#um...what else should i tag with this someone tell me

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Escape, Part 1: Encounter

(A/N: I just want to get some of this out there. I'll be editing and cleaning the rest of the first big half over the rest of the weekend and will hopefully have it out soon. But for now, have this first true encounter between Eragon and Arya in Gil'ead.

A quick reminder, though. This is the first time I've delved into truely rewriting canon, fleshed out scenes from IC into MIC. We aren't quite there yet with this part, but know that it is happening in the rest of this whole Escape series, and I had difficulty with that. So it's not my best, but I'm trying. Cheers mates!)

“There is someone who is just dying to meet you, my young Dragon Rider.” Eragon stood, wary as the Shade unlocked his cell door. It had been hours since their first conversation, and Eragon could still feel the same twist of unease in his stomach. He had hoped the Shade would have given him more time, enough that the drugs would have been out of his system and he would have been long gone from there. 

True to his word, the Shade was not alone when he entered. He pushed another prisoner inside before him, holding their hunched form by the back of their neck and the shackles secured around their wrists. With a cruel yank to the black braid at the base of their skull, the man shaped monster pulled them up.

Eragon sucked in a breath. Her. It was her. The woman from his dreams. 

Her emerald eyes were filled with fire, hair wild and teeth pink with blood clenched in a snarl of pain. When she saw him she tensed, shoulders hunched in preparation for something, anything, as if about to strike out at him or the man that held her. The Shade saw this just as Eragon did, and with a growl he twisted the short chain connecting her shackles together. Blood began to ooze from the reddened flesh surrounding the metal’s edge. A pointed reminder for her to stay still, not to try whatever she came up with.

“This…” The Shade’s lips curled, his smile all malice and pointed teeth. “My dear Rider, is the source of all your problems and tribulations these last few months.” A white hand slid from where it held the woman’s braid to grip the front of her throat, tilt her chin up slightly. “Isn’t she a pretty thing? This little elf has been a guest of mine for some time now. Fighting to keep the location of you and your dragon a secret, despite my…best efforts.” 

‘Elf?’ Eragon felt his stomach lurch, gaze shooting to hold with hers. Sweet Sera, her ears were pointed. The tilt of her eyes, sharp eyebrows, cheekbones, the second tip of hidden canines in her bared teeth, there was something other about her. The woman was still, eyes locked to him, jaw clenched. ‘Source? What is he….’ 

“You see, little elf? You’ve failed this mission.” The Shade was at her back now, what had to be uncomfortably close and whispering in her ear. She didn’t even twitch, kept her gaze steady with Eragon’s. She was trying to tell him something he was sure, but he couldn’t understand her silence. 

“Show her your hand, Rider.” 

The elf’s sharp brows lowered slightly, eyes suddenly hard. In a rush Eragon suddenly understood the look and felt a spark bolt between them that felt both familiar and alien. Not a mental thread, not words, just a vague understanding of her subtle movements. 

Don’t comply. 

He kept his shellshocked expression, ripped his gaze from her to the Shade. He did his best to look confused, drug muddled, almost dumbfounded. It wasn’t all that hard, considering.

The woman was suddenly on her knees, a dull crack in Eragon’s ears and harsh growl of pain from her as the Shade placed a hand on her shoulder, dug his thumb into the flesh beneath the dark grey tunic. Seized the base of her braid again when she doubled over and forced her to straighten, arch her neck back to keep looking at Eragon. 

The young Rider surged forward. “Stop! Stop, please, she didn’t do any–” Alarm flared in the dark green eyes, she tried to shake her head but was rewarded by the tip of a boot against the small of her back, digging in while he forced her to remain upright. “Stop! Please!”

“She has done plenty.” The words were deadly cold. “Show her your hand, boy.”

Eragon held his hands out, tried his best to apologize through his eyes to the elf before him. The gedwëy ignasia glinted dully in the low light from the cell window. She stared at his palm, and when she looked up again there was only fire. 

For some reason, it chilled him. There was something hard there, a conviction and purpose that wasn’t there before despite the pain. 

“There’s a good lad.” The Shade’s smile had triumph in it as he leaned in, again getting close to the kneeling woman. “Do you see now, little elf? The totality of your failure?” The fire brightened. The dark being merely laughed, the sound of bone on bone and underlain with what Eragon swore were  screams. “We still have time, you and I, and there is much left to discuss.” He ended in a low growl and took her by the neck again, yanked her to her feet. Her right leg buckled, but he did not give her the slack to fall. “Say goodbye, little elf.”

She didn’t. Only stared hard at the youth in the cell, eyes steely and bright, before being led out.

In the silence that followed the crash of the door being closed and locked, Eragon slid to the floor, mind whirling. He had finally found her. She was here, alive, and she was an elf. He had to free himself, had to free her. 

But the Shade. How could he get past a Shade? He’d need help, and the elf was injured. Could she even walk? He was sure the snap he had heard was her leg, and her arms were covered in bruises and half healed cuts. Who knew what else was hidden under the prison greys, what injuries he couldn’t see. She was determined, there was no question about it, but could she fight, or even run, in that condition? 

Again, his heart ached. Saphira. She could help. She’d bat the Shade away like he were no more than an annoying fly. He still couldn’t feel her, even after half a day of starving off the drugs.

Eragon put his head in his hands with a groan. A headache was building at the front of his skull, same as the one that would come when he spent too long in the fields without water. He seized fistfulls of hair over his forehead and tugged hard, trying to distract himself from the discomfort.

How much longer would it take for the drug to leave his blood? Hours? Days? His tongue felt thick and sticky, filling up his mouth. The more he tried to ignore it the more it demanded his attention, threatening to close his airway if he swallowed wrong. 

The pitcher was agonizingly tempting, full to the brim and just waiting for him by the cot. 

The headache surged again. Frustrated, Eragon yanked off one of the stupid canvas slip ons and whipped it at the pitcher. It connected with the handle and spun the pewter vessel, sloshing the tainted water onto the floor and rattling the stool before clattering back to level. 

For some reason, his failure to knock the pitcher over made Eragon want to flip the cot over and scream in frustration. A lump rose in his throat. 

Helpless. Pathetically, utterly helpless.

The spilled water began draining towards the small drain at the center of the room. The movement drew his gaze, and finally landed on the splattering of red where the elf woman had been. 

Blood. There was more than he had initially thought.

Heat, sharp and burning, rose in his chest. That Shade. He was hurting her. Just for protecting Eragon and Saphira, if his word was to be trusted at all. 

Eragon grit his teeth. He was not going to let it continue. He had to escape, there was no question about it. He would escape. He would escape and he would rescue the elf and he would get back to Saphira. To Saphira, and Brom, and Murtagh, and they would be fine. They would all be fine. 

But for now. 

Eragon sat up and drew his knees to his chest. He forced his eyes to stay locked to the drying blood, away from the pitcher.

For now, all he could do was wait.

~~

Durza healed her leg. 

Arya had long since stopped questioning why he healed what he healed. Why he sometimes chose smaller wounds rather than the larger ones, why he sometimes gave her a few hours of respite even when the previous session had been relatively lenient, why he had stopped asking her about everything else and instead started asking her who she would serve. 

To be honest, she half thought he healed her legs whenever he broke them because he just hated dragging her around rather than making her walk. He damn near strutted like an overconfident peacock when he pushed her in front of him, showing off a prize rather than dragging her around like a broken toy he no longer had use for. 

This time, though. This time, Arya nearly let the edges of her lips curl up in a hard won grin when he shoved her forward.

This time, healing her leg was stupid. Showing her the Dragon Rider was stupid. Was he truly so dim that he thought it would break her will to see the Rider captured? There was no dragon here, that would be impossible to hide. 

So there was hope. She would only fight harder now, tooth and nail and every ounce of her remaining strength.

Well. She would fight as hard as she could. The last…week? Month? Time had no meaning, no rhyme or reason to exist here. The last span had been…bad. He used the magic more often, set her body thrashing as every nerve increased in sensitivity and pulsed with feedback loops of pure pain. 

It felt as though he were throwing everything at her again, testing her new limits after so long with him, trying to find any crack, any opening. He had started simply beating her again, completely at random, striding into her cell when she was unconscious and ripping her from the blessed darkness. Wearing down what rest she got. Was using the brands once more, the whips, the shackles, cycling through all the methods he had used. 

He was acting…desperate. Something had changed, even before the Rider arrived. 

He stuck to the magic this time. Mostly. He ripped open the wounds across her back, set everything ablaze with fresh pain before he began that damn spell. Lifted her half coherent, limp form by the throat after the first few rounds and pinned her to the wall. Forced her back to full consciousness, yanked her head up when her eyes rolled back in excruciating pain as the remnants of the magic coursed through her nerves and the weeping wounds across her body.

“Our remaining time is short, little elf.” His words hissed with displeasure, disappointment. “You have three days. Three days to come to your pitiful senses, and join me. I will not give you the chance while we travel to Urû’baen. You should know, Galbatorix does not suffer disappointment lightly, nor is he as…forgiving…as I am, when it comes to resistance.” 

He let her down, slowly, settled her feet on the floor to weigh on broken limbs. Eased his grip, let her breathe ragged pulls of air and blood from scream-torn vocal cords. “Should you join me, convince the young Rider to do the same, then I shall be the balm you so desperately crave.” His lips curled, a mix of displeasure and bloodlust. “If you choose to submit yourself to Galbatorix, then know this.” He pressed forward, pushed his forehead against hers, gripped her jaw tight when she tried to turn away. The hissed whisper was a deadly promise. “Your pain, will never end. I am not some mindless servant to his will. I will keep hurting you, no matter his orders, no matter what he does, no matter how useful you are to him. You have a choice to make, little elf. Be sure it is the right one.”

He dropped her then. Stood over her and healed the tears in her vocal cords, the bones she had broken in her agonized seizing. Started over again when she looked up at him with vehement hatred in her eyes, mute as always. 

Time. Time had no meaning here. Not with magic like that, with pain like that. 

Time wasn’t a problem before. But now it was. 

That boy. The Rider, the one she and everyone else had been searching for, he was right there. Arya’s eyes wouldn’t focus when she was pulled back through the hall, of course he made the guards do it, made them drag her half dead body instead of doing it himself. She saw his cell door, though, the dark eyes, intense, bright, the sun, peering out. 

The cell floor was cool when the guards dropped her to the smoothed concrete. It pressed against her cheek, soothed some of the residual burning along her arms and in her face. Escape hadn’t exactly been on her mind before. Survival, keeping her mouth shut, keeping her mind locked, that was all Arya really cared about till now. 

But time was not on their side. And there was a real, solid, living reason just down the hall, probably on his way to Galbatorix in three days right along with her. She couldn’t keep track of how long the days were, how much longer they had. 

So escape it would be. The sooner the better, and there was never any time quite like the present.

She tried to get her arms under her body, push up off the blood stained ground. No. That didn’t work. Work, damn it! It’s time to fight, it’s time to

time. time to. time t

Everything fell black. 

Time to rest.

[steddieas-shegoes]

scared to want you

for @steddie-week prompt 'exes to lovers'

rated m | 1021 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: post breakup, getting back together, idiots in love, platonic stobin

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

“Are you gonna stop staring at him anytime soon?” Robin’s voice asked loudly in his ear.

“Probably not,” Steve admitted. “He’s wearing my sweater.”

He saw Robin’s head whip around to look back at Eddie. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

It’s surprising to see Eddie here at all, let alone in Steve’s sweater. Eddie had moved back in with Wayne three months ago after an argument with Steve that led whatever they were to destruction.

Steve wanted more, Eddie had been afraid. Steve said he loved him, Eddie said he needed to leave.

Steve spent the last three months hurting. Eddie was wearing his sweater in public.

Everything was a little confusing right now.

“We should go, Steve.” Robin sounded angry now, and Steve loved her for it. She’d been the one to show up at his door a few hours after Eddie was gone and held him while he cried. She’d been there for weeks while he avoided everyone’s questions, went through the motions of being an adult while barely getting by. She had blocked Eddie on all of his social media and her own out of spite. “It doesn’t do you any good to sit here and pine after someone who hurt you.”

She was right, of course, but he couldn’t leave.

Eddie was wearing his sweater.

Eddie looked good in his sweater.

“Steve.”

Steve turned to Robin, who was smiling sadly back at him.

“I don’t think I can go without talking to him.”

Robin nodded once, always so understanding of Steve, supportive even when he didn’t always deserve it. She was the best, and he was about to piss her off.

“I’ll text you when I leave,” he said as he gave her a quick hug. She wouldn’t want to stick around to see what happens with this. “I’ll be fine.”

He wouldn’t, and she knew that, but she squeezed his hand in hers and left anyway.

Eddie hadn’t noticed him yet, or at least wasn’t acting like he had. He was standing at the bar talking to the bartender and a woman who walked in only a few minutes ago. Whatever he was talking about seemed serious, none of them smiling.

Steve walked up to the bar slowly, but with the sole purpose of talking to Eddie.

The bartender turned to him and smiled. “Hey, hon. You need another Sunrise, Sunset?”

Steve shook his head, but smiled at her. “No thanks, Kim. Just here to say hi to someone.”

When he turned towards Eddie, he was already looking back at him, biting his lip nervously.

“Hey, Eds.”

“Hey, Stevie.”

“Been a bit,” Steve swallowed. He didn’t actually know what he was trying to accomplish here. All he knew was there had to be a reason he was wearing Steve’s sweater. It wasn’t exactly his usual style. “Doing alright?”

The other woman seemed to catch onto what was going on, turning away and talking to the bartender instead.

“Um, yeah I guess.” Eddie was lying. Steve could always tell when he was lying. “You?”

“Been better,” Steve replied. “A little surprised to see you here. In that.”

Eddie looked down at what he was wearing and then up at Steve, cheeks red with embarrassment. “Laundry day.”

“Sure.” Steve sighed, rubbing his hand down his face. He just had to say something. Maybe closure would be good. “Can we talk somewhere else?”

Eddie nodded and started to walk to the back of the bar where the office and bathrooms were. Steve followed, assuming they’d go into the bathroom and hope no one came in. When Eddie led him into the office, Steve frowned.

“I don’t think we have permission to be in here.”

“I work here part time. Kim lets me take my breaks in here,” Eddie explained, closing the door behind them. “I didn’t know you liked this bar.”

“We’ve only been a few times,” Steve explained.

“Oh, you’ve um. You and your date?” Eddie was leaning against the desk, eyes cast down to his feet.

“No. Me and Robin.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath. “Right, good, yeah.”

“Eddie, look at me.” Steve stepped closer, could almost feel the heat coming off of Eddie’s body. Eddie looked up at him, eyes watery and bottom lip bitten red. “Why are you wearing my sweater?”

“I needed you.” Eddie’s broken voice was all Steve needed to close what little distance remained between them, pulling Eddie against him and holding him as tightly as he possibly could.

“I didn’t think you needed me anymore,” Steve said against his neck, trying not to get his hopes up despite Eddie’s tears now soaking his shirt. “You didn’t want me anymore.”

Eddie’s hands tightened in Steve’s shirt and Steve felt him shake his head. “I wanted you too much. I was scared how much I wanted you.”

“Are you still scared now?”

“Only that I don’t have you.”

Steve’s lips found Eddie’s, hopeful and desperate.

Eddie took control within seconds, turning them around so Steve was sitting on the corner of the desk, legs spread so Eddie could fit between them. Where he belonged.

As Eddie’s hands pushed Steve’s shirt up and Steve’s legs pulled him in impossibly closer, the thought that they were still in a public place occurred to Steve.

He ignored it as Eddie’s thumb brushed against his nipple and his teeth bit his bottom lip.

“Want you now,” Eddie groaned against Steve’s neck. “Want you forever.”

“Lock the door.” Steve ordered.

Eddie locked the door.

****

When they left the office, hair disheveled and suspicious stains on their shirts, they were met with a knowing look from Kim.

Eddie rolled his eyes and pushed Steve out the door by the small of his back.

“Still living with Wayne?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. Could we go to yours?” Eddie asked hesitantly.

“Only if it can be ours.”

Eddie stopped him on the sidewalk, eyes blinking furiously. “You would want that? After I left?”

Steve smiled. “Are you gonna leave again or are you gonna let me love you?”

“You can still love me?”

“I couldn’t not love you.”

“Then let’s go to ours.”

[keyotos]

i am absolutely in love with ur writing AND with gepard landau,, can i request a first kiss fic for him? i read your kiss the girl fic for dan heng and ITS SO GOOD!! tysm in advance, take care of yourself!

teenage dream

summary ⎯ gepard knows he can't keep these feelings to himself. gepard also knows that he can never tell you about how he feels. so, he goes to the person he tells all his secrets to: serval. serval, who told pela. pela, who is determined to set you two up. and doing so, entails a bookish adventure for you to enjoy.

tana's words ⎯ i too am in love with gepard. i feel u anon. also thank u for the kind words!

tags ⎯ matchmaking (serval and pela). first kiss. pining (this should be expected). bookish!reader. bookstore owner!reader. oblivious idiots.

IT’S EXTREMELY SURPRISING TO HEAR GEPARD frantically knocking on the doors of nevermore workshop, so serval obviously had to open the doors for him.

when he entered, gepard immediately shut the doors as if he was being followed. the expression on his face was dire; he looked as if he was chased by wolves and he was being hunted down.

“gepard?” serval asked, concern dripping in her tone, “what the hell happened?”

“serval,” gepard panted. serval was getting worried; this was all irregular behavior coming from gepard, “i need help.”

gepard never asked for help. he is one of the most self-sufficient and stubborn people serval knows. he would rather stare death in the face instead of asking someone for help.

“what is it?” serval rushed by his side, “whatever you need, i got you.”

“i think i have feelings for,” gepard sighed, palm dragging across his face, “the owner of the bookstore,” he finishes quietly.

serval’s jaw dropped. it wasn’t because of the declaration of gepard’s crush. it was that he made it sound so dramatic. serval thought that he was being tracked down and was about to be sent to the madhouse.

“are you serious!” serval shoved gepard, “i thought you were about to die or something!”

gepard recoiled at serval’s shove; his sister was stronger than most people thought, “it feels like i am! every time i’m around them my heart rate quickens so much that i think i’m about to have a heart attack. i get all nervous on the inside and i can barely think with them beside me.”

aeons, gepard has definitely fallen in love with you.

“wait⎯so, where are you gonna go from here?” serval leaned on the counter, trying to process all the words her brother confessed.

“that’s the thing,” gepard sighed again. he sounded like a lovesick puppy, “i don’t know. that’s why i came here, i thought you’d be able to help.”

“um. you are aware of my past relationship with cocolia, right? i think i’m like the least qualified person you should be asking romance advice from,” serval pointed out.

“i don’t know who else i could tell,” gepard ran a hand through his hair. this was really stressing him out.

“how about you just… tell them?” serval suggested.

“no!!” gepard shook his head distraughtly, “i can’t do that. what if they don’t feel the same?”

“then it’s not meant to be,” serval said, “simple as that.”

“but it’s not,” gepard whined. serval thought he was making this a lot more complicated than it needed to be. when she was his age, she confessed her feelings to cocolia like it was nothing. they were happy until the break up anyway.

but then it donned on serval. gepard had little to no relationship experience. the only “experience” serval remembers him having was when they were children: his friend had a crush on him and tried to confessed, but gepard rejected her.

that’s why gepard was so distressed. he had no idea how to go on with this. these feelings for you? all new. what he missed out as a teenager, he is now getting as an adult.

