nasty, ugly part of his mind tells him to be apathetic. To play dumb. John does not mean it, nor does Simon deserve such a thing. An apology, empathy, or some kind of grand understanding.

He cracks anyways.

❛❛ (…) WHAT FOR ? ❜❜

John is obviously at a loss, his cigar burns out. Ash settles on the tray, glinting in the moonlight. He lights another, gnaws, and smokes. Notes of leather and light maple stains John’s lungs. A bitter char wafts in the air. The stars seem to illuminate the hazy night.

They sit in silence for a few moments. John eventually starts up again, and Simon listens closely.

❛❛ I WASN’T THERE, SI. I WASN’T THERE WHEN YOU LOST (…) YOU. WHEN YOU DIED. WHEN YOU LOST EVERYTHING. ❜❜

Price’s words echo into the endless night, accompanied by cicadas and their hymns, the chirp of crickets follow moments after. Then, there’s silence. Is it really silence? There’s so many unspoken words that burn like an uproarious flame between the pair.

So many apologies John could say, so many stories he could say and tell. John wants to tell Simon that no one should ever experience such a thing, and how he’s a good kid. John wants to tell Simon that it’s not his fault.

And if John could, he’d explain how the soil of your own grave never leaves the ridges of your fingertips. And how you can never scrub the grime off, no matter how hard you try. How silence is the most jarring thing to a man, yet, the most peaceful. How being a living, walking, deadman changes you.

To be a living, breathing body. Rotting away like a real corpse. John thinks, and he wonders. What kind of man has the stomach to rip a jaw, and dig his way out?

Simon has his own thoughts. He ponders on his next words, and what to say to get his Captain out of this whump. It’s uncharacteristic, to see a man of John’s status and stature oh, so defeated. His shoulders are slumped, eyes are set on the view below. Obscured by the dark night, but undoubtedly somber and solemn.

Simon knows that Price’s life revolves around humans. He knows the Captain has seen terrors no man should lay his eyes upon. Simon has heard the stories and he’s seen John’s scars. Small glimpses into the window of his life. Simon knows John is lucky enough to have a family, two kids. Mac and Rosie. A loving, supportive woman in his life— his ex—wife Clara.

And yet, despite this. Simon could sense that John Price could never be a gentle man, because he never had a gentle man in his life. He only knows how to chew on marrow and sink his canines into everything and everyone.

Simon only knew this because they were two of a kind. They aren’t unfamiliar with the sight of blood spilling from orifices of a cadaver, decomposing and becoming one with the earth. Or, the gore of a body festering in puss. The corroding of flesh, and necrosis of the limbs due to an untreated infection on the field. Simon and Price have laid their eyes on parts that are meant to be hidden away by flesh and muscles.

These parts, the innermost parts, are always shocking when displayed in such raw, open spaces, like the battlefields and deserts, where bodies are picked apart by vultures and crows, but Price and Simon no longer flinches at twisted body parts and decaying flesh. They have seen far too much of it to be upset by it anymore.

But, Simon does not know how the rawness of all it washes over John, despite the disfigurement of each of these bodies (was) a living, breathing, person. Whether or not they were civilians, enemies or enemies.

John’s sense of mortality is never numbed, or dismissed. Instead, he weighs on it much, much, more. Death within his field of work is something he knows will happen. There’s no point of price diminishing these feelings.

John Price has children, he has a family. He’s ready for his own death, but are they?

Of course he’s no saint, he knows this and refuses to be called such. He has the blood of mothers, fathers, and children in his hands. He suffers each day for it. Flashing visions of gaunt faces and vacant eyes staring back at him each night. Spindly fingers that wrap around him in the night.

John is a man of war. A man who chooses the lesser evil.

The sensation of Simon’s arm on his shoulder brings him back to earth, a sense of reassurance. A silent apology.

❛❛ PRICE. YOU PUT TOO MUCH ON YOUR SHOULDERS. YOU WERE THERE WHEN I CAME BACK. YOU NEVER LEFT (…) WHEN EVERYONE THOUGHT OF ME AS A LOST CAUSE, TOO ANGRY, TOO INSANE. YOU GAVE ME A SECOND CHANCE IN THE ONE FOUR ONE. ❜❜

❛❛ YOU COULD EVEN SAY— IT WAS A (PRICE)LESS GIFT ❜❜

Simon faces John now. Stubbing out his cigarette, to grace John with a timid smile. John blinks once, then twice, then thrice. A smile, a smile from Simon Riley. John could cry, really. Granted, his eyes are already watering up from Simon’s speech. He fights the urge to laugh at that horrible pun. Maintaining a brave face for Simon.

❛❛ THAT (…) THAT WAS SO BAD. ❜❜

John chokes out, the feeling of Simon’s hand on his shoulder remains. He’s rooted now, feeling as bit lighter than before.

❛❛ AH, NOT MY BEST. ❜❜

Simon chortles, a retort dies on his tongue. For once, Simon feels lighter too. He’s ran out of smokes now. The only thing they could do was watch the sun rise back up in the horizon for tonight. And exchange a few stories, or accept the silence.

[pandoa]

"the language of ily"

lilia teaches malleus the wonders of modern texting slang. but when his child of man sends him a strange text that says “ily”, he struggles to find the meaning behind (Y/n)’s peculiar acronym. 

~malleus draconia x gender neutral reader~

warnings: none!

“So,” Malleus stared at Lilia in awe, “the children of men have deliberately established their own mailing language as a means for more efficient and simpler messaging techniques?”

Lilia quietly chuckled at the boy’s cluelessness. “Well, yes, but it’s more of a texting language rather than mailing, I would say. It’s electronic, fufufu.”

“Incredible…” The Diasomnia dorm leader glanced at the small device laying on his lap with pure mesmerisation. Humans were a fascinating kind, no doubt. Though, even with the longer life span he had compared to the non-fae beings, Malleus could never fully comprehend the mechanisms of modern technology. “Say, Lilia…” the fae prince said hesitantly, “do you think you could teach me this ‘texting language’ of the children of men? (Y/n) is often around that Heartslabyul student, I believe his name is Cater Diamond, and occasionally uses these intriguing terms to converse with their friends.” Malleus averted his gaze with an uncharacteristic sense of embarrassment shown within his body movement. “I wish to understand at least some of these terms.”

Lilia’s face lit up with exhilaration. His young prince had a crush! On the prefect, at that! Wiping off the proud tears from his ruby-colored eyes, he craned his head up to Malleus. “Of course, I will teach you! My days of gaming late into the night with online users have paid off, hehe~”

Sliding closer to the housewarden’s figure, Lilia proceeded to explain the many acronyms, slang, and emoticons to the astounded heir of Briar Valley in vivid detail.

“Now this, Malleus, is what internet users type when they are uncontrollably laughing at a message. It stands for ‘Rolling on Floor Laughing.’” Lilia intelligently pushed up his imaginary pair of glasses.

“Am I required to truly roll on the floor as I laugh to make this acronym accurate when I use it?”

Lilia paused, pondering on his prince’s question before replying with a playful, “Yes.”

Ding!

The younger fae flinched from his seat at the sudden sound of his phone ringing. “Oh! Apologies for the interruption, but my child of man has delivered me an electronic letter.”

“It’s called a text, dear Malleus, but go on.” Lilia, who was now conveniently behind Malleus, had begun scanning the blinding phone screen in search of anything he found amusing. “What have they sent?”

