#tiny pieces just dry so fast!

[claypigeonpottery]

a pendant!

never carving anything this tiny and dry ever again. this is why sgraffito is done when pottery is leather hard; it flakes if it’s too dry. I had to touch this piece up with underglaze after carving it.

this mouse is based off one of the dancing mice by Gerhard Heilmann

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Crawl Home To Her

Ship: Astarion x fem!Tav/reader

Summary: As awful the feeling of blood on the skin is, sometimes it can be helpful, you have to admit. At least, when it comes to Astarion, blood is always helpful. You'll have to take his word for it—and that's oh so easy bathing with him.

Word Count: 5,461 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+) blood, gore, nudity, sexual & non-sexual touching, bathing each other, soft Astarion, established relationship, brief mention of past sexual encounter, dealing with past trauma, teasing from Karlach, mention of dismemberment, fluff & smut mix

18+ Warnings: brief fingering (f receiving), tiny bit of a hair kink, sensual touching, semi-public sex/nudity

Note: Part 2 of Burns Like Rum is coming soon! But here's a little something to tithe you over until the sequel (Sweet Like Rum) is ready!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Shafts of pale sunlight fell on your face as you walked through the forest, your arms swinging at your sides, small critters running amok in the bushes around you. Birdsong filled your ears, pleasantly light and summery, reminding you distantly of a childhood memory you couldn't quite reach. The weather was warm enough that you were thinking you might have to change into something lighter. The few weapons you had on you were already starting to make you break out into a sweat.

For a day that had started with murder, the weather was surprisingly nice.

You hummed as you walked—the song pulled from your childhood, the words long forgotten but pieces of the melody clunking around in your head. You strung them together the best you could, tapping out a rhythm against your leg.

You were on your way to the waterfall you'd spotted several days ago while hunting. It was small and nothing too violent. The pool it fell into wasn't deep enough to drown you, nor was the flow of water all that fast. You trusted it—and the rock ledge behind it—would suit your purposes quite nicely.

Coming upon the pool was like stepping into one of the fairytales you had heard in your youth, sitting upon your father's knee in a tavern, listening to a traveller tell a story you weren't sure was entirely true.

It was guarded by willow trees with branches that swayed in a breeze you hadn't felt until you came upon them. Pushing the curtain of branches away revealed an almost perfectly circular clearing, the ground covered in vibrant green moss that squished delightfully beneath your feet and sprung back up when you stepped off of it. Patches of flowers sprouted all around, pink and yellow and purple blooms that grew up to the sun. The pool was as blue as the sky above, clear and shallow, surrounded by a few feet of soft white sand. The water shimmered in the sunlight, rippling over the pebbles that covered its floor. From the pool, the water flowed into a thin river that could hardly be called a river and out into the woods.

You sat by the pool's edge and pulled off your boots. They were just as bloody as the rest of you, the sticky and quickly drying substance staining the black leather. You splashed water over them and scrubbed with a cloth you had designated for this purpose that had once been grey.

Only after your boots were clean did you stand back up and step into the soft sand. You wiggled your toes, smiling at the feeling. You breathed in the crisp, sweet air. It smelled faintly of flowers and citrus, a scent that was familiar, though you couldn't place it.

You stripped slowly, hissing and wincing as you tugged at the places where blood had stuck the fabric to your skin. It acted like glue when dry, staining your skin and leaving a mottled pattern across your flesh. The fabric of your shirt had grown stiff with semi-dried blood.

One by one, you pulled off belts and straps holding weapons, the gloves you protected your hands with, your shirt, your trousers—until you were standing naked at the pool's edge. You gave yourself a cursory inspection, searching for any wounds you had acquired in the fighting this morning that you hadn't noticed; it wouldn't be the first time you'd walked away from a fight and realized you were injured only hours later. But, this time, there was nothing.

Usually it was Astarion who noticed you were injured, catching your smell in the air when it shouldn't have been. But you were drenched in so much blood already that you imagined it would have been very hard to pick out your distinct scent.

You waded into the pool, taking your clothes with you, and sat at it's deepest point. Standing, it reached your knees; sitting, it almost came to your shoulders. You scrubbed the blood from your clothes, using the soap you had brought with you.

You watched the blood and soap swirl together in the water and flow toward the river, a thin stream of red and bubbles slipping away from the crimson cloud surrounding you. You almost felt bad to ruin the clarity of the water, but the others—back at camp—were taking far too long to wash the blood from themselves with your limited store of water. This was better, in the long run.

Astarion would have a field day with this if this wasn't goblin blood, you thought to yourself, staring at the blood drifting just below the surface. He would drink it, from time to time, but never happily.

You scrubbed at your clothes until your fingers were stiff and sore and the blood was no longer coming out of the fabric. You inspected them and deemed them clean enough to put back on the moss, spread out so they would dry faster.

To clean yourself, you headed toward the waterfall. You climbed up onto the stone ledge behind it, reveling in the surprisingly gentle spray of water that reached you and the stillness of the water that it fell into, high enough to reach your knees.

You stepped under the water. It cascaded over you, dousing you in its coolness that reminded you of the first time Astarion had ever touched you—

—gentle hands, cascading down your sides—fingers lifting your chin so you would meet his gaze—a kiss to your forehead—a hand on the small of your back—his lips on your own, warmer than you had anticipated—his fingers in your hair, keeping your head off the ground—his hand slipping between your legs—his little giggle when you shuddered beneath him—the pleasured sigh from his lips as he slid inside of you—

Stepping out from underneath the water, you shook your head, banishing the memory. You had spoken recently about all of this. He'd told you, "I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex." He'd said, "I don't want to be just a body for you, darling." And though he'd teased you that you were more than welcome to "sustain yourself" (his words) with your memories of him while he took time away from intimacy, some part of you still felt like you violating his wishes any time it was his body that you thought of, rather than of, well, just him.

You wiped the water from your eyes and knew your tears had mixed in with it; Astarion had been very vulnerable with you, so you knew his reasons for it all. You had two responses: either unbearable sorrow that he had been forced to endure it all (which the current cause of the crushing weight in your chest), or blinding rage that birthed the desire to see Cazador's head on a spear.

You carded your hands through your wet hair, trying to work out the tangles. Your fingers came away covered in watery blood.

"Mind if I join you?"

You jumped, eyes flying open, and looked up. Leaning against the stone wall was the vampire himself, a gentle smile on his face. Gods, how you loved that smile. In this light, you couldn't tell his eyes were red and his fangs were hidden. If you didn't pay attention to how pale he was, you could imagine he was just an elf again—the life he deserved.

Astarion still wore his clothes, which were slowly darkening as they soaked up the spray of water and splattered with as much blood as his handsome face, but his boots were placed neatly next to yours on the moss. He'd cleaned them already; how had you not heard him before?

While he waited for your answer, aware of your admiring gaze on him, he pulled his shirt off over his head, mussing the curls you loved so much. He stripped quickly, nearly falling over when his trouser leg caught on his foot, and left his clothes in a pile on the rock ledge. Perhaps you were imagining things, but his skin looked paler than it had this morning, when you'd been rudely awoken by a horde of goblins invading your camp.

You held your arms open to him. "I'd like that very much."

He stepped into your arms, wrapped his own around your waist, and buried his head in your neck, breathing in deeply. "My love," he whispered, his lips against your skin. He kissed your neck softly and pulled away, cupping your face in his hand, to look into your eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded. "I'm okay."

"No injuries this time?" Astarion's eyes slid down your naked body, examining, his gaze concerned when it had once been sensual. You felt yourself relax in his arms, at ease with his concern. It felt real, honest in a way you hadn't had a chance to be yet. It was natural, somehow, to be checking each other for injuries in the time you finally caught together, away from the others.

"Not this time," you said, leaning into him. More watery blood dripped from your hair and across his chest, leaving streaks that made it look like he'd just returned from a rather messy feeding.

He kissed the top of your wet head. "Good." He leaned away to smile at you. "I was worried you'd run off to take care of your injuries by yourself, if only to keep me from smelling the blood."

You shook your head. "If only we'd been attacked by something you could drink from, satisfy your hunger for a few days." He smiled weakly and you knew the thought had been on his mind, too. "What about you? Are you okay?"

He spread his arms and did a little twirl for you. You giggled at his antics, glancing over his skin, pleased he was comfortable enough to even be naked with you. "Yes, darling. Not a scratch on me."

The two of you looked at each other, your hair already damp and clinging to your head, and his curls slowly being matted down by the thick mist of the waterfall. His ears poked out, more noticeable than normal.

Astarion bent and picked up your bar of soap. "May I help you wash off all this grime?"

"Please," you said, your voice soft but as loving as you could make it, your eyes fixed firmly on his.

He lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed gently at your skin. His nails, kept trimmed and neat, were hardly more than a light sensation as he worked at the dried blood until it crumbled away from your skin and ran down your body in red rivulets. His touch was soft, caring where it had once been lustful and groping. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the sensation of his fingers digging into your tired muscles, and held him. You adjusted your hold on him as he moved across your body—an arm draped across his shoulders, a hand on his bicep, your fingers against his chest, your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at Astarion, blinking quickly to keep the water out of your eyes. His gaze remained fixated on your hips as he gently washed off the blood, but he smiled, aware of your stare.

"See something you like?" he asked, tone playful.

"Someone I love," you corrected. He looked up at you, a tender smile growing on his lips. "Someone I love dearly." You leaned close, cupped one side of his face, and kissed the other. "I love you, Astarion."

He kissed your cheek, too. "And I love you." His lips found yours. He kissed you with a sweetness that simultaneously broke your heart and mended it. You wrapped your arms around his waist. He hummed happily into your mouth and cradled the back of your neck.

The pair of you fell into a tight embrace. You felt the adrenaline drain from you and leave you limp in his arms, your hot skin going cold under the water. Despite how suddenly you must have slumped against him, Astarion held you with ease. He gave the crown of your head a quick kiss, then made an unpleasant sound of surprise from the back of his throat.

"Darling, do you mind if I wash your hair? There's an awful lot of goblin blood in it."

You forced yourself to stand up straight on your own, still holding his sides for support. "Oh, yes—that would be from Karlach throwing one she'd just chopped into over my head." Even as you said the words, you felt the blood splattering into your hair again and shuddered.

Astarion grimaced. "Let me help you with it, then." He lathered his hands and put them in your hair. As he fell into a rhythm, you closed your eyes and let him doing the work, your thoughts drifting...

At first, you weren't sure why you had even woken in the first place. The light coming in through a crack in the tent's opening was still the watery and grey color of pre-dawn, much earlier than you usually woke. You frowned and pushed back into Astarion, his arm squeezing you tighter, sleep once again tugging at your eyelids.

And then you heard a shout, vicious and loud. It was close to camp, maybe even in camp. The shout came again and you realized it was Lae'zel's war cry.

All at once, the sounds of a battle filled your ears. You jerked awake in an instant, clambering onto your knees and shaking Astarion awake next to you. Of course the one day Astarion decided to indulge in the very human activity of sleep was the day you and your friends were attacked.

"What's going on?" he mumbled as his eyes flickered open, his words slurred together.

"Come on, grab your knives," you said, pulling your lightest set of armor on over your clothes. You were suddenly very relieved Astarion had decided skin to skin contact was a bit too much for him last night. "I think we're under attack."

He woke just as quickly as you had. He swore, dragged a quick hand through his hair, and grabbed his knives. He waited until you had your own weapon in hand before he opened the curtain flap of his tent.

The camp was a sight to behold. Already it was trashed and overflowing with goblins. Some were already on the ground, their blood oozing everywhere in the dirt and grass. Gashes from Lae'zel's sword seeped blood and gristle, if she hadn't horribly disfigured the corpses and turned them into little more than lumps of flesh. Many of them bore scorch marks that ranged from minor burns to melting flesh. It smelled horrendous and nearly acidic; you bit back the bile in your throat.

A dismembered arm fell at your foot. You kicked it away on instinct, looking up to see Karlach ripping a second goblin limb from limb.

"Now that's just vile," Astarion said, still looking at the arm, a fang poking out over his curled lip.

"Complain about it later," you said, grabbing his chin and giving him a quick and customary 'good morning' kiss. "We've got to help the others."

"If you insist."

Astarion ran to Karlach's side; you headed for Shadowheart and Gale. Wyll was approaching, too, cutting a path through the goblins.

"Morning, you two!" you said cheerily. "How'd this happen?"

"We're not sure," Shadowheart said, kicking a goblin in the face as it ran at her with a scream. "Lae'zel said they came from the north, just over those hills."

"Odd. I wonder if we camped too close to them for their liking, and now they're trying to do something about it. Are goblins territorial creatures?"

Gale grunted, casting another fireball. "Enough chatting. Let's just kill these things and figure out where they came from and why later. Got it?"

"Fair enough," you decided. "Whoever kills the most chooses dinner for a week."

"I'll take you up on that," Wyll said from behind you. "I'm dreaming of a good meal for once."

Astarion's hands sliding out of your hair abruptly brought you back to reality, to his body pressed against yours and the waterfall at your back, shielding the two of you from the world.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, voice soft. You could feel his fingers toying with the ends of your hair, curling it on his fingers.

"Back to the fight," you admitted. "I just keep wondering how they snuck up on us."

"No matter now," he said. "We'll let Lae'zel criticize us all for not anticipating every possible disaster when we get back, but not yet. Not here."

He went back to massaging your scalp, despite the blood being long gone, and your sighed happily. He smiled and kissed your forehead, adding pressure. A content whimper slipped from your lips and you blushed instantly as his eyes lit up; he'd heard far more obscene from you, yet still the slightest sounds you made embarrassed you and delighted him.

"My, my, the noises you make for me, lover," he teased, giggling. He wrapped his hand in your hair and tugged, hard enough to draw a loud moan out of your chest.

Astarion covered your mouth with his hand, his eyes playfully wide. "Shhh, unless you want the others to come looking. We're not that far away from camp."

Heat rushed through your body. "Oh, gods, Astarion, I'm— I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to— And I certainly didn't expect it to be that...that loud—! I..."

He swallowed your frantic apologies with a kiss. Against your lips, he whispered, "If you can keep quiet, though...I can grant you all the pleasure you want. You need only ask, darling."

Your heart skipped several beats in your chest. You put your hand up to his face. "Oh, I don't... Star, I don't need you to, I wouldn't want you to...feel obligated." He pulled his forehead away from yours to see your face. "We agreed not to do anything until you're ready. And that wasn't that long ago, so... I don't want you to be uncomfortable—"

Astarion cupped your chin with his hand, dragging his thumb across your lower lip. The words died in your throat. He met your gaze, his crimson eyes open and honest, and said, "Your pleasure is a gift. Even if I don't want to be touched yet, that's not stopping me from touching you. Only you can stop me from touching you."

"Star..."

He pulled you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around him, suddenly too aware of the raised scar you felt against your arms. "I trust you. Wholeheartedly. I trust you to...to respect my boundaries. To check in with me. To see when I'm uncomfortable. You've already done it, again and again, and proved that you're worthy of that trust. And do I look uncomfortable now?"

You studied him. His pupils were blown. His eyes told a story of contentment. The tenseness you had once noticed laying deep and dormant in his muscles was gone. He looked at you with a fondness you realized now was a profound trust and he stood utterly relaxed in your arms.

So you answered him honestly. "No."

"Exactly, darling. I'm not uncomfortable. I want to do this for you, if that's what you also want. I feel...safe with you. I've never felt like this around anyone before," he admitted, a bit of sadness creeping onto his face, "and I don't want to ruin it. I don't know... I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm going to try to do right by you. So if you want me..." He placed his hand low on your abdomen. Your stomach did flips. He put his lips against the shell of your ear. "Tell me, darling, because I certainly want you. All I ask is that you not touch me, not just yet."

You whimpered. "Please, Star. I promise not to touch you, I promise. But please touch me."

"That's my girl," he whispered. "Spread your legs for me, no need to be so nervous."

You readjusted your stance, widening the space between your previously clenched thighs. His hand filled the gap, cupping you gently. You sighed, leaning your head against his chest again, looking down to watch his ministrations.

Astarion pressed his palm to your clit. You watched his wrist move as he slid his fingers along your slit, teasing you and never quite touching you where you needed him. You whimpered as his fingertip lightly ghosted your entrance, just barely dipping inside before he moved his hand back up, his fingers toying with your clit.

"That's it," he whispered in your ear. "Make those quiet, pretty sounds for me. Show me how you feel."

You rocked your hips against his hand. "Astarion, please..."

He kissed your temple. "Feeling good?"

Your broken moan was your answer. He chuckled, sliding his hand up your side, taking your breast in the palm of his hand. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp and buck your hips against him. He closed his lips around it and sucked gently.

"More," you whispered. "Please. I need...I need you."

"Alright, darling, alright," he said against your skin. He rubbed your entrance for another moment, then slid his finger inside you. You clenched down on him as you sighed your pleasure. He curled his finger inside you, rubbing away at your walls, and you gasped loudly.

Astarion grinned. "Make those noises. Moan for me. I want you to show me how good this feels, show me you want me." You gripped tightly onto him, one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his hip. Your breaths grew heavy and your whimpers louder. "Yes, that's it! Be loud for me, my sweet, the loudest you've ever—"

A branch cracked in the forest. A voice called out your name, then Astarion's. You jumped a mile and Astarion's finger slipped out of you. You stared at each other with wide eyes.

"D...did you hear that?" you asked. "Or am I hearing things?"

As if an answer, the voice—Gale's—shouted again, "I know you're over here, I can see your boots!"

"Shit," Astarion sighed. He craned his head to peer around the curtain of water. "What the hells do you want?"

"Is she with you?" Gale asked. "Shadowheart sent me to find you both, the rest of us have all finished washing up! There's water left for you."

"That's what we're trying to do, Gale!" you called, reaching an arm through the waterfall and waving at him. "Use the water for something else, we'll make do here."

He harrumphed. "If I had known this was just a few minutes away from camp, I would have come to wash up here ages ago."

You and Astarion exchanged a look. So much for a secret getaway spot.

"Be back soon, or Karlach will start worrying," Gale said, in the tone of a chiding parent. "And no funny business!"

"Oh, shut up!" Astarion shouted, the tips of his ears turning a deep pink. He ducked behind the water again and holding you close. You barely held back your giggles while the two of you listened for Gale to walk away. One slipped out and Astarion hurriedly covered your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm and he pulled it away quickly. "You weirdo!"

You wrapped your arms around him and leaned into his chest. "Yes, but I'm your weirdo. You love me anyway."

Astarion pushed a strand of your wet hair behind your ear. "I love you anyway," he admitted, with a fondness that turned you into mush in his arms. He held you close for several moments, then asked, "Do you want me to continue?"

You thought about it, then shook your head. "Not just now. I suspect Karlach will be on her way to investigate the waterfall I didn't have the decency tell anyone about very soon."

"Very well," he said. "I'll finish you off later in my tent, then. As long as you can keep quiet for me, darling." He gave you that charming smile that made your stomach do flips.

"I thought you liked me loud," you teased.

Astarion rolled his eyes, playful and flirtation in such a comfortable way that it warmed your heart more than any of his touches ever could, delightful as they were. "Only when I have you all to myself, lover." He nipped at your neck, his fangs scratching but not breaking your skin. "Your moans are mine."

You stood together like that for several more moments, his hands on your hips and your arms looped around his neck, your foreheads pressed together. You exchanged dainty kisses, basking in each other in the few minutes left you had alone.

At last, you planted one firm, lingering kiss to his lips. "Let me clean you off," you said. "Though you're going to have to crouch for me to get your hair." Most of the blood and grime had been washed away by the waterfall's spray, but his silver hair was still speckled with it all, and you could taste it on his lips—sour and gritty. No wonder he only drank from goblins as a last resort.

Astarion bent his head down, pressing his forehead into your shoulder and holding you by the waist. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and smiling (but saying nothing) every time your touch managed to pull a soft whimper or moan from him without him realizing it.

You washed his body anyway, wiping away the remaining grime and massaging his muscles. You enjoyed the way he relaxed in your arms, quietly asking for more or less pressure.

"My back," he said, voice quiet and almost timid. "Can you...?"

"Are you sure?" you asked, frowning.

He nodded and turned in your arms, exposing his back to you. You started slowly, massaging his upper back and shoulders before working your way down, giving him plenty of time to tell you to stop if he needed to. But he leaned into your touch and responded with more of those gentle and timid—but happy—sounds.

You kissed the nape of his neck when you were finished, rested your head against his back, and wrapped your arms around his waist. His hands found yours and laced your fingers together.

"Thank you, my love," he said. "I've never... No one has ever done that for me before."

You hugged him tighter. "Any time you need me—I'm here. I will always be here." You stepped away and guided him out of the water with a hand. "Come on, we should head back."

The pair of you helped each other dress, though neither of you were wearing anything that required the help. You suspected Astarion just wanted to keep you close; when he got into his cuddly moods, it lasted for hours at a time. You would sleep wrapped up in your vampire's arms, safe and comfortable, tonight.

You were both pulling on your boots when Karlach found you.

"There you are!" she said. "Why didn't you tell us where you'd run off to?"

You shrugged. "I wanted the peace and quiet," you said honestly. "Besides, you all take forever to clean off."

Astarion snickered. "She's right about that."

Karlach sat on the moss, staring at the waterfall. "Well, you're right about one thing, soldier—this place is peaceful."

You hummed your agreement. "Yes. I'm glad we camped near it, or I never would have found it."

"How did you find this place?" she asked.

"Hunting," you said.

"Really? I assumed it must have been when you and Astarion sneak out so the rest of us can't hear you having sex." You choked on air and she laughed. "What? He found it easily!"

Astarion spluttered. "Because I could smell her!"

You sighed. "Karlach, we stopped sneaking off ages ago. We don't need to, we sleep in the same tent now. Rest assured, if anything is happening, it's happening silently and the rest of you are none the wiser to it."

"That doesn't make me rest assured."

You laughed. Astarion smiled at you, the kind of smile that made his eyes seem a little less dark and made you really remember that he was an elf.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm going back to camp," he said. "I'm sure there's much to discuss about these...impertinent creatures who keep attacking us." He kissed your cheek and whispered into your ear, "I'll see you tonight, darling. What we do is up to you."

Before he could leave, you reached over and held his cheek, kissing him firmly on the lips. He smiled into it.

"Lovebirds," Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes, "will you please get a room?"

"The next time we stop at an inn—yes," Astarion said, winked at you, then disappeared into the woods.

You gulped. "I pity whoever is in the room next to us."

Karlach snorted. "I pity you and your poor cervix!"

"Karlach!" You splashed her with water and she roared with laughter.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Only slightly."

You huffed, scooped up your weapons, and started back to camp. Karlach followed.

"I mean, in all honesty, you two were so loud that first time we all heard you at camp, even though you snuck away. Kept us all awake, but you sounded like you were having a good time. So clearly he's doing something right, but can you take all of that every time? You were walking with a limp the next morning—"

"Okay, let's change the subject," you said loudly, heat racing through your body. Remembrance pulsed through you again, ghostly touches and reminders of just how easily Astarion made you scream.

She giggled. Gods, she was spending too much time with you and Astarion; he was rubbing off on her. "Oh, yes, because what would poor Gale say if he heard?"

You rolled your eyes. "It's not Gale I'm worried about, it's Astarion. If he hears you, he's going to become insufferable."