“tell you what,” serval wrapped her arm around her brother’s shoulder, “i’ll get this sorted out. trust me. yn will never know about this,” she reassured him.

“you just go along with your guardly duties. i’ll help you,” serval grinned. she knew that she had the perfect plan. except, she couldn’t do it alone.

pela already knew about your crush on the silvermane guard captain. every time he greeted the two of you at the book store, pela practically saw the hearts in your eyes. it was sickening and disgusting, but it was cute too.

what pela didn’t know, however, was that gepard has a crush on you as well.

serval came to pela just a few minutes after gepard’s confession. she knew that she probably shouldn’t have told pela right after the conversation happened, but serval didn’t know how else to console gepard.

“so… you’re telling me that they both like each other?!” serval slammed her hands on the counter. “and they’re both too scared to confess!?”

“that’s exactly what i said, yes,” pela monotonously replied.

you knew that there couldn’t be anything between you and gepard. it was highly improbable that you, a bookstore owner, would be able to gain the captain of the silvermane guard’s interest. it seemed like something straight out of a fictional (key word: fictional) romance novel.

so you appreciated his friendship while he was around. sometimes, as a way to become closer to the captain, you’d suggest different books to him every week. despite being on the front lines quite often, he always comes back to see you. well, he comes back for the books anyway.

serval groaned into her hands, “so what do we do? they both like each other but they literally can’t bear to admit it.”

pela smirked. she’s read enough romance novels to figure out what to do next.

“two words, serval,” pela smirked, “grand. gesture.”

gepard took a few deep breaths before approaching your book store. after his chat with serval, he's been distressed the entire day. he had these feelings for you storming all over his body; occasionally, they'd get so strong that it would feel like those feelings would overtake him.

he opened the door, book in hand, and greeted you formally. gepard couldn't help it: he was so nervous, he wasn't able to function straight.

"hello, captain gepard," you turned around. you were on a latter stacking books on top of bookshelves. originally, you thought it would be cool to have towering shelves, however you quickly learned that it was extremely impractical and difficult.

"i told you," gepard stood near the counter, refusing to slouch in your presence, "you can call me gepard."

"and i told you," you grunted, trying to reach a higher spot on a shelf, "to drop the formalities," you grinned to yourself.

gepard noticed your (potentially) perilous situation and quickly got near the end of the latter. in the case that you fall, at least gepard would be there to catch you.

fortunately, you made your way down the tall latter peacefully. as you descended, the sight of gepard holding down the latter for you made you flush. it was the bare minimum, but it still made your heart speed up.

when he reached out his hand to guide you down (it was out of instinct), you gave him a warm smile. it looked easy on the outside, but you were burning up on the inside. similarly, gepard had the same reaction. for you, he'd do anything.

"thank you," you held onto his hand for a little longer. once you realized what you were doing you quickly recoiled your hand away and apologized. gepard wished your hand was still entwined with his; he wanted to hold onto to the feeling of your hand in his. gepard wanted to trace patterns on your hands, wanted to feel every part of them.

as an attempt to dissipate the tension (it was making you nervous), you decided to ask gepard for help. "we had a busy day yesterday. a best seller recently came out; people were storming the shelves. good for my profit but not good for my sanity," you let out an airy laugh, "would you mind helping me clean up?"

realizing what you just did (asking the captain of the silvermane guards for help) you quickly added, "unless you're busy! then i'll be okay. you can leave. i'll be fine," you rambled.

gepard parted his lips, almost as if he was about to say something. how could you ever think he wouldn't make time for you? even so, he'd deploy a few other guards if you needed help. he'd make sure your needs were met as soon as possible.

he reached his arm out; his hands were close to your collarbone. then he reached back, scared of what would happen next. how silly. the captain of the silvermane guards was not scared of no monster, but of rejection of the one he likes.

"i'll stay for anything," gepard blurted. you were taken aback for a second, but then once you realized what he had just said, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and covertly pinched yourself to make sure that whatever was happening was not a dream.

gepard didn't intend to add, "anything," to his sentence. but his mind was thinking it, and then it just accidentally came out. he meant what he said though. if the bluntness of his voice didn't show his sincerity, the blush that was slowly grazing his face probably did.

"thank you, gepard," you bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from beaming too hard. you had to turn away from the captain once again, for your smile at his words would be too embarrassing to show. how silly of you to act so giddy and childish at one simple word.

gepard thinks he could hear you say his name a million times, and he would never get bored. he wants to hear his name on your lips as if it were a mantra; you've said his name a few times before, and each time he swears he gets more and more addicted to the sound.

"how about i start on the right and you'll start on the left. that way, we'll both finish in the middle!" you clapped your hands together. you gave gepard a reassuring smile.

you two started on opposite sides, but how gepard wished that you two would be closer. however, there are positives to this situation. gepard can brainstorm ideas for the "grand gesture" pela and serval texted him about.

gepard already had ideas in mind. he just needed to figure out the material for them. he obviously will not tear out papers from a book; that will cause more harm than good (for you and gepard; he cares about books).

while gepard was planning, you were blushing. you still couldn't believe he actually stayed with you. surely, there are more important deeds than helping out a leisurely bookstore owner. and this was the most boring task ever: organizing books. yet, gepard was still here. and he was only a few feet away from you.

you turned back to observe gepard; you wanted to see if you had trapped him in a boring task or not. to your surprise, gepard seemed to be enjoying this. he would flip through pages of various books, spend time reading the summaries; gepard would even go as far to reading the first few pages of some books.

gepard liked to read. at first, he started coming to the bookstore to fetch some books for pela. however, after he met you, he began to adopt a newfound interest in books that he never had before. he read some of pela's books, discovered that he did not like them, and went to browse for more. that's when you came up. you thought you had talked his entire ear off that entire morning; you went on and on and on about what kind of books he would like.

you tried to ignore him afterwards; you even offered the books for free because you were so embarrassed. but gepard kept coming back. your recommendations impressed him: gepard had never met anyone who was so meticulous at their craft. and he loved hearing you talk. he loved your rambles, your rants, your reviews. maybe that was the first sign.

gepard caught your gaze as he turned around. he had the same motivation as you: he wanted to see how you were faring in this task. did you miss the proximity you had before? are you flustered as well? do you like him too?

you two were both staring at each other, thoughts racing, until you shouted, "see something you like?" to break the tension.

gepard thought the question was a taunt at first; similar to asking, "like what you see?"

"no!" he abruptly shouted, trying to hide the fact that he was just staring at you. and then he realized the real meaning of your question: he was browsing the books with such intensity. the truth was, he was trying to find your favorite books. you've informed him about them before, always on your bookish rants. he was going to use them for his gesture later on.

thinking that he now looks like an idiot, gepard tries to save himself by shouting back, "i mean⎯ yes! i do. these books are nice," he tried to cover up.

you seemed not to register his mistake, as you tell him, "whatever you want, it's on the house. for your work today. it'll be on the house for life!" you put some books on some shelves and move closer to the middle.

gepard shook his head and chuckled, "you've always given books to me for free." he put some books back and continued around the room.

"are you complaining?" you raised an eyebrow, "what if i just kept a tab on you this entire time? and you never knew?" more books get put away.

"then i'd rightfully pay you back," gepard wholeheartedly responded, "or i'd arrest you," he joked.

you mock-gasped, "for what?" you're getting closer to the middle now.

stealing my heart, the intrusive part of gepard's mind thought. he'd been hanging out with serval too much; he would never say that. gepard internally cringed.

"false advertising," he moved closer to the middle, “i don't know," he smiled to himself. gepard doesn't think he would have the heart to arrest you.

you blushed at hearing the captain lost on amendments. the captain wouldn't know how to arrest you. is this flirting? or are you reading too much into it?

you don't know if the heat on the back of your neck is from gepard's words or the sun shining so brightly on the back of your neck. you stack some more books on shelves; you've now reached the middle. you're having trouble reaching one of the shelves, but you're too lost in your thoughts to even think about that.

in fact, you're too lost in your thoughts that you don't even notice the warmth disappear from the back of your neck. your cheeks are still warm, so you are still blushing. your struggles with the tall bookshelf are lost when you feel a hand over yours.

"i'll take that," gepard quietly mumbles. it's so quiet that you didn't hear it at first.

on instinct, you turn towards him. when you looked at the position the both of you were in, you noticed that you were caged against him. you were caged against the captain of the silvermane guards. against a bookshelf.

gepard towered over you. his body was centimeters closer to fully pressing on you. his breath was fanning on your face. you could see every detail of his face from your view from below. your hands were so close to grazing his chest, so you immediately slapped them to your sides. you gulp, you start to breath quicker, and you feel like you're about to combust.

you swallowed, trying not to move. you were frozen in place as you tried not to disturb gepard. you gaped at him as he was working to organize the books, not noticing the position the two of you were in.

when gepard finished, he gave a sigh of relief. he underestimated your job: if you had to do this every day, you were probably stronger than some of his soldiers. when he opened his eyes, he was greeted by your wide eyes staring right into his.

he was breath-taken by your beauty. the look in your eyes as you look into his was captivating. gepard needed it framed. the way your lips parted made him go feral; his heart stuttered with every second he looked at you.

his arm was pinned above your head. your bodies were so close that you kept focusing on the rise and fall of gepard’s chest. the way his expression scanned yours made you want to quiver against him.

you said the first sentence, “hard work?” your tone was breathless. you were still trying to catch your breath.

“yeah,” he sighed, still not noticing the way your bodies curved into each other, “hard work.”

“did i waste your time?” you whispered. it was quiet, like you were ashamed of your actions. you looked down at his chest rather than his face.

“no,” gepard leaned in, trying to hear your voice one more time. he tilted your head up slightly with his fingers so you could look at him, “you’d never.”

silence crippled the room. it was just you and gepard, the two of you leaning oh-so-close together that your lips were nearly about to touch. a part of you wanted to lean into him; you wanted to pull him closer and closer until you were both out of breath.

but that was delusional. that was something straight out of romance novels, and your life was anything but.

gepard leaned in closer on purpose. he gave into temptation and wanted to feel your lips on his. he wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you so tightly into him. he wanted this: he wanted your kiss, he wanted your insight, he wanted you.

but with gepard, want is not something one could have. especially one like him.

“i’m sorry,” he abruptly let go, “i’m⎯i think, i have something i need to do,” he took a few steps back away from you, leaving about three feet in distance. quite the opposite from how you two were positioned a few seconds ago.

“oh,” you let go immediately. “i’m sorry! i didn’t know,” you quickly ran to the other side of the room. you wanted to hide from embarrassment.

“not your fault!” gepard shouted as he headed for the exit, “goodbye mx yn!”

you didn’t bother to say goodbye as you slammed the door shut after he left. what just happened was mortifying. the position you two were in? the way you two gradually leaned closer to each other? no wonder he ran away, you thought, you must’ve scared him off.

oh, if only you knew how wrong you were.

you didn't see gepard for a week after the incident. he hadn't come into the bookstore at all the entire week. however, that also could've been your fault: you've been in and out of the bookstore for the past week. if you faced gepard after the incident (you've dubbed), you'd probably apologize and beg for forgiveness.

but still, wouldn't he come in and leave a note? wouldn't he at least stop by once? did you scare him off that badly? the more you thought about it, the more you thought about becoming a hermit.

you'd thought you terrified him and ruined your friendship (and any future hope of a relationship) until flowers appeared on the counter of the bookstore. your assistant refused to let you know who they were from.

you bent down and eyed the pot of flowers sitting on the counter. they were your favorite color: pink. you had to admit, they were gorgeous. they looked well grown, as if these were from a master gardener. the flowers bloomed perfectly, each petal reaching out for the sun.

the message of the flowers also intrigued you. begonias are the flowers that symbolizes knowledge and deep thoughts. whoever gifted these to you must have been very observant or they wanted to be your intern.

"did someone come by asking to be my intern?" you stood up and put your hands on your hips. your lip twisted in thought. you were a bit preoccupied at the moment; the bookstore was getting exceptionally busy and (with your whole gepard crisis going on) you didn't think you were fit to be a mentor at the moment.

"no," your assistant shook her head. you leaned back on the counter, wondering why (and who) would gift you flowers on such a strange day. you already knew it wasn't gepard, due to the awkward tension surrounding the both of you right now, so you had a big list to narrow down.

"but," your assistant continued, "someone dropped off this letter with the flowers. they told me to give it to you after you saw the flowers," your assistant handed you the letter.

it was very formal, the letter. it's envelope was very extravagant, fit for someone with high standards. the stamp was still warm, meaning that this letter had been written recently. you tore open the envelope to reveal it's contents.

yn,

please do me the honor of accompanying me to everwinter cafe tonight. i would really appreciate seeing you there.

gl

"g.l." you paused, "as in green lantern?!" you asked your assistant, wide eyes and all. "who is trying to cosplay as a superhero to talk to me? this is insane. did i owe someone a book or something? charged them extra?" you panicked.

your assistant frowned at your idiocy. who else could 'gl' entail to besides gepard landau? "what if it's the captain," your assistant urged on, nudging your shoulder.

"it couldn't be the captain," you jolted. does your assistant know? "we barely even talk," you try to reason.

"he comes in here nearly every day," your assistant counters, "if not every day, be it every other day," they sighed.

"he just comes in to look at books," you placed the flowers in a safe space in the shelves. "we don't converse as often as you think."

"you talk every day," you assistant drags on. "you're telling me that the two of you have no relations whatsoever?"

"we⎯it's complicated," you sighed, "long story short, it could never be the captain," you looked down at the plant. even if it was gepard, what was he doing? sending anonymous flowers? cryptic notes? why couldn't he just talk to you?

"you should go," your assistant encouraged, "you never know. it could be the captain or it could be another potential secret admirer."

"you think?" you raised an eyebrow. your assistant nodded in response.

you looked at the flowers one more time. though you wished it was gepard who sent them, you knew it was probably someone else trying to flatter you into taking them in as an intern. but as you stared at the begonias, no other thoughts beside gepard consumed your mind

it was late when you walked to everwinter cafe. tonight was not a particularly chilly night, but belobog's slight chill was ever present.

you walked around aimlessly, trying to walk slowly so you can prolong the sight of your "intern." you tried to focus on other things as you walked past, such as the plants and heaters surrounding the city. it's wondrous how things such as plants are still able to flourish in times like these.

as you viewed your surroundings, you saw a note placed on a lamppost close to the cafe. it read, "'i know you're working. i wanted to be somewhere...' safe? familiar? comfortable? 'near you.'

you automatically knew which book that quote was from. book lovers by emily henry. it was your favorite romance book; you've raved about it many times with gepard.

as you continued, you saw another note, "'if you saw yourself the way other people see you, you'd never doubt again.' 'how do people see me?' 'like you're the most beautiful, most remarkable, thing they've ever seen."

you must admit, you blushed a little bit while internally reading that. the only reason you blushed was that because you discussed that quote with gepard. you were talking about the 'twisted' series and how it had it's pros and cons with gepard, and this quote was one of the pros.

another read, "'who are they? the best part of my day.'"

another, "books she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives."

and the last, "'favorite word?' 'you.'"

you quickly noticed that these were all quotes from your favorite books. these are books you've only discussed and rambled about with one person: gepard. you'd never thought he would've actually read these books. let alone, you'd never thought gepard would also quote them.

with slightly more hope than before, you ran up to everwinter cafe.

"did you get my message?" gepard stood tall in front of you. you couldn't look into his eyes and it was killing him.

"your letter? yes, i did. and your flowers too. they were beautiful," you rocked back and forth on your heels.

"thank you, i grew them myself," he gave you a soft smile. you wanted to talk about how he managed to even grow such beautiful flowers, but how could you talk to him if you couldn't even look at him in the eyes? "but, did you get my message?"

you looked down at the many notes in your hand. it turns out gepard had left notes after all, "oh yes. i did," you blushed at the obvious context of the quotes. "all my favorite books."

"yeah," gepard spoke breathlessly, as if all of his air had run out after he started speaking to you, "but did you get my message?" he looked at your face for any type of indication: whether you liked him back, hated him, or had no strong feelings towards him. his eyes darted throughout your face, and the sight made you slightly flustered. he was leaning over you, and you thought you saw his eyes graze over your lips.

then it donned on you. the flowers. the letter. the sneaking out at night. the romantic context of all the quotes. the way all the quotes were from your favorite books that you've only talked about with him. the way gepard has admired and remembered every single thing about you. your stomach dropped as you realized gepard had been feeling the same things you have felt for him this entire time. your heart pounded in your chest as you finally met his eyes in the pale moonlight.

"yes," you swiftly exhaled. it was like all your hidden feelings for gepard were compacted in your chest, and when you finally breathed, they were all let out. it was like all your troubles were leaving you, "i did."

"and..." gepard trailed off, now failing to meet you in the eyes. he was terrified of your rejection; your opinion was one of the things that mattered most to him. before, he regarded it was his passion for the people, but now he recognizes that he was just passionate for you. "did you like it?"

"i loved it," you smiled; it wasn't just a soft smile this time, like the ones you've always given him. it was a big smile: loud and talkative, much like you. one smile could convey so much.

but you still had thoughts, "i didn't need all of this though," you grabbed his hand for reassurance. you were in range of his lips. you could close the gap right now.

gepard froze; your words and your touch made him tense. he was finally able to look you in the eye, having prepared himself for iminent rejection and was ready to leave. whatever you needed, he would do.

"what do you need?" gepard asked frantically. "whatever you need, i will give it to you. whether it be space or never seeing me again."

what you needed? you needed his thoughts, his opinions, his reassurance. you needed his touch on a cold night, you needed his arm around you when you were cold, you needed to feel him beside you on nights similar to this. you needed everything that he was.

"i need you," you whispered up on his lips. "right now."

and gepard swore the entirety of everwinter city heard his heart drop to the ground. he was sure that you could feel his heart pounding in his chest after you said those five words. only five words, yet gepard felt like he was going insane. he was going insane for you: your touch, your mind, your words, your entirety.

gepard removed his hand from yours for just one second, using it to tip your chin up so you could be in his view. in the pale moonlight, you were gorgeous. to be fair, you were always gorgeous, but something about tonight extenuated your beauty.

"can i⎯"

"don't even ask," you cut him off, leaning into him.

the kiss was soft and sweet at first. the feeling of your lips pressed onto his was heavenly: gepard felt ten times stronger with you than with anything else. it was gentle and tender.

but when you tugged your arms around his neck, all restraint went out the window.

gepard moved his hand from your chin to your waist, pulling you closer into him. it was bold for his first kiss, but who could blame him when you're holding onto to him so tightly?

you threaded your hands through his hair as he kissed you feverishly. his hands on your waist made you want to combust into him. you were standing on your toes at this point; if you tried to stand any taller, gepard was about to lift you up into the air.

when you finally stopped to breath, all that was left in the air was your love and the light from the sky.

"was i your first kiss?" you asked him coyly, arms still wrapped around his neck.

gepard blushed and you immediately knew his answer to your question. you stood up one more time to give him one more quick kiss.

yes, you were his first kiss. and gepard wished for more to come.

i need a week off after this fic i swear to god

[stuffeddeer]

hiii! how about ~any bsd characters of your choice~ when they make you cry for the first time during an argument? (maybe they say something mean, weaponize your insecurities, tell you to shut up (yeah, i'm sensitive to this heh), won't listen to you, etc)

yayyy any of my choice!!! that means my faves dazai and nikolai <3 love u anon

cw: intimacy ? "fuck" is used multiple times, u call urself an escort

A soft breath left your lips as you stared at your ceiling. Without even looking at the clock, you were sure it read some time past 12. You had quite a late night, even just the thought causing you to feel tired again. Closing your eyes tightly, you buried your face into your pillow, turning over in bed to do so.