“It is a strange acronym with the letters I, L, and Y. I’m afraid I do not understand.” Malleus dejectedly stared at his device, looking quite similar to an endearing puppy pouting at his genuine confusion.

Having enough of the housewarden’s sulking, however, was Lilia as he placed a contemplating finger under his chin, utilizing a portion of his brainpower to help the younger fae.

I, L, and Y… Could it be? 

“Ah, yes! Of course!” The prince’s caretaker jolted up in excitement after a small moment of silence as he deciphered the adorable acronym you had sent. How cute! Clasping his hands together, Lilia exclaimed with a slight skip to his step in joy. “Malleus, this is great news! It means ‘I love you.’”

“I have a deep affection for you as well, Lilia. You have been my caretaker ever since I was a small fae, so that seems self explanatory. But what does this have to do with my child of man?” 

Exhaling in discouragement, Lilia vigorously shook his head from side to side. The mage before him had significantly misunderstood his statement. “No, no, Malleus. (Y/n) is saying ‘I love you’ in that message.”

“Why would they feel the need to inform me of your emotions?”

Oh, Great Seven, he was hopeless. The bat fae raised his palm to smack himself in the face. His poor, sweet, innocent prince. So gullible, so oblivious. Every romantic advance (Y/n) seemed to make never failed to fly over the top of Malleus’s dense head to the point that all of NRC had known about the prefect’s romantic intentions towards the fae except him. It was, in all honesty, a comical sight to see. Although, to the relief of (Y/n), Lilia’s amusement never prevented him from playing matchmaker for the two students. It was in the name of blooming love, after all!

“Malleus, I want you to look me straight in the eyes.” The older fae took hold of Malleus’s much taller form as he levitated himself up to meet with the slow-minded prince on an even level. “(Y/n) has just told you that they love you.”

The dorm leader sat blankly and unmoving on his spot in the Diasomnia dorm lounge. What? Had he heard Lilia’s words correctly? Malleus had sent his caretaker, for the millionth time that day, another empty stare into oblivion.

“Love? As in the intense feeling of fondness for an individual? The emotion that releases a number of chemicals in a living body such as high levels of dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin, a neuropeptide produced in the hypothala-“

“Yes, yes! That love.” Lilia quickly interrupted his precious housewarden’s unnecessary scientific definition as he was growing impatient to the boy’s oblivious nature.

Silence soon befell on the two Diasomnia students.

“Then,” Malleus rose from his seat, breaking the quiet atmosphere. “I must go to them and reciprocate their feelings.”

“Right now? It’s practically midnight-“

“It is no matter,” he confidently declared. “I am always there at this time admiring their gargoyles, anyway. Thank you, Lilia, for enlightening me on the ways of modern letter-exchanging. I deeply appreciate it.” Malleus bid the shorter fae a goodbye with a swift nod of his head. “I shall be off, now.”

“Ah, yes, go ahead.”

And so, with a flick of his wrist, Malleus had disappeared with shimmering green sparkles following him thereafter before he could even finish saying “child of man.” Seeing as the dorm leader was gone, Lilia had let out an exasperated sigh. Acting as Cupid and modern translator for his dearest Malleus’s necessities was wholeheartedly a huge honor; although, he could do without the exhaustion that came with it. Relieved to finally have some leisurely time alone, Lilia kicked off his shining black boots and sunk into the comforting cushion of the dorm’s couch. 

Rest for the single father of three, at last.

“LILIA, WHERE HAS THE YOUNG MASTER GONE OFF TO?”

Nevermind, scratch that. There was never rest for the single bat dad. Startling what appeared to be the entirety of the Diasomnia dorm was none other than the tumultuous voice of Sebek roaring from the entrance way of the lounge. 

“Oh, he went to go see (Y/n).”

“HE WHAT???” The first year shouted with disbelief evident in his boisterous tone. “WHY WOULD HE GO AND SEE THAT HUMAN?! THEY ARE NOT EVEN WORTHY OF THE YOUNG MASTER’S GAZE—“

Lilia, who had hopped down from his area on the couch, floated over to Sebek’s proximity while placing a quieting finger against his lips. “Hush now, Sebek. Let the young lovers flourish.”

“BUT THE YOUNG MASTER—“

“—Will be giving me new little baby grandchildren soon, fufu~”

The first year froze in complete distress at the old fae’s comment. “Gr..GRANDCHILDREN?!?!?”

“That’s right, but, uh, Sebek,” Lilia took notice of the green-haired boy's wavering shoulders and dilating eyes with concern. “Are you feeling well? It looks as if you’re about to collapse.”

“The… young master…and human… having…childre…”

Thump!

“Oh for Seven’s sake, SEBEK WAKE UP—”

a/n:  (y/n) can have malleus, i want his adorable bat dad I MEAN-

[izvmimi]

cw: izuku ponders the next step in your relationship with bakugou’s help.

a/n: reposted cuz i started thinking about it again.

“Spill.”

Bakugou’s words cut particularly sharply through the weary silence of a late night of work. Izuku is taken aback by the sudden speech, looking towards him with surprise, his arms still halfway through the change of a shirt.

He and Bakugou are both closing up the agency for once, and it’s about the time of the night where his friend is in a rush to shed the role of Dynamight and get home quickly to his partner, and Izuku, understanding this, typically keeps his mouth shut as a form of respect. But tonight, despite the fact that Bakugou is fully changed and could disappear quickly into the night, he stands a short distance away from the door of the men’s locker room, arms crossed, waiting for Izuku to talk.

“W-what do you mean?” Izuku replies.

Bakugou grits his teeth in annoyance.

“You’ve been sighing forlornly for the last three minutes, don’t pretend you didn’t want me to ask.”

Izuku grimaces, then laughs to dispel the tension slipping in his shoulders. He slips on his hoodie, then his gym bag over his shoulder and follows Bakugou out of the locker room.

The two walk out of the building in quiet stride as Izuku formulates the words to express how he’s feeling. Bakugou says nothing and waits patiently, sending a quick text message on his phone. Normally the hemming and hawing would get on his nerves, but from what he can tell, it has to be something related to you, because you are the only thing in the young hero’s life that brings back the over-contemplative nature of his childhood.

Izuku stops his stride suddenly then turns to face him.

“How did you know when it was time?”

Bakugou cocks his head to the side.

“Time for...?”

Izuku swallows hard once. “To propose.”

Bakugou raises his eyebrows for a moment at this information, then snorts. It’s an easy question and a hard question, both to answer and to ask.

“When I knew she’d say yes, dumbass,” he quips.

With that, he continues to walk, but Izuku is clearly unsatisfied with his answer, not moving from his spot on the sidewalk. Is it because he’s called Bakugou’s bluff so clearly? Even if Bakugou knew it was a no-brainer, he’d also been in this position. Wondering. Worrying. Considering what the right move was, and what he would have to do in the case of a cruel “no.”

“Kacchan, I... I don’t know why I’m so afraid.”

By now, his hands are balled up into fists, and for a moment, Katsuki does actually regret his flippant attitude. He can practically feel the waves of uncertainty emanating from Izuku and washing over him. Stress. He knows it well.

Bakugou sighs.

“It’s because you love her.”

Izuku’s eyes shine for a moment and he blinks, and it’s gone. He does love you. Overwhelmingly so.