"Isn't he already?"

You whacked her with the flat end of your sheathed dagger. She laughed, putting her hands up in surrender.

The others were cleaning up camp when you arrived, scrubbing blood from tents and carpets and hauling away corpses and severed limbs.

Gale waved when he saw you, then jerked his thumb toward Astarion. "Didn't he just wash?"

You looked over at your vampire, only to find him feeding on a goblin. He looked up at you and grinned sheepishly, a trickle of blood sliding out of his mouth and down his neck.

"I just washed him, actually," you said dryly. "Astarion, you aren't that messy of an eater. What on earth are you doing?"

"Oh, so now you deign to eat the goblins," Karlach scoffed.

He shrugged. "What? I'm hungry!"

You spluttered. "You could have just asked me!"

Astarion wiped his mouth with a feral grin. "Well, I'll keep that in mind later, darling." He winked at you and then blew you a quick kiss. He shoved the carcass into the woods and went into his tent, closing the flap behind him.

Gale sighed heavily before looking back at you. "That one. Are you sure you want to choose that one?"

"Yes, Gale, I want that one."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

~❊~

Night fell. One by one, the others retired to their tents. Only Karlach and Gale remained awake when you left the fire and slipped into Astarion's tent.

He was laying on his side, reading and drinking blood, the picture of leisure. He closed his book immediately when you laid beside him and pulled you flush against his body.

"There you are," he said, snuggling into your shoulder. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming."

You reached up and dragged your fingers through his perfect curls. "You don't have to wonder about that ever, Star. As long as I live, I'll be coming home to you. Even if I have to crawl."

"Gods, I love you," he said, wrapping himself around you. You kissed the top of his head.

"I love you, too," you whispered. He sighed happily and cuddled into you, sliding one of his legs between your own and settling there. A few minutes later, you felt the pressure of his knee against your clothed crotch. "What are you doing, mister?"

He grinned at you, showing both fangs. "Finishing what I started," he said cheekily. He began undoing the lacing at the front of your pants. "Now, just lay still for me, dear. And please do your best to keep quiet—I'd hate to have to cover that pretty mouth with my hand. Again."

☞ ❊ ☜

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Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

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[bby-deerling]

trade of goods and services (law x reader)

can be read platonically (but why would you), happens during timeskip, strawhat!reader wc: 860 masterlist

You notice his spotted bucket hat before you see the rest of him slowly ambling through the tents that make up the commune of artists that you’ve made a home with over the past year or so.  Turning your head down and away from him, you keep glances at the tall, tan man limited to your peripherals and pray he doesn’t recognize you from Sabaody, or your bounty poster; you had been getting tougher, but trying to take on the captain of the Heart Pirates alone would be pure delusion.

“Hey. You.” he says, his voice deep and low.  You tense up, and snap your head to meet his gaze, hand flashing him a brief peace sign in greetings by force of habit.

“You’re a Strawhat.” he says.  You nod affirmatively and give him your name, thoroughly convinced it was going to be the last thing you said before he ripped your heart out of your chest and sent it to Marine Headquarters in a box.

“I know.  We’ve met.” he says.  You bite the inside of your cheek, wondering what he was getting at by telling you information you both already knew.  The only thing that came to mind besides him being there to collect your bounty was that you had seen in the news that he had helped Luffy escape Marineford, and that he might be hoping for a sympathy discount on whatever he was about to ask you to paint.

Surprisingly, you found that Trafalgar Law was simply awkward at introductions.

“I need a birthday gift for my navigator, Bepo.  Eight inches by ten, oil on board. We’ll be in town for a few days, can you handle it?” he says, demanding more than asking.

You nod affirmatively, giving him a price.  He slides you a picture of Bepo and enough berries to cover the fifty percent deposit.

“Come back in three days; I’ll use fast-drying medium so I can varnish it sooner.” you tell him.  Truthfully, you hated doing so, preferring more time to work with the paint before it dries, but the job often demanded it with so many people coming in and out of the tiny port island.  Law nods and begins to walk away, and you give him something between a wave and a peace sign.  He stops and turns around.

“You always do that?  With your fingers?” he asks.  His tone is low, as if he is trying to ascertain whether or not you were trying to intentionally get under his skin.

You nod.  “Sorry if it’s obnoxious.  I do it without thinking.”

“It’s not.” he says with a huff as he walks away.

When Law returns, he’s impressed with the piece, and pays you the rest of the berries for the work.  As you grab your wallet from your desk to put your berries away, Law gets nosy and peeks in your drawer, examining the rare coins floating around.

“These should really be in a book.” he says, giving you unsolicited advice as he goes through your things, much to your chagrin.

“I’ve got a book on the Sunny.  These are just the ones I’ve collected here.” you reply, trying not to lose your marbles at his invasiveness.

Law’s inked fingers halt as he spots something in the corner of your drawer, grabbing it before thinking; his heart nearly stops when he confirms his suspicions that the coin was from Flevance.

“You must have paid a fortune for this.” he says, choosing his words carefully to prevent giving too much about himself away.

“Not as much as you’d think.” you reply, watching his face carefully as he clenched his jaw while examining the coin.  “Do you want it?” you ask him.  He stares at you, alarmed by the apparent concern for him brimming in your eyes.

“How much?” he says, phrasing it as more of a statement than a question.

“Take it.” you insist, eyes pleading with him.  Law opens his mouth to protest, but you speak before he can.  “Consider it thanks for saving my captain’s life.” 

Law knows he really should pay you for it, but finds himself accepting your small token of kindness, closing his fingers around the coin.  He found you peculiar; under any other circumstances, he would find the coin an omen of danger, a sign that someone was trying to send him a thinly veiled threat, but he only turned up with good intentions when searching your face.

Law intends to leave it at that and walk away, but something in him urges him to leave you with some parting words.

“You’re too sweet.  The New World is going to eat you alive.” he warns.

You smile at him, eyes filled with determination and blind faith.  “Not when I have Luffy by my side!”  Your words take Law aback, and slightly amuse him.

“I have a feeling we’ll meet again.” you tell him. “When we do, you better have a coin for me.”

“I’ll think about it.” he replies indifferently as he keeps walking.

(When you meet him again, he does indeed return the favor by slipping a rare coin into the pocket of your coat.)

[d6erys]

─── i. camgirl dot net

⚢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✗ warnings; soft!dom!sam x sub!fem!reader, a lot of praise, age gap (r is legal), sexting/phone sex, possessiveness and jealousy. NOT PROOFREAD.

summary: samantha definitely doesn’t have the extra cash to spend from working two shitty end jobs, but can’t help it when the pretty doe-eyed girl loves the attention.

this was stupid and futile, it really was to samantha as she scrolls through the website of numerous cam girls on the website, flicking her wrist along the pages, close to being all parallel, typical and boring degrading usernames, naked and spread out just like the next and before, overdone moans and facial expressions, just blank faces until sam comes across one cam, her wrist still as her eyes read the username: bambi

chuckling softly at the username and wondering the meaning of twisting the innocent disney dear until sam clicks and her eyes catch doe-like ones staring at the camera, chocolate lace-clad to smooth skin, the lingerie thin and tiny, barely leaving any room for the imagination, but it was enough to wonder and desire what’s underneath the silky lace.

“fuck,” sam murmurs to herself as her attention glues to her computer screen, the pretty camgirl’s dark eyes gazes at the camera, her petite hand reaching up to lock a curl between a dainty finger and twirling.”the highest payer will get to pick what they wanna see me do to start the night off.” sam tugs her bottom lip between her teeth at the sound of your voice; so breathy and whiny, sam wonders if your voice is naturally that soft and needy or if it’s just a camgirl allure, regardless of the factor, it leaves her skin hot with desire and want.

sam watches tips fly in shortly after your statement, ten, twenty, thirty and it seems the highest payer so far is some guy with a lousy whooping seventy dollars, who quickly sends in his demand in the chat afterward, sam clenches her jaw at the user’s request, almost jealous at the fact you’ll be obeying him, and the emotion at the situation is so doltish - to get jealous about you following someone else’s command, a camgirl she only stumbled upon moments ago and who sam doesn’t know anything about, other than the bare skin that’s shown on her computer screen.

the next thing sam does is even more doltish than her silly sudden jealousy with her auto filling her credit card info into the slot and sending a 100 tip, outbidding the pathetic man who couldn’t even make his a solid 100.

“sammyc26,” sam physically has to shallow a groan when you speak her name in that tone, so breathy and soft, god this the first time she ever wanted to fuck someone so bad before, and so fast. arousal pulls at her stomach as she watches you to continue to toy with your acrylic nail in your mouth.”you’re the highest payer so far tonight, whatcha wanna see, baby?”

the butterflies of arousal now juts in her stomach harshly, feeling herself blushing, her body heating up from embarrassment at what she’s actually doing and the meek shyness of your voice now directed at her with that petname, as well as the desire of want pricking her skin. slowly sam begins typing on her computer, pushing the laptop further into her lap to try and get the best visual she can grab of you.

sammyc26: touch yourself for me

sam can feel herself flush hotter with excitement,  anticipation, and abashed for actually doing this, watching intently as you read her comment out loud followed with a sweet laugh.”alright baby, if that’s what you want.” you answer samantha softly, trailing your fingers to the sides towards the bottom piece of your lingerie, teasingly pinching the silk ribbons, rolling them around your fingers before slowly unwrapping them gently and making sure to doe your eyes up as you do so.

sam’s throat runs a little dry and her tongue swipes her bottle lip as she watches your entertaining show, her chest inhaling up and down deeper than usual, especially when the ribbons finally fall and it gives more access to the view of your bare hips and a smudge bit of your inner thighs leading to your pussy. making the mistake and flickering her eyes to the comments and feeling that earlier jealousy flame intensely now, her brain shifting to some unspoken claim on you with your show and obeying her want.

the strain in sam’s jaw looses, almost falling slack when you peel the tiny excuse of clothing that’s covering your core, spreading your legs open and tossing your bottom set somewhere in your room, your eyes setting on the camera, your head against your silk pillows and your legs edging more and more bare, sam shallowing hard at the mere sight.”is this what you wanted baby?”

grunting at your teasing question, hovering her fingers over the computer keys, answering you.

sammyc26: yes. you’re so gorgeous angel

light pink dusts your cheeks at sam’s words, you were use to being referred hot and degrading words twisted into praise, you were never called gorgeous or a sweet petname like angel, a feeling smells in your lower stomach, samantha catching glimpse of it as slick begins to drip out of you. gorgeous, you were perfect like this; needy, flushed, spread and dripping, it made sam so desperately want to plow you into the mattress and give you everything you whined or begged for.

sam watches you tease yourself with a digit of yours, slowly circling your clit, releasing a needy small moan, —a natural one sam comments to herself mentally— and it burns sam up, flaming her skin and leaving her uncomfortable in her underwear. letting out a strangled groan at you now pushing your delicate fingers between your lips, saliva dribbling down and coating your palm, releasing them with a wet pop before moving them back down gently thrusting two digits inside yourself.

embarrassingly the sight could make sam cum alone, her dark brown eyes not leaving her screen for a second as she watches you build a speed to your rhythm, no longer holding back and letting out breathless whines and moans, slick skimming your thighs, your petite fingers as deep as they possibly can be inside of you but sam can tell it’s still not enough, and she so badly wishes her long fingers were in you instead, pounding them in your pussy.

kicking her panties down her legs and quickly reliving herself with some releasing for her own pleasure, sighing out as her fingers come into contact with her folds, sam’s heed on your movements with her hand between her legs. sam bites her lip to hold in her groans when she sees your legs starting to shake, slick leaking down to your smooth bare thighs, her free hand making work to type in the chat

sammyc26: don’t cum until i say it’s ok to angel

by the needy and frustrated sound you whine out sam knows you saw her comment and decided to follow through with her demand, that alone speeds her orgasm near with the sight of your flushed face and hair sprawled out on your silk pillow, your legs spread open for her —and undoubtedly everyone else in the chat but sam is choosing to ignore that factor— and your pouty lip tugged between your teeth to hold in those pretty cries of yours.

sammyc26: let me hear you, stop holding yourself back

at sam’s comment you allow yourself to release moans you didn’t even realize you were holding back, throwing your head against your pillow with the pleasure seeping between your thighs that you can’t let snap until your client flag’s it okay to so, tears pooling in your eyes, so badly wanting to cum which in any other stream you’d would’ve by now and not listened to whoever was behind the comments, it made them want you more and label you as an disobedient brat fantasy, but for some reason you want to actually listen to this new viewer, as stupid as it makes you feel.

your thighs quivering and pink lips jerks sam’s head in a lust filed haze as the coil in her stomach snaps with white hot pleasure clouds her vision, cum smearing across her palm, cursing lowly at the intensity of her climbmax leaving her breathless and sweaty, her hooded eyes still remaining on you as you struggle to keep yourself from cumming. sam is shocked to managed not to orgasm minutes ago, god does she wanna see how you’re pictured when you do.

sammyc26: cum for me

at the long awaited green light from sam you finally come with a high pitched cry and a shake wave throughout your body, eyes screwed shut as you come undone right before sam’s eyes, so delicate with an intense violence of your orgasm, it makes sam’s stomach in such desire like never before, and she’s almost saddened you closed your gorgeous bambi-like eyes when you finished yourself, she so badly wanted to see them all doe’d up as you came.

again, this was stupid and futile, it really was to samantha when her finger hovered over the message button of your profile, it’s been a few weekends since she first stumbled upon you and made sure to be home early enough every sunday to catch your show, spending more money than she would like to admit, money she knows needs to go to other place, and money she had to remake by taking up extra shifts, but it was all worth it in the end.

but since finding out you offer private shows at end of your last sunday broadcast, she desires much more now, she desire you way too much more now.

her obsession with random camgirl is unhealthy, sam knows.

after a few minutes your profile photo pops up in her messages, confirming you are hosting some private shows and fortunately for her, someone cancelled and there’s a slot open, in reality you were booked and actually had to cancel on someone to fit samantha in, a loyal client which was stupid of you since sam only pays you pennies in comparison of what that old pervert gives you more than what you make in a week of being a camgirl. but you were curious for your own good to see what sammyc26 looks like, and ultimately you were crushing too hard, you had no idea if sammyc26 was a man or woman yet, but you just knew they had to be attractive.

a lazily grin makes it’s way on sam’s lips, pushing down the ache of her pocket at the price you charged, but to get you alone with her eyes privy only to everything she wants you to do, it’s more than worth it.

once realizing the skye video chat is in less than ten minutes sam hurries to touch herself up, throwing on a sweater over her shirt and brushing her hair, debating on applying some makeup but quickly gets discorded when she hears her computer ringing, signaling it’s been ten minutes and you’re syke calling her.

sam hops on her bed with a rushed jump, taking a moment before answering, immediately being met with your gorgeous big eyes and mentally thinking how much the user bambi fits you. y

your pink lips curls into a sweet smile.”i’m glad to finally put a face to your name, sammy.”

 swallowing thickly before replying.”hey angel.”

[demcgorgons]

real- eddie munson

summary: jason carver won’t leave you alone, so you ask an unexpected someone for help.

wc: 4.0k

pairing(s): eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: making out, this is my first fic so shitty writing maybe, unedited

eddie sat at the bench and drummed his fingers, slightly impatient. after a few seconds, he pulled the tiny piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. his fingers ran over the words you hastily scrawled, rushing before mrs. o’donnell caught you passing notes. ‘woods behind the football field after school. asap’ the note read, the words slightly smudged from folding it before letting the ink dry. he wondered what you wanted, wondered why you couldn’t indulge the tiniest bit of information, just so his mind wouldn’t race, the way it was now. the two of you had never really spoken, just polite smiles given in class, if he managed to catch your eye. you ran with different crowds. he was the freak of hawkins— in a cult, corrupting young minds, dressed outlandishly in all black, and a twenty year old high school senior. you were simply an angel on earth. a cheerleader, but kinder than most of the girls on your team. you were smart and gorgeous. you were always willing to help anyone out with their studies. eddie was nearly failing, but for some reason, he could never pluck up enough courage to speak to you. he wasn’t even sure that you knew who he was. every time he got close, your bright smile damn near knocked him off his feet. eddie swore that you were the sweetest person in the entire world. 

eddie glanced at his watch. 20 minutes after school let out. he wondered if he was somehow wrong about you, if you had lured him out here as some kind of prank. he looked around, wondering if jason and his posse were waiting behind trees and bushes, ready to jump out at him. just as he was about to call it quits, he heard twigs snapping and rushed footsteps heading towards him. you appeared, looking flushed and apologetic.

“i’m so, so sorry,” you said quickly. “i tried to get here fast, but people kept stopping me and jason wouldn’t leave me alone and-” 

“‘s alright,” eddie smiles, cutting your rant off. “you’re here now.” 

the girl beamed, still looking guilty for leaving him waiting for so long. moments of awkward silence passed as you stood awkwardly and eddie looked at you expectantly. you gestured to the picnic table and sat across from eddie. “um, about that note,” you began. “i don’t really know how to start this, honestly. it’s kinda weird and i don’t want you feeling obligated to do anything for me.” 

“look who you’re talkin’ to,” he smirks. “i think i can handle weird.” the corners of your mouth tugged up into a smile again. 

“o-okay.” you took a deep breath. “i guess the short version of it is that jason carver won’t leave me alone. he keeps hitting on me and asking me out and it’s making me uncomfortable and honestly, i didn’t know what else to do.” you frowned at yourself. “well, i guess i could have come up with something else, but this way would be more effective, i think.” at this point, you were talking to yourself and eddie was still as confused as ever.

“what would be more effective?” he asked.

“um, i wondered if you would be my fake boyfriend?” you half-whispered, wishing that you had just given up in the idea. getting jason off your back was not worth this much embarrassment. 

“sure.” the answer came easily. you blinked, not sure if you heard him properly. 

“r-really?” you spluttered.

“sure. it’ll get carver off your back, and i get to pretend that a pretty girl actually wants to be my girlfriend.”

“o-okay,” you said. “i’m not exactly sure what to do now.” you laughed sheepishly. “in my head, you thought i was a freak and in some scenarios, you ran screaming.” he laughed at that, and all you could think of was how much you loved his laugh. in that moment, you thought you could listen to that sound for the rest of your life and never get tired of it. 

“you? a freak?” eddie exclaimed. “hell no. i’m the freak, and you want to be seen with me?” you shrugged, not offering an explanation. “are there any rules, then? this is fake, so i don’t know what you’re comfortable with, touching wise. i mean, it’ll be weird if we never touch each other, right? isn’t that what couples do? i mean, tommy h and carol spent most of their junior year groping each other in the hallway.” 

you gigged at his rambling. “don’t tell me you’ve never been with anyone before, eddie.” 

he scoffed. “i’ve been with girls, y/n. however, it’s never been long enough to hold hands in the hallway and be so sweet that everyone around us wants to gouge out their eyes at the sight of our undying love.” he rolled his eyes at the last part, smiling sarcastically. “totally fine with it, though. never met anyone that made me want to stay the night.” 

you eyed him curiously. “i’m okay with anything,” you said. “let’s just ease into it. i’ve never actually done anything before, so just give me warning, i guess.” at that eddie’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“are you serious? never kissed anyone or held hands or anything?” you shook your head, embarrassed again. “well, then i won’t do the big things. want them to be real for you.” you smiled at his words, feeling a warmth spread throughout your chest and all over your body, making your fingertips tingle. “you need a ride?”

you hesitated, then nodded. “sure. i usually walk, but i guess this is a part of a relationship.” eddie led you out of the woods to his van and drove you home. the ride was a bit awkward and eddie tried to turn down his music to a reasonable amount. he was happy when he noticed you bobbing your head along to ozzy. when he dropped you off, you gave him your number on a slip of paper. wishing him a good rest of his day, you watched his van peel out of the cul de sac, giggling to yourself as you realized that he drove a lot more carefully with you in the car. the rest of the night, you felt as though you were on autopilot, unable to think of anything else but eddie munson.

the next day, eddie picked you up. you surprised him with a donut that your mom had bought. he beamed when you handed him the sugary treat. “i could get used to this!” he joked. the ride to school was slightly less awkward than the night before. you asked him about his classes and offered to help him in o’donnell’s class or any other class.

once in school, you went about your day normally. you did your best to pay attention in your classes, but you found yourself thinking of eddie’s smile, how beautiful he was. you smiled to yourself at how comfortable he made you feel. your smile faded as you remembered that this wasn’t real, he was just doing you a favor for a bit. you shook your head and tried to put eddie out of your head, focusing on your schoolwork.

after your third period, you headed to your locker before lunch. as you switched out your books, you felt a person saunter up beside you. “hey, y/n,” the person said. you groaned internally. jason carver. shoving your binder into your bag and slamming your locker shut, you turned to the jock.

“hey, jason,” you said with a fake smile. “what’s up?”

he smirked and you grimaced internally, knowing that he thought he was the hottest guy alive. “some of the guys and i were going out tonight to see that new horror film. couple of ‘em are bringing dates and i was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

“um, no thanks. i have plans.”

“c’mon, y/n, don’t be like that.” he reached up to caress your cheek, in what he assumed to be a sweet gesture. instead, you felt like throwing up in your mouth. “some of your cheer friends are going. don’t be a drag.”

“hey, she said no.” you recognized eddie’s voice behind you. relief washed over you. eddie kissed your cheek, and you smiled, leaning into his touch. you tried to hold back your laugh as you watched jason try to keep his expression calm, but you could see anger and disbelief in his eyes. 

“munson. what are you doing here?” jason sneered.

“meeting with my girl,” eddie said. your stomach fluttered at his words. “not that it’s any of your business anyway. she told you no, carver. go back to your circle jerk-off and leave my girlfriend alone.” 

“y/n, you’re dating this freak?” jason said in disbelief. “you know he’s the leader of a cult, right? that’s what that stupid hellfire thing is. i’m just looking out for you here, babe.”

“don’t call her that!” eddie snapped. he took a couple steps towards jason, getting up in his face. “she’s not your girlfriend, dickhead. now, leave her alone or else.” jason glared at eddie furiously, before scoffing and shoving him away. he stomped off and you realized your heart was nearly beating out of your chest.

“thank you,” you said, giving him a quick hug. “but you nearly got into a fight. this isn’t worth you getting suspended.”

“of course you are,” he said easily. “come on, i’m starving.” the two of you walked to the cafeteria, hand in hand. you attracted quite a few stares and whispers, but eddie squeezed your hand, willing you to ignore everyone. it was a strange feeling, having someone to hold onto. you couldn’t remember the last time you held someone’s hand, romantically or not. to you, it seemed that your hands were made to hold his. your fingers intertwined perfectly and his warmth was very comforting. 

eddie led you to his table, where the other hellfire members sat. he sat down in his seat and motioned for you to sit in the empty chair next to him. the other boys at the table eyes you curiously. you sat down quietly, giving everyone a soft smile, but not wanting to maintain eye contact for too long.

“who’s that?” a curly haired boy said loudly. 

“this is y/n, my girlfriend,” eddie said proudly. “y/n, this is gareth, jeff, and grant. that asshole is dustin and that’s mike and lucas. those three are freshies.” every single guy at the table’s jaw dropped. 

“your girlfriend?” dustin spluttered. “since when do you have a girlfriend? and a pretty one at that!” you covered your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh. eddie looked offended. 