The movement is followed by a deep chuckle from beside you, causing your eyes to snap open in surprise for a moment. There he is: the man who kept you up.

"Oh, you're still here." You spoke before thinking, the words coming out of your mouth as merely an observation.

"Ouch," he smirked, his hand reaching out to gently brush some hair from your face. "Good morning. Or should I say good afternoon, hm?"

"Um, sure. Thanks for last night, I suppose." Is that what he's waiting on? Acknowledgment? You pull the covers further up, making to sure cover as much of your torso as you can.

Your ex boyfriend only smirked, fingers trailing down your body just above the thick blankets. He propped his head up on one hand, elbow sinking slightly into your mattress. The way the afternoon sun danced between his brown curls made you think of last night, and how nice it felt to grip his soft hair once again. The thought makes you sigh, turning away from him to gaze at the ceiling once more.

"Hey, so, um, I gotta get ready. I have plans later..." you trail off, hoping he'll take the hint. Your ex has always been smart, especially socially - he'll understand.

And he does, for the most part, but he doesn't care. "Kicking me out already? The day just started. I thought you'd at least offer me a bowl of cereal before sending me away." His tone is teasing, the same smug smirk sitting prettily on his lips. "What are your plans, then? Anything I can tag along for?"

The incredulous look on your face gives away your confusion. "What..? No. Hey, thanks again for last night, but this is where we part. You got what you wanted, didn't you?"

He pouts at your words before sitting up. "Yeah, fine. I got what I wanted. Didn't realize this was just a fuck for you."

"Are you saying for you this was more?" You asked genuinely.

"No, I just thought it might have been more for you," he replies dismissively. Standing up, he begins pulling on his pants. "Have fun on your date, then."

You nod, unaware of his trap as you reply genuinely. "Thanks, I'll try."

He pauses, one leg in his pant leg and the other hovering just above it. "So you are prepping for a date."

Looking at him curiously, you nod. "Mhm, yeah. I was chatting with someone on Tinder. Figured I shouldn't go running to my ex whenever I need a good fuck."

He scoffs. "You think you can get a good fuck anywhere else?"

"That's what I'm tryna find out. Put on your pants, please."

"I guess it's my fault then, hm?" His eyes narrowed at you, giving nothing away as he remained frustrated and angry.

"...Fault for what?" You were confused, unaware as to what he was hinting at.

Your ex grits his teeth, feeling annoyed at your obliviousness. "For thinking we might actually get back together."

His words left you stunned for a moment, watching in silence he pulled his pants on the rest of the way. With a rather solemn expression, he shook his head in defeat and put his shirt on quickly. "There's my answer, then," he murmured, more to himself than you as he turned to leave.

Anger coursed through your body. How dare he play the hurt victim now? "Hey, fuck you!" You shouted without thinking. What a colossal asshole! "The night I broke up with you, you told me you never even liked me in the first place! And now what, you suddenly wanna 'rekindle what we had?' What did we have, Dazai? Please, enlighten me, because I find myself remembering that our whole relationship was just you talking down to me and treating me like some second-rate escort! I'm sorry for wanting more," you unloaded. Every thought that had been bouncing around in your head moved out of the way as you admitted what had been eating at you during the year of your relationship together. "It was our one year anniversary, you know, when I finally called it quits. Did you even remember?"

He didn't; of course not. You could just tell by his continued silence and the way he glanced away.

Tears brimmed your eyes. The only thing worse than his condescending remarks was the silence. You couldn't stand his quiet behavior, even when you were together - it screamed pity, and that's the last thing you wanted from someone who always knew what to say. "Get the fuck out of my house." You flopped back against your bed, burying your face into a soft pillow for the second time since waking up less than 10 minutes ago.

The sound of his feet pattering away is unheard by you, barely able to hear anything over the ringing in your head. As silently as you can, you sob into your pillow, feeling hurt and used by your stupid ex boyfriend.

Nikolai, in his crusade for emotional freedom, sometimes found himself treating you in a way that was less than ideal. He liked starting arguments with you, “proving” he didn’t love you as much as he clearly did and definitely wasn’t willing to do anything you asked. It was always over small things, like who made dinner (he’d get mad if you made it since he wanted to treat you or get mad that he’d have to make it since he always does) or how you hogged the blankets at night. Because of this, you usually overlooked it — you understand that it’s his way of proving his freedom and it never devolved into anything more.

Until today, that is. You could hardly remember what the argument was originally about, but he just kept pushing…

“Nikolai, I don’t even know what I did wrong.” Tears were starting to gather in your eyes, making them puffy and glazed over. The more he raised his voice, the more you shrunk in on yourself.

“That’s the problem! How could you not know?!” He took a step closer, towering over you with his large frame.

It was almost hard to breathe, panic coursing through your veins as you suddenly pushed him away with every ounce of strength you had. Silence coursed between the two of you, air tense and uncomfortable. Your tears finally spill once you notice how your hands are shaking. Fine, if he wanted to be free, then far be it from you to stop him.

Wiping your cheeks, you weakly reply, “Get out of my apartment.”

The white haired man paused, waiting to see if you meant it. You didn’t, not really, but it’s embarrassing to admit that when you gaze at your fearfully shaking hands. This isn’t how a boyfriend should treat his partner.

“Please, Nikolai…” You’d fold, you always did, so you resorted to begging while you still had the courage.

That courage wavers fully as his hands rested on your hips, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “It’s my fault, baby,” he whispers. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll get you flowers, and we can order your favorite takeout and have a picnic in the living room while watching your favorite movie…” His thumbs brushed the fresh tears away before both hands grabbed yours. “The last thing I want is for my dove to be scared of me, I swear. I love you more than anything, you’re all I want,” he presses soft kisses against your knuckles, “please, just let me stay...”

You fold.

thank you for this bc i have been ITCHING to write for nikolai my wife my girlfriend my lover (I HAVENT WRITTEN FOR HIM B4 SORRY)

[gravehags]

enter lydia

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: meet the best friend, reader being goofy as fuck, copia being incredibly anxious, real friendship talk, dinner parties, terzo being clueless

Words: 4,829

Summary: Your oldest, dearest friend and the love of your life. What could possibly go wrong?

a/n: reader backstory tiiiiime, copia's really in for it lol

~~~

“Hey hon?” you ask, poking at your boxed salad with your fork.

“Mmhmm?” Copia responds, currently distracted by trying to recover his pen which has fallen and rolled under the desk. You hear a telltale thump and him cursing softly, and when he emerges, his biretta sits charmingly crooked on his mussed hair. Briefly you forget what you were even going to ask him as he looks at you with a soft smile before getting off his knees and plopping back down in his seat.

“Oh!” you say, it coming back to you, “I wanted to ask you…can I have like…a guest here? Like a visitor?”

Copia blinks at you.

“Visitor?” he asks, baffled, “Amore, you are not a prisoner! Of course you can have someone come see you? Eh, who did you have in mind?”

Part of you wants to casually say “my parents” just to watch the color drain from his face as he stammers but you spare your love the agony.

“My best friend,” you say, halfway through a bite of lettuce, “Lydia? I’m sure I’ve mentioned her before. She’s um, going to be in the area for a work conference and wanted to spend a few days with me. I just didn’t know what the protocol was for that. I mean, Sister Imperator isn’t going to shit her pants is she?”

“Ah,” he waves his hand dismissively, “siblings’ families visit them all the time, why should you be any different? And we have nothing to hide. We would welcome her with open arms.”

Your shoulders sag in relief.

“Okay good, because she’s coming next week and I’m going to be honest with you, asking for permission was kind of a formality. I was going to do it either way.”

Copia laughs.

“Taking the ‘better to ask for forgiveness’ route, huh? I admire that. I suppose we won’t sacrifice her in some arcane ritual now.”

It’s your turn to laugh.

“Uh, I don’t know that you could handle that. She’s a fighter, through and through. She’d definitely kick your ass.”

He frowns and presses a gloved hand to his chest.

“Cara, you wound me. Are you implying that I could not defend your honor?”

“Cope, I saw Secondo grab your hands and slap you while saying ‘stop hitting yourself’ for ten minutes after you pissed him off at the last Uno night. Respectfully, you are a lover, not a fighter.”

“Oh, but what a lover I am, eh? Everyone else on your floor probably heard what I did to you last night hehe–”

“Copia,” you say, blushing as you stab a garbanzo bean, “you’re starting to sound like Terzo.”

He actually gasps at that.

“Fuck the thing about fighting, now you’ve really offended me, dolcezza,” he says gruffly, returning to his own lunch, “but please tell your friend she is welcome here. Any friend of my amore’s is a friend of mine.”

You smile tightly.

“I sure hope so,” you say under your breath.

___

Copia’s nervous.

He hasn’t been this nervous in a long time - probably since before the two of you started dating - and he can feel the sweat accumulate on his palms underneath the leather of his gloves. He looks over to you, excitedly bouncing on the balls of your feet. When you look at him, you give him a wide smile.

“Are you nervous?” you ask, reaching a hand out to cup his elbow. A rivulet of sweat rolls down his back under his cassock. He smiles. Nervously.

“No, no, of course not. You don’t look excited at all, though.”

You giggle.

“I haven’t seen her since I went back home for Christmas! And so much has changed since then. That was right before we got together. I’ve told her all about you, by the way.”

He chuckles weakly but in your giddiness you don’t notice his discomfort. A car pulls into the long driveway and his heart plunges into his stomach. You’re practically vibrating at this point watching the car come closer and closer until it’s pulling in front of the steps the two of you are standing on. You don’t wait for her to get out of the car, instead flying down the stairs to meet her at the door. When she opens it you let out a high-pitched shriek.

“Hold on, let me get out of the damn car,” he hears a deep, amused, female voice speak. The woman that emerges is…not what he pictured. She’s tall - taller than him (though Secondo would say that’s no feat), broad shouldered, and muscular. Her dark curly hair streaked with bright red is piled on top of her head in a bun and before he can make any other observations, you throw yourself into her arms.

“Hey, babygirl,” she laughs, pulling you in for a tight hug and kissing you on top of your head, “I missed you.”

“Missed you more!” he hears you wail as the two of you rock back and forth in your embrace. He fiddles with his cuffs, unsure of whether he should introduce himself now or–

“You must be him,” she says, her tone shifting entirely. Copia blanches.

“Yes! This is–c’mere,” you say, gesturing to him to come down to where the two of you stand, “this is Cardinal Copia. Copia, this is Lydia Morales, my angel and dearest friend.”

He bows slightly.

“It’s eh, a pleasure to meet you, signorina,” he says, reaching out his hand. Lydia looks down at it and takes it in her own. Giving him a tight smirk, she squeezes in a hard enough handshake that he lets out an undignified squeak similar to one of his rats.

“Pleasure’s all mine…Cardinal.” The slight sneer in her voice when she addresses him immediately lets him know that this is going to be a long three days. When she mercifully releases his hand he flexes his fingers in an attempt to get feeling back in them. Lydia’s shrewd, dark eyes stare him down, sweeping over his appearance.

“Um,” you say, clearly thrown by the tension between your lover and your friend, “L-let me help you with your bag, Lyd. There’s a guest room for you all ready.”

“No need,” Lydia says, walking over to the trunk and smacking it firmly. The ghoul, still in the driver seat, pops it and she hauls an overstuffed carry-on out as if it’s made of air. 

“Oh, making me swoon,” you say with a smile, nudging her arm.

“I live to please, doll,” Lydia smirks as the three of you head up the steps, “this is quite a place.”

“Isn’t it?” you open the heavy front door and usher everyone inside, “Lydia you will not believe the architecture and the art here, it’s Heaven!”

“Wouldn’t ‘Hell’ be more appropriate,” she says dryly, her eyes briefly flicking over to him. She brings her hand to her neck and fishes out a small, gold cross on a delicate chain from under her t-shirt. For the second time that day, Copia’s heart plummets.

“Haha, very amusing,” you turn to him, “My love, you don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to. You’re more than welcome to of course but I’m just going to get her settled.”

You must have finally picked up on his discomfort and he would kiss you right now if he didn’t think that Lydia would clock him in the face.

“Eh, I do have some things to attend to,” he stops, bowing slightly again to Lydia, “Forgive me, signorina. You will join us tonight for dinner, I hope?”

“Oh fuck,” you murmur, “I completely forgot - Copia’s brothers are hosting a little al fresco get together. You interested?”

Lydia nods slowly, smiling.

“‘Course I’m interested. I’d like to meet this chef you told me about - is he one of your, uh, brothers, Cardinal?”

“Sì, that is my brother Secondo. Are there any restrictions to your diet I should tell him about?”

“Not at all, I’ll eat anything that moves unlike this one over here,” she gestures with her thumb in your direction and you roll your eyes.

“I’m sure Secondo will be pleased to have a less picky eater join his gathering,” you comment then turn to him, “Alright then see you later?”

He nods, and when you approach to kiss to his cheek he does not miss the way Lydia’s eyes narrow.

“Eh, see you later. Ciao.”

He doesn’t breathe again until the two of you are down the hallway and round the corner out of sight.

___

“What do you think of your digs? Pretty nice, right?”

You plop down on the gilded loveseat in the little living room adjacent to the small bedroom where Lydia is currently unpacking.

“Real nice. This whole place is nice. Makes you wonder where they got the money.”

Your lips twitch downwards.

“It’s an old institution - as old as the Catholic church. You don’t ask them where they got their money.”

“Fair enough,” Lydia concedes, standing in the doorway folding a shirt. Her lips are held in a tight line and you know she’s holding back from saying what she really thinks.

“Tell me,” you say, leaning forward to rest your forearms on your thighs, “and don’t think I didn’t notice how fucking weird you were with Copia earlier, either.”

Lydia sighs and looks at you.

“Can I be honest?”

“Why are you even asking when you know you’re going to be anyway? Like I said, tell me.”

“He’s too old,” she says bluntly, and you recoil, “and he’s your coworker which is a whole other rat’s nest. This place is way freaky - I mean, a Satanic church? Girlie, I know you’re not picky about religions but–”

“And neither are you, so why is it a problem all of a sudden now that I’m involved with a member of one in opposition from your religion?”

Lydia sighs and rubs her eye.

“Because you’re my best friend? My best friend who calls me up one day and says ‘I’m in love with a Satanic cardinal who is old enough to be my father’ while being sequestered away from her family and friends for almost a year? Babe, tell me you wouldn’t be concerned if I had done the same. I love you and I love that you’re happy but I’m worried. Your parents are too, honestly.”

“You…you’ve spoken to my parents about this?”

“Of course I have. We didn’t see you for months before last Christmas and yeah, we’ve talked but I don’t know. Please tell me you understand why we’re concerned.”

“I’m in my fucking thirties, I’m not a child, Lydia–”

“Look me in the eyes and say you wouldn’t be worried if it was me.”

A beat passes. You chew on your bottom lip.

“Exactly,” Lydia says, sighing and walking over to sit down next to you, “Listen, I didn’t come here to be a buzzkill for three days, I came here to spend time with you. And you know I gotta scope this Cardinal Copia guy out for myself, huh? Make sure he’s worthy of an angel like you. Typical best friend shit, you know?” she nudges you with her body before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You want to be mad but all in all…she’s right and you know it. Exhaling through your nose you lean into her while she toys with your hair.

“Please keep an open mind?” you ask quietly, “I know they’re spooky, scary Satanists and everything but…they’ve taken care of me all this time. Without Copia, I’m…” you sniffle, tears welling in your eyes, “I’m not even sure I’d be alive right now. You two are everything to me. Both of you.”

“Alright,” Lydia says softly, kissing you on top of your head, “whatever my girl wants. I promise I won’t grill him too hard.”

“Thank you,” you say, “you’re more than welcome to…I don’t know, suss out his intentions or whatever but remember that I love him. So don’t do that weird thing where you offer to crack people’s backs by picking them up around him or anything, okay? He’s already petrified of you.”

Lydia laughs and shoves you away.

“Hey fuck you, that’s my go-to party trick. Ladies love it.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are you done unpacking? I want to show this place off to you before we head to this dinner thing.”

“Let me freshen up and change clothes and I’m all yours.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear.”

___

“So, Terzo is the oldest one.”

“No, Primo is the oldest one. Secondo is uh…second, then Terzo, then Copia.”

“Shit, sorry. And they’re all Satanic popes?”

“Terzo is the current one, Primo and Secondo are…retired. And Copia’s a cardinal, you know that.”

“Right, right. Sounds like a lot of fucking dudes, just like the Catholic side. Where are the women at?”

“They’re around, trust me. Not sure if Sister Imperator is going to be in attendance tonight but she’s pretty high up there, I think. There’s a few female cardinals too but I haven’t really gotten the chance to know them outside of passing them in the hall. And then there’s the sisters too, I– Lydia, don’t.”

“What?” Lydia asks with a sly grin, waggling her eyebrows, “Sisters huh? You know I always had a thing for–”

“And you talk about me having a weird priest fetish?” you whisper, holding back a laugh, “Down, girl.”

As if on cue, two sisters - one wearing a tight miniskirt as a habit and the other in a long dress with a very high slit up the side - come out of one of the seminar classrooms. They smile politely at you but when they catch sight of Lydia, their jaws drop.

“Afternoon, ladies,” Lydia purrs with a smile. You make a gagging motion behind the sisters’ backs as they giggle and walk away, occasionally glancing over their shoulders. Lydia licks her lips.

“Not you going full ‘hey mamas’ lesbian,” you wheeze, “I’m having war flashbacks from college.”

“What? We had fun!"

“No,” you laugh, “you had fun. You got laid. I sat at the bar and got mistaken for someone’s mom. More than once.”

“Didn’t help that you used to dress like a senator when we went to the club,” Lydia says with a smile, causing you to whip around and point at her accusingly.

“First of all, business casual was the club look back then and you know that, and second of all, fuck you very much.”

Grinning, Lydia wraps an arm around your shoulders and deposits a wet kiss at your temple.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” she says as you march down the hall side by side, “Should I tell Copia about that time we made out senior year or…”

Your face goes ghostly white.

“Lydia Rosa Morales that was one time and I had a lot of vodka and-and you said—“

“Oh I know what I said,” Lydia agrees, “but what if I changed my mind, hmm? What if I want you all to myself?”

“Lydia do not even go there I—“

“Christ, please unclench I’m just fucking with you. Been a while since you got a taste of your own medicine, huh?”

“God, now I’m really gonna let them sacrifice you tonight. See you in hell, you stupid fruit or whatever that meme was.”

“Wow, lesbophobia from my own best friend…”

“You remember I’m gay too, right?”

“Yeah but–oh. Hello.”

You’re jarred by how polite Lydia sounds all of a sudden until you turn around and are met with Sister Imperator standing there smiling and looking deeply unsettling.

“Sister!” you say, trying to recover yourself, “This is my dearest and oldest friend, Lydia. Lydia, this is Sister Imperator my uh…boss. Lydia is visiting with us–with me– for the next few days.”

“How lovely,” she says as she reaches out to take Lydia’s hand, her gaze directed towards the cross Lydia always wears, “Catholic?” 

“Uh, yeah. I mean, I went through the whole thing y’know - baptism, confirmation - I just don’t really attend now unless my parents drag me. Mostly just like the art and the vibes.”

A silence falls between the three of you and you can tell by the way Lydia fidgets with her watch she is extremely uncomfortable. As are you. Where you’re slightly more accustomed to Imperator’s off-putting presence, Lydia is left uncharacteristically meek and quiet. It’s not a look you enjoy seeing on her.

“Well, just giving Lydia a tour so I guess we’ll be on our way,” you say with a nervous smile, taking your friend’s hand and gently tugging her away.

“Give my regards to the Cardinal, dear,” Imperator says, folding her hands in front of her and giving you a pointed look. The two of you haven’t had any real conversations beyond terse staff meeting discussions since the incident in her office and you swallow thickly before nodding. You don’t breathe again until she turns and clacks away on her stilettos.

“Bro, what the fuck,” Lydia breathes, squeezing your hand, “that’s your boss?”

“Uh-huh,” you say as the two of you slowly begin to walk down the hall again, “she’s…a lot. Listen, you can’t let anyone know that you know this or that I told you but…that’s Copia’s mom.”

“What?”

“Yeah it’s…a whole situation. I’ll explain it someday when you and Copia actually like each other.”

“You’ve officially given me a reason to get along with him tonight. I want the tea.”

You withdraw your hand and smack her arm with it.

“Because being the person I love wasn’t enough of a reason? Dickhead.”

___

Copia’s nervous. Again.

He had to slip up to his rooms to change cassocks after he left the office from how disgustingly damp it was and now he stands in the gardens watching ghouls set up a dining table.

“Are you going to help, or just stand there fretting?”

Terzo, doling out plates onto the rustic table, is looking over at him with an uncharacteristically furrowed brow.

“Ah, yes, mi dispiace. I was preoccupied.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, watching Copia reach the table and begin folding napkins while dodging eye contact. “You’re worried her friend doesn’t like you.”

Copia scoffs.

“Oh, I know her friend doesn’t like me. That’s not the issue. The issue is how do I change that.”

Terzo pulls back and thoughtfully rests his weight on his hip.

“I could charm her for you - you know how irresistible the ladies find me.”

Copia coughs, loud and sharp.

“Eh, I don’t think that’s going to work.”

Terzo looks offended and crosses his arms.

“And whyever not? You doubt my ability to sweep people off their feet?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, what I’m saying is–”

“You two!” The two younger siblings jolt to attention as Primo approaches bearing a vase filled with a variety of flowers, “Go help Secondo in the kitchen, he glamored the ghouls but now they can’t remember how to serve hors d'oeuvres and keep gobbling down all the prosciutto.”

Copia heaves a sigh.

“If Secondo can’t fix the problem, I don’t know how much help we’ll be but if you insist. Come on, fratello.”

___

“Hey, you look great!”

You gesture to Lydia in her linen pantsuit and she grins charmingly, pointing at you in return.

“Not looking so bad yourself, babygirl.” She reaches down to graze the fabric of your yellow floral sundress before taking a finger and tapping the delicate gold grucifix that rests on your neck.

“Huh. He give this to you?”

“Yeah. The night we first kissed. He wanted to welcome me into the family.”

Lydia says nothing, but the face she makes shows her equal parts impressed and wary. You loop your arm through hers.

“C’mon, gardens are this way. They’re beautiful, I think Copia said they were setting the table up near the orchards.”

The walk through the abbey and past the greenhouses is quiet, both of you more than happy to enjoy the comfortable silence afforded to you by years of friendship. When you approach the grassy area next to a row of citrus trees, you gasp. 

“This is gorgeous!” you gush, and the tall, lanky figure of Primo turns to face you with a smile.

“Buonasera, fiore mio. And you must be Signorina Morales?”

“I am yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you uh…Papa.”

“Primo,” he insists, “there will be many papas here tonight and we will all begin to seem like the same person after a while. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll fetch my brothers. Please, please enjoy.”

He gestures to what you assume are ghouls - though they do not wear their standard silver masks - standing silently and bearing large silver platters of–

“Oh fuck, cheese,” Lydia groans, snagging a small plate off the table and loading it up. “You just gonna stand there, or…?”

“Yeah, I’m just looking for–” you turn around and nearly jump out of your skin at the ghoul who appears behind you, bearing two glasses of prosecco. You thank him profusely and hand one to your friend, who makes an impressed face.

“Salute, you little Satan fucker,” she grins.

“I’m not–ugh. Salute, dumbass,” you say, clinking your glass together. 

“Bella mia!”

The all too familiar cry of Terzo rings out as he and his brothers head over to your nook. You exhale heavy through your nose and shake your head as he runs up to plant a kiss on both cheeks.

“Hello, Terzo,” you say, “This–”

You turn to introduce Lydia but Terzo has already swooped in and captured her hand in both of his gloved ones. He looks up at her with wide eyes, a grin playing on his lips.

“Oh, here we go,” you mutter under your breath.

“This Amazonian beauty must be your darling amica, Lydia. Signorina it is my honor and pleasure to make your acquaintance. I…am Terzo Emeritus.”

When he bends to place a kiss to the back of her hand you force yourself to take a sip of prosecco to keep from laughing at her expression. She looks over at you and smiles wide with a wink.

“Signore Terzo, the pleasure is all mine,” she murmurs, fluttering her eyelashes. Oh Lord. You walk away and spot Copia speaking quietly with Secondo.

“Hello, fratello,” you say, standing on tippy toes to press a kiss to Secondo’s cheek, “Hello, my love. Everything uh…everything alright?”

“So far, so good,” Secondo says, eyeing one of the ghouls, “they haven’t done anything weird, have they?”

“Weird? Like ‘developing a twitch’, weird or ‘sacrificing a goat in front of us’, weird?”

“Either, but the latter would be most alarming considering that’s not something we actually do, piccolina,” Secondo scolds, and you smile.

“Oh, you know, sacrificing goats, sacrificing virgins, same thing right?”

“We don’t do that either, and you would know better than most wouldn’t you?” Secondo’s smirks at your gobsmacked expression as he walks away to see Primo and Copia sighs.

“Tell me when it’s over, amore,” he says quietly and you take his hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

“Hey, remember this is just as stressful for me too, right? Sure she’s meeting them but really…they’re meeting her. I would genuinely not be surprised if she’s got Secondo in a headlock by the end of the night and Terzo professing his undying adoration for her.”

Copia cocks his head, frowning.

“Does he know that she’s—”

“Nah. He can find out the hard way. It’ll be good for him.”

For the first time all day, a genuine smile spreads across his face. 

“I adore you,” he says, leaning over to kiss you on the cheek and then dutifully wipe his lipstick off.

“Really? Hmm, had no idea. Come on my love, we have to be social at some point.”

“As you wish.”

—-

“You’ve been dodging me all night, huh?”

Copia’s eyes go wide as he finishes pouring his glass of wine and turns around. Lydia is standing behind him, half smile on her face and a hand in her pocket.

“Eh…no. No, I have simply been–”

“Dipping and dodging like you’re being paid to do it,” she smiles, “Listen, I get it. I’m intimidating, I know. But we all want the same thing here, right?”

“We…we do?”

“Sure - we want her–” Lydia says, gesturing over to you smiling and laughing at something Terzo said, “--happiness. You know we met in middle school?”

“Sì, sì, she said something to that effect.”

There’s a pause, and Lydia takes a sip of wine.

“She ever tell you how we met?”

Copia pauses, thoughtfully.

“I…don’t believe so, no.”

Lydia moves to stand by his side so they both have a clear view of you.

“She switched schools when she was twelve - I’m sure she’s told you about that bullshit she went through.”

Copia nods solemnly.

“Indeed.”

“Well she came to my school. Mid-school year…brutal time. Everyone’s already made their friendships - everyone except me. No one wanted to hang out with the beefy girl who towered a head over everyone else. I had kinda resigned myself to my social outcast fate when one day - there was a new face in class, sitting next to me. I was too shy to say hello but she wasn’t - immediately she smiled big at me and introduced herself. She didn’t fit in either, just a little too awkward and excitable about certain things, and we got along like a house on fire. She was the first real friend I ever had. We’ve been through everything together - made a point of going to the same college so we wouldn’t be separated. It’s been tough, not having her around you know?”

Copia nods slowly. He knew the two of you were close but his heart aches at the way her voice catches on the last word.

“I…am sorry.”

Lydia turns to him.

“What for?”

“All of it. For absconding with her attention and physical presence, for the shit you both went through. I…I love her desperately. I know I’m…I’m old and strange but I would do anything for her. Anything, Lydia. And I suspect you would do the same.”

She clears her throat and takes a sip of her wine.

“The way she talks about you…even over text it’s clear you have her heart. Like, you should see some of the shit she sends me. Real ooey, gooey, cringe shit. Up until you came into her life she always told me she had accepted the fact that she was just not meant to be loved. Which you and I both know is fucking bullshit but she really believed that. She really believed someone as kind and smart and pretty as her deserved to be alone. When she first started here she had such a hard time, you know? The depression and the anxiety and I felt helpless because I was so far away. But then she started talking about The Cardinal and how the two of you were spending time together and how giddy you made her feel. How you made this a home for her. And for that I’m grateful, so thank you Copia. And I apologize for my uh…gruff treatment earlier.”

Copia has the inside of his cheek wedged between his teeth in an attempt to keep from tearing up but when he looks over at Lydia and sees her doing the same, he lets out a little sob. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Oh my fucking God, Lydia you did not make my boyfriend cry. What did you say to him?”

You’re by his side in a flash, thumbs dutifully wiping the smudged black paint from his cheeks.

“Relax, babygirl. We’re cool, right Copia?”

He nods and smiles.

“Yeah. Cool. She didn’t even threaten me once.”

You sigh and give both of them a look. Primo calls out your name and waves you over to the dining table and when you turn to leave Copia makes to leave too but before he can, a hand is wrapped tightly around his wrist.

“All that being said,” Lydia murmurs, very casual, “if you ever do anything - and I mean anything - to hurt her I’ll fucking snap your neck and make it look like an accident. I don’t care how powerful your Ministry is. I will make you bleed. Know that.”

Lydia’s gaze is intense and Copia nods solemnly.

“Anyway,” she says, suddenly boisterous, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a crushing hug, “let’s go see the others. I’m not done tormenting your brother, yet. He’s something else.”

“Eh, sì he sure is something. And he hasn’t figured it out yet?”

Lydia grins as they march over to the others.

“I don’t think that man could recognize a woman who is only attracted to other women if I wore nothing but my strap and a lesbian flag.”

Copia groans.

“Please don’t let him hear you say that, he’s probably into that.”

[existslikepristin]

Okay, so I've done a couple of rewrites now, and I don't think I'm going to ever be fully happy with this, so let's just fuckin post this bad bitch

Tags: NSFW, TheLounge, Sounds, Dreamcatcher, Itzy, Gahyeon, Yuna, first times, but let’s be real virginity is a social construct that means nothing about someone’s physical state of being, #LearnHowTheHymenWorks, cunnilingin' n' fingrin', nervousness, not even the normal kind of brattiness, Yuna’s just an insufferable idiot, no anal in this one wtf am i thinking?

Off to a Slow Start