He can’t really, truly imagine a world in which you’d say no, but the gravity of what it means for you to say ‘yes’ to being his spouse terrifies him. Would you be able to promise him forever? Will you stay by his side, no matter what stupid or risky decisions he makes? What if you’re lonely? What if he makes you a widow?

There are so many ‘what ifs’.

“She loves you too,” Bakugou reminds him. “It’s all over her face.”

It’s true. You have said it to him over and over again, and you show it to him every day. He doesn’t know how you can manage tolerating him - the early mornings, the late nights, his struggle to communicate with you as he climbs his way to the top.

And yet you do, always catching him when he’s teetering off the edge. Your love is steadfast, more sure than he ever is.

You will say yes.

And he will be good to you.

Izuku lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding. He meets back up with Bakugou, who gives him a quick once over and they continue walking.

“Thank you,” Izuku replies in a small voice. There’s a renewed hope in the timbre of his voice and in the squaring of his shoulders. He’ll face you, proudly, confidently.

You love him and he loves you.

“... Don’t mention it.”

The two men are pensive, but in different ways - Bakugou wonders what food he should bring home for his partner and Izuku wonders how he’ll pop the question. The steady sounds of city life comprise the background noise between them. There’s a lot to say, as there usually is between them, and nothing to say at all.

“Kacchan?”

“Huh?”

“What do you know about rings?”

“Google it, nerd.”

[scorpiomoon-444]

Ma nìt’iluke (my forever) [prologue]

pairing: f!omatikaya!reader x neteyam (vs. ao’nung). soon.

Inspired by Jake Sully’s:

“Happiness is simple...                                                                                 The thing about happiness is that it can vanish in a heartbeat.”

summary: initially a human!reader falls for best friend!neteyam, but an unforeseen visit from the Sky People inevitably brings change, alas, introducing you to a foreign feeling every soul encounters inevitably at some point in their life time, heartbreak.

word count: 2.7k

warning(s): aged-up!neteyam, brief use of Y/N, mentions of character death, grief, almost friends-to-lovers trope, you have been warned there will be angst by the end of the series (and chapter) not this particular prologue though.

word bank: pup - short / sa’nok - mother / ‘evenge - child / nena (spanish) - baby / seykxel - strong (emotionally, spiritually) / siva ko - rise, courage, you can do it 

NOTE* this is not complete, i have only included ages 6 and 7 for this prologue and have yet to complete reader’s life (ages 8-19, as the characters will be aged up to 19 in my fic) leading up to a visit from the RDA. regardless, pls enjoy x

[6] seis

“Anyway, I think you’ll like his children just as much as him,” Your father tells you, his larger figure knelt beside your smaller frame.

You stand before the large metal door of the building. Your brows furrow in question, big, round eyes full of wonder and curiosity. “What if they don’t like me?” Your voice is small, weighed down by uncertainty, your brown orbs flicker with doubt for a moment.

Your father’s face softens and he offers you an encouraging smile. “What’s there not to like?” He taps your nose playfully as the words leave his mouth. “Come on, now.” He stands from position. “Spider is waiting for—”

“I don’t want Spider, I want Jake,” You interrupt, a pouty expression transforming your features.

Your father’s face almost instantly deadpans at the suggestion of bringing Jake instead, as he originally planned for Spider to introduce you. He sends you another encouraging smile upon hearing your whiny tone. “Nena...” He begins reluctantly, his hand scratching at the back of his head. The word, a term of endearment he adopted for you in remembrance of your mother and honor of her culture. Your father contemplates his next selection of words, a pondering expression displayed on his face before he takes a knee again to match your height.

“How about I take you instead?” He asks cautiously in a soft manner, well aware of how stubborn you can get when Jake isn’t in the picture. He can only pray to Eywa that the heartening smile he sends your way will have you agree to his suggestion.

Your cocoa-colored eyes light up in excitement at the idea for a fleeting moment, before there’s a pout tugging at your lips again.

“No, I want Jake!”

_

“Remember, you never take the mask off, okay?” Your father’s voice echoes in the hallway, scurrying to keep up, visibly distracted by several monitors and technological screens as you pass through the Bio-Lab.

“She’s stepped foot outside before, Norm.” You practically hear Jake’s voice in your ear, your small frame enveloped in his larger arms. His hand finds the handle to the exit.

“Maybe it’ll be better if I come with y—”

Jake swings the door open, turning on his heels with you still in his arms. “They need you here, Norm,” He persists with a shake of his head, to which your father simply deadpans with glaring eyes. “Besides, she’ll be right outside with me, and she’ll love meeting the kids.” Before your father could protest, you’re both out the door, no longer in his sight.

_

“She’s more pup than Spider.”

As a young, six-year-old human child, who is rarely exposed to other Na’vi, you are no fluent speaker of what you perceive to be a foreign language. Regardless, having a xenolinguist as a father, especially in that of the Na’vi language, is gratefully used to your advantage. You understand that pup translates to short in English. It isn’t much of a challenge to place the puzzle pieces of his statement together. You assume the Na’vi boy encircling you finds amusement in poking fun at your height. This is confirmed when the Na’vi girl before you hisses at the words that roll off his tongue mockingly, his naturally larger figure still slowly circling around you in delight.

“Lo’ak.” Her amber eyes shoot daggers at the boy, which you assume to be his name.

“Penis face.”

Lo’ak’s face scrunches up in confusion with an instant tilt of his head, mirroring his sisters expression. He doesn’t have a chance to reply to what he perceives as random mumbles of sounds he fails to recognize, though your brassy tone sounds defensive enough to indicate to him you understood his previous comment. That’s when Jake—who initially was amused by the interaction, upon hearing your words, almost immediately takes your small frame into his arms, interrupting the conversation that would inevitably emerge. 

“Y/N,” Jake attempts to scold, but his stern demeanor fails to convince you of his disapproval when his facade crumbles with a very subtle, yet seemingly amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“That isn’t a nice thing to say,” He tells you, recomposing himself, and resumes with a look of disapproval. He remembers calling out to Norm and referring to your father as penis face, where you actually learned the term from Jake himself. The vivid memory betrays him when it prompts a stifled chuckle to rumble through his chest, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

And so, you meet Lo’ak and Kiri first, at the youthful age of six. They are only five at the time, a year younger, as you were born not too long after the Pandoran War. Despite this, your frame is much smaller compared to their naturally larger build.

Your introduction to the youngest Sully kids, at the time, presents you with few glimpses of the Pandoran forest as you often meet no further than past the withered fences that still slightly guard Hell’s Gate, the place you call home. 

Jake entrusts your father enough with the responsibility of looking after his young ones. The two youngest Sully children often spend their time with you in the lab for the first couple months of your newly formed friendships, finding entertainment in the little things you are far too familiar with and bored of. Though, you never take their company for granted, fully aware of how your life has truly evolved in the best way possible upon their presence in your life. You aren’t afraid to admit to them, and often if not, are very open to displaying your appreciation and fondness for them through small acts of physical affection, casually sharing hugs and cuddles, sometimes attacking them mostly Lo-ak from behind which ends with a piggyback ride most of the time. As smaller children, your linguistic differences with the Sullys doesn’t interfere with your horseplay or shenanigans in the lab. Which your father isn’t very fond of.