“well, screw you, henderson.” the group laughed at his pathetic comeback and then the boys broke into separate conversations amongst themselves. 

you leaned in close to whisper to eddie. “i didn’t know we were lying to other people about us. i thought it was just for jason.”

eddie shrugged. “seemed more realistic to me. you don’t have to introduce me to your family if you don’t want to, though.”

“no, i-i can. i just didn’t know what you wanted to do.”

“hey, love birds!” mike’s voice cut through your hushed conversation. “you coming to hellfire tomorrow night, y/n? we’re in the middle of this epic campaign.”

you glanced nervously at eddie, unsure how to reply. “if you guys want me there, i can come, i guess. is that okay, eds?” you decided to try out a nickname, just to make your fake relationship seem more real. his cheeks turned slightly pink and he smiled at you.

“‘course, my girl is welcome to anything.” he grabbed your hand, and you fought the giddy laughter you felt bubbling up in your chest. 

the rest of the day went by, and once more, eddie drove you home. you gave him a quick hug and raced into your house. you had decided earlier in the day to do something nice for eddie’s club, since they had invited you to watch their campaign, which was mostly unheard of, according to gareth. you decided on chocolate chip cookies, as those were usually a crowd favorite. 

the next day was the same. eddie picked you up and drove you to school. you sat with hellfire at lunch. the only difference was that jason never had the chance to come up to you, as eddie had taken it upon himself to walk to each one of your classes. “what about you?” you protested, unable to keep the smile off your face. “you’ll be late!”

“you’re worth it, sweetheart,” he’d said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. your heart skipped a beat at his actions, and you refused to remember that this was just for show. that afternoon, you stayed at school after the final bell had rung. you met eddie at your locker, and he led you to the hellfire room, where everyone was already waiting.

“shit, we don’t have another chair,” eddie said, looking around the room. he took his place on his throne and smirked at you. “guess you’ll have to sit on my lap. unless you want to stand the entire time?” the boys groaned.

“can you not do that shit in front of us?” dustin complained. “some of us value our virgin eyes.” you giggled at his theatrics.

“i have something for you guys, before you start,” you said shyly. eddie looked at you, confused, as you hadn’t told him about surprising the club with a special treat. you brought out the container of cookies from your bag, and let them pass it around the table. it was heartwarming to see their faces light up at the cookies.

“no way!” lucas exclaimed. “eddie, you didn’t tell us she baked!” he moaned as he took a bite from a cookie. “this is the best cookie i’ve ever fucking tasted.” you beamed as the rest of the table agreed. 

you inconspicuously sat in eddie’s lap, feeling his warm hand on your waist as you adjusted yourself. the campaign began and you were immersed in the world of dungeons and dragons. it was a fascinating game and you found yourself rooting for the team to defeat whatever monsters or obstacles eddie threw at them. at one point, you got up to use the bathroom and while you were gone, dustin said, “i like y/n. she’s really nice. and her cookies are really good.” 

the table agreed and mike added, “please don’t let her go. none of your other hookups ever wanted to be a part of hellfire.” eddie smiled as he thought about what the club had said. he was lucky. it had only been a few days, but you had easily slipped into his life and routine. you returned and snuggled back into eddie. gareth had given him a knowing look.

 the hour and a half flew by rather quickly, and everyone gathered their papers and bid you and eddie good night. “wanna come over to my place?” he asked you, as you walked to his van. “my uncle’s probably heading to work right about now, so we’ve got it to ourselves.” you hesitated before nodding.

once at his trailer, you called your mom to let her know you were at a friends and you’d be home late. eddie put on a movie and gestured for you to join him. he offered you a joint, and you shook your head.

“never smoked before?” he asked, looking amused. you shrugged sheepishly. “i can teach you, if you’d like.” 

“sure.” eddie showed you how to inhale, hold it in, and then exhale. you took a drag and immediately started coughing up a lung. eddie laughed at you, and once you stopped choking on air, you started laughing too. “oh my god, that’s so embarrassing!” you shrieked with laughter. 

“no, that was good,” he assured you. “everyone coughs the first time. and the second and third and maybe fourth.” you rolled your eyes at him.

“can i try again?” you took a shorter drag this time and only coughed a tiny bit. your face lit up. “eds, i did it!” 

“good job, baby,” he laughed. the two of you fell silent, taking turns with the joint, somewhat paying attention to the cheesy horror film eddie was put on. your head was beginning to feel woozy as the high set in. your head was full of thoughts about eddie. you were very aware of how close the two of you were and how he called you ‘baby’. eddie was thinking of you, as well. how well you interacted with his friends, how you called him ‘eds’. it made him weak in the knees. he tried to shake off those thoughts, knowing you didn’t actually like him. this was just get jason off your back. 

“hey, eddie,” you giggled. you snuggled close into his chest and he swore his heart was beating so loud and fast, the entire park heard it. your hand was draped lazily across his stomach, and he was very aware of how close it was to the waistband of his black jeans. “you smell nice, did you know? and you have pretty eyes. and hair. and everything.” your voice sounded gone and eddie laughed. 

“y/n, baby, are you high?” he teased. you shook your head.

“noooo,” you said. “i’m fine, i am just feeling a little weird and floaty, but i like it.”

“take a nap,” he said. “sleep some of this off, and i’ll take you home, okay?” you don’t really remember the rest of the night, but you woke up in the next day in your own bed, with your mother shaking you, telling you that your ‘friend with the loud music’ was here to pick you up. 

weeks and months went on, with mostly the same routine. eddie would take you to school and take you home. on hellfire days, you’d bring snacks for the club members and occasionally, you’d hang out at eddie’s trailer or your house. you introduced him to your parents and you met his uncle wayne. the two of you felt so right together that you almost forgot why you came together in the first place. stares from jason had subsided weeks ago. he’d stopped badgering you about a month before that. eventually, everyone at school had gotten used to seeing the two of you together. eddie’s grades had even risen a bit, due to the time you spent together where you forced him to study even a little. eddie took every opportunity he could to hold your hand, kiss your cheek, forehead, anything. 

one night you were hanging out with eddie, getting high and watching a movie, same as always. you were cuddling with eddie, bodies intertwined so you couldn’t tell where you ended and where eddie began. it occurred to you that no one was around, and there was no reason for you to be cuddled up. you shifted slightly, and eddie’s grip around your waist tightened, keeping you close. the same warmth that you felt whenever he touched you in any way spread over your entire body. you must have sighed, because, all of a sudden, eddie had your face in his hands, searching your eyes while asking if you were okay.

“what’s gonna happen when this is over?” you said, tears forming in your eyes. “jason has moved on. why are we still pretending?” eddie didn’t know what to say. you didn’t know what to make of his silence and the weed and alcohol weren't making your brain work normally. you rambled on, “i mean, of course i don’t want to pretend anymore. i spend all my time with you. i think only about you. i caught some guys eye in my science class and he winked at me and i felt dirty. i felt like that was disrespectful to you and then i remembered that this isn’t real and i can go out and kiss anybody i want. anybody i want!” you took another liong sip of beer, your words slurring together now. eddie looked concerned and grabbed it from you, taking your second half smoked joint, as well. “but, i only wanna kiss you, munson. i wish you would just kiss me!” you crawled onto his lap and got up in his face. 

this entire time, he hadn’t said anything. you put his hand on your cheek and he rubbed his thumb on you face. you leaned into his touch and glanced at his lips. “are you sober?” he asked quietly. 

you shrugged. “had some of this, had some of that. you know.” you laughed at yourself. eddie smiled.

“come on, baby. let’s sleep this off and then we’ll talk, okay?” you bobbed your head and he led you to his room, you nearly falling on your face after tripping over your own feet. once in his bed, you snuggled into him, breathing in his scent. eddie stroked your hair until you fell asleep. eddie tried to sleep as well, but your words kept him awake. were you serious? or were you so cross-faded that you made up an entire confession of your affection?

eddie dozed off, and hours later, he woke to your groaning. “my head,” you moaned. “i’m never doing that shit again.” eddie rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and got up.

“i’ll get you some ibuprofen and water,” he said. when he returned, you took the pill and flopped back onto your pillow, pressing it on your head. “hey, um, do you remember earlier? like, what we were talking about?”

you turned and blinked at him, still looking incredibly sleepy and miserable. “kinda? it’s a little blurry.” that was a lie. you’d have to be blackout drunk to forget what you did, probably not even then. eddie’s face fell a bit, but he recovered quickly.

“what do you remember?” he asked.

“i-i remember drinking and smoking. i remember cuddling with you, and then i remember asking about us and i remember climbing on top of you.” you felt embarrassed, remembering how he had rejected you and taken you to bed, instead of kissing you. “um, sorry about that. i think i said something dumb and then we went to bed.”

“something dumb?” eddie said, somewhat dejectedly. 

“yeah,” you laughed awkwardly. “i’m sorry about that. i know that this isn’t permanent and that you’re just being a good friend.” eddie was starting to hate that word. “honestly, i think we could end it now. i mean, this was just to get jason off my back right? well, he’s moved onto chrissy cunningham last i heard.”

“what if i don’t want it to end?” the words tumbled out of his mouth before eddie had a chance to stop them. you looked at him with wide eyes. “y/n, you told me that you liked me and you wanted to only kiss me. did it ever occur to you that i feel the same?”

“w-what?”

“did you mean what you said earlier? do you like me?” he waited with baited breath for your response. after a few agonizing seconds, you nodded. eddie took your face in his rough hands, your face impossibly close to his. you felt his warm breath fanning your face. “is this okay?” he whispered.

“yes,” you breathed back. eddie closed the distance between the two of you, lips pressing against yours. it was your first kiss, and you thought that this was the best thing to ever happen to you. your hands wormed their way up into eddie’s hair. he kissed you intensely and you whimpered into the kiss. breaking apart to take a breath, eddie’s eyes found yours.“y/n, i really like you. maybe even love. i want to be with you for real. will you be my real girlfriend?” 

you captured his lips in a kiss again. “yes, eddie munson, i will be your real girlfriend.” 

i didn’t know how to end this and im not going to reread it to edit it bc i’ll end up deleting it. lowkey hate this anyway. thanks for reading!!

[scuttlingcrab]

"The doublet is a magical item, so it can fit and mould to Raphael’s body no matter his form or temper." Now I'm just picturing Raphael transforming in anger while wearing the doublet and his rage is momentarily stopped when he realizes that it transformed with him and wasn't even singed.

Like, I could be incredibly angry with someone, but if I suddenly realized that my dress had pockets in it I know darn well that I'd need to at least stop and take a moment to marvel at that discovery before even thinking about continuing on with my anger. 😅

I was literally working on something similar when you sent your message! I've attached the ask below I was initially responding to. Thank you for your message anon and hope you enjoy! x

"Also, the idea of Raphael showing off his new clothes is just- It just tickles me! I can see him preening and flaunting like a peacock because of Tav's gift. I'd honestly read a sequel piece about that, if you want to write it. I've kinda already fallen in love with the whole idea of a luxury magic tailor Tav that the initial prompt fill and response has created as well as that Tav's potential dynamic with Raphael (and other characters *looking at Gale and his sewing needle quip*) and would absolutely be down to read more of that from you! 👀"

Summary: Raphael is caught off guard by his recent gift from Tav, so he decides to pay his little mouse a visit.

Notes: Read A Perfect Fit, which inspired this continuation.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

Dressed to Kill 

Raphael stomped through the halls of the House of Hope, shedding his mortal skin. The doublet didn’t set fire when Raphael transformed, instead, it morphed with his growing size. The silk fabric soothed his ridged body, feeling like a warm embrace. Raphael suppressed a scream. Wretched mortal! The debtors scurried out of his path like rats, seeking the shadows for an ounce of solace from the blistering rage. 

He passed an open window and jolted to a halt. The blood-red light of Avernus caught the designs of his doublet, causing it to glimmer like diamonds. During his shift, the colour of his clothing changed. It now had a dark golden shimmer, the infernal embroidery a deep blue. He extended his arm, admiring the sleeve as he twisted it only slightly, and watched as the adornment reflected tiny devilish patterns onto the marble floors. The decorations moved, as if dancing. Another interesting, subtle detail.

Staring at these animations, Raphael’s breath calmed, his mind cleared. He stood taller, his head never held so high. Abruptly he spotted one of the debtors staring at him from his peripheral and lowered his hand, slowly turning to face them. Fire burned in Raphael’s eyes as he hissed, barring his sharp teeth. The debtor screeched before scurrying off to continue their meaningless eternal task. 

“If I catch just one more incompetent lackey idling about, I will impale your sorry souls on trees and leave you to rot. You are all interchangeable. Do not forget that.”

Raphael watched as the last debtor fled from his sight. He will not be caught off guard again. No. In fact… he will pay that creature a visit. 

–

Raphael materialised at the creature's camp in a swirl of flames and sparks, returning to his mortal disguise. 

The camp was quiet at this hour, the creatures asleep, separated into their individual makeshift tents. And what a ghastly camp it was, third-rate, at best. Miscellaneous equipment littered every corner, books lay discarded, shoddy clothes hung drying on trees, and the animals… When did these mortals domesticate owlbears? Savages.  

He slowly approached Tav’s tent, nestled towards the lake's shoreline. He parted the flap with an index finger and peeked inside. The creature was fast asleep, sharing her tent with that monstrosity Karlach. 

He watched them sleeping, so defenceless. He perked up at the thought. If he was so inclined, he could have easily ended their lives, consumed their souls before the tadpoles defiled them; all it would take is a snap of his fingers…

“Rise and shine, little mouse.” Raphael purred. 

Tav sprang up from her bed roll, clumsily readying a dagger from her sleeve. She held it out towards Raphael, one eye still closed, as she fought off the interrupted slumber. 

Karlach simply turned over in her bedding, yawning and stretching like a cat. She slowly opened her eyes, sitting upright when she spotted Raphael standing at the entrance.

He smirked in response, placing a hand on his hip.

“What the hell is this creep doing here?”

“Good evening to you too, Karlach. I am simply checking in on my prospective clients.”

Raphael bowed deeply, making sure to be as flamboyant as possible in his gesture.

“In the middle of the bloody night? Fuck off, devil.” 

Raphael slowly straightened himself, adjusting his sleeves. He aimed his cuffs towards the campfire, taking care to make sure the lighting was just right to highlight the devilish decorations. 

“Tut, tut, Karlach, language. If I wanted to hear such hideous sounds I’d speak with a lemure.”

Karlach leapt to her feet, the rickety infernal engine in her chest glowing brighter as she stared daggers at him.

“Karlach, please…” 

Tav raised a hand at Karlach, putting away her weapon. She rubbed away the rest of the sleep and focused on Raphael. Her face instantly lit up when she caught sight of his doublet. 

“You’re… wearing it?” Tav whispered. She brought her hands to her mouth, attempting to hide her flushed cheeks. 

“But of course! How could I resist such a delicious gift? It’s not often a devil like myself comes across a mortal with such curious tastes. Your attention to detail is…”

Raphael dramatically clasped his hands together, as if in a prayer. Yes, indeed. Thank the Gods up above for damning these poor creatures and sending them straight into his claws. 

“Superb!” 

“Hells, what have you done?” Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

Tav gave Karlach a sidelong glance, narrowing her eyes. Raphael’s smile grew, devouring the creature’s disapproval and embarrassment. Almost as scrumptious as a soul.

“You are quite the seamstress. What else have you been creating on your adventures, hmm? I wonder, what would be the price for another item such as this? Perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement?” 

Tav’s mouth hung open at his words.

“I-I-uh, didn’t think that far ahead. Let me sleep on it.”

“Don’t keep me waiting, little mouse. You had my curiosity, but now… you have my full attention.”

Raphael raised his arms out wide, like a peacock strutting their finest feathers. He laughed as he surrounded himself in infernal flames. He had truly stumbled upon his greatest prize, his secret weapon to uniting the Nine Hells. Raphael would reach his target soon, that was for certain, but oh, oh yes... he would look hellishly chic in his pursuits. He would turn heads, devils and mortals alike.

[laiiaaa]

ONE NIGHT ONLY — JJ MAYBANK

summary: JJ has never really liked your boyfriend, but you're not all that fond of him either.

contains: angst, substance use, smut, unprotected sex, cheating, a teeny tiny smidgen of fluff that is quickly destroyed

length: 5.6k

note: Be advised that both Reader and JJ are...pretty terrible! I do not condone their actions—I just live for the drama!

Three shots deep, what’s the worst that could happen? You’re perfectly tipsy—lights just a little brighter, music just a little louder, a buzz thrumming through you that makes everything fun again. Bonfire air warm against you, somehow not enough to fight off a chill that keeps JJ at your side. His body molded to yours, spilling open a pool in your gut you know you’ll mull over when tomorrow comes, tank top disheveled and hair tangled.

Sarah takes a sip of her beer and nods in your direction. “I’ve been wondering, where’s Noah tonight?”

You’d been hoping his name wouldn’t come up.

“Hm, funny that that little boy toy didn’t show up—we scare him off or something? So fast?” John B seems smug at that, maybe a little resentful for your attempt at bringing someone new into the loop.

You fumble over your answer, hoping to piece together something half coherent. “He had to work tonight, I think—or maybe it was babysitting?” You’re halfway to biting your tongue when you let it slip: “Not like I’m missing the company.”

You can feel JJ peering down at you, the way his body freezes. 

Kie’s eyebrows shoot up on instinct. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, glancing at JJ to your left. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Never said it was paradise,” you shrug. You’re almost glad JJ’s so close to you, because it lets you speak freely to him without having to look at him as you do it. “I like him, I really do, but he’s just—I don’t know. I think he thinks you guys don’t like him.”

JJ scoffs.

“And that makes him all awkward when we’re all together,” you continue, ignoring him and trailing off. Your buzz is starting to make you ramble on, and the rest of the pogues look from one another as if they’ve already come to their own unanimous conclusion about the boy.

“I think he’s sweet,” Sarah says, smiling in support.

Pope adds more wood to the fire. “He’s a decent guy. He’ll come around. You’ve been together, what, two months now?”

“Almost three,” JJ cuts in, bitter as the beer he’s been downing since before the sun set. His arm stays warped around you, but his fingers have stopped tracing patterns into your skin.

“Almost three,” Pope continues, “And that’s not a lot of time, right? It’ll work itself out.”

You wish you could say you were content with Pope’s conclusion, but you give him a thankful smile anyway. 

No one else seems to have anything to add until JJ throws his empty bottle off to the side, ignoring the table. He huffs, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve seen him surf, though. Now that, that will never work itself out. The guy looks helpless out there.” He nods in the general direction of nowhere in particular, and you know he means more than he’s led on. 

The others look at one another. John B sips slowly from his bottle in silent communication with Sarah; Pope and Kie exchange a knowing glance. 

Yet he continues, “And I just don’t like the guy. What does he know about our lives?”

You sit up as his arm slips from its position on your shoulder, and you turn to face him. “JJ,” you interrupt, guilt bubbling in your gut as your throat runs dry.

“As far as we know, he’s an almost-kook just looking for pathetic pogue life to make him feel better about himself.” He turns to you directly, and if that weren’t a big enough knife to your chest, he drives it deeper still. “He’s full of himself, Peach, and nobody’s gonna tell you that but me. To him we’re filthy, and so are you—”

“JJ!” John B snaps, trying to salvage what he could of your dignity.

Try as he might, that couldn’t stop a near-silent cry from slipping past your lips. Tears welled, your vision fuzzed, and a hand shot to your mouth, shakily, as JJ stared back at you, his lips in a taught, indignant line.

You swipe tears from your eyes before they can fully realize. “I think I’m gonna…” you start, not even fully aware of the best way to exit. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick, get some water…” You stand up from your chair wearily, turning your back on the group as you walk toward the Chateau.

Sarah mutters an Oh, shit under her breath as she discards her beer and stands up, Kie right in front of her calling out your name.

You slam the door shut behind you, sobs fully escaping you now. You’ve never known this side of JJ—at least not personally, with his vitriol aimed at you. Funny how things have unfolded this way. And to think how not even half a year ago you’d shared a bed with him, barely clothed with tangled limbs and fleeting kisses to exposed skin, his lips against yours as you drank from one another all you had to give and then some more for good measure. To think how that tight-lipped stare was once a contagious smile in the crook of your neck, muttering sweet nothings of your beauty and his adoration. To think how that elation was short-lived beyond comprehension, all that ecstasy in just one night only.

It doesn’t take long before you find the proper stash of the hard stuff and start sipping it straight. The burn down your throat has never felt so good, cathartic even. Sarah and Kie find you in the kitchen, back turned before bottoms up, and they rush over to you, Kie slipping the bottle from your hands.

“Hey,” Sarah says, taking your face in her palms, thumbs brushing tears from your cheeks. “You need to stay as sober as possible, okay? Because we both know JJ well enough to know he’s gonna come in here, and you’re gonna have to talk to him.”

You brush her hands away from you. “Fuck off,” you start, and you wince at your tone. She can smell the alcohol on your breath. The bottle clanks behind you as Kie stows it away once again, and you curse the two girls for only letting you get another shot and a half in your system.

You settle yourself on the couch, Sarah and Kie sitting on either side of you. The room is dark and quiet and for just a moment you feel your head clear up, the only sound you hear being the bass from the music outside and what might as well be no more than laughter among the boys.

“JJ sucks,” Kie sighs, plainly.

“Yeah.” You feel her turn toward you before you answer, “He can be a real dick.”

“What he said to you was terrible,” Sarah adds, brushing your hair out of your face. “I’m sorry we didn’t say anything to shut him up.”

You lend her a smile, as if it could repair everything. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not,” Kie insists. She hugs you to her chest for the first time in a long time. “We shouldn’t have let him go so far with it. He was mean, really mean, and—it shouldn’t be that way. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I feel bad for Noah. How am I supposed to look at him again knowing that’s how people think of him?”

“JJ’s the only one who hates him.” Sarah piles herself onto the hug and in that moment, the three of you know you’ll be okay. “The rest of us like him, and I promise you that. John B seems to approve.”

Kie laughs quietly. “And I can assure you, Pope is glad to have someone else around with at least half a brain. We just want you to be happy, okay?”

“JJ doesn’t seem to agree,” you huff.

“Well—” Kie starts, struggling to find the words— “He doesn’t like change.”

“He’ll come around,” Sarah sighs. “He just needs a minute to act like a brat for the time being.”

The three of you stay that way—a pile of subtle tears and breathless giggles—until the squeaky door cuts into the conversation. With it comes John B’s voice: “Can we interrupt?”

Sarah lifts her head and sees first John B, followed by a now quiet, more timid JJ, and Pope left in the doorway. She glances at you and stands while motioning for Kie to follow, and the two girls gather at the door. Everyone in the room except you and JJ can’t help but notice the way his attention gravitates toward you, the way his body flows closer to yours without him giving it more than half a thought. 

“Can we talk?” he asks, and he says it like it’s taboo: eyes pointed at the ground, hat in his hands.

He cuts into your chest once more, but you shift toward one end of the couch anyway to welcome him in. The others take their cue to exit, leaving you and JJ alone again, unfortunately not for the first time. The couch cushion sinks under his weight. You start to follow suit under the weight of your shared silence.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally, and it doesn’t even begin to be enough.

You tuck your knees to your chest, your whole body turned toward him as he only keeps facing forward. It’s always been like this: you, giving him your all; and him, fighting not to do the same. You stay silent, more as a result of your inability to respond than an active choice.