~~~~~

Gahyeon rubbed the stress out of her eyes. Or at least she tried to. The skinny, shivering girl draped over her lap was turning out to be a pain in Gahyeon’s ass (instead of the other way around, as it should have been). 

“How about we do something else?” Gahyeon asked with a tone somewhere between hopeful and commanding.

“W-what? Why? I’m f-fine. This is s-so hot,” Yuna peeped. Sort of. It was more like she sobbed it like an emotionally damaged puppy might.

It was quite the shocking change in attitude after only two warm up spanks. Yuna’s butt wasn’t even pink.

Downstairs, when she first stomped up to Gahyeon, Yuna had been acting like she was hot shit. She put her hand on Gahyeon’s thigh, played footsie under the table, talked out of her throat like some kind of pornstar wannabe. It came as no surprise, then, when Yuna suggested that Gahyeon accompany her upstairs and "teach [her] a lesson." The part that was actually a surprise was when Gahyeon realized: when Yuna said “teach [her] a lesson,” she might have meant that very literally, because it was pretty obvious she didn’t know what she was getting herself into.

Gahyeon caught Yuna’s glistening eye in a decorative mirror on the wall and raised her hand as if to strike again. Never before had Gahyeon seen someone flinch away so hard from a simple slap on the ass, or grimace like they were expecting an executioner to flip the switch on an electric chair. She lowered her hand and very, very gently patted Yuna’s thigh. "You know what would be fun? Let's make out!”

Yuna pushed herself up on her elbows. Her bare stomach peeled away from Gahyeon’s thighs. Probably because she’d been sweating so darn much from her nerves. She gave Gahyeon a poor excuse for a defiant glare and sniffed away the lump in her throat. “Make… make out? But I’m here for… I thought you were supposed to be a good dominatrix.”

Gahyeon looked up at the dimmed light fixture and exhaled quietly. “Hey, I know you said something kind of like this earlier, but can you remind me what your safe word is, Yuna?” The question sounded a little more condescending than Gahyeon had meant it to.

“I don’t need woa-aaah!”

Crooking her elbow under Yuna’s waist, Gahyeon picked her up, suplexed her onto the bed, climbed on top of her, and got face-to-face. “First of all, ‘dominatrix’ is improper terminology for this situation. Second, if we don’t negotiate a safe word, I’m out of here.”

"Ummm. I, uh. Um."

"Tell me the first word that comes to mind."

“M-mistress?”

Gahyeon rolled her eyes. “Okay, bye.”

“Huh? Wait!”

Gahyeon was already halfway to the door by the time Yuna scrambled off the bed, but turned back to give her an uncaring glare. On her feet, Yuna was a hell of a sight. Tall, skinny, but curvaceous, like the kind of doll that would be sold to make young girls self-conscious about their bodies. Long, dark red hair and black pools for eyes, and she'd put on far more makeup than reasonable for an average coffee run. Gahyeon didn’t want to leave, but Yuna wasn’t making staying the easy decision.

"Wait for what?" Gahyeon asked.

"For… to… so you can make me…"

"I can't make you finish a sentence."

Yuna's supermodel bearing was taken down a peg by her disappointed slouch and concerned grimace. "You know what I mean… like, dominate me."

"Why?"

"Aren’t you horny?"

Gahyeon glanced at Yuna's tits. "No more than usual."

"What? But I…"

"You sure did."

"I-I was going to say—"

"I know."

"N-no you don't!"

Gahyeon groaned, "Maybe I don't care then. No big deal. Take your pick. I don’t like brats. I only tolerate them during Kinktober."

Yuna blushed and looked down, wiggling her knees in discomfort. Gahyeon wasn't going to deny that Yuna was fantastically fuckable, but she was also responsible enough to know when someone was in over their head. "Well, Yuna? What are you trying to do?"

Yuna muttered "I want to get laid" under her breath. With no other noise in the room to mask it, Gahyeon heard it, and yet a vague muttering wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"What's that? I couldn't hear you."

"I wanna get laid,” Yuna whined, fully out loud, “Okay?"

Gahyeon leaned back against the doorframe. "You a virgin?"

Yuna's blush extended down to her shoulders.

"Well that's a yes."

"B-but! I'm—No, I'm not!"

"And you would say that even if I said calling someone a virgin is just a bad social construct and that being a so-called ‘virgin’ is no better or worse than the alternative?"

"Uh…" Yuna scrunched her nose as she used all of her brain power to process the question. "Yes? Or, wait, no?"

"Nevermind.” Gahyeon waved it off. “Just tell me the truth. Have you had sex before or not? Anything with hands or mouths counts."

There was a pause while Yuna weighed her options. "No…”

Gahyeon was actually a little bit shocked. Yuna was among the hottest of idols, so even this level of awkwardness didn’t seem like it should be too much of a hindrance. Gahyeon had fucked or at least fucked around with a dozen idols with subpar social skills in the prior couple of months.

“But I've been trying!” Yuna shouted after the briefest silence, “Nobody will fuck me though! Not even men!”

“The fuck do you mean, ‘Not even men?’”

“Boys are supposed to be horny all the time. But even if I show them my pussy, they keep rejecting me.”

Gahyeon sighed, “Is that proceeding or preceding a conversation?”

“Of course I say ‘Hi.’ I try asking them if they work out too.”

“Is that it? Because idols have to work out. It’s in the job description.”

Yuna groaned and plopped onto the bed, curving her back like a clothes mannequin, apparently subconsciously. “I've tried all the stuff boys are supposed to like! I touch them, I guide their hands to my boobs, I tell them they smell sexy. All that stuff! And don't get me started on girls. I see them going around and getting laid all the time! And it's like, they'll be sluts for anybody except for me, and—”

“Let me stop you there before you make more of a fool of yourself,” Gahyeon snapped. Yuna froze. “A few things. One: We only use words like ‘slut’ in an endearing manner around here. Two: Some people might just not want to fuck you, ever. Can’t control it. And three: Are you just expecting sex from people? Like me?”

Yuna shifted uncomfortably. “No… I'm doing what I'm supposed to do first.”

“And what is that?”

“You know.” Yuna waved her hands around, pantomiming nothing in particular. “I ask politely. I let them know I'm available. I make myself up for them.”

“And…” Gahyeon mimicked Yuna’s pointless pantomimes. “They should obviously be throwing themselves at you, yet somehow nobody is approaching you?”

“I’ve been approached, I guess, but not from anyone in my league.”

“Pretty sure you’re still in the little leagues, my dude.”

Yuna whined, “Why should I be?! Every fan and their mom wants me.”

“Gross power dynamic, but okay. So I should have just known what you wanted when you walked up to me? And I should have wanted to fuck you? No conversation required?”

“Well… No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that if I do all that stuff—and more, by the way—and they're horny, why shouldn’t they want to fuck me? I'm not even demanding anything from them. I'm offering! Like, blowjobs. I'd be doing all the work!”

Gahyeon stepped away from the door frame and paced the room. “Here's the thing, Yuna. It sounds like people might be picking up on an attitude problem.”

“Attitu—but, no! I'm literally offering a good time, and usually I offer just to make them feel good! I'm not asking for anything in return! What's the big deal?”

“Nothing you've said yet strikes you as ‘bad attitude?’ Because it sounds to me like you're not affording people the courtesy of assuming they have a full breadth of human emotion and think they're good for nothing but sex.”

Yuna blinked. “I-I am, though!”

“Not, or aren't?”

“Ugh!” Yuna grabbed a handful of her hair. “No, I'm saying… You know what? Forget it! I'll just never—”

Looking her up and down for a moment (and not really listening), Gahyeon wondered if her behavior was ever anything like Yuna's. Probably not. She was practically domming her members ever since they met, and it turned sexual almost as soon as Gahyeon was old enough. Relating to Yuna was clearly out of the question.

Even so, Gahyeon felt a sympathetic pulse in her veins. Yuna's troubles, self-imposed or not and ultimately, definitely not anything close to a big deal, were still troubles to Yuna, and they were eating her up, it seemed.

Gahyeon weighed her options. Doing as Yuna demanded would enforce negative opinions. Refusing would make things more awkward for the next person Yuna tried to seduce. But Gahyeon did still like the idea of Yuna… She cracked her knuckles.

“—so I guess I'll just die alone,” Yuna continued to bitch on, “stuffing myself with bigger and bigger—”

Gahyeon cut Yuna off with a hand over her mouth. “Yuna? One word answer. Do you still want to get laid right now?”

Yuna’s eyes, glistening with tears at the edges, widened in something between fear and awe. And yet, she didn’t answer.