[7] siete

You stare at the large, what you understand to be lifeless, N’avi body encased in the great tank of water. It seems so large, evidently in comparison to your small, human frame. You mindlessly tap on the glass, intrigued by the sight in front of you.

“Kiri’s sa’nok?” You repeat your father’s words after he explains to you the complicated situation, that which involves Kiri and her biological mother. This is when Kiri is first introduced to her in the lab. As a scientist, and now leader of the RDA’s Avatar Program, your father prepares to introduce Grace’s encased Avatar form to Kiri. “Yes, ‘evenge.” Norm is too preoccupied with one of the monitors in the lab to notice the confusion that transforms your features.

“’Evenge?” You repeat after him once again with a small tilt of your head.

“Child,” He translates absentmindedly, still focusing his undivided attention to the monitor. If you weren’t so distracted by the newly introduced Na’vi word, your heart generally would have ached at the mention of a mother, a figure in your life you consistently wished for. You frown upon noticing your father’s behavior, much too occupied to pay any regard to you.

Lo’ak and Kiri should have arrived by now. Probably with Jake. Because for some time now, your father has heavily placed emphasis on the importance of today. Your father speaks to you about how maybe he could take you out to the forest tomorrow to introduce to you the foreign plants and life within the beautiful Pandoran forest you so desperately yearn to see.

“If there’s time.”

You’ve grown to dislike that phrase, utilized by him so often within the past couple of weeks. Your eyes wander around the lab, scanning every little object, screen, and monitor you haven’t already taken the time to observe before. You grow impatient as your father continues to speak, and abruptly tune his voice out, much too distracted by the view the window beside the exit offers you. Turning your head to catch a glimpse of your distracted father, who continues to ramble and give you his back as he does so, you silently slip past the window. Your eyes jump to your father from time to time, between him and  focusing on trying to take the encased mask from the clear compartment against the wall right beside the exit.

_

You somehow manage to make it to the fence successfully without your father taking notice of your absence. Still, you don’t waste any time in figuring out how far you can get before he eventually does as you embark on finding Kiri and Lo’ak on your own terms. They shouldn’t be too deep into the forest, probably nearing you.

Besides, you knew exactly where you would wait for them. A little further past the doddering fences that still slightly guard your home, there’s an open, visible area of higher ground with a very large tree. A spot at which you’ve greeted Kiri and Lo’ak from as they approached the labs. Their figures disappear into the unknown depths of the Pandoran forest trees for a mere ten seconds before you spot them again as they near your awaiting figure at the fence. 

Upon reaching the fences, you look over your shoulder once more, turning back to make sure your father isn’t following behind you. Upon realizing there’s no one in sight, absolutely no witness, you don’t hesitate to set foot in the foreign, forbidden forest. Your small feet take you only as far as a couple of meters before you go stumbling down from an area of higher ground, yelping in pain before a large tree halts your hurtling with a crash.

You huff and dust yourself off before standing on your feet again, disoriented for a moment. Too focused on, yet slightly careless with trying to slip away from Hell’s Gate in an attempt to escape without anyone noticing, you finally pay mind to your surroundings. Sounds of chirps and humming insects fill your ears. The familiar Pandoran trees, much too tall to inspect fully from where you stand at the base of the trunk, tower over foreign flora and plant life just as large. You listen intently to the noises of critters accompanied by the sounds of the breeze dancing through the large flora.

Small, enchanting species fly and pass you by, round eyes full of wander and awe as they follow the small creatures passing the life that garner your attention next. It’s an overwhelmingly large, deep-colored mauve mushroom. Probably about five times your size, and your eyes are quick to find more than one of them—numerous placed near the area that you tumbled into. Despite your father’s constant reminder of the dangers of Pandora, your delighted orbs, intrigued mind and curious hands don’t think twice about reaching out to touch one of the towering mushrooms.

Almost.

Your fascination at the immense, foreign mushroom is short-lived by the abrupt, blaring, almost shrieking sound. It’s deafening, and alerting, it precipitates you to cover your ears with your hands, panic now painting your features as terror begins to set in. Your frantic eyes pinpoint the source of the ugly, wailing sound that of which the wind elicits—a large, exotic looking herb, about seven meters in height twice the size of the mushrooms!!! with a curved, tubular plant body. The realization wipes the panic off your face as your hands fall back to your sides, uncovering your ears. To your inconvenience, and much to your dismay, your reflexes are far too protracted for you to register the ejection of very large spines coming from the massive herb flying directly in your direction, as if targeted.

That’s when a pair of arms instantaneously sweep you off your feet with one swift motion before you’re unexpectedly swinging through the forest for a fleeting moment. After gently being placed on your feet, you finally grasp the unfolding situation at hand upon finally noticing.

Before you stands a Na’vi boy.

Your eyes find his feet first as they travel up to meet his studying gaze. He looks at you intently, almost observing momentarily, his slightly taller figure engenders him to leer down at you, a frown very lightly tugging on the corners of his mouth. Almost peeved. Perhaps displeased, disturbed? 

Though upon noticing your gentle, confused expression, his features soften. Converts into one of patience. His golden orbs hold an understanding as they observe you with such lightness. A gentleness. He looks about your age, and note that he isn’t much taller or older looking than Lo’ak, who’s only a year younger than you, implying that the Na’vi boy scrutinizing you is around your age.

He blinks at you a couple of times, almost as if contemplating his next move, the brewing of ideas illustrated on his face and honey-coated eyes.

He doesn’t give you the chance to speak a word before he grabs you by the shoulders gently, twirling you around as his eyes examine your small frame for any injuries. He proceeds with pulling you by the wrist, instructing to follow right behind him.

It isn’t long before he has you reaching the proximity of your home, the area you initially planned to wait at earlier momentarily gives you access to view what you call home, before you’re back in the deep, towering unfamiliarity of the forest.

Passing through the original spot indicates your arrival at the fences of Hell’s gate should be any moment now, probably with a frantic father awaiting your safe return. A frantic Dad who will probably punish you.

“What’s your name?” Your eyes are glued to the grip he has on your wrist, but your voice holds benevolence, cautious in determining the correct approach to the unknown Na’vi boy whom rescued your reckless, little human life. He saved you. You assume he doesn’t understand your words when he disregards you and proceeds with leading the path, seemingly determined to return you home. Nevertheless, he spares you a glance and small smile when he looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Y/N,” He says, almost unknowingly as if in question, presuming with looking straight ahead to guide you properly with caution. 

He’s quick to notice the way your hand flies to your chest indicating his assumed interpretation of your foreign language is correct, further proved by your squeals of excitement. “Yes! That’s me!” You cheer at his response with so much enthusiasm, fascinated by his comprehension, and evidently delighted by his understanding in the topic of names. 

Before you can ask him how he knows yours, the doddering fences of your home come into view and a small frown upon realization paints your face. The very little time you’ve spent in the forest has been so much more exhilarating, more lively than your time in the lab combined. With the obvious exception of Lo’ak and Kiri’s company (you adore your besties). The Na’vi boy releases his hold on your wrist ahead of reaching your destination. He gives you a short-lived grin prior to the cognizance of your immediate switch in expression, his face slightly faltering to match yours. 

A little past the worn-down, withered fences, a small figure appears from behind the exit, followed by a crashing slam of the metal doors garnering the attention of both of you.

“Y/N, is that you?” You recognize you father’s voice, full of distress. He calls out to you from a distance as he squints his eyes for a clearer view.