“I went too far, and I—it was fucked up.”

When you take a deep breath, you’re wobbly in your chest. The moonlight slipping through the windows lets you see his face just enough to remind yourself of the curve of his nose, the soft skin of his cheek—as if you hadn’t already memorized it by now. 

“What did Noah ever do to you, Jay? He’s only ever been kind to you, I—I thought you would’ve at least tolerated him, but—” You stop yourself before tears start to spill.

JJ finally turns to face you when he thinks you’ve started to cry. He’s got a new shiner now, you realize, a busted lip. If you weren’t part of the reason behind it, you’d ask whether John B’s left hook has gotten any better. Maybe it hasn’t, and he only thought he deserved a beating.

“He didn’t do anything, alright—he’s just—I just don’t like him, I don’t think he’s right for you.” His hands fidgeting, his eyes dancing everywhere but in your direction, tell you he isn’t giving the full story.

“Then who is? I’m not even asking you to love the guy, or care about him like you care about John B or Pope, or hang out with him in your free time—I just want some basic respect.”

He looks at you, confused, brows furrowed together as if you’ve misheard him. “I know that, Peach—”

“Then why can’t I at least have someone? You don’t get to fuck with my love life just because you don’t like the guy—you don’t like any guy, JJ.” 

You’re breathing heavier by the end of it, and maybe it’s the fact you’ve spilled it out as you have, or it’s the pleading look he’s burning into you with, but you’re finally starting to get it. The lingering glances he lets slip by whenever you bring Noah around, keeping track of the fleeting touches JJ hasn’t been able to give himself; the way he’s attached to your hip the moment you’re alone, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, keeping you tethered to him; the comments here and there from Kie and Pope about some secret admirer, some undercover lover in disguise who will emerge eventually from the shadows.

JJ looks guilty, it’s melting off his skin like acid. He brings his eyes to yours, a knowing look to condemn you both. “I still think about that night, y’know—”

“Please, don’t.”

“And I haven’t been with anyone else since, you know that—”

“JJ, you know we can’t—”

“Am I really that bad?” he asks, tears in his eyes that call for your own. “I mean, we can’t even talk about it now.”

You take a deep breath once more. “I tried, when it happened, remember? To talk? But you left me alone, all high and dry and in your bed.”

“I know, and that was wrong, but we can try again,” he pleads, and you can nearly taste the satisfaction in slapping him across the face just by picturing it. “I can be better.”

“I want to believe you, Jay—”

“Then believe me—” he shifts toward you, leaning into your space with one shoulder grazing yours and the opposite hand cradling your jaw, hesitantly— “I want to try again, we can do things slow, I promise.”

You close your eyes as you breathe deep, relishing in his touch once more. Yet the deeper you breathe, the harder you feel him, the harder tears pool and fall into that touch. “You were so mean, I don’t understand—you keep hurting me.”

“I know,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I know, baby. And I wouldn’t blame you for hating me—”

“Stop it, Jay—” you push his hands off of you, standing instead, a foot from the couch and burning from his touch— “I have a boyfriend now, we can’t just try again because you’ve finally come around. I’m over it now, I…”

Standing taller than him now, he looks like such a battered little boy. It’s almost a shame he’s just as stubborn. 

“Listen, Peach,” he starts, reaching for your hands and intertwining your fingers loose enough to break free. “I was pure stupid back then, and I was terrible to you just now because—because I know now, that I was stupid.” He pulls you closer to stand between his legs, his neck craned to see your face. “And I’m sorry for being so stupid. I fucked up, but I want to fix this. I want to fix us.”

You shake one hand free to wipe a tear that’s fallen to your cheek.

“I want us back to normal, Peach.”

 “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“It’s okay.” He guides you gently into his lap, and you know before you settle that this will be something you regret. Your stomach churns and your heart races yet you make no move to quell it. You link your hands at the nape of his neck to steady yourself while he takes purchase of your hip, your waist, relishing in your weight against his one more time. 

You’re already leaning into his warmth when he mumbles, “I can smell the vodka on your breath,” tracing his eyes along the gentle curves of your face, landing on your lips.

“Sorry,” you say. You don’t quite mean it, not when his fingers brush against the skin beneath the hem of your tank top. His golden locks between your fingers feel too familiar and you're fighting the feeling in your chest—that yearning, that belonging, that buzz that tells you this is right even though it is anything but.

He pulls you closer still, oh so natural as he does it even though he’s suffocating. 

“Should we be doing this?” you whisper, and you already know the answer. You cradle his jaw in your hands and he nearly melts into you, brows furrowed and jaw slackened.

“I said I want us back to normal,” he croons, pressing his lips to your pulse. “Is this not normal for us?” He drags his breath down your neck to your collarbone, leaving another kiss and lulling your eyes closed. 

“JJ, I—Noah—”

“I don’t give a damn about your boyfriend.” He waits for you to look at him again before he begs the question, “Do you?”

“I—” 

No, you think, but you can’t tell him that, can you? Noah is sweet, he really is, all smiles and daisies and See you laters, all gentle and kind and so unlike JJ, one has to wonder how you made the switch. The last thing you want to do is hurt him. Well, you know what they say: What he doesn’t know… 

“I don’t know,” you answer, facing anywhere but the boy before you.

“Then come back to me.” He kisses your jaw carefully, all-parts loving no-parts lust. Glancing up at you with those pleading eyes, he’s even harder to resist, and as if he knows this, he huffs, and lifts his hands from your waist, keeping them at his sides. “You can say no, and we’ll act like this never happened.”

“Really?” Maybe he’s just playing coy. “You’d just—just forget? About everything? Even before?” You’re asking for reassurance, of course, but unsure why. Maybe you’re the one playing coy, deep down wanting to be wanted by him—wanting him to remember, to keep remembering you—because in the end you want to taste him again, to have him wrapped around your finger. 

“Say the word and I’ll try my hardest.” 

He does exactly that—try, that is—to keep his composure, with your hand brushing from his jaw to his hair, tugging it just right, then slipping back down his neck to his chest, teasing at the fabric of his muscle tee. His skin is aflame and you’re just playing with him as he burns.

Admittedly, you shouldn’t. Infidelity is a terrible, terrible thing, for terribly dishonest people who lead immeasurably misguided lives. Noah doesn’t seem the type to cheat, or lie for that matter, nor would he ever hurt you. He’s the last person to deserve that. He’s crisp, clean-cut, careful. Plays two sports, has a golden retriever, owns his own car. Will probably go on to be respectably wealthy, owning a family business or something related to it. JJ’s prior judgment could’ve been right, and you’d be none the wiser.

And maybe that’s the problem, after all—not enough bumps in the road and you’re bound to fly off into a chasm. It’s not what you’re used to, and, surely if you’re in another boy’s lap, for God’s sake, it’s definitely not what you deserve either. 

Besides, you’ve already screwed up too many times to count. Why stop now?

JJ’s been more patient than you’ve ever seen. His hands stay still, his eyes attentive, smile stifled for the most part. You indulge yourself and trace his arms with the palms of your hands, feel up the muscle beneath them, fight off the urge to bite at your lip. He keeps his face still, a challenge. They say good things come to those who wait.

“Oh fuck this,” you curse to yourself, and you swear you see JJ crack a smile before you take his face in your hands once more and take back ownership over his mouth. 

He nearly groans at the release, the two of you a mess of spit and teeth and tongue with no time to waste, and his hands are caught suspended in the air before holding you again, encouraging an arch in your back with a moan. He doesn’t kiss you like he did before, unsure and gentle; he’s hungry for you, insatiable, wrapping one arm around your waist as the other snakes up your back to grip the back of your neck, keeping you tethered to him as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. 

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so much of JJ at once: the smell of marijuana that seems to follow him wherever he goes has never been so intoxicating; on his tongue is the beer he’d been drinking by the bonfire; and his skin is still warm to the touch from the sun, smooth and sweaty and addictive beneath you.

You press your hips into his, throbbing where you want him, and he answers you with a moan and his hands gripping your thighs as he hoists you against his waist. He kisses at your neck, biting at your pulse and smoothing over with another press of his lips, and carries you into his bedroom, kicking the door shut before carefully placing you on the bed. 

“Gentleman, huh?” you murmur against his lips. You sit on your heels, nearly kneeling in front of him as he stands before the bed.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.” He’s breathless, so hard it hurts, and the way you’re dragging your hands from his waistband up to his chest isn’t doing him any favors. Looking down at you, he grips your jaw in his hand and leans down to kiss you again, giving in effortlessly when you tug on his waistband and pull him into bed. 

You straddle him as you play with the hem of his tank, pressing at the skin concealed beneath. “Take this off?” you nearly beg.

He shucks the material off, mumbling a Yes ma’am, pliant beneath you. He has to close his eyes, tilt his head back, and breathe deep to stop himself from coming undone just from your touch against bare skin. 

To make things even, you peel off your tank top and toss it back at him to get his attention. When he opens his eyes he groans, almost pained, and pulls you further on top of him, not letting his hands leave your body. “Oh, baby—”

You kiss him quiet and press your hips against him harder, exchanging moans into the other’s mouth. You start to lose yourself in it, you realize—the throbbing in your core, the almost-soreness in your hips matched with all the pleasure. Another minute and you could be coming undone, untouched.

“Jay,” you whine, “I—mmh—I want it.”

With the look on his face you’d think you’d asked him to marry you. “Already?” he asks, more satisfied than shocked. He sits up, that stupid grin smacked on his face, and you nearly pounce on him to feel his touch again. He soaks it in, for he knows this is all he’ll get until who knows when—and he can’t help but think about if you were really his. 

He flips you onto your back and trails open-mouthed kisses from your neck, to your collarbone, to your breasts, moaning when you tug on his hair. “Goody two shoes doesn’t touch you like this, does he?” He presses himself between your thighs, leaving you keening and arching your back into him. “That why you’re so sensitive, hm?” Biting at your neck, he doesn’t let up as he trails his fingers by the waistband of your shorts. “Come on, baby, answer me. When’s the last time he made you come?”

“Fuck you, JJ,” you hiss, despite how good he’s making you feel.

“Trust me, Peach, I’ll let you if you’re honest.” He casts you that stupid, terrible, charming smile and pecks a kiss against your lips.

You catch him off guard when you keep him there, encircling him with your arms and deepening the kiss, pressing your tongue against his and begging for more. Yet he keeps giving into you, letting you flip on top of him again as you slip your shorts down and let them land somewhere on the floor. You start tugging at his shorts but somewhere in your tipsy haze or lust-filled nerves you fail to manage the button.

He gives you a knowing look. “You need help down there?” Before you can snap back at him something vulgar—as if he, of all people, could criticize you for speaking that way—he takes his shorts off to match your attire, locking lips before you can move further. “I want to go down on you,” he says, holding your face in his palms much gentler than you’ve been handling him. 

“No time,” you explain between kisses, though the excuse holds no water. And you know you should let him—he knows what buttons to push, where to touch, the sensuality of it all—but there’s a blaring, nagging sound in the back of your mind telling you he cares more about this than you do. “I want it, JJ.”

“I know, baby, I want you, too—” he placates you with another kiss and pulls you to straddle him again after both of you slip the last of your clothes off, a collection of garments accumulated on the floor. “I don’t have—”

“I don’t care,” you interrupt, lining him up with your entrance and letting the pain mix with pleasure. 

“Fucking hell, Peach, are you trying to kill me?” He lets his head fall to the pillow, one hand covering his eyes in shock while the other keeps hold of your thigh. 

You keep your hands on his abs as your head rears back, drinking in the feeling of him inside of you, grinding down on him. “Could be. Problem?”

Stars in his eyes when he opens them. The curve of your waist. The plush of your thighs. The scratch of your nails down his stomach. The hum of your moans as you lean down, kissing him and swallowing his pleasure like you own him. The rush of adrenaline through his veins when you take his hands in yours and pin them above his head, using his body like you own it and the boy attached to it. Ask JJ yourself and he’ll tell you that you do.

He can barely breathe when you let up. “Not at all,” he huffs, voice hot and forehead sweaty. There’s a fatigued lull in your hips that lets him regain control over his body, tugging his lips into a smirk as he lifts himself up onto his elbows. “ ‘Specially if it means you’re this desperate for my dick.”

You scoff. “Not desperate, I just know what I want.” Someone who isn’t my boyfriend, you think, and the guilt pangs at your chest for a split second before you start to move your hips again, pleasure humming in your core. “And I want you to fuck me,” you almost whisper, “Please, Jay?”

Such a fucking minx. But he can’t resist. He gives you a once-over, and quicker than you can protest, he’s sitting fully upright, leaving wet kisses up your sternum as he grabs your waist and flips you on your hands and knees. He soaks in the sight in front of him—your ass splayed out for him all pretty, the curve from your rib cage to your hips too delectable not to touch—and slips a pillow beneath your stomach. 

His body hunched over yours, he grinds himself against you, sending you pushing back against him as you arch your back and drop your chest against the bed. His mouth hovers at your shoulder, and he takes hold of your jaw to keep you sober. “You said you want it?”

You don’t think you’ve ever been so needy for something in your life. “Yes, JJ—mmh—”

“How bad?” He’s merely playing with you now, too much power than he knows what to do with. He takes his dick and rubs it against you, nearly losing composure when his tip dips into you. “Come on, Peach, you can beg a little.” Though he’s the one who seems to be doing that for you. 

It’s a shame, how a lust like this can grow animosity on its tail. 

“Fuck you,” you spit back, and you don’t know whether you’re cursing him for being him or for being something you want when you shouldn’t. Maybe you’ve started to hate him for trying to love you all of a sudden; it conjures up a bitter taste in your mouth to consider it, how he only ever seems to want you when he knows he can’t have you. “I’m already cheating on my fucking boyfriend, at least do me a favor and make it worth my while.”

He lets go of your jaw in favor of pressing himself inside you again, groaning into your ear and leaving you keening. “You’ve got a mouth on you, I can tell you that.” Lifting himself back up, he grabs your hips and fucks into you, relishing in the feeling of you wrapped around him—at least physically. “Has he even fucked you yet? You’re so—shit—so tight—”

He waits for an answer that never comes out as anything more than heavy breaths and broken moans, and he’s satisfied, but not nearly enough. He slows down his movements, and for a second you think he’s starting to go easy on you. Rubbing your back with one hand, he pushes his hair out of his face with the other. “You all fucked out now, baby? Don’t tell me you can’t—” you bounce back against him, hard, just to spite him— “Mm, fuck—”

You giggle to yourself with your face leaning into the mattress because you already know this is how he is: he likes to talk big, but can’t back it up when it comes to you. You’re happy to let him ride out his pleasure a little longer—placate him, even—soaking up his touch and his groans and just feeling good for once.

JJ leans over you once more and licks the plane between your shoulder blades, and you moan at the chill in your spine when he breathes heavy against you. “Jay, I’m close.”

“I know, I can feel it, baby.” He sucks at your shoulder before looping his arm underneath you and holding your neck, pulling you with him as he shifts upright and pushes into you at a newer, deeper angle. You stumble out another moan and he smiles into your neck. “You like that?”

With one hand you reach up and behind and tug on JJ’s hair. His hands, one at your neck and one at your waist, are burning into your skin. “You feel so good—”

He leaves sloppy kisses on your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, and he’s almost convinced this feels too good to be true. He has you in his bed again, moaning his name, aching for him for what could be the last time. Yet what he can’t shake from his mind is the fact that you still aren’t his: he can’t kiss you just to kiss you, he can’t hold your hand like he sees you do with him, he can’t call this rendezvous anything but something to be forgotten about in the morning.

So when you start panting heavier, crying out his name a little more desperately, he makes sure to hold you tighter and kiss your lips that much harder. When you come undone around him, he drinks up your moans and keeps you grounded against him, letting you lay back down as he pulls out and moans into the open air, which he swears will smell like you for a month.

You lay limp in his bed and groan quietly at your sore muscles, letting your eyelid drift close. JJ rubs your back and kisses your shoulder blades, just barely there, as if he wasn’t just fucking you, moaning into your neck, cursing out confessions.

“Just stay there,” he whispers, and he’s hoping you’ll reply with something smart—Not like I can do anything else, comes to mind—but accepts your silence for the fact you’re too tired to bite back.

You hear the zip of his fly behind you, followed by the door opening and closing, then the faucet running. The bedsheets smell like JJ. When the door opens again, you open one eye to see him, only half-naked now, with a dampened rag which he uses to clean up your back. Your body is jello as he flips you off your stomach, and he smiles to himself as he watches you rub your eyes and yawn, your hair now a mess. He cleans you off for another minute, handling you as gently as he can physically manage, before shuffling through his drawers and emerging with a clean tee and a pair of shorts. He peels your back from the bed. “Up you go,” he mumbles as he helps you fight your arms through the fabric, even gentler so when he helps you into his shorts.

Your head goes hazy, and you think JJ’s left to sleep on the couch until the bed shuffles again.

“Wanna smoke?” he asks, a lighter and joint in his hands. From where, you’re not sure, though you’re not surprised. He situates himself in bed with his lips hugging the joint. You realize that you could describe how they taste from vivid memory again.

You resign yourself to your fate and lean into his chest. “Can’t say no to that, can I?”

The lighter flicks above your line of vision and you feel JJ’s deep inhale beneath you, lulling you further into exhaustion. You see the smoke that left his mouth. His hand moves toward your face and lifts the joint to your lips; you inhale from his fingers, wordlessly, and are pulled deeper and deeper into sleep with an exhale and JJ’s free hand rubbing your back. You see one last puff before your eyes finally close for the night, the warmth of his sun-kissed skin against your face.

JJ lets a few minutes pass after your breathing becomes slow and steady, joint glued to his mouth, before reaching ever so carefully to his nightstand and putting it out in the ashtray. The air is still too full of you for his liking, too much to forget. He lets his mind wander as it begins shutting down, kissing the top of your head as if it’ll keep you in bed long enough to see him wake. Closing his eyes, he knows that by morning, your clothes will be gone, the room will be that much cleaner, and you’ll no longer be his. He wonders whether being the one who waits has brought about any good after all, or if it has left him to cherish fleeting nights he’ll never see again.

[serotonins-stuff]

Very nsfw| mdni (pt 2) ( part 1)

Nothing beats kitchen counter makeouts with Hawks.

After a heavy Makeout session with hawks, it was only right to take you upstairs to your shared bedroom and finish what you had started.

He loved to be squirming and whimpering ufer you with pleasure while you pleased him.

Especially today, after you just had a fierce dry humping session on your kitchen counter which should have left you both overstimulated and exhausted. Yet here you were, ready and eager for another round.

On a typical day, he would prefer to have you on all fours, your mouth gagged and your eyes blindfolded while he'd take you from behind. Today he decided he wanted a change of plans, it would be nice to have you on top this time around.

You were straddling his lap on the bed, messily unbuttoning each other's clothes with heavy breaths till there was not a single piece of fabric left.

"You're gonna make me feel good hm?" he whispered, peppering kisses along your neck, occasionally sucking on the flesh to leave a dark bruise that he would be impressed with tomorrow. His hands glided down to your belly button and your inner thighs, massaging the area tenderly. He was purposefully avoiding the spot that ached most, first taking his time to prep your body for another round.

Keigo knew which spots would get you going again. He knew exactly where to touch to have you needing more and more, wanting you desperate for release so you could dominate him. The glint in your eyes whenever you topped him was something he could never get enough of, it made him feel butterflies that went straight to his lower region.

His cock was glistening with cum, hard as it rested against his stomach, just waiting for your soft walls that would welcome it.

"I want you to have your way with me" He whispered into your ear lowly. "I want you to fuck me till I can't think"

The more he uttered those obscene words, the further your pussy pulsated with utter pleasure. Aching to be filled.

Slowly, you raised your hips right above the tip of his cock, holding it in position with your hand. In the meantime, he was sure to give your tits his full attention, licking and sucking your nipples tenderly. Occasionally biting them, and sucking hard on your plush flesh.

You sat down fully on his cock, and you gasped in unison. Your eyes rolled back from the mere pleasure of your joined pelvises. His cock twitched inside you and you spasmed around it.

He wasn't going to move because he gave you full control, he gave you the power to do anything you wanted to him while he'd sit back and take it like a good boy. You were going to have your fun and cherish this considering he didn't let you do it often.

You didn't move up and down just yet, instead you moved your hips in a circular motion, stimulating your clit in the process. Your hands continuing their abuse on his sensitive wings.

"Baby you're killin me" Keigo huffed into your breasts, hips shuddering so he could get some form of friction.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally started bouncing on him, gradually relieving him of his pent-up arousal. You were moving at a moderately fast pace, slapping down onto his hips every time you descended.

You felt so warm and welcoming, sucking him in like an immense vortex. And he occupied every bit of space in your pussy, leaving no room.

You were driving him crazy for sure. The way the sweet scent of your arousal made him feel, the way your tits jiggled while you pleasured him, and your soft hands that played with delicate feathers.

"Just like- hmp- that" he hiccupped, sweet whimpers oozing from his lips like honey, a tiny trail of drool flowing down to his chest. He was trembling beneath you with every bounce. Chanting your name as if it were his favorite song.

"Don't cum yet ok?" you instructed authoritatively, still enjoying the feeling of his girthy cock sliding against your walls. Every thrust had his tip coming into contact with your g spot, making it difficult to not just release all over him.

Your boldness sent electricity through his body, his head craning back. A gasp ripped through him and his eyes glazed over, tears of restraint threatening to fall from his eyes. He was not in the slightest bit of pain though. His lips tugged into a small smile of delight.

He nodded in a daze, mouth agape as he struggled to even form words. That's when you knew you had completed your mission of completely ruining him to the point of submission.

His body was very sensitive to touch, so you knew very well that touching him in many places at once would have him crumbling beneath you.

"I can't- ahh- hold it" he croaked, a cracked cry sounding from his throat. "It's- too -good"

"Sensitive, huh?" You smiled softly, pulling him in for a sloppy wet kiss, your breaths intertwiningand tongues dancing

"C'mon baby please" he pleaded beneath you, hands gripping your ass desperately, for his release. "Don't do this to me"

"Don't do what?" You smirked into the kiss.

"Don't-" he cut himself off with a loud moan when you ran your fingers through his hair and yanked it. Biting his lip in the process.

"Speak up baby" you cooed, placing a kiss of encouragement on his forehead.

"Don't- tease me" he shuddered.

The way he was asking you made you feel sorry for him. The way he looked up at you with those eyes, those pleading eyes. He had done everything you asked of him and he still didn't get his release. Instead he had to watch you pleasure yourself with his body, and he wasn't complaining one bit.

Though, holding his release was becoming unbearable, and you could tell.

"Since you've been a good boy" you breathed, on the brink of release. "You can cum for me baby"

His eyes closed shut and his body shook, a euphoric feeling overcoming him as he whimpered and moaned uncontrollably. His hands dug into your thighs while you followed suit with your high. Spasming onto each other as the pleasure ripped through you.

After a few minutes of catching your breath, you lay in each other's embrace still connected while soft snores poured from your lips.

"I'll run you a bath" Keigo whispered with a smile, planting a kiss on your forehead.

"You're too cute for your own good"

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

The end

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A/n

Thank you for reading!!

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated!!

Requests are open.

[dejinerate]

His Muse

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader (Fem)

Brief summary: Hyunjin has a *special* art project in mind with you, and he needs your help desperately.