Half expecting her to come up with some kind of painfully awkward excuse for saying no, Gahyeon kicked things up a notch. She pulled up her shirt with one hand, catching her bra along the way, and flashed Yuna, full-boobed. She took her hand off Yuna's mouth to gesture at her bare chest, and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Yuna said almost as if she was in a trance.

“Then turn around.”

Yuna scrambled to her feet without standing up fully, spun a hundred and eighty degrees, and fell forward, catching herself on her elbows. Her knees followed her up and with that her ass was presented.

“Good,” Gahyeon said as she took her shirt and bra off entirely, “Now what exactly would you like me to do?”

“Uuuh…”

“Finger you? Tease you?” Gahyeon dropped her pants, climbing out of them and onto the bed behind Yuna. “I can let you take charge. Maybe I shouldn't have told you to turn around?”

Yuna shook her head. “N-no, nope, it would be better with you in charge.”

“Just give me a little bit of guidance then. I could have sworn you were asking for this.”

Gahyeon slid her hands up Yuna’s back, nails first, leaving white lines that quickly faded back into the approximation of porcelain that this new canvas was made of. Over and over again, Gahyeon reminded herself that Yuna was very pretty, and tried to use that to make herself forget the annoying parts. The fact that she was still thinking about them as she gripped Yuna’s tits didn’t bode well, but many three-plus-somes with Sua and Yoohyeon taught her the virtue of perseverance through annoying sex partners. Yuna was a very pretty canvas that needed to learn some manners.

In-depth lessons would come later though, after Gahyeon showed Yuna what her reward had the potential to be. “Well?”

Yuna's breaths got heavy as Gahyeon’s hands continued to wander, shifting between teasing touches and firm pressure. “I… I, um.”

"You want this?"

Yuna shook all over. She bit her lip and nodded.

Gahyeon breathed across Yuna’s ear, sending a deep shiver down her spine. “Tell me, then.”

“I d-don’t know what to say,” Yuna whined, groping blindly behind herself for Gahyeon’s arms.

Gahyeon pressed her chest against Yuna’s back and grabbed her hands, twirling their fingers together in a cruel, teasing dance. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, for starters.”

“It’s… hard to say.” Yuna arched her back, pushing her ass into Gahyeon’s hips. Her breath spiked over and over.

Gahyeon let her arms go mostly slack. “Then guide me there.”

With no small amount of hesitation, Yuna pulled Gahyeon’s hands tighter around herself and onto her ribs, moving them in a slow, jerking way down until they were between her legs. “Here.”

“I see. So you want me to touch your pussy? Your clit?”

Yuna whined even harder. She pushed insistently on Gahyeon’s limp fingers. “Both.”

“Both? That’s not how I phrased the question. It’s your pussy.” Gahyeon pressed one finger against Yuna’s entrance, earning a gasp. “Or your clit.” She pressed Yuna’s button with another finger, which all but made Yuna double over. Only then did Gahyeon wonder if she was technically providing incorrect information by distinguishing the body parts as separate.

“Oooh my g—My clit! Touch my clit…”

In a flash, Gahyeon took her hand back, licked her middle finger, and put it back, steadily swirling around Yuna’s clitoris. Yuna had to reach back and hang on to Gahyeon’s thighs to keep herself from falling. Her twitches, jerks, and shaky breathing were fun, and exactly what Gahyeon needed to get over her annoyance, at least for a while.

“I’m going to do the same thing with my tongue now, okay?”

Yuna shot up onto her hands. “Your t-tongue?”

Gahyeon circled Yuna’s clit with her finger, making her moan and tense up. She lowered her face so her mouth would be obscured, and the air from her every word would brush across Yuna’s pussy. “I might accidentally touch you with my lips too, if you’re okay with that. I promise I’ll be soft and gentle.”

“O-okay?”

Figuring that Yuna wouldn’t be giving her any more confident a response than that, Gahyeon leaned in further, gathering up extra spit as she went. She pressed the end of her tongue to Yuna’s clit, not hard, but somewhat firmly.

“O-oh," Yuna cooed and took a deep breath, "that’s pretty much just like your finge—”

Gahyeon swirled her tongue around Yuna’s hood, and the girl squirmed back and up out of range with a comically loud gasp. Gahyeon smiled internally. She knew what that was about. The shock of a good time could occasionally make one run away.

"Oh no," she said sarcastically, "You didn't like it. I'm sorry."

Yuna scrambled to get back in place, nearly kicking Gahyeon in the face. "No! I-I liked… please do it again?" There was desperation oozing out of her puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. Just be sure to tell me how you’re feeling, yeah?" She really wanted to hear Yuna try to describe being eaten out with her limited sexual vocabulary.

"I'll try…"

"Yes, just be as descriptive as you can, okay? I’ll adjust as needed."

Yuna nodded quickly. It was pretty clear that she just wanted Gahyeon to start again, so Gahyeon did, very, very, very slowly. She wet her tongue and barely touched it to Yuna's clit.

Again, Yuna flinched. This time Gahyeon was sure it was in anticipation. She looked up through the mild cleavage to give Yuna a reminder.

"Uh! Good! It felt good!"

Gahyeon touched again, but snaked her arms around Yuna’s legs to keep her in place. Another twitch, but smaller. Yuna was trying to contain herself. Gahyeon dragged her tongue slowly left and right. Trying to hold back wasn’t easy.

"It's… good."

Yuna's body language said much more than "good" though. She wanted more. Her eyes were fixed on Gahyeon. Her toes curled and uncurled against Gahyeon’s hips. Her knuckles were white, gripping the blanket. Her lungs shuddered with each brand new sensation that popped its way through her nerves. Goosebumps rose and fell and rose and rose and fell and rose. She had to be putting immense effort into holding still.

"Good."

Upping the ante, Gahyeon swirled again, catching the underside of Yuna's hood. Yuna twitched hard, and for a brief moment her eyes rolled up. Her breath was stuck, but it came unstuck with a second swirl, and exited Yuna's mouth in the form of a pained whimper. That was what Gahyeon was looking for.

"You like?"

"Good! It was so good! Please do it again!" Yuna’s inhibition was faltering.

"Tell me more." Gahyeon didn't pretend to hesitate again. She pressed her tongue under Yuna's hood and down against her clit, wiggling back and forth while keeping herself planted.

"Mmm! I… I don't know what to—OH! AUGH!”

Yuna’s last exclamation was a bit of a surprise, both to Gahyeon and Yuna herself, it seemed, as she quickly covered her mouth, eyes wide.

“Was that a good sound?” Gahyeon asked, already knowing the answer.

Yuna nodded.

“Uncover your mouth, then, and keep it up.”

There was some hesitation in how Yuna followed the instructions as Gahyeon got back to playing with her clit, but she did a little better than simply following. She grasped Gahyeon’s hands, alternated between hitched breaths and primal moans, and tucked her chin toward her chest. 

Every word Yuna tried to say morphed into one of those noises until she came. One long, vulgar scream faded into mewling whimpers.

Gahyeon crawled up Yuna’s body, pecking her along the way and giving her a much longer, wetter kiss on the mouth. Yuna giggled through it all, a little cum-drunk. “So,” Gahyeon said, “that’s one of the basics.”

“The b-basics?”

“Yeah.” Gahyeon twirled onto her back, slipping an arm beneath Yuna to pull her in close.

“Wow…” Yuna muttered.

The two basked in each other’s warmth for a while without a word. Gahyeon shifted a couple of times to try to optimize her comfort, but still mentally bemoaned Yuna’s lack of experience. She would not have minded a bit of reciprocation. A plan to pick up one or two of her usual subs on the way home began to formulate in her head. Jane would certainly be up for a bit of fun.

“Um, Gahyeon?”

Gahyeon stroked Yuna’s hair, around her ear, down her jaw, and to her chin. Yuna smiled and purred a little. Gahyeon returned that smile. “Hm?”

“Thank you for, um… not making fun of me.”

“Don’t thank me for that.” Gahyeon traced half of Yuna’s lower lip. “I made fun of you a little bit when we started. And quite a bit more later, I believe.”

Yuna cautiously placed a hand on Gahyeon’s breast, but got a little bolder and lightly squeezed when Gahyeon smiled. “I just mean most of the time.”

“I guess. I’ll keep in mind that you appreciate that.” Gahyeon giggled as Yuna nuzzled her stomach with her cheek. “Just be clear with people about what you do and don’t like, and you’ll have a… great time.”

Gahyeon’s last words were drawn out over the sound of a buzzing phone. Yuna’s, to be precise. She stretched to get it from the nightstand and saw “RAW” was calling.

“Raw?” Gahyeon asked.

Yuna reluctantly removed her hand from Gahyeon’s boob to take the phone. “That’s Ryujin… sorry. One sec.”

Though it was quiet, the lack of ambient noise made it easy for Gahyeon to hear Ryujin’s loud voice. “Where the hell are you, Yuna? We checked the bathroom.”

“I’m… upstairs.”

“Upstairs? The fuck are you doing upstairs for a whole hour?”

Yuna’s eyes traveled up and down Gahyeon’s body. “Cuddling?”

“Cuddling? For an hour? Yeah right.”

Huge puppy dog eyes met Gahyeon’s, trying to ask for permission. Gahyeon shrugged.

“Wel—”

“I’m cuddling with Gahyeon because we just had sex,” Yuna said, and then immediately snapped her mouth shut and stared into space.

“What?! No you didn’t, you fuckin baby child! You couldn’t handle her!”

Gahyeon watched for a few seconds as Yuna’s shoulders shrunk into her neck while Ryujin berated her.

“... and you’d come running back down the stairs crying—”

“Actually, Ryujin,” Gahyeon spoke loudly, “she’s not bad. You should let her practice on you sometime.”

Gahyeon swore she heard the sound of a pair of spit takes through the phone before it suddenly beeped twice and went silent. She decided not to wait too long for Yuna’s embarrassment to take over, and laid a hand on Yuna’s back. “Care to learn anything else today? If you want to prove what you can do to Ryujin and Yeji, you may need to do to them what I just did to you.”

Thankfully, Yuna’s blush didn’t get too far. “I-I don’t know if I can do any more right now.”

Gahyeon smiled. “As in it’s time to head out or you just want more snuggles?”

Yuna pushed herself up onto her hands and knees and crawled forward, kissing Gahyeon’s lips a few times in rapid succession. “If I say I have to go, can I have your number?”

Gahyeon ran her fingers through Yuna’s hair. “Sure… but the first thing you're going to text me is a safeword for next time.”

[mintkookiess]

It's just practice!

How about practicing confessing with your best friend? Wonder how that turns out ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ"

Hehe enjoy!

Love,

Mint

Summary: You decided to practice confessing to someone with your bestie Miles... except he's actually the one you wanted to confess to, but he didn't need to know that.

Tags: Miles Morales x reader, confessions, fluff, HUGSSS

Word count: 1.4k

"I'm sorry... what?!" Miles exclaimed with a look of horror on his face. You were both chilling by his dorm during lunch break. Ganke had classes so it was just the two of you. Your lips carried a tiny pout as you slap his leg as a way of pleading. "Come on, I just want to practice confessing to someone."

The poor boy had cheeks so red you'd think he was a strawberry. It didn't help that he had freckles. "Why do you gotta practice on me? Go talk to a wall or something." You rolled your eyes in annoyance, "Just let me talk, then tell me how it is okay? You don't even have to say anything, just listen."

Miles sighed, finally giving in. He removed his headphones, letting them sit by his neck. His brown eyes looked at you while he also had a pout that mirrored yours. "Fine."

The two of you then sat on his bed with crossed legs, facing each other. Your heart slowly started to bang against your chest, as if it wants to just jump out of your body.

I mean, who in the right fucking mind would practice confessing on someone, and that someone is the someone you actually wanted to confess to for real.

Your mind is just flabbergasted at what you’re trying to pull here. For a few seconds, there was an awkward silence between you two and you just wished he’d say something.

But stupid you told him to just shut up and listen to you “confess”, right?

So look who’s quiet now.

Your fingers were laced with each other like a braid as your thumbs mindlessly fiddled together. Miles just stared at you cautiously, waiting for you to say something, anything.

It was always never quiet between the two of you, so it’s quite unusual that neither of you were speaking.

And who’s fault is that?

This is so fucking stupid.

You swore that you’d take your feelings for Miles to the grave because you were so convinced that he was way out of your league. I mean, he was Spiderman always out there saving the city, but you were just a normal person, going through life like everybody else. Except for the fact that you’re Spiderman’s best friend.

Okay, maybe you were a bit more special than the rest.

But definitely not the smartest.

Sweat started to decorate your forehead like you just had a one hour full blown workout, your thigh slightly shaking in nervousness. You realize this though, making you slap your thigh with your hand. The loud smack made you both jolt in surprise.

“Well come on go on with it.” Miles urged, almost whined even. His face was getting redder by the minute, his almost faded freckles seemed to stand out even more that you could practically count them if you looked.

Holy shit I did not think this through.

“Okay okay um,” You started. Your eyes trailed sideways to his desk, feeling all your nerves quaking underneath your skin.

Oh my god I can’t do this.

”I actually… Have something in my mind that’s been bothering me for a while now.” You mumbled. You were trying so hard to distract yourself while looking at his desk, like counting how many colored pens were there, or how many erasers did this dude actually have.

Too many apparently.

Who the fuck needs that much erasers?!

“I— think you should be looking at the person you’re confessing to so it seems uh… genuine you know?” Miles said, trying to alleviate the awkward ass tension in the room.

You shook your head to snap yourself out of it, before staring right back at him. “Right sorry sorry.” You laughed, before running your fingers through your hair.

Let’s take this more seriously.

Besides, he’d never know… right?

You exhaled deeply, “Anyways, I… actually like you.”

“I’ve liked you for a while now, and I knew I just had to tell you just so I could get it off my chest. Moreover, I just didn’t want to ruin what we’ve got, and I didn’t wish for this to happen. But unfortunately, I’ve come to fall for you.” Your eyes stayed on his the entire time, and every sentence was like a blow on Miles’ heart. But you did say that he had to listen to this practice confession of yours.

He just couldn’t help but feel sad at the fact that you were practicing the whole confession thing and not actually being genuine about your words.

But holy fuck he wished you were directing it towards him.

His mind was getting a bit fuzzy at the thought of you saying these exact words to him. Miles has quite an active imagination, and he just suddenly sees the two of you sitting in some romantic spot like a park or a rooftop with a perfect view of the sunset.

Wait stop it Miles... You have to focus.

"—and I'm just hoping you feel the same way." You finished. You let out the breath you didn't you know you were holding as you surveyed Miles for feedback.

"So? Did that seem natural or? Was it too sappy or does it need like a joke in between or something?"

Miles stared right back at you for a hot second before snapping back to reality. "Oh... right, right yes. It was um... great yeah." He nodded mindlessly before the two of you fell back into the same awkward silence.

You groaned loudly, your head falling into your hands as you rubbed your face violently in frustration. Maybe you should just tell him? Honestly all you gotta do is say—

"It's actually not a practice." You found yourself blurting out while your hands were still covering your face. Since your voice was a bit muffled, Miles scrunched his eyebrows together at you. "What?"

You sighed, removing your hands slowly to reveal your insanely flushed cheeks which not gonna lie made Miles' heart skip a beat like some corny ass romance movie.

"It's... actually not a practice." You repeated, hanging your head low while your eyes were staring up at him, trying to gauge his reaction to your words.

Miles was a bit um... out of it from all the shit you just said and he was still trying to process that you were just practicing. So when you said those words, he gasped loudly, suddenly sitting up straight that his head bumped the bunk bed above him.

"Oh crap!" He exclaimed, placing a hand over the area that got hit as he crouched down. You jumped in surprise, taken aback by what just happened. "Miles! Oh my god are you okay?"

You were quick to place your hands on his hair, not exactly knowing what you could do in that situation, but at least you were trying, no?

"Can—Can you say that again?" He stuttered, still trying to massage his head. Miles was kinda thankful that his torso was laying on the bed so you couldn't see his face. "It um... I wasn't practicing actually, I genuinely like you Miles." You mumbled, now caressing his hair.

He slowly sat up, and you saw how there were actual tears running down his eyes, making your eyes widen in shock. "Miles?! Why are you crying! Did you hit your head that hard? Does it hurt? Are you going to have a concussion? What—"

You were interrupted though when Miles suddenly lunged at you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. "I-I like you too." He whispered. Now it was your turn to freeze, mind going blank as you try to process and see if you actually heard him right.

"You... like me too?" You whispered back, gently wrapping your arms around him as well to return the hug. You felt him nod against your shoulder, which made your breath hitch.

"He likes me too..."

Miles laughed as he pulled back. His hands went up to caress your cheeks before he rested his lips on your forehead. "Yeah, and just so you know, that wasn't a practice either."

"What?"

"Just making sure you know. Like, I wasn't practicing accepting your feelings or telling you that I like you too right? You got that, right? I mean it would be awkward if you thought I was playing along and practicing and—"

"Miles shut up I get it."

Fin.

More of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

[v7knp]

Telapath [a.a]

a/n: fluff, coworker romance, idk what else chapter one. mindreader, reader!x loser!abby (this is also kinda long, srry)

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

Ever since you were young, you could tell what someone was thinking. You knew by looking at them and focusing on their inner thoughts.

It's been both a gift and a curse. Having to hear people disgusting thoughts, but you also got to know what people really thought.

You knew it was wrong to intrude on people's privacy so you usually tried to ignore people's thoughts, but sometimes you get bored so why not?

No one knew not even your best friend, Dina. You wanted to tell her, but you thought it would freak her out, so you kept your mouth shut.

You're now a retail worker, it's actually pretty fun, and easy. How could it be hard? All you do is fold, cash customers out, and get breaks, etc.

But today was different, there was a new hire. She was tall, and muscualar, and so fucking bueatiful. Her name was Abby Anderson.

Your manager asked you to train her, you instantly said yes.

Your manager meet you two and you went to the cashier to train her.

Her first thought when you two meet was

"Holy shit she's pretty"

"Hi, I'm y/n, and you're obviously Abby" you giggled. She just let out a breathy laugh and a "Yeah".

"Umm, okay I guess I'll show you how to work this" you smiled.

She was looking down at you as you were explaning all the buttons which opened the drawer, and which told you how much money to give back, etc.

But she wasnt paying attention, a million thoughts were running through her head.

"She smells so good, like vanilla"

"She has such a pretty smile"

"Oh shit, what did she just say? I wasn't even paying attention"

"Sorry could you.. um repeat that I didnt hear you?" she had spoken up.

"Oh yeah" you said, knowing why she couldnt hear you.

You finished training her, and went back to work. Like 45 minutes later she came up to you.

"Y/n?" She seemed nervous. "Yeah?" you asked looking up at her. "You okay?" you said after a moment of silence.

"Oh.. uh.. yeah, how do you take the security tags off?"

"Oh duh, shit I totally forgot about that, sorry, I'll show you." you walked up with her, a customer was on the other side of the counter.

"Okay, so you just use this tool, and you just pop it off" you looked up and smiled at her, watching her try.

"Her smile is so nice"

"Alright, come get me if you need me agian"

after the course of a couple weeks and listening in on Abby's thoughts, you knew how she felt, and you felt the same.

You were clocking into work in the morning, and when you turned around when you finished, you bumped into Abby.