You direct your attention back to the Na’vi boy who stands before you. “Seykxel siva ko,” He says gently and offers you a smile, his hand finding its way to pat your head, almost encouragingly. Upon noticing the way his golden eyes focus way past your figure, you turn back to glance over your shoulder to see what he gazes so intently at. Only to realize your father is scurrying in your direction, seemingly and understandably in a panic.

You whip your head to redirect your attention back to the Na’vi boy only to discover that he’s already gone, leaving you only with the rustling sounds of the forest trees accompanied by the scolds of your disgruntled father.

[truetogaia]

Exchanging cultures

Pairing: Na’vi!Jake x Na’vi!Reader

Just pure fluff, currently suffering from jake sully brain rot and i haven’t written anything for him before so i gotta practice for “Those chatoyant eyes” :)

navigation <- if you want to check out other works <3

Reblogs and support is greatly appreciated <3

The sun had set several hours earlier. You were curled up in the muscular, husky arms of your lover, neatly tucked away in his loving embrace. The low purr of the boy behind you sang in your ear, the quell and gentle noises of the forest lulling the two of you into a state of pure bliss. 

Jake stretched, disturbing your peace for an instant before sliding his arms around and under your tender being, nuzzling into the crook of your hickey covered neck. He reached his hand to briefly caress the softness of your skin, barely cupping your face, afraid he would somehow damage the silky features. 

You looked over at him, his gaze fixed on your expression, a look of pure adoration adorning his eyes. You smiled at him, feeling lovestruck and mushy in the warmth of the hug. The skin of his eyes stretched as he offered an innocent, beaming smile back, relishing in the tender moment. 

“You remind me of a sun lily,” your voice was soft as clouds in his ears, he raised his eyebrows, “one of those really pretty ones. The ones which are always sought for and preferred. It is my favorite flower.” You looked away, a bit embarrassed about being so openly affectionate. “I like how they glow constantly. They never stop glowing. They are persistent, but in a good way.” You turned to him again, wanting to see his face. “Just like you.” 

Jake had never been compared to a flower before, he thought that was something of the past, the human past. He pondered for a while, humming. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help the ticklish feeling in his tummy, the eager fluttering of his heart. 

“I thought that was a human thing.” He looked deep into your curious eyes. “Is that a normal compliment for na’vi to give each other?” 

You smiled nervously, the embarrassment of being caught sinking into you. “Mm, well, no.” You paused, contemplating whether or not to reveal your secret to him. “I was actually visiting Norm after one of my routine scoutings, and came across a bunch of “papers”, that what Norm called them,” Jake found your  confused expression cute, his heart lurching, “ And the papers described old compliments given to each other by skypeople.” You began nipping at your lip and fiddling with your hands. “I just thought you’d be happily surprised.. or.. Something..” 

You trailed off when you noticed Jake’s expression, it was unreadable. You began worrying that you had accidentally done something wrong, or somehow offending him. You had no idea what sky people were like, or what their culture looked like. Sweat began to announce itself on your forehead as Jake stayed quiet. He was silent for a long time, an uncomfortably long time. 

“Y/N, that's something people say when they share feelings of love for each other.”

“What does that mean?”

“What, love?” You nodded your head, ears attentively turned in his direction. “Love is.. God, how do you translate it? It’s similar to the feeling behind the na’vi, “Oel ngati kameie”. A feeling of adoration and.. devotion, of sorts.” 

The gears turned in your head, trying to make sense of what the blue boy said. Feeling of adoration and devotion?

“Does being very comfortable with them count? As in, the kind of comfortable you can only be with a mate?” You wondered, the curiosity in your voice heavily influencing the pitch.

Jake scratched his neck, a nervous smile lacing his features. “I mean I.. guess so? Yea, yea i’d say it does.”

“Oh well then I guess I.. How do they say it? I love you, I think.” Your accent was prominent in your pronunciation of the foreign language, but the message was clear. 

Jake halted his movements, you loved him? You actually loved him? Like the real deal? No, you couldn’t, you didn’t fully understand the meaning of it. But that was the thing, you did.

He carefully moved towards your figure, sat on the end of a mat, and gently cupped your face. His hands carefully ghosted the skin of your cheeks and jaw, not fully making contact. 

“You love me?” His voice wavered.

“Yes,” you put your hands over his, crumbling his doubts with a touch.

He gently leaned his forehead on yours, closing his eyes. You did the same, savoring the skin on skin contact.  “I love you too, Oel ngati kameie”

(btw, this is a really crappy pic, but this is a sun lily! <;3)

[cecilxa]

sometimes, a heart can be created

summary: scaramouche learns to love

contents: possible ooc (written before character release), established relationship, set before scaramouche leaves the fatui, lore + angst in the beginning, mainly fluff, gn!reader

cw: small descriptions of violence

recommend listening to: dark red by steve lacy

a/n: at the end

Scaramouche doesn’t know what love is. Thrown away, discarded, left unused, all that remains of him is a hollow, empty shell of a god. He was abandoned. He is lonely. Scaramouche doesn’t feel affection. Scaramouche doesn’t know warmth or comfort. Scaramouche only knows the coldness of an everlasting winter frozen across the confines of his hollow chest. 

He wanders along grassy plains, treks across rushing streams and creeks, and takes rest when the moon sits low in the sky, sun peeking up from the horizon. He wakes up when the sun fully reveals herself. 

Scaramouche also thinks. He thinks a lot, which isn’t strange, as being the immortal creation of a god surely gives you a lot of time to contemplate on your memories. He was discarded as being weak, too gentle and unbearable, so he decided to become stronger. Hiding his youth and showing off his scars were the only way out of his misery. Maybe he’s still in it. 

He becomes a part of the Fatui. A cog of Snezhnaya, under the Tsarista herself. Isn’t it strange for the puppet of the Electro Archon to pledge loyalty to the Cryo one instead? Scaramouche doesn’t think so. If someone were to be free, that someone would have the right to their own movement and body. At least, that’s what the Anemo Archon says. If your own body was the creation for someone else’s powers, is it really yours? Do you really own yourself, or do others own you? They take and they take and they take, but in the end, all that they want is a piece of your personhood. They throw you away, just like that mouldy bit of dead rabbit he had last night.

That was years ago- maybe decades, time is irrelevant to him, and these thoughts still linger in his mind, like the stench of ash and flames, but- strangely- they don’t dominate over him anymore. Instead of angst and bloodshed, Scaramouche likes to ponder over things past him would’ve deemed silly and childish. Like how even the everlasting cold can sometimes feel warm; how the frost on his window panes creates mesmerising crystals of light, and how sometimes- he doesn’t like to admit it- there are stirrings in his chest, almost like a thumping heart. The permanent glare on his face has softened a little bit, and even Tartaglia is too stunned by this sudden change to dare comment on it.

Someone special had stumbled into Scaramouche’s life; someone irreplaceable; someone that thaws the ice in him. Slowly but surely, his scars begin to look like ugly lashes and he hesitates when baring them in self defence. He allows himself to indulge in the presence of warmth, the presence of comfort, the presence of a home to come back to. That’s a valuable thing to have, and Scaramouche- for all of his inexperience in feeling- knows to treasure it, every last bit. 