Story contains: explicit sexual themes, brat, dom, self recording

Rating: SMUT, MA

18+/MINORS DNI

It’s a lazy afternoon, a warm and slow Autumn day. Your eyelids start to close as you rest on the couch, waiting to succumb to the nap that’s about to overtake you. Today was such a cozy day. No tasks needing done, no plans for once, and no chores needing completed. It would’ve been a perfect day…  Except Hyunjin wasn’t here. Early in the morning, he said he had to run a few errands, but… he was far too excited when he said that. You decided to let him have his fun though, seeing that excitement means whatever it is, is important. Noticing he was in a rush, you didn't ask any questions. He kissed your cheek and practically ran out the door.

 “I’ll be back soon, I promise!! Wait for me!” 

It was getting close to evening. You don’t usually worry about him, he texts you if something is wrong. You sigh, shifting your position on the couch and ready to take a short nap, as that would make time pass by quicker. 

Your phone pings. 

“I’m headed home, I’m so sorry I took so long! I have so much to show you! Get dressed. I have a surprise.”

A surprise? Well, surprises are always welcome.  You text him back:

“What’s the theme for the evening? You always know what’s best to pick.” 

The response is almost instant and your phone pings, but this time, it's an audio message. You listen to him speak as you can hear his fast footsteps,

“Wear that one dress I love so much, baby. I have an idea. Can you wear a robe over it, though? I'll explain why when I get there. I just.. won't be able to focus.. and I need to focus, I need your help with something. Please do as I say and be good for me.. I know you wanna tease me, brat. And trust me, it always fucking works... You drive me crazy. This is important to me though. Behave for me, just this once? ” 

You huff at his response but bite your lip, knowing he’s right. He knows you so well though, he knows how much you enjoy teasing him while you wear that dress. You think about disobeying, but.. , he really does seem excited about something, and you want him to have his fun, too. He never really pleads like this. Mentioning that it was important to him means serious business.

“I’ll behave, Hyun.” you text back.

Another audio message pops up.

“Good girl. I’ll be home in 20 minutes.”

Well, so much for napping. That woke you right up as if you just chugged an entire vat of coffee. Excited, you rush to the bedroom, immediately knowing the dress he spoke of. He always had such good taste in fashion. He frequently would give suggestions for what to wear and would help you choose outfits, and he often liked to match you in colors and styles when you went out together. You trust his judgment when he tells you to put something on. He knows your body and what looks good clinging on your curves. You find the garment, a cream colored silk dress with tiny straps, that bows at the cleavage, and clings at the hips. The way the fabric shifts in the light looks like flowing liquid. It’s such a luxurious piece. It’s a show stopping high end designer brand dress that Hyunjin bought you for your first anniversary. He spoils you so much, but he especially spoiled you that day. The dress wasn’t cheap by any means. After an entire day of making meaningful memories, you went shopping together, and he was the one that spotted the dress and picked it out. As soon as he saw it on you, he told you to get changed, knowing you didn’t need to try on anything else. He’s been obsessed with it ever since. He makes sure it’s well taken care of, as it always gets professionally dry cleaned after it’s been worn. 

 It’s such a flattering shape. It really highlights the plumpness of your chest, the curve of your ass, and the dips of your hips. It’s… extremely short. It rests right below the bottom of your cheeks. When you wear this in public, Hyunjin likes to drape whatever coat he’s wearing on your shoulders, claiming you as his. He finds a lot of satisfaction seeing you in that provocative dress with his jacket, which is far too big on you. His protective instincts kick in, knowing how gorgeous you are. Don’t get me wrong, he absolutely loves showing you off in public, knowing how good the two of you look together. But this dress is his weakness. This is a dress he only lets you wear when he reserves an entire restaurant for a private dining experience. He wants to be the only one to see you this way, and he’s extremely possessive when you wear it. It’s surprising he hasn’t done any damage to it yet. Just thinking about what the night could possibly entail leaves you so pleasantly anxious. You feel your stomach fluttering, knowing he’ll be driven mad over the sight of you soon. 

As you slip the dress on, a thought comes to you. Though you have to wear a robe when he gets home, he never said anything about…. Underwear. You giggle to yourself, and take off both the bra and panties you usually wear for this. He can suffer tonight. You’ll make sure of that. Satisfied with your choice, you grab your house robe and put it on, then get to work on your hair and make up. You curl your long hair with just a few waves, and you keep it nice and soft and elegant with the make up look, nothing too dark. While you’re putting on the finishing touches of mascara, you hear the door open.

“Baby, c’mere!” 

Your heart leaps at the happiness in his voice, and you run to the living room to greet him.

He has lots of bags in his hands, but also has a camera strapped around his neck. You don’t remember him leaving home earlier with a camera… 

You give him a quick kiss to greet him, and he puts the bags down on the dining table. 

“So, I got an email this morning that the brand new camera I’ve been waiting for was finally in stock! It was at that one store down the street that we went to that one time, they have so many cool lenses… I picked up a new wide angle lens. I was so excited that I couldn’t wait to try it out. I've been running around the city all day, taking photos… I can’t wait to show you and see what you think. I took quite a few that you’d like. Oh! After I got done taking photos, I went to the art store on the way home and bought more canvases! I think i’m going to try acrylic or watercolor paint this time, but I couldn't decide, so I kinda went overboard and bought everything…” 

You giggle at him, he’s truly nerding out right now, and you love that he can show you his excitement over his hobbies. You both are artists, so it’s a shared love that you two bond over. You mainly do photography, while his normal medium is painting and sketching. He recently got into photography, so to see him so inspired to create art just melts you. Hyunjin glows when his face shows he loves doing something. 

“I’m happy for you, Hyunnie. I bet you took some amazing photos today.” 

After he’s taken the camera off his neck and set it down, he walks towards you and wraps you in his warm embrace. He smells like.. the smell of outside. He smells like the scent of leaves and crisp Autumn air. You embrace him in return, and he puts a hand on your cheek and starts giving you happy little kisses as he mumbles against your lips.

“I-” kiss  “have-” kiss  “an-”  kiss “-idea.” 

You laugh at his assault of kisses, returning his enthusiasm. 

“Tell me, I’ve been dying to hear.” 

He pulls away from your lips as he holds you around your waist. He’s gazing intently at your face, looking at your eyes. He looks a little nervous now. 

“I want to photograph you tonight. It’s been a long time since we’ve gotten to be creative together. I want to paint the pictures I take of you.” 

You smile back at him, “That sounds like a ton of fun actually, where do you wanna go? The leaves are so pretty this time of year, the reds and oranges just now started to show, we could go to the park…”

“No,” he interrupts you, “we’re not leaving the house tonight.” 

Oh.

He continues, “I want to photograph you… in the shower. With that dress on. The new lens I bought is perfect for water shots.” 

Oh. 

The look in his eyes is pleading. That definitely took you by surprise. He must really want this. He doesn’t really ever ask you for anything, he’s usually carefree about choices between you two and if you say yes or no to ideas. But… he must be craving this. You never know how an artist will envision a scene. It seems like he’s been envisioning this, a lot, and the desire is blatantly apparent in his eyes as they search for your answer. He notices you hesitating.  

“I’ll buy that dress again for you, I promise. Ask me for anything. It’s yours. Please do this for me, baby. I need to paint how beautiful you are.” 

Well fuck, when he puts it that way, how can you say no? He asked so nicely, too. 

“Let’s do it, Hyunnie. You’ll have to direct me though, okay? I want you to get the right shot.” 

His face lights up and he swiftly picks you up, you shriek at the surprise and your legs automatically lock around his waist so you’re held securely. His large hands support your legs while he carries you to the bathroom, as he’s profusely thanking you for being open minded to the idea of being so vulnerable in front of the camera for him.

He sets you down on your feet in the bathroom and says, “Now turn the shower on for me, my gorgeous girl. Go ahead and take the robe off. I’m gonna go grab the camera, and grab the music speaker as well. We should play some music, maybe it’ll help us both relax.” He scurries off, and you giggle at his chaotic retreat. You do as he says though, shrugging off the robe as you turn the shower on. It can’t get too steamy in the bathroom, or else it’ll fog the lens, so you leave the water on lukewarm. The main bathroom of the home is huge, it’s actually quite gorgeous. The walls are white and the flooring is white tile as well. The lights in the room create a warm glowing ambience, and there’s large windows right before the view of the shower.. The shower itself has clear glass shower doors, and is big and spacious. There’s a huge tub in here as well, with enough room for two. Golden hour lighting is currently filtering into the room, the sunset beginning to peak outside. 

Hyunjin comes back in the bathroom, concentrated on setting up the equipment. He looks up at you, finally seeing you in the dress. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes slowly drifting up and down on your body, head to toe. His eyes rest on your breasts. They widen in realization. He knows you aren’t wearing a bra underneath… You tease him.

“I’m not wearing panties, either.” 

He makes eye contact with you. His gaze is full of heat, and you see him blush. He looks away, a little embarrassed that he's already getting worked up so easily, and has to push down the growth currently happening in his pants. “Fuck, You little brat... You had to go and tease me already, huh?." He looks at you again, biting his lip. "This is gonna be…. difficult for me.” He swallows, you can tell he's struggling while he's trying to gain self control.

You smirk at him. 

“Good.” 

He groans. 

You turn around and walk towards the shower, waiting patiently for his instructions. You look at him, tilting you head with feigned innocence and ask,

“Are we ready to get started, Hyunjinnie?”

 He loves that specific nickname. You know this. You wanted him to suffer tonight, afterall.

He lets out a frustrated breath, and mutters, "Ugh, fuck..." he sits on his chair and closes his eyes, bringing his hand up to his face to hide it from view, seemingly at war with himself.

He commands, quietly, "Don’t step in yet. Come here for a second, baby.” 

You smirk and obey for once, and he beckons you to sit on his lap. He envelops your frame, his large hands gliding along the silk dress, relishing the feel of the fabric under his fingers. He reaches for your face, one hand on the back of your neck and the other cupping your cheek as he pulls you in for a hot, lingering kiss. You whimper at the intensity of his desire, you can tell how bad he’s already burning for you. His head dips down to your neck, and he languidly kisses it with an open mouth, his tongue brushing against your skin. He kisses his way close to your ear and whispers, “Thank you for doing this, sweetheart. You’re gonna do so good for me, I can already tell… you're too beautiful, you know that? My gorgeous, perfect baby...”  His voice is low and deep, and the heat between your legs aches. You can tell how aroused he is, you feel him hard and hot through his pants as you sit on his lap. You groan in response, ready to just forget the entire photoshoot, but he gently kisses your neck for one last time before pulling away. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” 

Head hazy, you nod and shakily stand back up. 

“I’m gonna miss that dress” he whispers.

You laugh, knowing how conflicted he must be that this will most likely ruin such an expensive, delicate piece of clothing. He must've been saying his final goodbyes to it while you were on his lap.

You nervously step into the shower, and he starts up some music. He turns on some slow, seductive tunes. You understand the mood he’s trying to go for. He wants sensual. 

“Tell me what to do, Jinnie.” You say quietly.

His voice is gentle. “Alright pretty girl, go ahead and step under the stream with just the dress.. Hold off on dipping your hair and face, let’s keep that dry just for the time being.” 

You obey and follow his direction, and the water hits the silk dress. The fabric immediately clings to your body, the light cream color of the dress turning completely transparent as it gets wet. Goosebumps show up on your skin at the change in temperature, and you feel your nipples harden under the wet silk. You pose for him and look directly at the camera, and you can see him peek up from the camera to look at you, in awe of the beautiful image in front of him. You look like a marble statue of a goddess, the way the fabric clings onto you, the water accentuating every detail of you. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so gorgeous. All for me. So fucking gorgeous.... I’ll never get enough of you.” 

He shifts around the glass doors, getting the shots he wants as he directs you to tilt your head, raise your arms, close your eyes… 

You get fully immersed in the mood, the creativity affecting you, no longer feeling nervous or shy. You slip the straps of the dress off your shoulders and look up at him through the camera, keeping your face as sultry as possible. The shutter clicks away as he goads you on with encouragement. Feeling satisfied with those shots, you ask him, 

“Should I dip my head now?” 

“Yes, love. God, please do.” 

You slowly place your head under the stream of the showerhead, as the water drips down your face and hair. It finally hits you mentally, how erotic this is, how incredibly sensual and hot this is, and you feel so completely powerful in this moment. Your eyes lock on Hyunjin through the glass door, and he can tell immediately that your energy has changed. Your gaze is burning with fire. You smirk at him, and your hands glide slowly down your body to touch yourself on top of the soaked dress. 

Hyunjin forgets he has a camera for a moment, entranced by your movements. He can’t look away. He stumbles a bit which makes him remember he’s supposed to be taking photos, and reorients himself, knowing he has to capture the moment correctly. He praises you.

“That’s it baby, that’s my perfect girl. Get into it. You know how fucking hot you are, don’t you? Be a pretty little slut for daddy. You do such a good job for me, my little brat.”

Ah. The magic words. 

You moan and close your eyes as one hand touches your breast, while the other hand drifts down to your aching heat. You arch against the glass shower wall, giving him a full view. Your hair is chaotic, strands of it plastered on your face and your shoulders, and you feel suffocated. 

You need to be naked. There’s too much on you. You need to take it off. Right now. 

Knowing he’s had enough shots of the dress, you grab the hem of the dress, and start to peel the fabric off of you, grimacing at just how stuck it is on your body. You finally pull it over your head and drop the dress on the shower floor. Finally free of the fabric, you tilt your head back under the shower, letting the water cascade again over your long hair and fully exposed body. You prop yourself up against the wall and pose beautifully, but there's no sound of the camera clicking.

You look at Hyunjin, and the poor man looks so dazed. He looks like he forgot he was there... his mind looks lost in another world, as if you’re not real right in front of him. His own personal strip performance. He’s so entranced in watching you, eyes wide open, absentmindedly touching himself over his jeans, camera slack in the other hand. 

“Focus, Hyunnie.” 

That snaps him out of it and he growls, picking up the camera begrudgingly, and you can tell he won’t hold out much longer without touching you. You go back to posing for him, completely wet and naked, pressing against the glass, making it fog up. 

“That’s it, baby, my God.” You hear the shutter of the camera work fast. 

You press your nipples against the door and lick the glass, knowing he’s about to go insane getting that shot on camera. You hear the shutter go nuts, as Hyunjin struggles to keep concentrated. 

“We’re done,” he commands. “Out. Now. I need you, baby.”

You need him just as badly. You turn off the water, completely satisfied, knowing you did your job well. 

When you step out of the shower, he has a towel ready for you. He wraps your body in it, and as soon as it’s covering you he captures your mouth in a hard, searing kiss that makes your head spin. He’s ravenous. Goosebumps erupt on your body, making you shiver. 

He pulls away, ready to take you right then and there, but notices you’re shivering…

“Let me go get another towel for your hair, little baby, you’re soaking wet.” Without second thought, he leaves the bathroom to grab a fresh towel from the laundry room. Hot and heavy Hyunjin always turns you on, but considerate and loving Hyunnie makes the insatiable fire even worse. You shut off the music, and spot his camera sitting on the chair where he just was.

An idea…. hits you. 

With the towel still wrapped around your body, you grab the camera, and walk into the bedroom.

You place the camera down on the nightstand. You begin drying your body off when Hyunjin walks into the room, towel in his hand. 

“Let me.” 

The look on his face is full of love, and he walks over and begins to dry you off, putting slow kisses on your neck and shoulders as he does it, taking his time.

“You did so good for me in there, baby. Those shots were amazing. That was absolutely perfect. Let Daddy take care of you now, pretty girl.” 

He picks you up gently, his strong arms holding you effortlessly, and lays you down on your back, head cradled by the pillow. He crawls on the bed, hovering over your body. His gaze on you is soft and needy.

The feeling of anticipation runs through you as he opens the towel, exposing your naked body to him. The cold air hits your semi-damp skin, and he sees you shiver. He sits up quickly to take off his shirt, then lowers himself back down to you, engulfing you in his warm skin. He lays there for a moment, letting you steal his heat. He peppers your collarbone with gentle kisses, and begins to slowly make his way down. Stopping at your breasts, he gives both nipples a kiss, and continues to drag his mouth down the front of you. He’s immersed in you, completely, eyes closed in bliss, kissing down your stomach. He drifts his large hands down your naked thighs while he kisses down your navel, until his hands reach your knees.

He pushes your legs up, fully exposing your aching heat to his lustful eyes. You’re completely soaking wet for him.. 

"Aww, brat... Look at you." He bites his lip as he admires your cunt, speaking in his teasing, deep voice. "This little pussy wants me so badly... You need Daddy, don't you? Look how pretty this pussy is, dripping wet and ready for me... you're a mess, little baby. We can't have that now, can we?"

He lowers his face to your cunt, making you squirm with his hot breath.

While he’s not looking at you, you realize…. Now’s your chance. 

You try your best to not shift much, as you grasp for the camera right beside you on the night stand. You quietly turn it on, and begin to set up the settings. His mouth is kissing on the innermost part of your thighs, then glides to the outside of your lips, completely unaware of what you’re plotting. You hold the camera up to your face, and once you see the view in front of you through the lens it sets your body completely on fire. He looks so good, eating you.

You feel his mouth capture your clit. The moan you let out is straight up gutteral, and you click the shutter button of the camera. 

Hyunjin snaps his gaze to you, without moving his head from your pussy.. His eyes widen when he realizes you have the camera out.  

“Keep going, Hyunnie. It’s my turn. Make me yours.” You breathe at him. 

“Fuck, pretty girl. Are you sure?” He hesitates, though you can tell how badly he wants to continue.

“I need to watch you fuck me with that mouth, Daddy.”

His eyes roll back as he groans into your cunt, his tongue swiping the entire length of you from your entrance to your clit.

He looks up at you while his mouth is lingering against your pussy and gently spreads your legs as far as they can go, giving him maximum exposure for his mouth. "My naughty little brat..." he whispers, dipping his head back down to worship you.

He begins to devour you with a loving passion, his tongue swirling as he sucks the sensitive bud of your clit, his lips gliding against you, making you dizzy. He knows exactly how you like it, and there's nothing else in this world that he loves more than making you feel good. He's so experienced to your pleasure... He would spend days doing this if he could. You begin taking photos of him this way, trying not to let your head fall back and give in to the overwhelming sensations of greedy need and lust. You moan his name, and his gaze sets back on you. He looks into the camera with blazing hot eye contact, as he languidly makes love to you with his mouth. It’s deliberately slow. He wants you to capture him devouring you. You shakily take the photos of him lapping at your cunt, barely able to concentrate on the framework, and you see his eyes smirk at you. He's watching you fumble with the camera, he knows you're struggling to focus on your task. He chuckles against you, and suddenly, you feel his tongue plunge inside your desperate little cunt. Your body flushes all over, and you arch your back, begging for him to take more of you. 

“More, daddy, please. I need you. I need more. Please.”

He sits up a little and takes one hand off of your leg, and drags it down your heat to wet his fingers. 

“Whatever you want, brat.” 

He plunges two fingers into you, making you cry out in relief, while his tongue is still sucking on your clit. You forget the camera, finally letting yourself cave into the desire, and throw your head as your hand searches to grip his hair. You grind yourself into his face. He figures out the tempo of your hips and begins moving his fingers to the speed of your needy little thrusts. His mouth never wavers, as he moans greedily onto your clit, enjoying the fact that he’s driving you crazy. 

He can feel you tighten as you get closer to your release, and he breaks away from your clit for just a moment to whisper against your pussy. “Come for Daddy, baby.” He dives back in, licking circles on your clit, keeping the same rhythm as his fingers as they curl inside of you, diving in and out of you, hitting you deep. You feel your orgasm come on fast. 

“Fuck, Hyun, I can’t hold on!” 

Your breath heaves as you close your eyes, and white hot heat sends ripples through your body, pleasure shaking you at the core. You cry out, locking your legs around his head, riding the high, his name tumbling from your lips over and over. 

He smirks up at you, "You always taste so sweet, baby. Good girl. You love when I make you come like that, don't you?"

He kisses your thighs before he raises up, and you open your eyes to take sight of him. His cheeks are red, his mouth is drenched, his hair is disheveled, his chest is flushed with red. 

His eyes are hungry. 

He makes quick work of the rest of his clothing, shrugging off his jeans and underwear, and crawls back on the bed to you. This time, he grabs your thighs, and pulls your entire body to the edge of the bed, with full force. He looks up at you, and leans down to kiss you. The taste of you is heavy on his lips, and he opens your mouth, hungry for your tongue on his. You groan into each other's mouths. Kissing is always so easy, so effortless. So entirely consuming. He pulls away from your mouth, but keeps his face close to yours as he positions himself at your entrance. His head drops to your neck, as he teases his tip against you, bucking his hips and shivering just at feeling how wet you are. He must’ve been suffering, badly. Poor Hyunnie. He's so desperate for you. Right before he buries himself into you, you put a hand on his chest and stop him. 

He looks at you, eyes questioning what’s wrong. 

You smile at him mischeviously, holding his face and kissing his cheeks, then bring your mouth against his ear and whisper,

“Grab the camera, Daddy.” 

He pulls his face up abruptly and looks at you with a burning look you’ve never seen. Without a word, he lifts up and grabs the camera where it was laying, and turns it on. 

He looks at the view of you underneath him through the camera lens, your body waiting for him as your legs are spread open, as his cock rests against your entrance. He growls at the view, your hair a damp mess, make up strewn on your face, cheeks flush with red, eyes full of fire for him. Nipples taught, body writhing. You decide to hold up your legs for him, grabbing your thighs underneath the knees, opening your cunt farther open for the camera, and for his viewing pleasure. 

“Holy fuck, baby, I’m gonna lose my MIND.” The camera clicks. He grabs the base of his cock and lines it up with your center. He’s taking photos as he slowly moves, capturing every moment. You both moan at how fucking naughty and erotic this is. He pushes himself inside of you, his eyes rolling back, as he releases a loud, deep groan. He looks back at the view of being inside of you. He says your name, completely incoherent, as he tries to take a picture of him buried in you, the sheer eroticism of it making his hips buck without his control. Praises fall off his lips. 

“Your daddy’s perfect little slut, aren’t you? Look at the camera, baby. Such a mess underneath me. You’re mine, brat. I own this pussy, do you understand? I own you, pretty girl. Forever.” 

“I’m all yours, Hyunjinnie, you own me.” You moan breathlessly at him, needy and whining at how deep he is inside of you, and he takes a photo as your mouth opens as he starts to thrust at a faster speed. 

He puts the camera down, and grabs your hips as he fully immerses himself in eye contact with you again. He’s biting his lip as he watches you bounce underneath him, your tits moving with every thrust, as he's letting go of the primal vocals he’s been holding back all evening. He’s succumbing to the desire completely as he loses full control, while you feel your cunt tighten again, your orgasm coming dangerously fast. His gaze darkens as he feels you tighten around him, and you know he’s close as well. He lowers his entire body onto yours, sloppily kissing your neck as his thrusts are relentless, making you a whining mess of nerves. 

His breathing quickens, “Ah fuck, I’m cumming baby, cum for daddy, I need you, pretty girl.” He breathes out, his release hitting him fast, and you feel your muscles tighten and explode as you cry out and come with him.