You had accidentaly spilt her coffee, and it got on her white shirt "Oh shit, Abs I'm sorry, I'll help you clean up" you said

"Does it hurt?" you questioned seeing if she was burned. She seemed to have a dull reaction.

"Abby, I jusy spilt hot ass water on you, are you okay?" You said sternly, trying to get her attention.

"Y-yeah no I'm fine" abby said blandly, you could tell she seemed off.

"Did it sound like I didn't care she was trying to help me?"

"Hope not"

You dragged her to the bathroom, and helped her clean up, her shirt was still wet though and very see through.

You could see every muscle, from her slightly coverd bicep, to her abs, down to her pants line.

You were starring and once you realized you've been starring for too long, you looked back up to see a pink face.

"U..um do you have an extra shirt?" Abby said with a slight shake in her voice.

"No, just use one from the store, no one will notice" you chuckled dryly.

It's now your lunch break, and Abby's about to go on hers.

"Hey Abs, so since I spilt your coffee on you this morning, I'll go buy you another one... If.. if you want" you said on the customer side of the counter.

"Oh my god, is she asking me on a date?"

"Should I ask if it's a date, no it'll werid her out"

"Abs?" you asked her obviously hearing her thoughts, you still needed the okay.

"Yes, yeah I'll go with you" she said with a big smile.

"Did I sound too excited about it, shit, I hope I didnt"

"Okay cool, finish here and I'll come back here to pick you up" you smiled and walked away.

moments later after getting ready to go out, you walk up to the counter, you guys went to the coffee shop down the street.

As you two are walking down the road, talking and laughing, you hear more thoughts rushing into Abbys pretty head.

"Her laugh is so nice"

"I wonder how she feels about me... Should I ask, no, what if she doesnt feel the same and I embarrass myself?"

"So who do you listen to?" you say "like music" you continued on not knowing if she knew what you ment.

"I listen to a little bit of everything, like umm Noah Kahan"

"I'm gonna be up front with you I don't know who that is" you said chuckling.

"It's okay, not to many people do" she says sarcastically.

"Oh so that makes you mysterious?"you joked and Abby laughed.

You guys made it to the coffee shop, and each got a coffee.

"Do you have a favorite genre of movies?" you asked trying to spark a convo.

"Yeah, I like comidies, you?"

"I love horror movies" you said excitedly.

She laughed and you two finished your lunch break and headed back to the store, finished your shifts and clocked out.

On the way out, you heard footsteps behind you, you turned around and saw Abby.

"Hey Abs, what's up?"

"Um so me and my friends are having a little get- together or party or whatever you wanna call it, do you umm, mabye wanna come?"

"Yeah I'd love to I have zero plans tonight anyways"

"Well if I'm going anywhere I'm gonna need your number to go" you said as a tactic to get her number.

"Yeah, yeah, here" she said unlocking her phone.

"was this a way to get my number? That was so sly"

"Okay well send me the address and I'll be there." you smiled.

[abiiors]

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚠𝚘 — 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒

✧ — 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

✮ a/n: i just know i'm going to fucking love writing these idiots

✮ cw: nothing for this, very very brief mentions of sex but nothing that would warrant a tag, dating apps (ew)

✮ wc: 2.7k

six months after the worst breakup of her life, jules downloads dating apps. 

they’re a whole different beast she never thought she would have to navigate. she’s never had to use them before anyway, she’d met max the good old-fashioned way, ran into him at a cafe. literally. but carly encourages her to get out there and explore a little, and so she does. 

the two of them sit in jules’ bedroom one afternoon, swiping left and right on guys, judging them based on their profiles and laughing till their stomachs hurt. she’s nervous, of course, she is. but jules is secretly grateful for this, she’s grateful that there might be someone else for her out there if she’s every ready for it again. that the world didn’t end with her only relationship ever. 

“ooh, what about him?” carly wiggles her fingers at the latest profile that’s popped up, freshly painted nails glinting in the sunlight. jules considers him. 

nico—he’s cute, studies international politics in uni. he’s got good answers for all the prompts. doesn’t seem shady or weird or like he’s hiding a secret girlfriend. 

“yeah i think he’s cute,” jules nods and swipes right. a second later her phone screen lights up with bright, bold letters: it’s a match. 

“oh!” jules tosses the phone away from her. she doesn’t know what to do next. 

should she just tell him straight away that she’s not looking for anything serious? what if he wants a proper relationship? she can’t give him that… she can’t give anyone that. 

“i can see you overthinking,” carly scolds her lightly and closes up the nail polish bottle. 

“look,” she makes jules turn to look at her and places both hands on her shoulders, “you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. but if you’re going to do it, go on casual dates and fuck around, then i want you to have fun with it.”

“i know…” jules sighs, “it’s just, it’s a little nerve-wracking.”

“oh trust me, it’s very nerve-wracking! how about we have a code, would that make you feel better?”

jules considers it for a second. “what kind of code?”

“um… let’s see,” carly looks around for a second, searching for something, until her eyes land on pancake, a tiny bear jules hasn’t managed to throw out yet. pancake was a gift from max, sure, but she loves that little bear. besides, she’d been the one to pick him out so really, it’s her bear. “how about, if you need to be rescued, you send me a text saying ‘pancake’? and no matter how late it is, i’ll come get you. i’ll cause a scene if i need to.”

jules giggles at the thought, wonders what kind of scene carly might cause just to rescue her from a bad date. the options are endless and amusing.  

“i’d like that, yes.” jules holds carly’s hands in her, careful not to mess up the still drying polish. “thank you…”

“for what?”

“for being a good friend to me. i would have been so much worse off without you.”

carly tuts, about to say something when jules’ phone dings with a notification. a message from nico. a nervous flutter swirls in her stomach. carly forgets what she was going to say and claps her hands excitedly. 

“what’s that say then?”

it’s a sweet message complimenting her profile. carly must have seen her smile because she clicks her tongue and gets off the bed. “right, i’ll leave you to that,” she winks at jules who’s already busy typing a reply. 

once carly leaves, jules starfishes on her bed, phone held up in front of her face while she waits for nico, three dancing dots to turn into a reply. it’s fun, she realises. she hasn’t flirted with anyone in a long time. some part of jules feels guilty when the realisation hits. had it been her fault that she let her relationship with max go? maybe she should have flirted with him more or been better in bed or offered to do new and exciting things—

no. this is not her fault. 

he’d cheated on her, that’s on him. 

and so jules flirts with nico. it’s a little cheesy at times but what’s important is she enjoys it, and clearly nico enjoys it too, he asks to meet her that evening if she’s free. jules buries her face in the pillow for a second. is she really going to do this? go out to have casual sex?

she guesses she is. 

and so with nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach, jules texts him back and says yes to the date.

jules takes a deep breath and puffs up her cheeks before entering the pub. firebug is close to where she lives, she’s seen the outside many times while on her way home from work. but it’s her first time inside, and she tries not to fidget with her bracelets.

it’s a cosy little place at least—not overcrowded but not completely empty either. and it’s a friday evening after all, she hadn’t expected to find empty pubs anyway. 

jules shoots nico a quick text to tell him she’s here. she’s grateful she’s a good fifteen minutes early. that way jules gets to order herself a drink and sit in silence and mentally prepare for this date. and so she makes her way to the bar and orders herself a cosmo. 

the first sip calms her a little. jules checks her phone for the time—ten more minutes, she’ll be alright by then. but then ten minutes go by and she’s almost done with her drink, and there is no sign of nico—not on text, and certainly not in the pub. jules checks her phone for any texts she might have missed. 

maybe he’s running a little late? she can excuse a few minutes. she doesn’t want to text him and bother him in case he’s driving. so she just scrolls on her phone, watching the minutes tick by. 

five more minutes, then ten, then twenty. 

he’s thirty minutes late by the time jules decides to give up and accept her fate. she already feels like shit about being stood up, she doesn’t need to sit here and get drunk alone and humiliate herself further. what was she even thinking saying yes to this? what was she thinking downloading dating apps in the first place?!

jules gulps the rest of her second drink (another cosmo) in one go and almost slams the glass on the counter, ready to gather her belongings and just leave… 

“jules?” she whirls at the sound of her name, hoping still that it’s nico. it’s not. 

“matty?” she stands, surprised to see him after so many months after that first time at his show. “hi!” 

she doesn’t know how to react quite honestly. on the one hand, jules remembers the last time she’d seen him, remembers how hot he’d looked and how, despite still being sad over max she’d flirted with matty. on the other hand she also remembers the running away. 

she’d told him she’d stay for after the show. and then she had not. 

“you remember me,” he smiles, crooked and a little teasing. “i would have thought you purged us from memory.”

jules winces, so he remembers that too then…

“i’m…sorry about that, i was… not having a great day. nothing to do with you, i promise! your show was fucking great, better than anything i’ve seen before—”

“jules,” he laughs, “i was joking.” then he points at the stool in front of her, asking for permission to sit. jules nods eagerly. 

“and better than anything, huh? i thought that particular compliment would be reserved for your boyfriend?”

jules knows it’s supposed to be a lighthearted comment, still, she can’t help the way her face twists into a grimace. matty frowns. 

“i thought you were… nevermind, sorry”

“no, say it. you thought what?” she knows what he’s going to say, and yet some masochistic part of her wants to hear him say it.

“i thought you were with that guy, max?” matty responds cautiously, like he knows he might be broaching a touchy subject. “i’ve seen you with him a couple times is all…”

“i was,” jules laughs bitterly, circling the rim of her empty glass with her finger. “it went up in flames. and now here i am, stood up by my tinder date.”

she expects him to laugh, but matty’s gaze dips down to her hands too, to the empty glass she’s toying with. then he motions for the bartender and asks for two more drinks.

“just coke for me,” jules interjects, “i’m done drinking.”

matty nods. “two cokes then.”

she observes him while they wait for their drinks. he looks so much different now than he did six months ago. he has a mohawk! although it’s already growing out. and even though jules misses the long curls, the grown out mohawk somehow suits him better. seriously, is there anything he can’t pull off?

if matty can see her ogling at him so blatantly, he doesn’t say it. perhaps she should have stopped after that first cosmo, she’s never been great with alcohol. 

when they both have their cokes in hand, matty turns to look at her again. “did he cheat on you?”

“you got there fast.”

matty sucks in air through his teeth, looking a little awkward. “not really a stretch if i’m being honest. he’s friends with ethan davies…”

she groans when he mentions ethan. she’d gone months without remembering that asshole’s existence, blissful six months where she did not have to be around him for even a single second. matty looks a little apologetic too. 

this should be a fun, flirty, light conversation and here she is, chatting about her ex with a cute (and hopefully single) boy. 

“wish i wasn’t stupid enough to ignore that,” jules jokes lamely.

matty clicks his tongue. “you’re not stupid!” his voice holds so much conviction that for a moment she only stares at him, at the serious expression on his face that just looks so out of place. matty shakes his head and smiles a little. “besides,” he continues, voice much lighter than before, “you’re definitely not stupid enough to download dating apps, really jules? tinder?”

she takes a sip of her coke and glares at him. “it’s not for relationships, matty! i don’t want those ever again.” that last part is more muttered to herself. besides, it’s a little insulting that he would thing she would search for love on the internet. she’s not that desperate. she will never be that desperate.

matty places his chin on his palm, suddenly much more interested than before. “then what is it for?”

“i don’t know, something casual,” jules mumbles, “something that doesn’t come with strings.” 

why is she so embarrassed about this? why did she mumble it like it’s a dirty little secret? she’s a grown woman for fuck’s sake she can go out and have an orgy if she wants to. jules straightens defiantly and matty raises an eyebrow. the interest on his face is clear, so is his curiosity. she can practically see the gears turning in his head, spitting out ideas. does she want to know what he’s thinking?

“i could give you that”

she chokes on her coke. “…what?”

“i said i could give you that,” matty doesn’t shy away from repeating it. if anything, he sounds even more confident than the first time. “if it’s just sex you want.”

“just sex…” she repeats dumbly as if there’s more than one interpretation of his words.

“nothing more, nothing less.” matty’s voice is firm, his face completely serious. at least she thinks it’s serious… 

what if she has read the situation completely wrong? what if he’s just playing a practical joke? maybe a second would go by and he would burst out laughing at the look on her face. she stalls a little, matty doesn’t move a muscle. 

“i can’t tell if you’re joking or not…” she whispers, shakily taking another sip of the coke. whatever buzz she’d got going on with the cosmos has faded entirely. 

“no i’m serious,” he hooks a foot under her barstool, sliding her closer until their knees are touching. she does find that a little hot if she’s being honest… 

“you’re a gorgeous girl,” he continues, giving her a once over that makes her flush a little, “and not to brag, but i’m a good looking guy who doesn’t want anything serious right now. it’s perfect.”

the more he speaks the more his eyes light up with the idea, like it’s a stroke of genius. and maybe it is, jules thinks. she has no other commitments happening, her love life is in the bin, her heart guarded behind a giant brick wall. jules takes a second to think about it, to really think about it. 

“alright yeah.”

this time, it’s matty’s turn to look taken aback. “seriously?” 

“yes, just sex is exactly what i need.” the more she speaks, the more she feels confidence flooding in her. this is perfect, it really is. “i can’t imagine ever falling in love with you, i’ve sworn off guys like you forever.”

“oi, rude!” matty glares at her, but it changes into a smile quickly. “seriously though, you don’t have to worry about me falling in love with you either. music takes over so much of my life, i don’t have time for any of that.”

jules considers his words. is she really going to do this? is she really cut out for this? “alright then,” she nods, a slight tremor to her hands, “we should have some ground rules.” matty’s lips part and jules suddenly feels a little nervous. she scrambles, “wait, is that too fast? are we moving fast? should we slow down?”

matty laughs. “this isn’t a relationship, jules, we have no expectations of sticking to a speed.”

“okay, yes, you’re right.” she takes a sip of her coke to calm her thudding heart. this is happening. this is really happening. she’s negotiating the rules of a no-strings-attached situationship!

“so ground rules,” matty tips his head towards her, “you go first.”

“okay… um,” she takes a moment to think, tracing shapes in the condensation left behind by her glass, “no kissing on the mouth outside of sex.”

he nods. “done. nothing romantic—no dates or going out for dinner, no candles and baths, no breakfasts in bed”

“makes sense. no pet names.” she’s shocked how quickly it comes to her. then again, the thought of being called baby or babe one more time, especially in bed, makes her feel sick to her stomach.

“alright. if one of us meets someone, we end this immediately.”

involuntarily, she laughs. it’s a cold, sardonic sound that surprises her a little too. is she just bitter and jaded now? “unlikely for me, but yes, accepted.” 

if matty finds that statement odd, he doesn’t point it out.

“should we be writing this down?”

“do you plan on having twenty different ground rules?”

jules wrinkles her nose at him. “no, i’m done. that covers all of it.”

“then we can remember four things easily.”

that, she supposes, is true. it’s a pretty short list. she doesn’t see herself breaking any of those rules—now or ever. “right then…when do we start?”

a slow smirk takes over matty’s face. he looks especially lovely then, she thinks. no, not lovely… he looks hot. he looks fuckable with his lips all pink and wet, with his hair the perfect grabbable, tuggable length. “tonight if that’s okay with you?”

a thrill shoots through her. jules looks down at herself. she’s in a pretty dress, she knows she’s shaved every inch of her body in anticipation of this and worn her prettiest lingerie. then she looks back at matty who seems to be looking at her with an equal amount of interest. his eyes scan her body, from head to toe and then back up in a way that makes her feel…desired. and their drinks are over too. 

jules stands, slings her purse over her shoulder. “let’s go,” she extends her hand to him. “your place or mine?”

[vodika-vibes]

Cowboy Casanova

Summary: When you decided to move to the middle of nowhere to get some perspective in your life, you expect to be bored out of your mind. You definitely don’t expect Bacara.

Pairing: Commander Bacara x F!Reader

Word Count: 4123

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, biting, hints of a breeding kink

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @dukeoftheblackstar @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: This started out at one thing, turned into another, which turned into a third thing, and anyway it's now what it was supposed to be so I had to change the name, which makes me sad. The Original name was Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy. Anyway! I hope you like my sin. Also, this is a western au because...I don't have a reason other than Bacara with a cowboy hat. I'm sorry. Anyway, no requests got done today because of this. Note, this isn't edited - so if you see any errors, no you didn't.

“You’re staring,”

“Am not.” You reply absently as you drag your gaze across Bacara’s bare chest, your eyes lingering first on his dog tags and then on the nipple piercings that he got when he lost a bet.

He chuckles, low and deep, “You’re still staring.”

“If you don’t want to be stared at, then you should put on a shirt.” You counter, unrepentant.

Bacara arches a brow and flings a rag at your face, making you sputter and scrunch up your nose, “You wouldn’t say that if I was staring at you.”

“Of course not. Double standards are a thing after all.”

He rolls his eyes and walks over to you, leaning into your personal space as he picks up his rag again, a smug smirk crossing his face when your gaze drops to his chest and then his waist, before snapping back to his face, “See something you like, city mouse?”

Your face heats, but you keep your gaze locked with his, “Just worried that your pants are going to fall down since they’re hanging so low.”

“Fashion choice,” Bacara replies with a shrug, as he walks away from you and back over to the machine he’s trying to make work, “Besides, it’s hot as balls out here, and I hate the feel of my shirt sticking to my skin.”

Well, he’s not wrong about that.

Bacara leans back into the engine block and reaches in, “Why don’t you just pay someone to come and fix it?” You ask.

“You have the money for some repair man from the city to drive out here and fix this? Cause I sure as hell don’t.”

“You own, like, a dozen cows.”

“There are three dozen of them, actually.”

“That’s not the point that you think it is.”

He laughs and pulls back, “Yeah, yeah. I know. Come here, I need a small hand.”

“I don’t fix things, Bacara.” You warn, though you do hop off the bale of hay that you’ve been sitting on and walk over to him.

“You need to learn, city mouse. What happens if something breaks in your home?”

“Uh, I’ll call you.”

“What if I’m not available?”

“Why wouldn’t you be available?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t exist to come running at your beck and call.” Bacara replies dryly.

“What? Wow! Really?” You marvel sarcastically, and then you yelp when he pinches your side. “Rude!”

“Alright, Little Miss Sass, I need you to reach into there and feel around for any loose wires.” Bacara explains as he presses his chest against your back and points where he needs your help.

“Wires? I’m not going to get electrocuted, am I?” You ask as you try, really, really hard to not get distracted at the feel of him pressed against you.

He shoots you a look, “Of course not. It’s totally safe.”

“Fiiine.” You sigh out as you reach into the opening and feel around blindly, “Um...okay, I found a wire.”

“Excellent work,” His voice is low against your ear, and you can’t help but shiver. Embarrassingly, he notices and a quiet chuckle falls from him, “I need you to follow the wire and tell me if it’s connected on both ends.”

You ignore him, as best as you can, and feel around for a moment, “I...think so? It doesn’t feel loose at least.”

“Damn, I was hoping you’d say the opposite. Alright, pretty girl. You’re done. This is now, officially, someone elses problem.”

You pull your hand out and make a face at the oil on your fingers, “I thought you didn’t want to pay-”

“I don’t, which is why I’ll have Neyo come and fix it.”

“Ripping off your own brothers, shame-”

“What are brothers for if not a little unpaid labor every now and then?” Bacara asks rhetorically, “Come on, you can come inside and get that stuff off your hand.” He picks his hat up off his work table, and pauses before setting it on his head.