The Harbingers may wonder what had happened to the sharp, condescending, ruthless puppet of an Archon, but Scaramouche likes to keep his little secrets. The dead of night is now his favourite time of the day, when he gets to lie in bed next to another; when he gets to stroke the hair out of your eyes and ask you how your day went. When he gets to kiss both of your eyelids goodnight, and when he wakes up to the sound of birds chirping outside of his window. Especially when you’re asleep next to him, painting a picture of serenity and peace, unlike his raging mind. Simple touches and longing glances are what Scaramouche excels at, and the storms that your smile creates in his chest rival even the deadliest of his betrayals. 

Scaramouche may not know what love is; he may not even have a heart to love with. But he believes that if someone could relieve his pain- if for only a few stolen moments- then he could try to learn. Just for you.

a/n: just a little something celebrating the upcoming 3.2 update! long halloween multi character post coming up soon (my first one)!! likes and reblogs are always appreciated :))) ❤️

[thedensworld]

Lover | Kim Mingyu

Officially Dated!

Lover Series🖤🌼

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu x Fashion Editor!Reader (ft. Joshua)

Genre: Romance, Angst, Humour, Series

________________________________________

A memory from last week continued to linger in Kim Mingyu's mind. Well, he might have forgotten some details after consuming three and a half bottles of soju, which was his limit. But the fact that he woke up in a hotel room that wasn't his own, shirtless, with you soundly asleep on his arm, was etched into his memory. There was a glimmer of hope when he woke up that morning, finding you beside him, though your baby blue shirt you still wore in your sleep had him slightly disappointed. He had wished for something significant to have happened, a step towards reconciling with you. However, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret that he had hoped for anything other than a genuine, sober reconnection – the kind he truly wanted.

But that was best forgotten for now.

Let's shift our focus to the pivotal moment when you finally mustered the courage to confess your feelings for him. That night stood out as a beacon of light in Mingyu's otherwise busy week. Amidst his hectic work schedule and mounting stress, your presence added a layer of complexity to his thoughts. He wouldn't necessarily say that you were the cause of his stress, but you certainly had him contemplating more than ever before. Since the day you two reconnected after all those years apart, he had found it nearly impossible to stop thinking about you and the emotions that had never truly ceased since their inception. The truth was, he hadn't dated anyone since he met you. And he struggled to pinpoint the reason behind it. Why had he become so irrevocably attached to you?

Your confession from that night continued to play on a loop in his mind. He could vividly recall the excitement that had surged through his veins upon hearing your words, "I also have that feeling, Mingyu. The one you feel.." In that moment, he felt as if he were soaring, carried away to the stars. He had been waiting for that very moment for what felt like an eternity – and it had taken merely three bottles of soju and a dose of honesty for you to reveal your feelings. Mingyu wondered why he had waited so long to hear those words.

In moments of introspection, he pondered this question. Lost in thought, he hardly noticed when his hairstylist posed a question to him. Tonight, he was set to meet you once again. An excitement brewed within him, fueled by the anticipation of encountering you. He knew you would be occupied with the fashion show, but your affirmative response to his text asking, "Are you attending the after party?" provided enough hope to keep his optimism alive throughout the event.

Y/n: Yeah, gotta gain all those blood, sweat, and tears that have already been spent...

He had chosen to wear one of Mrs. Gia's summer/spring collection from the previous year to the fashion show. His attire exuded a natural charm, and his confidence radiated effortlessly. As he entered the venue, the flashing of cameras and the attention from the media greeted him. Among the throng of unfamiliar faces, he was relieved to spot his friend Yugyeom from GOT7. At least, he had a companion to help him navigate his desire to see you.

Wandering his gaze around the venue wasn't a novel practice for Mingyu; he had been doing so since the moment he reconnected with you. Learning about the meticulous preparation that went into orchestrating a fashion show had made him appreciate the efforts of those working behind the scenes even more. While most people focused on the guests and models — besides the clothes, Mingyu had learned to notice the intricate web of creativity that interconnected various elements – concept, visuals, and production – to create a mesmerizing show.

Amidst this thought process, Kim Mingyu's attention was captivated by your presence at the front of the house. Clad in all black, a headset covering your ears, you seemed to effortlessly command the chaos. Your lips moved in sync with your directions, conveyed through the microphone of your headphones. A smile formed on Mingyu's lips as he watched you assume your position, poised and ready to guide the show he was about to witness.

Ironically, the show itself was a blur for Mingyu that night. He found himself captivated not by the runway, but by your charismatic presence as you orchestrated the entire event. Instead of the nervousness he had anticipated, he observed you relishing in your role, moving to the rhythm of the music while directing your team through the microphone. In the midst of all this, you radiated an ethereal glow that drew his gaze.

*

The after party was a lively affair, and it became even more enjoyable the moment you stepped into the venue, accompanied by your colleagues. Yugyeom playfully nudged Mingyu, having noticed his intent stare.

"Why the fixed gaze on Director Y/n?" Yugyeom's question caught Mingyu off guard, revealing that his friend was acquainted with you.

Yugyeom went on to explain that he had worked with you on several occasions during his time in Paris. By chance, his manager had been your college classmate. Mingyu inquired about your personality, and Yugyeom's response left him satisfied. You were described as intriguing and captivating, possessing a youthful maturity that had enabled you to ascend to such a significant position at a young age.

"Why the sudden interest, Kim Mingyu? Do you have a crush on her? Need a wingman?" Yugyeom's playful tone evoked laughter from Mingyu. Little did he know that Yugyeom's jest was closer to the truth than he realized.

If only Kim Mingyu could reveal to Yugyeom that you felt the same way about him.

*

"Congratulations!" Mingyu's simple words were met with a warm smile from you, acknowledging his sentiment. In a playful jest, you graciously nodded as if you had just single-handedly averted a war – the type of nod that subtly exuded your awesomeness. The clink of your liquor-filled glasses echoed the sentiment, a cheerful toast to the moment.

Seated on barstools next to each other, you and Mingyu turned your attention to the bustling crowd. With a mirrored movement, you both faced the scene. "Do you recognize anyone aside from Kim Yugyeom?" you inquired, gesturing towards the throng.

Mingyu nodded confidently. "Almost everyone," he replied, his gaze shifting to meet yours.

"Quite the network you've built," you remarked, acknowledging his impressive ability to connect with a wide array of people within the industry. Mingyu returned your compliment with an appreciative smile. Curious to hear your side, he posed the same question to you.

Your head shook slowly in response. "I recall having worked with a few of them, but I doubt they remember me. I'm not exactly memorable," you said with a light laugh.

Mingyu's lips curled playfully, and he nudged your side. "Are you sure about that?" he asked, his tone suggesting otherwise.

With a mockingly skeptical glance, you eyed him up and down before rolling your eyes, followed by a soft chuckle. "What I mean is, I tend to stay in the background. No one really pays us much attention – not that we're seeking it. I just believe that those working behind the scenes deserve more recognition than they get, although we do get paid," you added with a laugh.

As you spoke, the cadence of your words, the passion in your eyes as you shared your thoughts and opinions, succeeded in captivating Mingyu's attention. Your intelligence and charisma never failed to divert his gaze. Your conversation was engaging, your brilliance shining through, and he found himself distracted by your presence. Mingyu was aware that it wasn't the most opportune time for such thoughts, but he couldn't help but wish to hold you close, to kiss you in that very moment. Swiftly snapping out of his reverie, he redirected his focus to your words.