He collapses, trying to hold some of his weight off of you, and kisses your lips sweetly, his hair and body completely drenched in sweat, placing his forehead against yours. Exhaustion hitting him, he shifts his body and nestles himself beside you, grabbing you up, placing gentle kisses on your shoulder while whispering against your skin... He breaks the comfortable silence, his mind a messy drabble of words.

"That was... I can't... baby, do you know how I love you? The ways that I love you... " his voice is hoarse, emotion evident that the experience you just had was a lot for him to register. "I've never felt more alive than when I'm doing... exciting new things with you. I want to keep doing all the spontaneous moments, all the time." His lips are a bit garbled as he's speaking against your skin, too tired to move his position. "Being with you is my favorite thing, being in our own little world here... Life doesn't get better than this." he trails off, as he dances his fingers up your neck and into your hair, sweetly moving some strands to tuck behind your ear.

You look at him and smile softly, the intimacy of love in his eyes making your heart do flips. "You're my sweet Hyunjinnie... " you say. "I've never loved anyone like you, everything that you are is a gift to me. I love you so much it hurts, Hyun. I want to do new things with you, always. You are my entire heart."

You lay there, spent and exhausted. Realizing what you’ve just done together, you giggle to yourself, and grab the camera. You turn it on to look at the photos that were taken this evening. You angle your body to where Hyunjin can see the screen as well, and you start going through the photo gallery. 

“Oh my god, baby. These are so incredible. I can’t believe we just did that..” 

He snuggles against your neck. 

“We look fucking good together. And we look good, fucking.” and you hum in response, agreeing with him. You feel him harden again as he spoons you, each photo turning him on all over again.

He perks up inquisitively, laughing, realizing this entire project was so he could paint a portrait. 

“How am I supposed to paint all of these? I can’t choose a favorite. That’s impossible. I guess I’m gonna have to buy some more canvases….” 

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Ghost x City Girl Reader

After your car breaks down on you unexpectedly in the middle of the night, you're left with no choice but to call the only number left available to you... Ghost.

NFSW 18+ Shameless Smut, Porn w/ Plot, P in V sex, Intimate, Steamy Makeout, Build-Up, Banter, Drama, Flirting, Seducing, Dry-Humping, Romance, Hatemance, Enemies to Lovers Trope, Cheating, Toxic Relationship, Light Angst, Characters are Flawed, Ghost and Reader are mean to each other, however things start to change, can be read like a one-shot, but reads better with context

WC: 6.1k~

Author's Note: I finally finished this chapter! Personally, I like how it came out and I like where it's going so far. Since the hatemance has been established, the only way to go is up, right? Please let me know what you think though! And please enjoy~

Masterlist

NGMLTS Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Six

"Come on, come on, come on-"

You step forward towards the edge of the road, making sure not to accidentally step 5 inches deep into another puddle of rain water. There, your eyes catch sight of another pair of car headlights on the fast approach in the distance.

Its florescent glow expands like tiny, white orbs within the black of night, speeding by ever closer each passing second.

Perfect timing.

You stick your thumb out, using your other hand to try and wave down the approaching vehicle.

"Hey!" You call out, as though they can hear you over the sound of their own vehicle. The growing sounds of trees around you blowing in the wind like it were trying to conjure up a tornado hadn't helped either. "Hey, I could use some-"

The car zips by, carrying a gust of wind which insultingly hits you on its departure. You scoff to yourself, watching their red tail-lights slowly disappear down the road, and suddenly you're reminded of the predicament you'd just found yourself in.

That's the fourth car that's driven past you since your car unexpectedly decided to take a shit on you halfway through on your drive home.

Deep down you knew you should have just had your date pick you up from the jump; your car being a piece of shit had been a secret to absolutely no one. Just three weeks ago, the damn thing died on you in the parking lot on your way home from work. However, you've had one too many experiences with being trapped at someone's place without a vehicle to know it's best to be your own ride home.

Or that would normally be the case.

Honestly you wished you'd just Ubered now that you're outside, stranded on some empty road too far from town to walk but just far out enough to be an inconvenient for anyone willing to come get you, in the dead of night at that. But at least it had stopped raining.

Its residue still remains on the dark roads. You knew you had been out far in the boonies just from the lack of streetlights, seeing how pitch black your surroundings had been. It almost felt like a wall of sorts, some sort of abyss, boxing you in. It makes you feel like you're being watched (even though you're absolutely not).

Still, it motivates you to step back into your car, settling into your driver's seat with a frustrated huff.

By now, the remainder of the car's heat had been zapped out, all its interior lights completely dead. Some false sense of hope drives you to try and twist your key in the ignition once more, only to have your dreams retroactively crushed once you see the key completely stuck in its hole, just as it had been for the past forty minutes now.

It brings you to check your messages another time. You'd all but gone through your contact list trying to find someone that could come get you; that tends to happen when it's 1am.

You called your date first, seeing as he would be the closest to you and it hadn't been like you'd left on bad terms.

One month, now that you think about it. You hadn't noticed the time flying by, though it's not to say your time together had been anything remarkable. Just a change to your usual FWB and one-night stand order. He liked taking you out on nice dates and you liked going back to his place to fuck, and seeing he wasn't insufferable, it worked, for now.

However, his ringer had gone straight to voicemail when you called. At first you questioned why that could have been, but then you'd remembered him mentioning his phone being on the verge of death in the midst of the movie you'd been "watching". It crossed him out all the same.

Soap and Price were some of the least reliable men to reach at night, though it had only been because they valued their sleep, and did so like professionals. You weren't surprised in the slightest when they hadn't picked up.

You didn't even bother calling Gaz; the man didn't have a car. And every other one of your friends was either too far away for it to be worth the drive or just unavailable. By the time you'd called the last name listed on your lifeline and it didn't pick up, the hopelessness started to bubble up again.

But then you remembered one other person you could call, someone you're sure wouldn't even bother... if he even picks up.

Ghost.

The phone sits in your hand, purposefully procrastinating, as your eyes toiled on his contact name on your phone. Reluctant.

There's really no way he would pick up; he'd all but made it clear to you that he'd rather do without your being around him as is. What makes you think he'd want to get out of bed in the middle of the night for you?

And yet, your gaze lingered on his number.

Who else was there, if not him?

You slowly dial in his number, nausea swirling in your stomach at each press, until you've heard the phone begun to ring.

You place the cool glass to your face, listening to the other line ring, awaiting to hear that familiar automotive voice message system of his.

However, the air catches in your throat when you've actually heard the other line pick up, sounds of covers shifting and a man's heavy sigh filling in this period of silence that's gone on far too long for you.

"You do realize what time it is, don't you?"

You roll your eyes, sinking back into your seat as you settled in for this conversation. Welp, you called him, and here he is. Time to deal with that.

"I had no idea," you say sarcastically.

"Should probably buy a watch then," he teases.

"You offering?"

"No."

You can't help but do anything else other than smack your lips together in response. "I'll just keep doin' me then, boo," you say.

"A shock to no one, I imagine." You hear Ghost groan gruffly on the other end, clearly having been in bed. "So what then? Your date end poorly or somethin'?"

While he had been making a jab at you, his words were more revealing than he realized. Clearly, he'd still been thinking about you, despite wanting to act like you'd been the one bothering him right now.

It makes you giggle under your breath, though you're loud enough for him to hear. "It went great actually," you say. "He really knows how to wine and dine a girl down."

"No doubt letting a man actually treat you like a woman for a change is a new experience for you," Ghost remarks.

"Guess it just took finding the right guy for the job," you remark back. "He's got you on a run for your money, Manchester."

The right guy, meaning anyone but Ghost, he'd imagined. Not in any tangible way beyond whatever lust-filled mistakes you two continuously shared between each other.

Ghost pauses for a moment. You know your comment had gotten to him somewhat. Though he spares little time for you to rejoice in it.

"He can have it," he says coldly. "We're done, remember?"

You're not sure why, but hearing him say that to you yet again -- with not a heartbeat to spare, it only seemed to make your own heart run a bit colder.

Ghost only continues, his patience having run thin since talking. "Why are you calling?"

You hesitate to speak at first, your pride already having been bruised just having to call him to begin with. You sigh lightly to yourself, regaining your composure and cutting right to the chase. After all, what reason was there to be nervous? This was only Manchester.

"I need your help," you say plainly. "My car broke down and I'm in the middle of nowhere. I tried calling literally anyone else... but you're the only one who's actually answered. So... look, if you don't want to, just tell me now so I can call someone else, alright?"

Silence.

You have to look down at your phone to see if the man had hung up on you suddenly; it wouldn't have surprised you. But no, he'd still been on the other line, merely existing with his tightly shut lips.

After some more seconds have gone by, you've found the silence has driven you mad.

"Look, just forget-"

"Where are you now?"

That's not what you were expecting to hear. His words stop you dead in your tracks, your heart beginning to race once you finally had a plan in motion.

You sit up in your seat, already typing in Ghost's address into your Google Maps so you could get a good estimate of how long you'd be waiting. You wanted to cry when you saw the double digits, and nearly did when you read that 27 minute drive time.

You hum to yourself, trying not to sound too disappointed as you spoke.

"Well..." You sigh. "...It's not close."

"How far are we talking?"

What is he doing right now? He's been asking himself that questions since he tied the laces to his boots and slipped into his hoodie on the way out the door. He must look like a fool right now, he's sure.

Seven miles out had been how far you were from his place. Evidently, by the 4th mile out, Ghost had started to grow somewhat ticked off (seeing as it was now almost 2 am), but alas, he'd already been in his car and this far out, so there was no point in complaining about it now. Though he still couldn't believe he was doing it.

The night air feels good rushing through his open window. The icy wind scraps by him, leaving his pale cheeks a rosier pink, his short blond hair thrown about, and his knuckles a cold white, with the speeding swishing sounds of his car rushing down this long, empty road.

Ghost brought his balaclava with him (he had an extra one tucked away in his glove box), knowing he'll have to put it on once he's picked you up. Until then, however, he'd enjoy the freeing sensation of the wind against his skin, as it's the only thing reminding him that he is in fact driving to come get you right now and not just dreaming this.

He knew the smart thing would have been to say no. Ghost didn't trust himself almost as much as he didn't trust you not to try and escalate something out of this situation. That's how things always happen between you two after all. And yet... here he is on the road now. He'd ask himself what that was about, but he knew himself well enough.

Your car starts to come into view of his headlights on the side of the road, as Ghost has felt walls in him begin to form themselves, preparing for your presence.

He pulls his car behind you, quickly digging in his glove box and retrieving his balaclava before exiting the vehicle. It may be dark, but even then, he wasn't about to let you see him exposed so soon. Not like this, anyhow.

"There you are!" You step out of the car, dramatically swinging your arms out before slamming your door shut behind you. "You take the scenic route?"

"And I got gas," he adds.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as a cool breeze brisks by. "Of course you did."

Ghost looks you up and down unabashedly, seeing the attire you'd chosen to wear for your date tonight -- some outfit that wasn't too skimpy, but still left a lot for a man to crave more for. He can only imagine how much your date must have enjoyed himself with you tonight... it's started to make his chest tight just thinking about it.

"I didn't want to call you," you say all of a sudden. However, when you've seen the look he gives you after hearing that, it makes you soften up somewhat. It had sounded rather harsh out loud, didn't it? So you then sigh, "I wasn't sure you were gonna answer..."

Ghost sighs, the man simmering down now having seen you become more lax. Though he doesn't say anything. He wasn't quite sure what to say, because he would have answered if you called him. He did. Yet, admitting so out loud would make that something more real than what he was willing to admit. So he stays quiet.

You do your best to bring things back to ground level between you two. However, whether it be because you'd meant to do so, or just did not care for the weight of your words, you go on with your small tangent.

"I called Soap first," you say. "Then I tried Price after that."

"Ah," Ghost says dryly. "I'm well aware that I'm the afterthought."

"Maybe so, but... I called you still, didn't I?"

"And I still came," Ghost says.

You've paused for a moment, and your voice is softer than any tone he's heard from you before. It puts him on edge and makes his heart feel caught in his throat.

"Yeah, well..." You say. "Thank you."

Funny. He's never actually heard you say thank you to him before, and it's got him more giddy than he thought he would be.

"Don't worry about it." He approaches your vehicle now, taking a closer look. "So what's wrong with it?"

"I don't fucking know," you sigh frustratedly. "I've already taken the damn thing in for repairs three fucking times already and it still keeps doing this. I'm just sick of this fucking thing at this point-"

You kick your tire out of frustration, only to have the tips of your toes connect roughly with stiff, cold, rubber, your foot doing nothing to even make a bulge to it on impact. Immediately you yelp, though you tone it down, so as not to embarrass yourself in front of the lieutenant. No doubt he was in need of some more material to use against you at work later.

Of course, he can see that you're frustrated by the situation, and rightfully so, he thought. He never liked having car problems himself.

"Need me to jump it then?" he asks.

"You can try."

And try he does. The man's come prepared, having cables already packed away in his trunk for situations like this, having been here before. You step to the side and let him contend with things, assisting wherever needed, and sharing no other words beyond trying to fix the situation.

Once the cables were all attached to the batteries and his car was running, it didn't take long for the silence between you two to become defeaning.

You both stood leaning against your cars, staring off into the surrounding woods. Lost in separate thoughts that somehow always led you back to one another.

You kept looking over at him, taking quick glances with your peripherals. He kept his gaze ahead, not having wanted to look at you too much. Each time he did, he felt something stir in him that he hadn't wanted.

But for the first time in maybe ever between you two, it's Ghost who breaks silence before you.

"Have you thought about Friday?"

Naturally, it would be about work.

The word Friday brings a reaction out of you, reminding you of things you didn't yet wish to think about. This Friday. The day you and Ghost will be sent out on a month-long assignment together. Alone...

It wasn't like you two haven't fought together before; often times the others thought you made a great duo, in fact. Combatively, that is. If it wasn't his swift and collected movements on the battlefield, then it was your own cunning creativity which often gave the team the edge they needed.

As a whole team, it was easy to work with him -- you couldn't bicker if there were a million different things to pull your attention. But you wouldn't be with the team this time. It would just be the two of you now, a feet which had NEVER been done before.

You sigh again, hugging your arms to yourself to keep warmth.

"Don't really want to think about it, if I'm being honest."

"Will you be ready?" He asks.

"I'm always ready, Manchester," you jest. "What about you? Are you ready to be stuck with me for a month?"

Dryly, Ghost says, "I'm jumpin' for joy just thinkin' about it."

You chuckle at his comment, which surprises him, for some reason. Normally, your low giggles felt weighted with teasing mockery. However, the lilt to your voice now had been something more... welcoming.

And seemingly, you've noticed it's made Ghost somewhat more chatty than usual, given his silence earlier.

"So your date..." he unintentionally lets his words begin to drag. "You said it went well earlier?" He now asks, no longer caring how the question might come off to you. A simple answer would only suffice.

However, he already knows he can't ask questions like that without bringing the she-devil out in you.

"Mmm," you hum. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Ghost groans. "Forget it."

You're silent for a moment, and it makes Ghost think the end of that conversation. Though, you spend the time thinking, weighing between talking or silence.

"My date went fine," you say to him. "We didn't really do much. Nothing worth talking about anyway."

Ghost crosses his arms now, looking down at his feet rather bashfully, kicking a small pebble that had been rested at his boot.

"So do you like him?"

"He's alright," you say. "He's real sweet. Super understanding; I've never met such an open-minded guy before. Except for Soap maybe..."

You unknowingly begin to go on about this mystery man from before, describing him in delightful detail, all of which seemed to contrast with Ghost.

"I've never had a guy do that for me before." You said more than once, and Ghost was sure it had been true. After all, he hasn't necessarily been kind to you to begin with. Hearing now the differences it would have made only made him wonder of the what if's.

By the end of your small tangent, he'd felt your point had been made clear enough. But then you end everything you've just gone on about -- the compliments, the ups, and highs -- with a final comment.

"...Though... I don't see this lasting long."

He can't deny, that had actually excited him to hear, even as it doesn't make sense to him. Though he covers it under his usual, husky voice he wielded so dangerously. "Why's that?"

You look like you want to tell him the truth. You almost do, but it hadn't been a matter of pettiness as to why you don't quite answer the man. You instead shrug, keeping this nonchalant attitude you desperately wanted him to see you for.

"I don't know," you say. "He's kinda boring."

Ghost chuckles. "Boring?"

"He's just a bit too... simple for me? It's hard to explain."

"Not toxic enough for you, you mean?"

You laugh under your breath, having found some humor in his jab. "Maybe," you admit, sarcastically so. "Maybe I need a little screaming and petty arguments in my life. It just makes everything feel so much more... passionate."

Ghost just shakes his head. "You say that now."

You begin to smirk. "I don't know," you turn to look at him. "You must like that stuff too, Manchester."

"I don't," he says.

"Bullshit," you laugh. "Admit it, you eat this toxic shit up."

"You're wrong," he says. "I loathe it. It's unbecoming."

"If that's how you feel, then what were you doing fucking around with me then?"

It's a valid question, one that makes the man grow silent. What had it been about you that often turned him from his better judgment? It couldn't have just been the sex. No. Otherwise, it wouldn't burden him so much to know you thought of other men so much more highly than him, half of which being of his own doing.

Unsure of how to answer you, the man simply says to you, "I don't know."

The silence comes quickly, but it is felt by you both. Had another car not driven by to break this sudden trance, perhaps this conversation would have gone further. You both wondered as such, even as you wouldn't say so out loud. But it's the longest you've spoken without insulting each other. That significance would not be lost.

Eventually, your car managed to turn on, its dim lights twitching back to life amidst the night. Having not wanted to be put in a situation where he'd have to turn around, Ghost volunteered to follow you back home in his car. That way, if you broke down on the road again he could at least drive you back home himself.

You had been more than grateful enough to thank him again once your car had been running, smiling in ways you've not done toward him before in the past. In those moments, it had been easy to forget about all of that, having felt himself smile back beneath his mask, from time to time.

The drive back to your place is a short one, the roads having been empty, given how late it was. Ghost follows you to your driveway, watching you park at a small, one-story home you'd recently gotten on post. He remembers his way here without your guidance, having come here on his own so many times now. He'd even picked out a spot in your driveway he liked to pull into -- that same spot beneath the tall tree in your front yard.

Now that you were home, Ghost remained in his car, prepared to see you wave him goodbye before pulling out. However, you do no such thing, instead exiting your vehicle, and approaching his window.

He rolls it down, giving you a curious look. "Something the matter?"

"Wanna come in for a quick smoke?"

No, he thought. He should say no. He already told you he was putting an end here to this. An end to this toxic game of back-and-forth romance. What kind of man would he be if he could not keep his word with something as simple as this?

He would only be a man, and a human one at that.

Ghost has already stepped out of his car and followed you over to the entrance of your home. And just as he expected -- as he had feared and wanted -- once inside, having heard the front door shut behind him and the faint sensation of your body brush by towards your living room, he knew this wouldn't just be a quick smoke.

It started out with the two of you on your couch. The minute he sat down he felt the late hours start to hit him like a tidal wave, his eyes having grown droopy and tired. You looked the same, your movements having slowed since arriving home. Though it hadn't made you any less chatty.

In between grabbing a lighter and a pack of smokes for you two (a transaction that took you five minutes to do), you both gossiped about work. Ghost always knew you were a scandalous sort, however, it had shocked you seeing how willing the lieutenant had been to participate in the conversation. He had a lot more to say than you would have thought, in fact.

Once the cigarettes were lit, things only grew more random, Ghost feeling the urge to ask you the oddest hypotheticals he could think of off the top of his head. He had been serious when asking too, judging your answers, and providing his own afterward.

And while you two couldn't put it into words, at the moment, this had felt good to have.

You sink back into the couch, having finished your cigarette, and felt that final headrush. You enjoy it. You enjoy this.

You look to the left of you to see Ghost, his large body having sunken the couch down so much that your legs couldn't help but rest against his boulderous thighs. His mask is lifted, and his scarred lips finish off his cigarette. He blows the smoke out in front of him, as his eyes stay forward. And all the while, his body has felt every bit of your presence near him.

"Why don't we ever do this?" you ask suddenly.

Ghost looks your way, finding your eyes. "Do what?" He asks, his voice a low and raspy thing, vibrating through your whole body.

"This," you gesture around you. "Actually sit down and talk like this."

"You're not usually the best company," he says.

You pout. "Have you been around "you" before, Manchester?"

"I know the bloke pretty well, actually," Ghost jokes.

You scoff, a smile curving on your lips. "Then you know that he's an asshole a lot of the time."

"I do know that," he admits.

His honesty catches you off guard. You had been prepared to say something witty back too. Now it wouldn't work quite as well, his response spinning your mind in a curious way.

Ghost speaks before you, having been digesting this conversation in full himself. "To answer your question," he says. "I saw no point in trying to talk to you like this. You didn't like me. That much had been made clear, so I didn't bother. "

"So... you didn't wanna talk to me or be my friend," you say. "Yet you'll fuck me. That checks out."

Now you catch him off guard with that comment, watching his jaw tighten. It does so even more when he sees the little laugh you let out in response after.

"I'd doubt we'd make good friends anyway," you sigh.

"What makes you say that?" Ghost asks.

"It just wouldn't work," you say, and then start to grin. "We'd just keep wanting to fuck each other, I feel like. That or kill each other, whatever comes first."

"Wha', you can't fuck your friends?" Ghost jokes, feeling parts of himself bubble joyously when he sees you laugh.

"Not if you want to stay friends."

And there it was that Ghost almost felt the words leave his lips, the question and the answer. Who said you two had to stay as friends? Who says this has to stay as anything?

"Well..." he thinks to himself, looking down at his lap, as he lets his callous thumbs rub softly over his rough palms. He's now noticed your legs resting against his thigh, and how close you've been this entire time, your body heat having felt as cozy as a blanket to sit beside. "We haven't fucked tonight."

You smirk. "We haven't been at each other's throats all night, either," you lightly cheer. "A new record."

"This make us friends then?"

Ghost notices your leg shift, as you invite them to rest on his lap, his arms having nowhere else to lie but on top of them. Having them hugged so close to him, feeling your calves shift over his crotch (purposefully he's sure), quickly started to fog his mind of any previous thoughts he now had.

You watch his gaze follow your legs, traveling up slowly, making their way up your torso, past your chest and to your neck, then stopping on your lips, which you've licked into a playful smile. His dark eyes finally find yours, and he sees that familiar look in them. The look of trouble.

"I can't be your friend, Manchester."

"Why?" he asks again, his voice low, humming through you and making your body ache for him.

"I already told you why," you say cooly. "I want to fuck you too much to be your friend, Simon."

"Well, I already told you we can't."

"Then what's your hand doing?"

Indeed, this whole time you've let his voice soothe you, words be damned, you've felt his large hands slowly slide their way up your thigh, fingers grazing you roughly, craving to feel the flesh of you beneath your clothes.

His hand pauses at the brink of your hip, his body having leaned in more since doing so. It's pressed you more against the couch, your body slowly being caged by him.

Despite his actions, his eyes look at you with frustration, a million thoughts running through him. You were driving him mad, and he couldn't get enough of it.

You merely watch his eyes drop back down to your lips, and you smile. You lift your hand up, bringing it to his collar and letting your finger hook beneath the fabric. Your smile widens as you've felt his throat swallow against the gentle graze of your finger, his mask still having been lifted up to his nose, and his breath tickling your skin. You slowly pull him closer.