He shoots you a small smirk, and drops his hat on your head, it immediately tilts over your eyes, and you use the back of your hand to tilt the rim back so you can look at him, “Well, how do I look?” You ask with a small grin.

Bacara lazily drags his gaze across your body, his smirk growing, “Hot as hell,” He drawls.

Your face heats again. Still, you’re not able to stop the delight from sliding across your face, “Well, thank you~”

He stares at you for a moment longer, and then motions for you to follow him. It’s kind of unnecessary, you could navigate Bacara’s ranch blindfolded and drunk, but you do appreciate being able to walk with him.

After you get yourself cleaned up, which takes a lot longer than you anticipated since the oil just did not want to come off your hands, you meander from the guest bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen.

He’s still not wearing a shirt, and you’re beginning to think that he’s walking around like that intentionally. “Did you manage to get the oil off?” Bacara asks as he turns to face you.

“Yeah, eventually. The bottle of special soap was empty, so I had to make some more real quick.” You shrug easily as you sink into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. You don’t mind, you normally make it for him anyway.

Your parents would be so proud. Thousands of credits spent on a fancy Chem degree...and you use it mixing oil removing soap.

“Sorry about that, I should have checked earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You fold your legs under you, and your attention lands on something interesting on the table.

Now. Bacara is a rancher, there’s always new and interesting things laying around his house that he needs to explain to you. Over the year that you’ve been friends with him, you’ve learned a lot about ranching and about the things that he needs to do his job well.

This, however, is new.

“Bacara?” You sound slightly bemused as you reach across the table and hook a finger under, surprisingly silky, maroon rope, “What’s this for?” You ask as you turn your gaze to him.

Unless your eyes are deceiving you, there’s a hint of a blush on his face.

“It’s a joke gift. From Cody.” Bacara replies as he walks over to the table and picks up the rope, only to hesitate for a moment, “Although-” he murmurs quietly, as if to himself, as he pulls some of the rope out and lays it across your wrist, “It would look amazing wrapped around your wrists.”

You tilt your head and your mouth is slightly dry, you’re pretty sure that his comment was meant to be an inside thought, not an outside one, but it’s not like you can unring that bell.

“I think it’d look better wrapped around yours.” You blurt, and his gaze snaps to meet yours, “The color would look amazing against your skin tone.” You add, sheepishly.

He stares at you, and you stare right back at him.

And just as you’re about to apologize, Bacara smirks.

“Alright.”

You blink at him, “Alright?”

“Alright. Lets see what you’re capable of.”

You blink at him again. And then a third time as his words process, “Wait! Really?”

“Really. Unless you think you can’t handle it.”

“I can handle it,” You shoot back, “The question is can you?”

He folds his arms across his broad chest, “Let’s make this a little more fun-”

“-more fun then you getting tied up?”

His grin is predatory and sharp, “I don’t beg. Ever. For anyone.” He advances on you, “However, if you can make me beg in say...an hour, you win this little challenge and I’ll do whatever you want for a week.”

“You already do whatever I want, Bacara.” You point out.

“Unimportant.” He replies, “But when you lose-”

“-if. If I lose-”

His gaze locks with yours and his grin becomes even more predatory, “When you lose,” Bacara repeats, “I get two hours to make you beg for me, and when I win you’ll do whatever I want for a week.”

“Hold on now! How come you get two hours and I only get one?” You demand.

“Because I’m going to spend the first hour with my face buried in your pussy, that’s why.”

Your entire thought process screeches to a halt as your train of thought derails. “...oh.”

“So what do you say, city mouse? Do we have a deal?”

And, really, there’s only one thing you can say to that, “Deal.”

Bacara advances on you again, essentially crowding you, as he walks you through his home and into his bedroom. His eyes a glittering with arousal, but he doesn’t touch you, as much as you can tell that he wants to.

He kicks the bedroom door shut and turns on the lamp so there’s some light in the room, and then he folds his arms and waits.

You gaze at him thoughtfully, a small smile on your lips, “You’re wearing too much. Strip.”

His gaze is hot as it lingers on your face, “Yes ma’am,”

You consider watching him strip for a moment, but instead turn to the bed and start setting up the rope, while pulling out your phone to look up safe ways to tie him up.

“Alright,” You murmur to yourself as you make sure the ropes are secure around the bed frame, and you climb off the bed to focus your attention on him, “Pick a position that’s comfortable for you, Bacara.” You say as you carefully don’t take your eyes off his face.

“Not even gonna steal a peek, kitten?” Bacara asks, as he moves passed you and settles on the bed, with his back pressed against the headboard.

“I lady doesn’t peek, Bacara,” You sniff.

“Oh? Do they tie up their friends.”

“I can leave you know.”

He laughs and grabs your wrist to tug you onto the bed, you tumble against him, your hands settling on his shoulders, as he reaches around you to settle his hand on the back of your neck, “I want you to look, kitten. After all, I need to know if I meet your approval.” You have to shift to get more comfortable, eventually straddling his thigh so you’re not twisted uncomfortably.

You roll your eyes, but slowly drag your gaze down his chest, a nearly silent sigh of delight falling from you when you see that he’s still wearing his dog tags. Bacara chuckles lowly, and you hurriedly continue your visual perusal of the man beneath you.

He’s solid, your Bacara. Oh sure, he has a belly, but you’re pretty sure that he’s solid muscle, like the professional weight lifters you used to know in college. Big, beefy, and could lift you with one arm if he was so inclined.

Absently you trail your fingers down his chest, teasingly skirting around the nipple piercings, and down his stomach, and then your gaze lands on his cock.

Already erect and with precum leaking from the head.

He’s gorgeous.

But that’s not what catches your attention. No. What catches your attention is the golden piercings.

You blink at the piercings dumbly for a moment. “Holy shit Bacara.” You blurt, “Why didn’t you say that you had cock piercings?”

“Not really something that comes up in polite conversations,” He counters with a grin.

“But...If I had know then my-” You cut yourself off before you finish the thought, and you snap your gaze to his face, “Never mind.”

“Oh no, you definitely need to finish that thought, kitten.” Bacara practically purrs, “Come on, your what?”

“Nope. Not going there.” You shift your weight slightly, and reach down to grab his wrist, but Bacara doesn’t let you move it. “Really?”

He smirks, “Tell me, and I’ll let you tie me up.”

“Don’t you automatically lose if you don’t let me even try?” You try to bargain.

His smirk widens, “No, because I saw that look on your face. You want my face in your pussy.”

Damn him for being right.

“Fine,” You drag the word out, “I might have fantasized about you before. Maybe.”

He smirks smugly, “Knew it. Alright, you may continue.”

“I’m pretty sure that I’m supposed to be the one in control right now.” You counter, even as you bring his hand to the headboard and carefully loop the rope around his wrist.

Bacara hums and his still free hand comes up to caress your hip, “Oh, kitten. I need you to understand that I’m letting you do this. But I need you to know that I’m the one in control here, not you.”

Your fingers slip on the rope, “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that for the sake of the challenge.” You finally say once you finish with your knot, “How’s that? Too tight?”

Bacara tugs at the rope experimentally, “Good enough.” He finally says, as he lifts his other hand to the headboard.

You’re a lot faster this time, now that you know what you’re doing, and you sit back on your heels as you look at him. “I was right,” You finally say as you climb off of him so you’re able to peel your own clothes off.

“Bout what?” Bacara asks as he watches you strip with hungry eyes.

“That color does look amazing against your skin.”

He hums his understanding, tilting his head so he’s able to watch you push your shorts and panties down your legs. “I can just about guarantee that it’s going to look much better against yours.”

You set your clothes on a chair and climb on the end of the bed, settling yourself between his feet.

Bacara looks completely relaxed, and you’re beginning to accept that he was right, he is the one in control here, as much as it might seem like you are. “Just gonna sit there and stare at me, kitten?” He drawls.

“I’m thinking.”

“Do you need some direction?” He offers, “Because I can do that.”

“I’m not giving up yet, Bacara.” You counter as you slide up so that you’re better able to reach him, your fingers feather light as you glide them across his thigh.

His muscle twitches under your touch, “Yet, huh.” Bacara says with a small smirk, “Good to know.”

Finally fed up with his comments, you surge up and crash your lips against his. Your hands wander across his chest, lightly flicking his piercings, as you trail your tongue across his lower lip.

You’re almost surprised when he takes control of the kiss.

Almost.

He catches your lower lip between his teeth, and nips you roughly enough that a squeak falls from you. Bacara then soothes the sore spot with a lazy swipe of his tongue, and the moment you part your lips for him, his tongue slides against your own.

He maps out your mouth with a single minded intensity that leaves you moaning, and encourages you to straddle him again. When you break the kiss, you’re slightly breathless, and his gaze is dark as is slides across your face.

“You should give up, kitten.” Bacara purrs.

You shake your head, “I can still win.”

He laughs, “You’re already straddling me, and we haven’t done much more than kissing.”

“That-”

“I’ll make you feel so good, kitten.” He purrs as he tugs his wrist once, causing the knot to unravel. He presses his hand against the small of your back, and pulls you closer, and you shiver when you feel his hard erection pressed against you.

Unthinkingly, you grind against him, the head of his cock pressing deliciously against your clit and a moan fall from your lips as you do so.

His arm hooks tightly around your waist, and he pulls you closer so that he’s able to trail his lips against your throat, “Say you give up, kitten. And I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

Your lips turn down into a small pout.

“We can try this again later,” He promises, very temptingly, “After you’ve had some time to prepare properly.”

You peer at him, and then release a heavy sigh, and reach up to untie his other hand, “This isn’t me giving up.”

“Of course not.” Bacara agrees, suspiciously easily, “But, it is you forfeiting, which means it’s my turn.”

You squeak as he flips you so that you’re under him, smoothly using one hand to pin your hand over your head and tying them together and to the headboard.

Bemused, you tug on the ropes, but there’s no give whatsoever, “How-”

“Practice. I’ll teach you properly for next time.”

“...this game was designed for me to lose from the get go, wasn’t it.”

He grins and leans over you, his lips hovering just over yours, “Good girl, I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Not gonna deny that.” He replies before he kisses you deeply, but quickly.

And then he’s moving down your body, biting marks into the soft skin of your neck and throat, across your collar, and down your chest. You squirm and writhe under his attention, biting your lower lip to keep yourself quiet.

He takes a quick moment to lavish your nipples with attention, before he’s moving again. At this, you’re unable to keep yourself from gasping out his name, and you feel his lips curl up into a smile against your breast.

Bacara litters your stomach and sides with possessive marks and then he leaves a trail of bite marks from your hip to your thighs. By this point, you’re a moaning mess, you don’t care if this means that he wins, you just don’t want him to stop.

And only then, when he’s sure that you’re covered in his marks, and when you’re whining for him, does he spread your legs to make room for himself between your thighs.

“Look at you,” Bacara praises lightly as he drags a single finger between your folds, a pleased smirk crossing his face as your hips twitch towards him, “You’re already wet. Do you have a biting kink, kitten?”

Your face burns at his words, and you stubbornly press your lips together to not say anything.

Bacara clicks his tongue, and his hand lands, heavily, on your outer thigh. It surprises you more than it hurts you, and you blink at him wide eyed, “I asked you a question.”

You know what he wants to hear. Even though you’re so horny that you almost can’t stand it. Even though his large, calloused finger is circling your clit in a way that is kind of driving you insane. You still know what he wants to hear.

What he’s expecting to hear.

Your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips, and you plaster on your most innocent expression, “Did you?” You ask, slightly breathlessly as you clench around nothing from his teasing, “I wasn’t listening.”

Bacara stops. His fingers stop moving, and his hand, which was caressing your thigh and the red mark blooming there, stops moving as well. He searches your face for something, and then a slow smirk crosses his lips.

“Safe word or color?”

Your heart racing with excitement, you breath out, “Color.”

He hums, “What color are you?”

“Green.” You blurt, “Very green.”

For a moment, there’s a glimmer of something warm and soft on his handsome face, before it’s gone. “So, it sounds like you are able to listen.”

“When I want to.”

“Then it sounds like I just need to teach you that you need to listen to me, doesn’t it?”

You feel a thrill of delight, “If you ever said anything worth listening to-” You words get cut off with a ragged moan as he suddenly thrusts a finger into your pussy and curls it, almost instinctively finding the spot deep inside you that makes you see stars.

“I’m going to tell you how this is going to go,” Bacara says, a hint of promise in his voice, “I’m going to give you as many orgasms as I want, you are only allowed to cum when I allow it.” He eases his finger out of your pussy, and licks it clean with an appreciative hum, “And, if you don’t obey me, I’ll have to punish you.”

“Punish?” You ask.

He just smirks, “Do you understand? Answer verbally.”

“I understand,”

“Good girl,” He gives himself a couple of lazy strokes as he examines your splayed out body appreciatively. “I did say that I was going to bury my face in your pussy, didn’t I.” He muses, loud enough that you’re able to hear him, “But I don’t think you’ve earned that.”

That pulls an unhappy noise from your lips, and he chuckles, “Only good girls get to have their pussy eaten, and you haven’t been a good girl.” He releases your legs, letting them fall back to the bed, before he reaches up to check the ropes one more time, and then flips you, making sure that the ropes didn’t twist in such a way to hurt you. “There we go,” Bacara murmurs as he smooths his hand over your ass and then squeezes roughly

You squirm under him, but settle when you feel his hand press against your lower back. He quickly eases a pillow under your hips and adjusts your legs so that you’re spread wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you for a moment, though you can feel his heavy gaze dragging against you body. Just as you start to squirm, a little self conscious about being so exposed, his hands are on you again.

His hands are calloused and heavy on your body, and you’re sure you’re going to have bruises from his hands covering your body, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care as his hands press into you.

And then you don’t care about anything as the blunt head of his cock presses against you. Slowly he eases inch after inch inside you, and you’re squirming and whining before he’s even halfway sheathed.

The piercing feels amazing inside you, and you find yourself clenching around him.

Bacara groans and bites down on the back of your neck, “No cumming, kitten.” He warns as he slowly pushes the rest of the way in. As soon as he’s bottomed out, he presses a light kiss to the mark on the back of your neck.

He doesn’t move for a moment, and then he slowly eases out, until only the head of his cock is inside you. Bacara waits a beat, until you squirm to try and get him to move again, and then he thrusts in hard and fast.

He keeps the rapid pace, his breath hot against your ear, his hand fisted in your hair to keep your head down.

The sensations of his hand in your hair, and low groans in your ear, adding to the amazing feeling of his piercings dragging against your walls and the delicious stretch of his cock, are too much to handle.

And try as you might, you’re not able to keep yourself from cumming with a cry of his name.

You feel him laugh, “That’s punishment 1, kitten.”

“Not my fault-” You gasp, “Feels too good.”

“Oh? What’s that? Harder you said?” Bacara asks, as he adjusts himself slightly, before he leans in and catches your earlobe between his teeth. Before he does exactly as he warned, thrusting hard enough that you release a noise that is something between a moan and a sob of sheer pleasure.

“Good girl,” Bacara purrs, “You’re taking me so well.” He smooths his hand up your spine, “Such a willing little thing,” He coos in your ear, “I’m going to ruin you, kitten.” He catches your lips in a deep kiss, his tongue sliding against yours.

“Please,” You whisper, “Please ruin me.”

For half a moment, Bacara’s hips stutter, and he releases a deep groan. “Oh, princess. Gladly.” He pulls out completely, pulling a disapproving whine from your lips and then he flips you back onto your back, before he thrusts back into you hard and fast. “I’m going to stuff you full of my cum, princess.” He promises, “Over and over and over, until I’m good and done.”

“Cara-” You whine his name as you arch against him as best as you can.

“So, be my good girl and take all of me,” He orders as he leans in and catches your lips in a passionate kiss, “Be my good girl, and I’ll ruin you.” He promises, his gaze dark.

And, really, how can you do anything other than obey him after that promise.

[solvrized]

secret texts

୨୧ ꒰ pairing ꒱ : silver x f!reader

୨୧ ꒰ context ꒱ : au silver was asking for love advice and accidentally sent the text to you

୨୧ ꒰ tags ꒱ : smut, sexting

୨୧ ꒰ author’s note ꒱ : its me again writing content for silver, aged up ofc. idk how to write out texts so pls forgive the look if it’s ugly x.x

It was a normal night for you. You were laying in bed listening to music and studying when your phone flashed a notification.

silver: well how am i supposed to tell [y/n] when every time i see her, my brain thinks less than appropriates thoughts

y: um, i’m gonna assume this wasn’t meant for me?

silver: please forgive me [y/n]. can you pretend you didn’t read that?

y: aww silver don't apologize. i'll continue to think about it actually. so you like me huh?

silver: no... i was telling someone what someone else said about you.

y: yeah uh huh, sure you were. if that’s the case, can you tell me who said it? maybe i think less than inappropriate thoughts about them too, who knows?

silver: i seriously doubt that.

y:well we’ll never know unless you just tell me.

silver: well that’s never going to happen so let’s just leave this conversation where it is, sorry for disturbing your night prefect.

y: well, now i’m just gonna have to assume it’s you who thinks about me that way. and that has me really wet right now, believe it or not.

silver: i find that very hard to believe.

you take your pillow and set it up in front of you so that you can lean your phone it. you slide off your underwear and open you legs and position yourself in front of the camera. leaving your face out so it’s just you from the lips down, in your night jersey and your area on display.

you take your fingers and spread your lips apart so that he can see how wet you are.

y: attachment.image

y: believe me now?

he swallows hard. not expecting for this conversation to be happening and certainly not expecting to see you like this. his boner growing hard in his own pants.

silver is very much a traditional man and he never expected to be seeing this from you.

yet, he can't help his growing desire for you. not wanting to miss this opportunity, he slides his boxers down and takes a picture.

carefully checking the name to make sure he doesn’t have the same mishap.

silver: attachment.image

silver: i can't believe i'm dong this. look what what you’ve done.

y: can i tell you all the things that i want to do to you right now?

silver: please go ahead.

y: well first i’d love to see how you taste. your cock looks nice and big and i’d love to see how much of you i could fit. i’d pay attention to every breath and moan you make when my tongue glides over you so i know what to keep doing.

silver: i’d hold your head in my hands as i fuck your mouth. i’d push myself into the back of your throat making you take all of me. i’d cum in your mouth and watch you swallow every last drop.

y: my my silver, who knew you had this in you?

y: after that, i would stand up and bend over so that you could take me. you’d smack my ass really hard and you’d slam into me as i scream your name over and over.

silver: i’d grab your boobs for stability and play with them as i pound into you over and over. i wouldn’t stop until you were begging me to let you cum

y: i’d squeeze myself around you to feel you twitch inside of me

silver: and i’d make you let me fill you up so much that i’d be dripping down your leg

y: i think i'm cumming for real now

silver: yeah i’ve definitely made a mess on my bed

y: we should maybe do this in real life sometime huh?

silver: can i at least take you out on a proper date first?

y: of course. i can't wait :)

[steddieas-shegoes]

i wanna be your sin

for @subeddieweek day five with the prompts rimming and possessive steve

rated e | 2,473 words | please check ao3 for tags

Day one:  ao3 | tumblr Day two: ao3 | tumblr Day three: ao3 | tumblr Day four: ao3 | tumblr

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

If being friends with Steve was easy, being loved by him was a piece of cake.

It would probably scare someone else, the way Steve loved. He gave everything, more than what Eddie felt he deserved. It was overwhelming at times, to be the focal point of all of Steve’s affection.

He showed up at Eddie’s house with flowers before their first date. And their second. And for their third, he brought him homemade cookies.