"Wanna leave this place?" Mingyu suddenly interjected, interrupting your conversation. The gentle touch of his hand landing on yours halted your words, your eyes locking onto his gaze. You took a moment to contemplate his proposal, your gaze momentarily flickering to your colleagues on the opposite side of the venue. Signaling him to wait, you quickly sent a text to your personal assistant before nodding and rising from the barstool.

Guiding your steps, Mingyu led you towards the exit. A signal to his manager, a halted taxi, and he gestured for you to get in first. An unusual sense of comfort and trust settled within you – a sense you rarely experienced with strangers, and certainly not this quickly. While your relationship had been progressing positively since last week, it wasn't typical for you to be so at ease and trusting with someone. Mingyu mentioned a location unfamiliar to you, leveraging your trust to lead you wherever he had in mind.

"Is it far?" you inquired as you settled into the cab, observing him. He nodded in response.

"I have my car with me," you noted nonchalantly, prompting a facepalm from Mingyu, who was stifling his laughter. Chuckling along with him, you wondered why you had opted for a cab when you had your own vehicle.

"It's fine. We were drinking anyway," Mingyu replied, attempting to rationalize your decision.

Silence settled between you two momentarily before he softly uttered, "You must be tired," while patting his shoulder, implying that you could lean on him for support. Shaking your head, you offered a smile, but he insisted, tapping his shoulder more firmly until you relented, leaning into the spot he indicated.

"Rest. I'll wake you when we arrive."

Unexpectedly, it was the depth of rest you experienced, and you were roused by a gentle tap on your arm. The motionless cab indicated that you had reached your destination. Blinking in confusion, you surveyed your surroundings, greeted by the sight of a beach, its entrance adorned with the words 'Blue's Sanpo.'

You and Mingyu had arrived in Sanpo, a location three hours away from where you had started. A mixture of confusion and amusement colored your expression, which elicited a shrug from Mingyu. Taking your hand in his, he guided you forward. It seemed that neither of you had anticipated the spontaneity of this moment. The attire you both wore was sufficient to shield you from the evening sea breeze. Mingyu kicked off his expensive shoes, and you followed suit, sprinting towards the water with the exuberance of a child. Mingyu's eyes gleamed with adoration as he watched you, his smile widening when your gaze met his, your expression is a testament to your approval of his choice.

Side by side on the sandy shore, you and Mingyu turned your attention to the local fishermen, immersed in their labor on the sea. The ethereal beauty of their boat's lights created a captivating spectacle, adorning the waters like jewels. The ambiance was picturesque, a canvas painted by the lights dancing on the waves, announcing the arrival of fall.

"Y/n," Mingyu's voice broke the gentle rhythm of the night.

You shifted your focus to him, responding to his beckon. This night was reminiscent of a movie scene, an intimate tableau of the two of you sitting in companionable silence on the beach. Words were unnecessary as you reveled in the tranquility of the moment, relishing each other's mere presence. Anticipation hung in the air, and you could feel the warmth of his breath in the small gap between you. Gradually, he inched closer, a silent question on his lips. "May I?" he whispered.

His inquiry caught your breath, leaving you in contemplation. After a beat, you nodded, giving him permission. Without delay, he bridged the gap between you two, closing the distance. The kiss that followed was deliberate and tender, an embrace of intimacy. The backdrop of crashing waves and the chirping of crickets contributed to the symphony of the night. Every touch of his hand against your skin, every sweep of his lips against yours, resonated deeply. The sea air, laden with a hint of chill, only heightened the sensory experience.

The kiss came to an end, both of you withdrawing as you took a deep, shared breath. Opening your eyes, you found Mingyu gazing at you, his eyes filled with depth and unspoken emotions. A chuckle bubbled forth from both of you, as though you were momentarily transported back to a different reality, where such intimate exchanges were a thing of whimsy. His arm extended towards your shoulder, urging you to draw closer, an unspoken need that your body instinctively answered. Leaning into him, you rested naturally against his side, your attention still focused on the captivating tableau before you.

And then, his voice, soft and tremulous, broke the silence. "Please, be my girlfriend," his words hung in the air, a question and a plea, simultaneously vulnerable and filled with earnest desire.

*

Pledis Entertainment's Announcement: Seventeen's Mingyu Reveals Non-Celebrity Girlfriend

On December 29th, Pledis Entertainment released an official statement disclosing that Kim Mingyu, a member of the global boy group Seventeen, is currently in a relationship with a non-celebrity. The news was met with a mix of surprise and support from fans. At the same time, Mingyu took to Weverse to share his sentiments with Carats, Seventeen's dedicated fanbase. Here is the message:

"Hello, Carats! This is Seventeen's Mingyu.

I want to take a moment to express my gratitude for your unwavering support and love throughout all our ups and downs.

Though I haven't had the chance to greet each and every one of you properly, please know that I always hold good thoughts for all of us.

I'm so thankful to Carat for loving and supporting both Seventeen and me.

Moving forward, I promise to work even harder on creating music and delivering great performances.

Thanks to your positive energy, I've been fortunate to encounter only good people.

I hope that Carat can experience the same positivity.

My wish is for us to continue sharing positivity and love only.

Always with love, Carat 💎"

[spookyspecterino]

Soft Moments in the Stars

Sam Coe x GN! Reader

GN! Reader. No pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions used.

Anxiety, worry, some fear (Sam is there to comfort you and calm you down). Comfort, breathing exercises, reassurance.

Staring out into the stars, while everyone sleeps, your mind starts to worry. Sam notices you're awake and stays up with you.

Characters: Sam Coe. Mentions of Cora Coe, Sarah, Barrett, and Andreja.

Haha, bet you didn't expect another so soon! This is short. But I really needed it. Now that the poll requests are done, I can get into the heavier more plot related stuff >:) (Aka: my sad era)

Staring up at the stars, what a primal instinct it’s been for all of humanity since the dawn of creation. The unknown, the curiosity, the wonder in it. How long have humans been looking up at the night sky? And how many of your ancestors have done just the same; sitting, staring, and questioning?

What’s out there? How do you fit in to any of it? In this vast field of stars, of people, of planets—why are you the one to go on this cosmic journey?

New Atlantis had too much light pollution to look up and stargaze at night. Akila city had too much dust and sand in the air. But now, in the cockpit of the Frontier, the entire universe stretches out for your curious, pondering eyes.

Quiet moments, when everyone is asleep and the ship drifts across the blackest sea, are rare. It’s an opportunity to sit and really think. At times, maybe the constant hustle and bustle from place to place, mission to mission, is good. It’s a distraction, that much is clear. The lively conversations among your crew, Sarah jotting down notes about unexplored systems, Cora with her enthusiastic book reports—is comforting.

You may not always have them. It may be, in time, this quiet, contemplative silence is all you have left.

It’s a chilling, anxiety-ridden truth that you’ve been forced to think of more and more. Especially now.

With every new temple you discover, every new power you gain, a rift grows between you and the others. There’s a distinct feeling to it.

Sarah and Noel look at you like you’re something to be studied. Barrett uses constant humor and jokes to cover his nervousness. Andreja feels threatened by the power imbalance.

Only Sam continues to treat you the same.

Sam—wonderful, optimistic, loving, Sam.

Your shining light in the dark.

Every outcome is uncertain, but his promises of staying with you—always being at your side, no matter what—is a comfort unlike anything else.