He doesn't even resist, his body moving along to your guiding hand, until his face had only been an inch or so from you, his eyes half-lidded and lost.

Despite the confidence you let off, your heart raced furiously in your chest. This hadn't felt anything like your times before, where the banter had been short, seeing as the real reasons for it were often carried out in swift succession. This had felt slow. Intimate. You had his mouth so close to you, and it kept buzzing in your mind, the whole thing that had him not wanting to do this from the start. The reason for this reluctancy. Some jealousy and measly lipstick.

"Kiss me," you say.

You swear you can hear his heart beating through his chest, watching the gears shift in his head and feeling the bulge in his pants start to brush against your leg. Rather than let him come to his own conclusion, you do the thinking for him, pulling him down by the collar and guiding his mouth to yours.

The second your lips touch his, it's as though no other actions mattered to him beyond having all of you right here and now.

Ghost kisses you roughly, letting his hands cup over your face and his body completely cover you, arms caging you in like a prison. The weight of his body takes your breath away, making you gasp into his mouth, as you've felt him grind himself against you. By now, his cock was already resting painfully so in his jeans, and you've felt him take that pain out with each gruff thrust he made against you. The second your lips have parted, his tongue has entered in, massaging itself against yours as though to have the complete taste of you with him.

As his lips did their absolute best lapping away at your mouth, the lower half of himself humped between your legs furiously, parting them at every motion and leaving you throbbing from each brief departure. You can't help but do anything other than hug your arms over him, hugging him close and letting your lips keep pace with him.

His body feels every bit of your hands run against his chest, hooking around his neck and lacing beneath his mask to feel his hair. Your legs hook around his waist naturally, hips jirating against his just as ravenously, as though you'd been craving him all day. The smallest of movements you make send him deeper into a passionate frenzy, turning the man near primal.

You wanted every bit of him right now just as much as he had wanted every part of you -- it had the man completely drunk in you. Large hands cupped so firmly over your cheeks as he kissed you that you felt consumed by him, neither of you having spared a breath away. His hands slide down your neck, making their way to your breast and aggressively groping them, reminding himself of the parts of you that you allowed him to misbehave himself with. The parts of yourself that would always be his.

He thumbs your nipples through your shirt, letting his fingers roll against them, and feeling your chest rise with each moan that it conjures. Your lips part again, your voice like ecstasy to him. He'd stay like this forever if he could. That's truly how he felt at this moment.

After a while, he couldn't keep himself from slipping his hand beneath your shirt, finally feeling the warmth of your body against his skin, before retaking your breast in your hand to continue his work.

By now you've kissed each other raw, your dry-humping having grown vigorous and hot in nature; the room filled with your heavy panting and his low grunts. Ghost's hips viciously pulsate against you, the bulge of his cock bumping in just the right amount of friction against your clit to the point that you hadn't even needed to feel him inside you to feel yourself soaking through your pants. Having felt it only made him press harder against you, as the man made an equal mess of himself.

It had felt difficult casting you aside with you so ready to have him every time you've graced his presence. Ghost knows he was making a mistake, letting you play with his emotions, but good God did you make him feel good when you wanted him to. You drip-feed him that lustful attention you give away so carelessly, and Ghost took each drop with begrudging starvation.

Your hands continue to curve behind his neck, your fingers teetering at the edges of his masks and keeping him pulled in. They touch the most sensitive parts of the skin behind his ears, parts of him that haven't been touched by anyone in years. Your fingers continue to slowly glide their way up, gently pushing his mask up more and more.

Almost as though to distract you from continuing with that action, his hands shoot down to your pants, as he's no longer able to hold himself back from you. He pries them from you, throwing both that and your panties to the floor, before lowering his own jeans down.

His massive length rested against your pussy heavy, almost like a veiny leg of its own, the man rubbing and smacking himself against you to his heart's content, groaning gruffly to himself each time. He grabs onto your legs, hooking them over your arms and letting your feet rest over his shoulders, as he pushes your knees back to your ears, preparing your body for a vicious pounding.

With no hesitation, once he's settled his body over you, he drives his cock in, his girth stretching you uncomfortably as he pushes himself so deep that he's felt his balls smack against you. The second he's felt you clench around him, your legs tightening over his body, and your lips parting with a sharp hiccup-like gasp, he lets himself go into his favorite mind-numbing pace with you.

Ghost fucks you into the couch, his cock smacking in and out of you with barely a second reprieve. Each time you've felt he might slow down, he only goes faster, making sure to hear the visceral sounds which left your cunt at each thrust, squeezing an orgasm from you that he's felt shake your entire body against him.

Yet feeling your orgasm hadn't been enough, it would never be enough. He kept the pace going even after, wanting to feel every breath that left you be wrapped in him, and every thump of your heart against his chest be because of him.

Through the sheer mayhem, he put both your body and mind in right now, you bring your hands back up to his face, returning his gaze to you. With your eyes locked, you can make out every detail, every feeling you each had harbored, both the good and the bad. He would have all of you, and you would have all of him.

"I don't want this to stop, Simon," you pant out.

Ghost finds himself at a loss for words, having replied to you in his head, and carried it out through action instead. He brings his lips down to you, kissing you once again, and making sure that you could feel every part of his reply through the taste of him.

His arms hug across you tightly, the quick and brutal rhythm he had growing erratic and desperate. He groans against your lips as he's cum in you, feeling himself pulsate against the deepest parts of you.

Ghost doesn't move from on top of you, having buried his face in the crook of your neck and wrapped his arms over you. You lie beneath him, your own arms wrapped lazily over him, hugging him against you like a weighted blanket, simply holding his heaving body to your own. You rest your cheek against the crown of his head, your eyes looking up to your ceiling as you've both now felt the dreariness of the night finally hit you.

You both pant, out of breath, now left with the uncertainty of what would be tomorrow. For once, you don't say anything to break the silence. You just let him lay there, and you do too. It would be morning soon enough.

Read Part Six Here!

My goal here is to start turning a toxic relationship into a maybe not so toxic relationship. It's gotta start somewhere. I just want to write about flawed individuals (it's nice feeling seen lol). But, I hope the dialogue worked, I really liked it. But anywho, that's it with my rambling.

@deadbranch @homicidal-slvt @argella1300 @poohkie90 @sarraa-26 @quincessimus @cabreezer0117 @glitterypirateduck @0-444-4444 @crazymela @13thprogenitor

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged/untagged for the next part! If I'm not told, I won't tag because I feel like an instigator! Thank you, uwu

[ghostgorlsworld]

Johnny Boy Part 3 (werewolf!Soap x reader)

Johnny meets his daughter, part one is here

Once upon a time, you would've done anything for John Mctavish. He had been your older brother's cool best friend, and you were always desperate for him to see you as more--until one fateful night that ends up with you pregnant and him...gone. Fast forward six years and you've made a good life for yourself with your daughter Emma, with Johnny none the wiser. Until he decides to knock on your door.

Part 3

Johnny knocked on the door at 8:15, carrying two pounds of bacon and a book about whales.

The bastard. Tom must have told him that whales were Emma’s weakness.

“Hi, Kitty,” Johnny said, smiling. He twitched like he wanted to lean in and kiss your cheek, but managed to restrain himself.

“John,” you said. You were dressed more appropriately this time, a Black Sabbath tee and sweats, your work clothes of pencil skirts, trousers, and wool sweaters currently drying on the laundry lines in the backyard. 

Emma touched the back of your leg, peering out at Johnny with a kind of fascinated dislike. “You’re taller than I thought you were,” she said, her tone disapproving.

You smiled then, suddenly full of warm affection for your daughter. “Let the man come inside, bear, it’s freezing out there.”

Johnny stepped inside your house and something inside of you clenched, forcing yourself to step back and allow Johnny his moment with your daughter.

They looked at each other. Father to daughter, their eyes so alike, their hair the same color, all the missing pieces falling into place.

Johnny crouched, going eye-level with her. “Hi, Emma,” he said, his voice hoarse as he attempted to smile. “My name’s Johnny.” Emma smiled, her first missing tooth winking at him.

You looked away. And so it began.

Within an hour she was perched up in his lap, prattling about whales and her friends from school. “Ms. Thornton said we had to make it out of paper maché and the best whale would win a prize. So Mum stayed up with me all night making the biggest blue whale, with a spout’n tail’n everything.” Johnny was captivated, his eyes brighter than you had ever seen them, his accent tangling his words even thicker than usual. “Aye? Did you win then?”

“Of course, we have ‘im hung up in the living room with little strings, right next to Grandpa Jack’s chair.” It was true. A paper mache blue whale hung from your ceiling in the place of honor, a tiny Christmas hat perched on his head for the upcoming holidays. 

You had to look away from them, focusing on pouring Emma her usual glass of milk and Johnny a coffee. He despised tea.

“Drink,” you said, pushing the glass towards her. “It’s good for your brain.” Emma two-handed it, just like you tell her to. It seemed she was trying to be on her best behavior, the little traitor. “How’d you know it’s good for my brain?” She asked, sniffing Johnny’s coffee as you placed it before him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, trying to meet your eyes but failing when you turned back to their breakfast, a mess of eggs and bacon and raw deer. “I looked it up on the internet, bear. Good fats are good for your brain.” “That’s what she says when she wants me to eat something, Johnny,” Emma said. “That it’s good for my brain. She’s always reading books on what to feed me so I can get taller.”

“I was an itty-bitty sprite when I was your age, lass, I’m sure it’ll kick in with a few more years,” Johnny said, his hand stroking her soft hair as if he couldn’t believe she was real. 

It went on like this until you put food in front of them, taking a seat across from Emma with your coffee and toast. You were never hungry this early, mostly because you were usually handling raw liver or beef tongue at eight in the morning and that sent your appetite right down the drain.

Johnny noticed. “Not even gonna have bacon, kitty?” “She never eats breakfast,” Emma the tattletale said, spooning up a bit of deer. “She doesn’t like anything raw.” Johnny smiled, as if remembering some fond memory. “She was always a wee bit squeamish, your ma.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response, scraping a pat of butter over your toast.

It dragged on longer than you had planned, Johnny standing to help you clear away the plates while Emma yawned, blinking sleepily at the couch in the living room. She was past the age of scheduled naps but on the weekends you were lax with her, letting her pass out on the sofa while you caught up on work or reading. 

Johnny seemed to understand that he was overstaying his welcome, though his eyes followed your daughter in that wide-eyed yearning look that got him anything he wanted when you were children. “Right then, Emma,” he said, ruffling her hair. “I’ll leave you to a nap, yeah?” “What are you gonna do all day, Johnny?” Emma asked, already curling up in her favorite woolen blanket. 

Johnny shrugged, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “I dunno, lass. I’m off work for the month.” “You should go to the park,” Emma said sleepily. “The park’s nice. Mum likes to read there.” “That’s a grand idea, lass,” he said gently. “It was lovely t’meet you, Emma.” She mumbled something else, tucking her nose deeper into the blankets as she began to snore. Something in your chest squeezed when Johnny tucked the blanket around Emma’s skinny arms, more gentle than you had ever seen him.

He looked at you then, his eyes all blue and warm. “Thank ye, kitty.”

You nodded. “You’re welcome. But you should go now.” You didn’t want him to linger, didn’t want him in your house while Emma was asleep, because that meant his attention was on you. 

Johnny stood, towering over you. “Of course, kitty.”

You walked him to the door, your arms crossed protectively over your chest. 

He paused on the doorstep. “Can I…Can I come again?” You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying no, to stop this cycle before it began. You didn’t want Emma getting used to a father that was gone eighty percent of the year. 

Johnny gripped the porch, as if preparing himself for your refusal. It was that gesture that made you sigh, looking out at the empty, icy street. 

“Tomorrow. I walk her home from school on my lunch break from work to Juliene’s house,” you pointed out a red brick cottage with sweet-faced woman gardening in the front. “She’s a godsend, she watches her until five now that Jack…Jack’s gone. Then I get home from work and make supper. Come then.” Meals would be easier, there was something for you to do while Johnny spent time with Emma, so you wouldn’t have to look at him constantly proving your teenage dreams right of him being a good father.

Johnny smiled, just like he used to, all teeth and excitement. “I don’t know how to tell ye how much this means t’me,” he said, stepping into your space again. You wondered how long he had been without human interactions for him to ignore societal rules like personal space. 

“I don’t deserve the chance you’ve given me, kitty,” Johnny said, the warmth of his body so close to yours oppressive. “God knows we have some unresolved words between us, but you’re the best mother I could’ve hoped for, considering that she’s…well, she’s like me.”

Johnny was raised by a human mother that treated him vaguely like a lapdog. Susan didn’t know what to do with a little boy that chewed on the furniture and got sick when she didn’t let him eat raw meat. 

It took Susan a long time to see the error in her ways, but still. You don’t let her watch Emma.

“I would be a monster to keep her from you,” you said dully, stepping back to regain your space. “She was already waiting for you.” Something shifted in his eyes. You didn’t like that look, it was the dark, possessive look he would give other kids whenever they tried to tease Tommy and you out of playing with him. 

Call it paranoia, but it seemed like he was already thinking of your little family as his. 

***

Emma waited for you next to the school doors, wearing a Winnie-the-Pooh sweater and her favorite dark blue jeans. Her friend Sasha was beside her, playing dolls with the little yarn princesses you had gotten them both last Christmas.

“Girls,” you greeted, smiling. “Sasha, are you walking home with us today?” Emma flew into your arms with a yip, barely restraining herself from licking your face.

It had taken a few years but she eventually learned that licking people’s faces, even her mother’s, was bad manners and generally unpleasant for the person involved. 

Sasha nodded, “Mum asked me to ask if you would. Daddy wouldn’t leave work.” Sasha was another case of a single mother and deadbeat father, and you had told her mother that you were willing to help with her any way you could. After all, it took a village for you to get stable with Emma, it’s worse when you don’t have anyone at all.

“C’mon, then,” you said, digging into your purse. “I brought snacks.”

Sasha and Emma brightened at the sight of two paper-wrapped biscuits, guilt-gifts from Tommy. 

The library was only a short walk to her school, and your home was only a short walk to the library, so you had just given up on the expense of having a car, borrowing Tom’s whenever you needed to drive to the city. You ushered the girls onto the sidewalk, making each of them hold your hand. 

“Tell me about your day, girls,” you said. “What did you learn?”

That began a river of chatter that you could get comfortably lost in, tales of poem books and origami and cheese sandwiches for lunch.

You liked Sasha, she was a sweet girl that didn’t mind your daughter’s wolfish tendencies, and they had been friends for practically half their lives. Sasha made you think about one day having another kid, maybe with a husband and a bigger house. 

The thought was easier when Johnny wasn’t around. He wouldn’t like any other man acting like a father to Emma, though you doubted it would bother him if you found a man to marry. He probably spent the majority of his leave at bars with pretty, childless women, while you were just a slightly sour memory of the girl he knew growing up. 

And Johnny would be gone soon. A month, he had said? You doubted it, they always called him back earlier.

“Is Johnny coming back?” Emma asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. Sasha smiled at her–they had obviously discussed the mysterious appearance of Emma’s father.

“Yes,” you said. “He’s going to have dinner with us tonight.” “Is he your boyfriend?” Sasha asked curiously. “My mum has a new boyfriend.” The thought of dating Johnny made you want to vomit. “No, of course not,” you said quickly, before the idea could take root in Emma. “He’s Emma’s father, and honestly, we don’t know each other very well anymore. He’s just here to spend time with you, bear.” Sasha clearly didn’t believe you, while Emma just nodded distantly, the cogs in her little brain churning.

You dropped Sasha off at her mother Lisa’s bakery. Lisa waved, mouthing thank you. 

“Did you like Johnny once?” Emma asked. “Like how Judy likes Tobin in school?” And there it was. Emma was not going to let this go. 

“Once,” you said. “But then he left for a long time. We don’t like each other like that anymore, bear, he’s just here for you.” That disappointed her, and you hated disappointing her. She had probably built up an image of having a mother and a father, happy and in love just like the movies.

“Oh, come on, bear,” you said, squeezing your shoulder. “You get to see him tonight, and maybe if you ask nicely I’ll stop at the store on my way home for ice cream.” That cheered her up a bit. Just like Johnny, she had a raging sweet tooth.

[quillthrillswriting]

sooo.... anyone else ever wondered how different ATLA would have been if aang had been frozen at age 16 instead of age 12?

yeah... me too 😌 my new fanfic "the teenager in the iceberg" follows the events of the show, but with only aang aged up, while everyone else remains their canon age.

also...cmon....how funny is it to switch zuko and aang's iconic dialogue to "you're just a teenager!" "...so are you?"

this idea was originally inspired by the talented @allgremlinart's aged up aang drawings, so please go show them some love!!:)<3

enjoy the excerpts from chapter three, that just dropped this morning!

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Katara watched Aang take one last, painful look at the temple, then turn to the sky ahead, lit up in shades of orange, pink, and gold. She swore she could see arrows in every cloud, arrows like the ones inked across Aang’s body, and the gentle breeze that carried the crisp night air towards them seemed to wrap around them like a loving spirit.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“...You have no idea where we’re going, do you?” Sokka sighed, turning the map that was held against Appa’s saddle with a couple of rocks toward himself. “I’ve been charting our progress, and it’s starting to look more like a scrap of paper a toddler is practising circles on than a navigational tool.”

“C’mon Sokka, I’m an Air nomad, travel is in my blood. I have a very strong internal compass. Besides, you’ll find that as a nomad, I’m a master of evasive manoeuvring.” Katara raised an eyebrow, looking up from her spot near the back of the saddle as she stitched a rip in Sokka’s pants. “Besides,” Aang continued, typical teenage boy overconfidence emitting from his tone of voice. “I know it’s near water.”

Sokka leaned over the edge of the saddle, eyes scanning the blue expanse below them that stretched as far as the eye could see. “We must be getting close then,” he scoffed, his tone dripping in sarcasm as he slouched back into his spot across from Katara.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“Aang,” she said distractedly, “could you hold this for me?” She handed him the mirror. 

“Y-yeah, no problem.”

She tugged out her hair ties, flipping her head upside down for a moment to make sure that it had all gotten loose, then she gingerly tugged a few tendrils of water from the nearby ocean and wrapped tiny streams around her hair, tugging out the crimped braid pattern and reviving her curls. Then, she carefully bent the remaining liquid back out. 

She couldn’t see his face through her thick hair as she stood back up, but from his voice, Aang seemed impressed. “I get that you haven’t been able to learn any big combat moves, but for someone whose bending is self- taught, you sure have a pretty good handle on these smaller things.”

She properly flipped her head up now, curls and waves bouncing around her face. Her dark brown locks shone with honey-toned highlights, all different shades of caramel and chocolate sparkling as they framed her face. She reached up, gently twisting and clipping a few strands out of the way, but a few wayward pieces still fell forward, gently brushing against soft, full lips and smooth skin. Aang awkwardly froze for a moment, caught off guard by how different she looked when her hair was loose and free. He had a weird urge to tell her so, but bit his tongue, instead focusing on her answer. 

“I learned most of the smaller things from helping Gran-Gran.” Katara’s eyes sparkled, clearly caught up in a vision of home as she reached up to brush up her hair. “ As she’s gotten older, her range of mobility has started leaving her. It’s not really comfortable or safe for her to stoop over to wash her hair, so I learned how to bring the water to her and wash it while she was sitting up, then I learned how to dry it for her fast.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Sokka yelped, his voice defensive and offensive all at once. “There is no way a bunch of girls in cutesy makeup and dresses managed to tie me up.”

“Awe, you think our makeup is cutesy? How sweet .” The girl's voice was crooning at first, sweet and gentle, but Katara could see from the way her muscles flexed as she held Sokka by the collar that there was venom hiding behind those words. She was right. “Throw him to the Unagi.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“Katara, c’mon, we’re supposed to be sticking together, where are you going?” Aang tugged at her arm until she was facing him, looking at her earnestly as if he hadn’t basically been flirting with all of those girls back there.

The words came out before she could stop them. “I thought monks weren’t supposed to go around flirting with any random girl, and they’re definitely not supposed to go around catering to a village full of fangirls.”

Aang raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing in a way that made Katara want to splash the smirk off of his face in a wave of water. “You sure have a lot of opinions on what you think monks are supposed to do, considering that I’m the only one you’ve ever met.” He shifted his weight, leaning in a bit closer. “Matter of fact, maybe it's just that you have a lot of opinions on what you think I’m supposed to be doing.”

Katara stiffened at the memory of the words that Sokka had just said minutes before. “Why would I care what you’re doing? I don’t. ”

Aang shrugged, reaching past her to grab a papaya and biting into it. After swallowing, he reached into Katara’s satchel, his hand brushing her waist as he pulled out some coins and quietly thanked the vendor. “Keep telling yourself that, Katara.” Hearing her name from his lips did something to her, but she kept her gaze level, eyes blazing with flame until Aang backed off.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

♥ check out the three chapters of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->

[sickiesope]

Hello! Can I request sick jungkook with a bad stomach bug and he’s sick all night? Any caretaker is fine

Another sick JK fic! :) I couldn't decide on a caretaker so I chose two, I love the maknae line together 💜

Up all night

Sickie: Jungkook

Caretakers: Jimin and Taehyung

TW: emeto

It's 3 in the morning and Jungkook is throwing up into the toilet once again. He's been going back and forth from his room to the bathroom all night. He caught a vicious stomach bug out of nowhere and took a turn for the worse after dinner. Taehyung and Jimin are both up taking care of the maknae. Jimin rubs his back while Taehyung went to get water.

Jungkook leans in front of the toilet as his stomach cleches and he pukes up his dinner. Little pieces of undigested bibimbap floating in the bowl, he stares at it glumly.

Jimin feels so bad seeing the youngest like this. Now that he thinks about it, Jungkook seemed like he was struggling a bit at dance earlier. His face looked pale and he seemed to get tired faster...and now he's hunched over the toilet throwing up everything he ate.

Jungkook is shaking all over as he holds himself over the bowl, breathing shallow. He upchucks another lumpy wave, filling the bowl more. "Hyung.." he whimpered "I hate this."

"Awwh, it's okay Kookie" Jimin coos, rubbing circles into his upper back. Jimin feels his back muscles tense up when he heaves and sways forward, projectile vomiting. The older grimaces at the awfulness, that was an especially bad one. Jungkook is coughing and spitting repeatedly and sweating profusely. His stomach is in shambles and he has cramps from all the heaving. When he finally finishes spitting he's catching his breath.

"Finished?"

"Yeah.. for now" JK wipes his forehead.

Jimin flushes it for him and wipes his face with a towel.

Taehyung is waiting for him outside with water. Jungkook takes a sip and swishes his mouth and spits into the sink. He doesn't want to risk swallowing it and getting sick again.

"You should drink some as well Kook"

"Ugh, I'll just puke it up again" JK whined.

"You don't want to get dehydrated" Taehyung advises.

Jungkook sighs, looking at the cup. He takes a few tiny sips and holds his breath, seeing how his stomach reacts. It seems..fine. For now.

"Let's get you back to bed" Taehyung murmurs, leading him out.

Jungkook holds his middle as he trudges back to his room. But as soon as he gets comfortable back in bed, his stomach starts roiling again. "Ughh, come on" he moans, sitting up and taking off the blankets. He gags and gets up in a panic with a hand over his mouth. JK races as fast as he can to the bathroom but he doesn't make it; he threw up all over the floor in an instant. "Ahh fuck.." His stomach forced it up so fast within 5 seconds. Taehyung and Jimin gasp and rush over.

"Oh no, Kookie! It's okay, come here" Jimin gets him to the toilet and he spews up more liquid.

"Oh no I'm so s-sorry" Jungkook's choking out sobs.

"It's okay it's not your fault" the elders both reassure him. Jimin goes back to rubbing his back and Taehyung cleans the floor. They give him another set of clothes to change into as he got the other ones dirty. They also give him a trash bin for his room.

Jungkook sits in his bed with it as he doesn't trust his stomach enough to lie down again. And right he is. He burps and out comes a bitter tasting mouthful of liquid. He's dry heaving and coughing over the bucket on the corner of his bed. He's exhausted. "No more throwing up..no more.." the maknae whimpered to himself, eyes tearing up. Jungkook throws up more water and it comes out his nostrils too. Now it burns breathing through his nose and his eyes are really watering. He spits out bile and wipes his eyes with a tissue.

"N-no more.." Jungkook looks at the bit of vomit in the bin and sighs. He rubs his stomach trying to calm it. He can feel exhaustion taking over and he flops back against the pillow. It's almost 5 now and his body is just done.

Jimin and Taehyung join him in bed to make sure he's okay and they're tired as well. Jungkook soon drifts off into a deep sleep.

[marlynnofmany]

Tactical Artwork

I paused work with my hand tools in order to watch Glowing Coals buzz an intricate pattern into a small rock with his. He worked quickly, turning the rock like a gray Easter egg and completing the pattern without any flaws I could see, then setting it down and moving on to the next. The pattern for this one was just as complex, and just as freehand. He was easily the most talented at the table.

“How much practice did it take you to get so fast?” I asked, raising my voice to account for the breathing mask. Mine was pretty comfortable, but it muffled sounds a bit. Coals hadn’t complained about his, though he didn’t complain much in general.

“I had an artisan apprenticeship back home,” Coals said. His mask flexed a bit with the motion of his lizardy jaw, and was a stylish gold on top of his brick-red scales. “The creating was nice, but the people weren’t.”

“Yeah, I’ve had jobs like that.” I would have said more, but Painted Sunset finished an art piece and held it up for approval.

“Ta-da!” she said, displaying a three-legged shape made of sliced-up and reassembled mushrooms. Wait, two legs. That was a tail.

“Very nice,” I said. “How long do you think it will last without shriveling?”

Paint set it on the table. “Any shriveling will only add to its charm,” she said firmly.

I had a sudden memory of mushrooms that melted away into black goo instead of drying up, and was deciding whether or not to mention it when Trrili grabbed a fresh log and showered all of us in wood chips.

Paint shielded her mushroom doll; Coals ignored the shrapnel; I flinched, then sighed and gathered up a few bits to use in my own art. I was gluing together pieces of other people’s material into tiny sculptures. Maybe I could make a porcupine out of the flakes of wood.

Trrili was sure giving me plenty to work with. She attacked the log with all the intensity of a chainsaw carver in the midst of a painful breakup, and who also happened to have blade arms like a praying mantis. I wouldn’t have thought that those pinchers were exactly suited to woodworking, but the wood was soft and Trrili was angry.

She’d been there when the pirates stole our payment, and she hadn’t been able to stop them. Granted, I had too, but I wasn’t a large terrifying bug alien with a warrior’s pride. Her shiny black blade arms moved quickly, red patterns flashing like warning flares, and everyone gave her lots of room.

There was plenty of table space to go around — this was something like a local picnic area with one long table set on top of a low wall. Enormous chunks of crystal served as stools, which only some of the crew were using. Trrili certainly didn’t need them, though on the other side of her I could see that Mur had actually stacked two, to raise his squidlike body up to near table height. It looked like he and Captain Sunlight were both carving that horrible smelly soap into fanciful shapes. Hopefully the locals would take a liking to it in flower form. I was all for leaving the stuff behind whether they bought it or not. Nobody on our ship wanted it. It had been mislabeled at a market several planets ago.

This planet, as far as I knew, probably used soap. Probably. The locals were made of green-white crystalline material instead of any flesh I’d encountered before, so who knew? The air here was low-grade toxic. The social eating areas were strung out in long lines. The juvenile locals behaved more like puppies than children, with the four-legged frolicking and loud barking to match. They easily could have not used soap; there were stranger things about the place.

“Are you going to use those leaves?” Paint asked me, pointing at a stack of orange ones. “They’d make great scales for my little person here.”

“Sure, go for it,” I said. “There are more by that tree over there.” I jerked my head to the side, busy focusing on the porcupine body I was assembling out of acorns. Was it bizarre that this planet had people so alien, but plants so familiar? Yes it was. Maybe there was a reason for it — someone doing interstellar traveling to collect and relocate alien flora, or maybe some genetic engineering was at work, or sheer coincidence. I’d seen more unlikely things that that before too. And, as had become my mantra for this sort of minor curiosity, I’d either find out or I wouldn’t. We had higher priorities today.

Like making enough sellable art to unload at the market across the street and recoup at least most of the money we were out. The local guard force had promised to search for the pirates, with hopes of recovering what they’d stolen, but nobody seemed very optimistic about that. We hadn’t even seen what type of ship the pirates had, just their powerful hand weapons and full-body jumpsuits. My guess was that the species under all the pink and brown camo was something like the jumpy chipmunk people we’d met some time ago. I could easily have been wrong. So, there wasn’t much to go on. They were probably long gone already, the next best thing to anonymous.

Or, I thought at a flash of pink, They could be here hoping to exchange the local money for something easier to spend off-system. I leaned hard to see past Coals and into the crowd of crystal-green locals, where two very familiar shapes were walking from stall to stall.

With our bag of gemstones. Like the absolute rookie imbeciles they apparently were. They weren’t holding the guns; those must have been in the bag too.

They hadn’t even seen us yet.

I grabbed two of Coals’ rocks and bolted from the table. “Trrili! There!”

Trrili whirled at my shout, and was right behind me, but I was in range first. Just close enough to fling a rock with all the speed of a good ol’ Earthling throwing arm.

The thieves had turned at our approach, with the closer one reaching into the bag, but that was the one I blasted in the facemask first. He went down hard, taking the bag with him. The other dithered a moment between going for the gun and just running for his life. His bobbing around made my shot bounce off his shoulder instead of his face.

He yelped and ran for it, dodging between startled crystal people with Trrili in hot pursuit.

Locals were yelling for the guards. So was Captain Sunlight, behind me. And unless I missed my guess, so was the thief.

If Trrili had been on my heels, I probably would have too.

I picked up the rocks and stood watch over the groaning thief who probably had a concussion, though lucky for him, no crack in the faceplate. Captain Sunlight caught up and claimed the bag, pawing through it to check the contents. Mur came out of nowhere with a tentacle tackle that held the thief more immobile than I ever could.

“The guards are coming,” said Captain Sunlight. “You three go be tactful.” She pointed at me and at the Frillian twins just now jogging up, then in the direction Trrili had gone.

“Got it,” I said.

The twins nodded, and we took off. Crystalline locals gave us space. The yelling pirate gave us a trail to follow.

He didn’t sound injured yet. We might be able to calm things down into a capture-and-turn-over-to-the-authorities. Or he might deserve what he got. Or he could have another gun hidden somewhere. Or the guards might get the wrong idea and target us. Anything could happen.

I’ve got customer-service diplomacy and two good throwing rocks, I thought as I ran. Bring it on.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[ghastlybirdie]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x gn!reader

Warnings: None really, Gaz being a playful menace maybe, incorrect military titles/workings, not proofread

2.7k words

Despite it being the end of a workday you and your little office department are left with a cruel trick on Halloween in the form of a massive load of paperwork from one of your superiors. Someone comes along and throws a wrench into your evening.

“One, two, someone’s coming for you! Three, four, better lock your door! Five, six get a crucifix! Seven, eight, better stay up late! Nine, ten-”

“Shut it, ya nitwits! Ya don’t even have the bloody song right!”

The door to your office did little to muffle the drunken cacophony of off-key singing of the Halloween party going on outside your tiny little office. Despite your best efforts and warnings, someone had been able to sneak a bottle of liquor into the party and dump its contents into some of the fruit punch; something about the ‘blood’ needing a bit ‘something extra’. It was a good thing you carried extra bottles of water or else you’d be forced to quench your thirst with something less than savory.

It wasn’t a large party, just mainly your department seeing as the small bunch of you were all left behind to finish some loose ends left by some overly lax superiors. Most of the department consisted of civilians with normal office worker who saw nothing more than a faulty fax machine and angry office managers every few weeks; nothing compared to the combat ready sergeants and corporals that used the small communications department as a respite from their training or running away from someone’s ire. Lacking any authoritative power, you never did much to stop any of the soldiers, seeing as you’d do the same if you ever heard some of the instructors yell the way they do at their men and women.

A staff sergeant, one you’ve seen a hundred times yet never were introduced a name to, came to you and your co-worker with an arm’s full of files and flash drives; something about last minute contracts coming in and a PMC group finishing a mission only hours before. It’s Friday, and they wanted it all done before the weekend but seeing as they had a… ‘very important meeting’, the staff sergeant volunteered the department to get it done. By that point, most were already packing in their lunch packs and bags, so the added work was anything but appreciated.

You had been staring at the spreadsheet on your monitor screen for possibly five minutes, eyes only blinking when they were near painfully dry, before you straightened out each limb in a stretch and drawn out groan.

You’re tired. You were tired before you even entered the office. Usually you could muster a structured smile if you brought along a cup of coffee or perhaps ate a meal gentle enough on your stomach, but you missed both alarms despite you being awake far before the first set off. Perhaps it was a bad idea to keep scrolling through videos in the warmth of your blankets.

The chatter outside only grew louder as the hours went on, most coworkers stopping their data entry only an hour into it, the rest shortly following suit. Many have given you partially completed files, one of them even giving you a single cell entered into his spreadsheet before unceremoniously giving up. So, here you are. Picking up the pieces of half-assed work that was never yours while the others brought in takeout and booze to ease their tired bones and fill their empty stomachs. Must be nice.

In your lax state you easily slipped into a dreamlike state, eyes ever so slowly closing while your body slumped further into the worn out office chair, the most comfort you’ve had all day. You were so relaxed your brain couldn’t focus back in fast enough when the door to your office carefully swung open, the bright yellow lights outside of your dimly lit office shadowing the face that peered in, a gentle voice calling out to you, jolting your whole body in a fright.

“Pardon me-” The voice spoke just loud enough to rise over the Halloween music and hollering, an embarrassed chuckle following your fright. “My bad, I didn’t know if I got the right room.”

“No, no… Come in.” You straightened yourself up again, smoothing out your shirt and fixing the leaning tower of manila files that flooded your desk.

A man stepped through your door, a blue cap on and visibly dirt dusted tactical gear still on his well built body stepped into your lamplight, a folder in hand. If you were being honest with yourself, you couldn’t deny how ethereal he looked with how his built framed was lit from behind you, the yellow light from your lamp giving only his torso a golden cast. His face was mostly obscured by his cap but his nervous smile of clear to you.

“Apologies. I was told to drop these off here.” The gentleman approached your desk in few, even steps, the folder stretched out to you.

It could have been the late hours of the evening or exhaustion reaching into your consciousness, but by the way your mouth hung open and your gaze lingered a little too long, you were nonetheless captivated by the gentle nature of this man’s smile. Your hand had instinctively reached for the manila folder, your eyes tiredly lingering on your guest’s features. He had scars, scratches and indentations that formed memories on his skin, though none of them hindered the soft lines of his jaw or cheekbones, the scruff of his beard lending maturity to his youthful skin, all to help frame his eyes that looked into yours. He was quite handsome, to say the least.

“Ah… Are you well?”

You felt a dial up noise in the hind parts of your brain, thoughts beginning to whirl again when he broke the silence. You snapped the gripped folder away, using it to partially cover your face in reflex, embarrassment burning on your cheeks. “Sorry! Sorry... I’m- a bit of a ways away from here, I think…”

He offered a snicker, smile only growing wider towards you. “It’s alright! Just making sure you’re still ticking in there. Seems like you’re working a bit of that overtime. Was scared I lost ya there.”

You could only offer a pained smirk, a sigh unconsciously leaving you. It seems he understood everything wrong in that one emote, shifting feet and letting out a sigh himself, almost as if to help relieve the tension that was building both in the room and with the party outside. “You have a lot to finish, then?”

You glanced over at the files that rested suspiciously on the edge of your desk, space being minimal on your work area even before you were handed the tall stack. “Yeah… I should be done by-” you flipped through them haphazardly, a few off the top sliding off and to the floor. You just sighed and left them there. “Christmas, perhaps.”

The gentleman chewed his lip, humming a note before picking up the spilled files. “With breaks I hope?” He questioned, which left you only with a half-hearted chuckle, your head lulling to the side in exhaustion just thinking about the work.

Thumbing the recent file open you glance over it in passing as your guest straightened out the pile of folders. “Sergeant Garrick?” You asked, glancing up at the gentleman. He nodded and offered a proper introduction to himself. Sergeant Kyle Garrick, a member of task force 141 with Captain Price.

“Most just call me Gaz, though. Much more friendly that way.” He shined his teeth in his grin, arms beginning to fill with an overabundance of files as he shifted the weight.

“What are you doing, Sergeant Garrick?” Piquing your attention and sitting straight up now, you watched as Gaz hiked the files as far up in his arms as he could manage while also peeking around the tower itself.

“Tidying up! Can’t get on with the merry and gay if you’re buried in paperwork.” He called out to you, already making his way to your office door with caution.

You stood from your chair and barely cleared your hips from the desks when you went to grab a part of the stack of files, the spontaneity of Gaz’s actions waking up your mind, finally. “No, no, no! These stay in here, I haven’t finished any of these yet!” He pushed the door open with his foot and knee, huffing at the struggle of nudging you away with his hip and propping the door open. “Sergeant Garrick!”

“Ah ah ah! Sorry love but these aren’t yours anyhow. Just returning them to their rightful owner.” He pushed past you with force, though only enough to knock you off of your path and stumbling you back. It shocked you just how unabashedly he changed demeanor and took the lead to whatever plan he had mustered.

“Sergeant Garrick!” You couldn’t help but raise your voice to him, calling out.

“Gaz!” He simply called back playfully.

You blinked after him, stunned, gawking at the way he hurried past the bodies of drunk partying coworkers. Seeing the sergeant the workers cheered out in praise, clapping as Gaz shuffled out of the department room. “Shred ‘em!” “Toss ‘em in the bin!” “Get those bloody things out of here!” Amongst other profanities towards the files Gaz carried.

Hearing the demise of all your hard work and the looming threat of your superiors shouting down at you, you picked up your pace to chase Gaz down, attempting to save yourself from the dread of being reprimanded for other’s actions. “Sergeant Garrick!” No response. “Sergeant! Sergeant Gar- Gaz!” You shouted again.

He slowed down, already making it to the elevator that was at the end of the hall. “Yes~” He elongated his words, a smug smirk on his lips.

“Could you please set those files down? I’m not entirely privy to the idea of being yelled at for your… Mishandling.” You did your best to glare at him, but your eyes were too tired and your shoulders slumped in defeat hours ago, making you look more like a pleading beggar. “Please?”

Gaz thought for a short moment, the mischief still in his eyes when the elevator doors slid open. “Hm… No.” And he stepped in, pressing a button inside. Your feet were moving to join him in that same second.

“What do you mean ‘no’? What are you even doing?”

“Taking these back. I see no reason for you to do all this work. It’s Friday! It’s Halloween, aren’t we meant to go knockin’ on doors and getting’ some sweets?” He grinned at you, waiting for the elevator to stop moving and open its doors, wide steps leaving you behind when you hesitated to follow.

“That’s for children, you know! I am not that! I have a job to do, sergeant Garrick, and you’re hindering it with your… Whatever this is- shenanigans!” You huffed at him, trying to widen your stride to keep up. “I have to get this finished, I don’t have all night.”

Gaz stopped all too suddenly, a grunt leaving you when you knocked into his back, stammering back when he snapped himself around. He gave you a moment to regain your composure, and wasted not a second more. “Gaz. And no. You don’t have all night and a night like tonight is much more suited for bars or costume parties. Besides, you also don’t look like-” he picked up a file from the sack, flipping it open and scanning it over. “Staff Sergeant Nicolas Wilkers.” He smiled at you and slapped the file back at the top of the pile.

You tried to explain, correct even, and speak up for yourself when he went back to his full speed as if he’s rushing to catch something. You hardly had a chance to form a sentence before he continued. “If that isn’t you, which it isn’t since you’re not even enlisted, then it’s not your problem. I don’t see why you should have to sort all these out on your own- Especially when everyone else has gone and jumped ship. Quite a crude lot, aren’t they?”

Gaz stopped in front of a door, vinyl lettering spelling ‘Nicolas Wilkers – Staff Sergeant’ on the frosted glass. Gaz wiggled the door knob when it didn’t turn, a curse slipping out under his breath when it wouldn’t budge. Wordlessly he crouched to the floor, dropping the stacks of folders onto the ground and unceremoniously shoved the folders underneath the door two or even three at a time, the sound of flapping pages and folders colliding being muffled on the other side.

“Gaz!” You watched in horror as he quickly shoved the large tower of folders shamelessly underneath the door, Gaz looking unbothered and even amused. To be honest, in the back of your exhausted mind and aching bum, you could care less about those folders once he started, the trek down sapping the last of your energy.

It only took a handful of minutes for Gaz to successfully push all the folders through the small crack underneath, standing up, dusting off his hands and pushing his fists to his hips in a triumphant huff. “There. Out of sight, out of mind, yeah?” He turned to you, where you just starred at him with a fatigued gaze. “What? I already told you, it’s not your work to worry about. We’re just returning to sender, hm?” His smile returned, two firm pats landing on your shoulder as he returned to the elevator.

“And where are you going now?” You exhaled the words, heavy with defeat.

“Going back up to Communications. We can’t forget your stuff, now can we?” He smirked, pressing a button. The doors started to close as the fried wires in your brain connected, a startled yelp escaping you when you realized what he said.

“No! You did enough already, I don’t need you messing with my stuff, too!” You shoved your hand in the way of the closing doors, though Gaz already had a propped hand up and in the way when you finally moved.

“I’m not messing with anything, love, I’m just getting your stuff. We’re going off to a bar; there’s one that has a little costume party goings on ‘bout a short distance away from base. Shouldn’t be too bad.”

Gaz looked content as you gawked at his idea, looking around the moving elevator as if searching for a hidden camera or other. Unfortunately for you and your exhaustion, there were none and you were left with the reality of Gaz speeding off the elevator and making a bee line to your office door.

You halfheartedly jogged after him, giving up when you saw the Communications staff were gathering their coats and belongings, tossing out their mess of bottles and crumbled papers into the bin. Some passed you saying good tidings, others patting your back in congratulations and ‘Good riddance of those blasted papers.”

Gaz had your coat and bag in arms when you weaved past your coworkers, closing your door and smiling at you when you stood face to face with him, partially shocked by your body’s automation to meeting with the sergeant.

There was a bubbling of something in your gut, something that left you a bit breathless and irate, something akin to anger.

But then Gaz smiled his gentle smile, looking right into your eyes with a level of sureness and ease that left that bubbling turn into butterflies for just a brief moment, your train of scrambled thoughts hitting a wall with a single word brimming with confidence.

“Ready?”

You blinked, one then twice then thrice, before exhaling fully. You didn’t know you were holding so much weight in your shoulders just then, the festering feeling leading to a moment of just breathing in the air. It smelled like a soft, powdery scent that one might get with a day’s long wear of cologne. It was lovely, how you missed it this whole time confused you more than Gaz’s insistent need to wedge himself into your workday.

Thanks to him, though, it seems that your work day has ended. Someone shut off half the lights to the department just then, nudging your focus back to the man in front of you. Turning around you saw someone wave to you both, calling you two to hurry up before disappearing into the hall. Leaving you with little else to fight for, you shrugged and relaxed your body with a sigh, reaching for your coat in Gaz arms.

“Ready.”

[cactusnymph]

17 for touching??? 🤲🏼

She still isn't sure about her hair when she steps out of her tent the next day. Every nerve in Shadowheart's body seems to be brimming with anxious energy, her heart raw and wounded and her mind racing. She was barely able to trance at all and the pain from yesterday's combat still sits deep in her bone.

Gods, what did she do?

Defying her Lady and for what? A stranger? A Selûnite aasimar no less, which seems to make a mockery of everything she's been living for up until now. There's no direction, no sense, just the fear clawing at her skin from the inside about what will happen to her now.

The old wound on her hand seems to be burning constantly now.

It took her ages to get her hair to the foreign, white color that she can now see out of the corner of her eyes whenever hair braid or her bangs move at all. Maybe this was a dumb idea. Maybe she should just hide in her tent and change it back to black so no one can call her ridiculous or childish.

It seems foolish to feel as if this was a tiny step to reclaiming her own body and agency after everything she's been through. It's just hair. It doesn't really mean anything.

Gods, but it does.

A visible sign of her failure, her betrayal, her ruin.

Shadowheart wants to hide away from the world and cry for a week.

Of course that's impossible.

And to mock her pain even further Aylin and Isobel are now right there opposite of Shadowheart's tent. She could hear Isobel's soft snoring as she attempted to sleep and her mind was racing with pictures of Aylin holding her gently while she sleeps.

They don't concern Shadowheart. Not at all.

And yet her mind can't help but circle around them, their tenderness, their light, their certainty of faith.

The cold morning air makes her feel a little more alive and she takes a few deep breaths to calm herself down. No one will care about her stupid hair color. No one is going to say anything. And if they do, it doesn't matter.

"Looking good, Sharty", Karlach hollers from across the camp and Shadowheart flinches, cursing herself.

"Don't! Call me that!", she calls back and Karlach laughs and waves at her before stuffing another piece of bread into her mouth.

Shadowheart lowers her head and presses her fingernails into the palms of her hands as she stares down at her feet. Her heart shouldn't be racing as fast as it does. Why is she so terribly weak?

Gentle fingers touch her chin and pull it up until she looks into the bright, grey eyes of Isobel. Shadowheart sucks in a breath at the unexpected touch and the wound in her palm stings terribly, but she forces herself to not look away.

"It suits you", Isobel says and her tone is so soft that Shadowheart wants to claw her face off. Fuck. She wants to say something snarky but the words don't come. Her throat feels dry and her tongue is like rock in her mouth.

"You two match now", Aylin says with such an official tone in her voice as if Shadowheart's hair color is like a pact between the three of them. Shadowheart wishes the earth could open up and swallow her whole.

The fingers on her chin are way too careful.

"I'm here if you want to talk", Isobel says with a soft smile. "Or if you just want to sit. Or someone to braid your hair in a different way."

"It looks beautiful", Aylin says as if she wants to reassure Shadowheart of something. Shadowheart has never felt less sure of anything in her entire life.

Finally she manages to swallow and pull back from Isobel's slender fingers.

"I haven't decided if I'm going to keep it", she says.

"Hmm", Aylin hums.

"If you need help with your decision you know where to find us", Isobel says and Shadowheart has a feeling that this is not just about her hair. feel free to send me more of these <3