A long-winded sigh leaves you. Your mind can’t help but wander into the worst-case scenarios or worry about the unknown. If these temples turn you into some kind of monster… what then? If your destiny takes you on a different path than his, how can you see it coming? Could you even prevent it?

What about Cora? Will she grow up without you? Her own path taking her elsewhere?

Is this all for nothing? Is this endless space an indifferent, uncaring, void that only seeks to be filled with violence—

Soft hands caress your tense shoulders. “Hey. What’re you doing up?”

Like a light switch being flipped, the anxious, spiraling thoughts cease. A lucid calm washes over you.

You lean back in your pilot’s seat, feeling the warmth of Sam behind you. “Couldn’t sleep.” You murmur.

He hums softly, leaning down closer to you. “What’s bothering you, sweetheart?”

“It’s hard to say.”

“Hmm…” He presses soft kisses to your shoulder, gently kneading the other. “Describe how you’re feeling.”

“Frustrated. I guess. I have so many questions.”

His thumbs move to massage between your shoulder blades. “I can tell, you’re very tense.”

This makes you chuckle, a breathy and tired sound. You can feel his short beard against your neck. His lips ghost over your skin. “Come back to bed, we can work some of that frustration out.”

A very tempting offer. Other nights you would happily accept to be whisked away in his arms, forget everything, and curl up next to him to start a new day. But something stops you.

He can feel your hesitation. His lips hover and his hands pause.

“It’s…It’s not just that…” You frown at the stars. Sam’s faint reflection in the glass watches you with caring, patient eyes.

“I’m…I’m scared—terrified, actually.” As if a great floodgate opens, you release your thoughts into the still air. “I don’t know what’s coming next; I rely on Constellation to have at least some idea of what we’re getting into. Seeing Sarah and Noel just as confused as I am…it’s really unsettling. These temples and powers…what if they change me into someone—or something—unrecognizable?”

Your breath quickens. “I don’t know what to do. There’s so much responsibility on my shoulders now, it’s all so sudden. What if I screw up? What if I get someone hurt—what if I get you hurt? Or if I make the wrong choice and—”

“Whoa, whoa. Easy. Take a deep breath.”

You do, filling your lungs just as he does, as he guides you along.

In and out. Slow. In and out.

Your heart calms, just a little, but your racing thoughts still tumble around your mind. “Thanks.” You whisper, leaning your head back against his shoulder and closing your eyes.

“Stand up. I wanna hold you.”

His hands guide you out of the chair, sliding under your arms and around you like a safety net. Your hands lay over his. They’re always so warm, while yours are always cold.

His body presses against yours, flooding you with his warmth, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He murmurs into your skin. “It’s alright. I’ve got you. I will always be with you.” His fingers tangle with yours, smooth and practiced.

“It’s natural to make mistakes—and it’s not your fault. You’re learning just like the rest of us. There’s no way you can predict the future, so go easy on yourself. Making mistakes is human.” He trails light kisses up your neck to the shell of your ear. “As for everything else—we take it one step at a time, together. If something doesn’t feel right, we can adjust or take a break. Don’t push yourself. The universe isn’t going anywhere.”

Tears dot the corner of your eyes as you smile and nod. Your voice is barely a whisper. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Anytime, love.”

You take some more steadying breaths, feeling your lungs fill and empty out rhythmically. “You always know exactly what to say.”

He chuckles, his breath is warm against your skin. “I know you, and I know how it feels to be weighed down by anxious thoughts.”

After a few more minutes of watching the stars, feeling your mind slow and your thoughts ease, “I think I’m ready for bed now.”

“You sure? I can give you some more time alone if you need it.”

“Nah.” You turn in his arms to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You’re greeted with the softest blue eyes and a loving smile. “I’m good now.”

Sam presses his forehead to yours. “I love you. You know that right?”

“Of course.” You press a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you too.”

His content, happy, sigh—one of your favorite noises—lifts your heart out of the gloom.

[slytherinshua]

Anti-Romantic

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre and tags: fluff. lee know is portrayed as a tsundere. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ warnings: y/n is a bit insecure and her friends think lee know is weird. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: tsundere!leeknow x fem!reader. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wc: 706.

You had always been fine with the fact that Minho wasn’t often outwardly romantic with you. You weren’t particularly romantic either so it never felt like there was something missing or that he didn’t love you. You were both content with the dynamic of your relationship, and hadn’t given much thought about changing it.

But when you told your friends about this, they were at a loss as to how your relationship with him even worked. When you said you didn’t hug or kiss that much, the room was silent. And when you spilled the fact that you two rarely complimented each other either, your friends were left stunned— as if it was unheard of. You had never thought of it as weird, but now you were wondering if you should have. You were aware that you sometimes cared about people’s opinions too much, but all 3 of your friends had agreed profusely about this. They must be right, right?

You were sitting on the opposite side of the couch as Minho, thinking about this. Both of you were busy with work. Minho was on his laptop, writing and reading over lyrics, and you had a book resting open on your lap. Your brain kept going back to your earlier conversation with your friends at brunch.

“Why don’t you try being a little more romantic, just for one evening?” “I agree. You could set up a romantic dinner or snuggle while watching a movie. Isn’t it your anniversary soon anyway?”

All your brain could go to was if you and Minho were somehow doing it “wrong”. Was there a right and wrong way to a relationship? You were contemplating this thought more than you probably needed to, as you didnt even notice your book slip off your lap and land on the floor. 

Hearing the small thud of the book against the floor, Minho looked up from his laptop. He leaned over to pick up your book gently from the floor and place it back in your hands. 

“You’re thinking about something.” He noted, watching your face that was still scrunched up from your train of thought. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your lip was pouting slightly. Minho thought you looked cute, but he wouldn’t say it out loud.

You hummed in response, debating whether to bring up the topic with him or not. “Minho?”

“Yeah?” His eyes were back onto his computer screen, his fingers typing on the keyboard and making some edits, but you knew you still had his attention.

“Have you ever felt like we don’t do enough?”

He furrowed his eyebrow, “Don’t do enough how?”

“Like as a couple.” 

“No?” He shook his head slightly as if pondering over what being a couple entailed in the first place. You two really were very similar. “Do you feel like we don’t do enough?” He finally asked, turning back to you.

“I don’t know. I didn’t before…” You started, “But my friends seem to do so much more in their relationships. And then I started to wonder if we’re supposed to be like that as well.”

“What do they do so differently than us?”

You started to get a bit shy after he asked that, hesitantly continuing by whispering, “You know like… physical affection and… pet names…?”

“Oh…” There was an awkward pause for a second, both of you thinking over how you usually spent time together and if it was considered as normal.

“Would you… like it if I called you pet names or was more touchy?” Minho asked suddenly.

You were silent for a moment, “No… I like you just as you are.” You smiled and turned your head towards him, “We’re still a couple even if we don’t do stereotypical couple things, right? We’re the ones in the relationship, not my friends, after all.”

“You still know I love you even though I don’t say it often, right?”

“I know.” You scooted closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I like our relationship… it’s not over the top.”

Minho nodded in agreement, settling back on the couch. He gave you one short kiss on the lips before going back to his work, leaving you to go back to your book.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ skz taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @yeonjuns-bluehair,, @syrxiee2,, @ddenoudepression,, @justhyunhoer