Fucking homemade cookies.

And every single time, he acted like it brightened his day to be able to provide these things to Eddie. Like if he couldn’t bring him flowers or cookies or kiss him or hold him, he’d crumble into a million pieces and cease to exist.

It was easy to love him back, too.

To play with his fingers in the car and lean his head on his shoulder, to get lost in the time they spent together until Wayne was opening the door to the trailer with his knowing smile and wave as Steve just waved back from his spot on the couch holding Eddie’s hand.

They weren’t stupid, though.

Their dates were usually places where two young guys could be caught hanging out without drawing suspicion, even if those two guys happened to be Eddie and Steve. If it wasn’t the diner or the bowling alley, or even the record store Steve had taken him to on their first date, they were in secret hiding spots around Hawkins, spending every moment they could giving in to temptation.

But sometimes they ventured outside their comfort zone.

Steve was Dustin’s chauffeur from Hellfire Club since his mom’s promotion that led her to working much later during the week.

They hadn’t exactly told anyone about what they were to each other, had barely even mentioned they were friends to anyone other than Robin, but Steve was insistent that no one would think anything if he just…hung out during Hellfire.

Eddie didn’t really have the heart to tell him that every single person in the room would be highly suspicious of anyone being allowed to stay and watch as Eddie had always been incredibly protective of their space and never let anyone watch who wasn’t inducted into Hellfire.

Steve sat in the corner of the room, only receiving a few concerned looks from the group at first. Most of the confusion was directed at Eddie.

When they took their usual five minute bathroom break, Gareth pulled him aside and questioned him.

“Dude. The hell.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Harrington? I know he’s Dustin’s second mom or whatever, but is it really necessary for him to be here? Doesn’t he have a job or something?” Gareth glanced over at Steve, who was looking back at both of them with a fire in his eyes.

Eddie ignored the way that look made him feel and crossed his arms over his chest, raising a brow at Gareth.

“Isn’t the point of Hellfire to welcome the lost sheep? No judgment?”

“Yeah, but-”

“And wouldn’t you think it rude to assume Steve doesn’t deserve to have some friends?”

“But he-”

“Everything okay over here?” Steve’s voice was right next to Eddie’s ear, and his hand was on his hip, squeezing.

Eddie’s mouth snapped closed, eyes widening as he watched Gareth’s gaze drop to where Steve was touching him and back up to Eddie’s face.

“Yeah, man. Just checking in on our friend, here,” Gareth gave Steve a fake smile before turning and walking away.

Steve’s hand didn’t drop and Eddie was certain that if he didn’t move in the next 10 seconds, they’d have a lot of explaining to do that Steve probably wasn’t ready for.

“Was he bothering you?” Steve asked, his face a mask of friendliness.

“Gareth? My best friend for three years? He always bothers me, but it’s nothing like that.” Eddie tapped Steve’s hand as a reminder that he should probably move it, but he just tightened his grip. “Um, you okay?”

Steve’s breath was warm against his jaw as he leaned in close to whisper in Eddie’s ear. “I’m great, sweet boy.”

The reaction was instant. And really fucking inconvenient.

Hearing those words from Steve now, when he still had an hour of a campaign to run, with children making their way back to the table, was enough to make him call it all off.

Fuck Hellfire. He needed Steve to fuck him.

Steve patted his ass twice before walking away, smiling to himself as he went back to his seat to watch Eddie deal with this sudden need to have Steve.

And then he just…carried on. Like it was nothing to have Steve’s hand on him one minute, his voice against his ear, and then go back to being the big, bad DM the next. He was a pretty good actor, but even he had his limits when Steve’s eyes were on him.

Even he could tell he was a little off after the break, and the knowing looks from Gareth and confused looks from the rest of them just emphasized how much he needed to get his shit together. This was his best campaign ever, and he knew he needed to roll into Christmas break with a cliffhanger that made everyone desperate to get back.

Steve watched the clock, then looked at Eddie, watching him fondly, but with a certain hunger in his eyes that was nowhere near appropriate for others to see.

“And as you crawl your way under the fence, mud and sweat coating your skin, you see a faint light coming towards you from a distance. Your entire group freezes and waits to see if you’ve been found. You breathe slowly, just enough to not pass out. The light gets closer.” Eddie stands from his chair, leaning over the table to blow out the candle. “The candle goes out. A voice yells down to you. ‘Come at once or die.’”

Eddie sits back in his chair and folds his hand across his stomach, waiting for the table to catch up that he was done.

“That can’t be it!” Lucas yelled.

“Eddie, you said you weren’t gonna end it on a cliffhanger!” Mike pouted.

“I never said such a thing and if I ever did, you should’ve known I was lying.” Eddie stood again, folding his DM notes up and picking up his personal minifigures to store in his bag. “We’ll pick up the first week back in the new year. Everyone go home and enjoy Christmas because there’s a chance some of you may perish on your journey here.”

Everyone grumbled except for Gareth, who was oddly quiet as they all cleaned up their own character sheets and minifigures. He kept glancing between Steve and Eddie, brows furrowed, like if he concentrated hard enough, something would make more sense to him.

Steve stood as the older kids filed out, driving themselves home or hitching rides with each other. Nancy was already outside waiting for Mike and Lucas, so they rushed out of the room, barely saying goodbye.

Dustin didn’t seem to notice or care that Steve and Eddie were staring at each other, that Eddie’s hands were practically shaking with anticipation for what was coming. Hopefully, he would be.

“Oh, mom told me to tell you that she made extra of that casserole you like so you can bring some back home with you when you drop me off,” he said as he finished packing up his bag.

“Sounds good, dude,” Steve said, not taking his eyes from Eddie.

Eddie could feel his face flushing, wondered how he could get Steve out of there before he did something stupid like kiss him in front of their shared child.

“You guys gonna kill each other or make out?” Dustin asked, not really looking at either of them, standing by the door to leave. “If you’re done, I have a curfew to make whether my mom’s home or not.”

Steve tossed Dustin his keys. “Wait for me. I’ll just be a minute. And I’ll know if you try to start her. Passenger seat only.”

Dustin knew better than to argue when it came to Steve’s car, so he nodded once and booked it from the room.

The moment they heard the main door to the auditorium slam shut, Steve was on him, pushing him back in his seat and looming over him with a deadly smile.

Eddie’s cock was straining against his jeans, rubbing against the zipper in a way that felt too good for him to be in public, especially when he knew Steve wasn’t gonna do anything about it.

“Unbutton your pants.”

Steve’s tone was cool, but Eddie knew him well enough to hear how much he was struggling to maintain composure.

What had he done to make Steve want him like this? Now?

“Here?” Eddie asked, looking around the room.

Steve’s hand cupped his jaw and turned it back to face him.

“Here.”

Eddie knew when to be a brat and now was not it.

He unbuttoned his pants with shaking hands, letting his cock feel a single moment of relief before Steve’s grip around it was rough, nearly too hard to feel good.

“Pull them down.”

“Steve-”

“Now. Unless you wanna stop. You know what to say if you do.”

Obviously, Eddie wasn’t going to stop. He trusted Steve, he trusted that Steve would never put him in any danger, and if Steve felt safe enough to do this here and now, then Eddie could let him have what he needed.

Eddie tugged his pants and boxers down to his thighs. He ignored the twinge in his back at the uncomfortable angle, focusing on Steve’s eyes on him, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he watched Eddie fumble.

“Turn around. On your knees.”

Eddie turned around, got on his knees.

“Lean forward.”

Eddie leaned forward.

Steve dropped to his knees and gripped Eddie’s hips. His nose brushed against the tail of his spine, breath leaving pinpricks of moisture behind. Or was that sweat? Had it gotten hotter in here?

“What if Dustin comes back in?”

“He won’t. He never has free access to my car.” Steve’s lips brushed against his skin, and Eddie realized just before it happened what Steve’s plan was.

Steve’s tongue trailed down the crack of his ass, hot and wet, spit mixing with the beginnings of sweat from his two hours of excitement. He’d showered that morning, but that morning was a long time ago.

He tried not to tense his body or pull away, but Steve noticed everything.

“Eds, color.” Steve was giving him enough space to think, to concentrate on an answer. They weren’t really playing in that space, but it was an easy way for Eddie to figure out if he actually wanted to keep going regardless of them taking on their roles or him floating into space.

“Um. Yellow,” he admitted quietly. He so rarely said anything besides green, and usually only when he was incredibly overwhelmed, so Steve immediately stood up and walked in front of him.

“What’s got you worried, love?” Steve cupped his face in his hands, making him forget momentarily that his bare ass was out for anyone to walk in and see.

“I’m not really clean? And, um, I don’t really know if I can get off with just that in only a few minutes,” Eddie didn’t break eye contact. He knew Steve liked when he looked at him while he talked through this stuff. It made him proud.

“Oh, sweet boy. I don’t need you to smell like roses to wanna get my mouth all over you,” Steve kissed his forehead. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, we can continue it later once you’ve showered. Or not at all. But I will say I had no intention of getting you off here.”

“But. You were gonna eat me out?”

“Yeah for a couple minutes. Get you worked up. Remind you that you belong to me, that you’re mine no matter who else gets to share your time.”

Steve was going to torture him, then. Why was that making him sweat more?

“You’re mine, baby. I get to make you feel good because it’s my job to take care of you.”

“Green.”

“Relax, sweet boy. I’ve got you.”

Eddie knew he did, so he let his forehead fall, resting against his arms folded over the back of his fake throne. There was something to be said about being worshiped here, something about being on his knees while holding all the power, but he was already too distracted by Steve’s hands pulling his cheeks apart to lick at his entrance to care.

Steve was good with his mouth and it was all too easy to get lost in the feeling of his tongue circling him, pushing past his rim every few swipes and making him rush to stifle a moan.

Just when Eddie started to feel like he needed a hand on him, Steve’s tongue disappeared.

Eddie shivered.

Steve’s hand ran up and down his back, but no other touch came, no words of comfort.

Eddie could hear rolling thunder in the distance and remembered Wayne saying something about getting home before it was supposed to storm tonight.

Might be too late for that now.

He could blame Steve.

Steve pulled his hand away and tugged his pants up for him, nearly knocking him over in his haste to get them in place and buttoned.

“Be good for me, sweet boy. I want you to finish up here and get home before it starts raining. I’ll be there when I drop Dustin off to take care of you,” Steve kissed his temple and started walking away.

“Wait!” Eddie got off the chair and rushed over to Steve, doing his best to ignore the wet, slippery feeling that Steve left behind. “Wayne’s gonna be home by midnight. You won’t be long?”

Steve shook his head, coming back to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Just gotta run in and make sure he heats up his dinner or he’ll forget. I’ll head straight over after that. Promise.”

Eddie nodded and watched as Steve walked out the door.

Thunder rolled again, still far enough away for him to be able to get to his van and get home.

He rushed through shutting off the lights, only leaving the security light on for the janitor when they got there first thing in the morning, throwing his bag over his shoulder and running to his van.

It was dark, but Eddie could still see the heavy clouds rolling in.

He unlocked his van, hopped into the driver’s seat, and turned the key.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Raindrops fell on the windshield and Eddie felt like crying.

Day six: ao3 | tumblr

[feeblescholarmyass]

I'll Tell You a Story Until You Fall Asleep

in which you ask them to read you a bedtime story.

word count: 2.2 k

pairings: caretaker!(Kaeya, Xiao, Zhongli, Cyno, Wanderer, Alhaitham) x child! Reader (separate)

tags: sick reader (Kaeya, Wanderer), comfort, caretaker/child dynamic, fluff, mentions of younger siblings (Cyno), Wanderer has trauma, Wanderer doesn't understand how people work, Alhaitham is bad with kids, gender neutral reader (you/your pronouns), second person pov

warnings: none

a/n: sorry for how short wanderer's is, I lost motivation really bad and gave up. also ignore the fact that this was completely unprompted, it's an old wip I finally got inspiration to finish

dividers by cafekitsune

KAEYA was notoriously unreliable when it came to things he didn't take interest in. Luckily for your primary caretaker, he took plenty of interest in you. When you had come down with a fever, they knew that they would need help convincing you to rest. No matter how big you were getting, you hadn't lost your large youthful reserves of energy. Only Barbatos himself could get you to settle down without a fuss.

Though he was no god, Kaeya was the only one who managed to come close. For some odd reason, he was the one you chose to admire. Hearing his voice could either rile you up or calm you down. His cold hands on your shoulder, either encouraging you or warning you, were the only communication you needed to make a decision.

So when he heard you were sick and asking for him, he happily dropped whatever he was doing to come visit. "Hey, kid. I heard you have a fever. How're you feeling?" He rapped his knuckles against the door to announce his presence.

You lifted your head from under your layers of blankets trapping you against your bed. "Kaeya..?" You sniffled, blinking tired eyes at him. "I thought you were busy with work."

You sounded so pitifully sick that it made his heart ache. "What? Me? Working? What put that in your head?" He scoffed, tossing his ponytail over his shoulder and smiling at you. "Don't tell the Acting Grandmaster I said that."

You giggled weakly, curling up under your comforter. He took the few steps necessary to reach your bedside and pulled up a chair. You reached over and grabbed his hand. It took both of your hands to grasp his. Your hands were still chubby and uncalloused. You pressed his palm to your forehead. He winced, noting how heat radiated from your skin.

"Kaeya..?"

"Yes? Do you need something from me, kid?"

"Can you tell me a story? I wanna listen to you talk." You nuzzled his hand. He looked at you with an amused grin pulling at his lips.

"Sure, kid. Let me think. Once upon a time…"

XIAO jolted up from where he was sitting when he heard you calling. He appeared in your room at Wangshu Inn, worried something bad had happened.

He caught sight of you, curled up on the couch, snuggled deep into a blanket with a sheepish look on your face. "Sorry. Were you busy?"

"No, I was not. What do you need?" He crossed his arms, setting down his weapon.

"I, um, well- I wanted to hear a story. I couldn't sleep, and I tried everything else already." You looked away, trying to hide your embarrassment.

He took a moment to regain his composure before moving closer. "I am not skilled at telling stories. Coming up with compelling fiction has never been a part of my required skill set. I apologize for disappointing you."

"You don't have to make up anything. You can just tell me a memory about the other Yakshas when they were alive. That would make a very good story. I'll braid your hair while you talk." You scooted over so he had room to sit next to you.

He couldn't help it, a small smile pulled at his lips as he sat next to you. The feeling of your small nimble fingers weaving locks of hair into a braid was always relaxing, and it would be nice to reminisce about the past. To have someone else remember the truth of those long gone was always a weight off his shoulders.

"Okay. What should I tell you first…"

ZHONGLI didn't get why so many children hung around funeral parlors these days. Childcare was not in his job description, but he couldn't deny a citizen of Liyue any aid he could give in his mortal form.

You weren't troublesome, and often helped around the parlor. Hu Tao sent you on some of the more paranormal excursions on behalf of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Hearing a child warn others about ghosts was much less troublesome than herself or a strange adult. Your "stories" were hardly ever taken seriously.

Due to your regular trips to the parlor, you often visited with the man and talked over tea. Even though you were young, he enjoyed trading stories back and forth. Yours were normally more fantastical, aided by the imagination that comes natural to most children, while his were near-truths that he lightly sanitized for the sake of your innocence.

Normally, you would leave the parlor long before dusk, returning to your home for whatever your nightly routine was. However, today was different. The sun had already set, and you seemed intent on sticking around.

"Mr Zhongli, when do you go home to sleep? I bet you go to bed early, like Grandpa does. Where do you live, Mr Zhongli? Maybe I could visit you during your off days."

He sighed, placing a hand on your head and ruffling your hair. "You know, young one, it doesn't do your body any good to run from sleep. You should return home."

You looked up sheepishly at him, kicking your feet back and forth while avoiding his unspoken question. "I'm not running from anything, Sir."

"Tell me your troubles, child. How can I help you?"

You pursed your lips for a few seconds, clearly struggling with your words. "I don't wanna go home tonight. I was supposed to stay with my auntie, but her house smells weird and she doesn't cook good food. So I told her that I could stay at a friend's house…"

"I'm assuming you meant Hu Tao's." Zhongli sighed. The Director had left for home an hour ago, and you didn't know the way there. "I shall take you, don't worry."

"Um- actually, I wanted to stay with you. Miss Director said you tell the best bedtime stories. I wanna hear one."

He looked down at you, eyes widened in surprise. "I'm not sure that is-"

"Oh, pleeeaaassseee, Mr Zhongli! I promise I won't stay up too late or wake you up early! You could even tell me the story at the Director's place! I just really want you to tell me a story!"

Zhongli knew he wouldn't win this battle without any underhanded tactics, such as alerting your aunt of your whereabouts. It couldn't hurt to tell you just one story, right?

"Alright, let us go to the Director. I will tell you one story, but only one."

"Yay! You're the best, Mr Zhongli!"

CYNO wouldn't tell anyone, but he always looked forward to staying in Aaru Village before returning home from a mission. He planned his schedule just so that he would arrive before dinner and had enough time the next day to stay for breakfast with your family. You were the oldest of your siblings, and the only one who wouldn't groan at his god awful jokes. Instead, you would one-up him, and provide him with new material to try on Tighnari during his next TCG session.

He had been taking a stroll around the village before dinner when he heard familiar giggling somewhere behind him. He continued walking, pretending not to have noticed. It wasn't long before he felt you wrap your arms around his back and say, "Cyno!!"

"I wondered when you were finally going to show yourself." He turned and picked you up, examining you. Since his last visit, you had grown taller by approximately 3/4ths of an inch, lost some of the baby fat in your cheeks, and cut your hair. He had been gone for too long.

"Hehe, sorry. Candace was looking for you and said I had the best chance of finding you. Dinner is going to be ready soon."

"Well then we'd better hurry, otherwise we might miss Candace's cooking." He had tried to find a joke, but he was too distracted to think of a half decent one. He was finally back, and his favorite kid was already telling him all that he had missed.

He didn't miss an opportunity to make a joke all throughout dinner. He made a total of six jokes, two of which earned him glares from Candace, and five puns, one actually getting a laugh out of you. You had only made one joke, yet it received much more laughter from the other kids, as well as Candace's approval. He was losing.

After dinner, the two of you had retreated into your bedroom to compare TCG cards and tactics. You even engaged him in one game before being overwhelmed by tiredness.

"Hey, Cyno," you yawned, "can you tell me a story? I don't wanna go to bed just yet."

"What kind of story?" He asked, carefully putting away the cards.

"I dunno, maybe one from the forest. It's been a long time since I've heard one of those."

"Bored with the desert already? Don't tell me you're deserting me to move to the forest."

You stared at him blankly.

"Get it? Because desert, which means to abandon someone or something in a way considered disloyal, is spelled just like desert, which is the type of environment we are in? No?"

"Just tell me a bedtime story already."

"Fine, fine. but you never answered my question. Besides, I thought that one was funny."

WANDERER was panicking. You were sick, and he didn't know how to help. You couldn't do anything you usually could do, and he, as a puppet, had never been sick. The only real previous experience he had with sickness was the one that led to his old friend's death. Seeing you here, so small and helpless just like he had been, brought back horrible memories.

"Abhi, don't cry." You reached up and brushed some of his hair out of his face. "It's just a fever. I get 'em every year. Don't you get sick?"

" 'm not crying. And no, I never get sick. You're just a weak human child, who is more susceptible to such things than average." He tried to ignore the glare you gave him. "How do you get rid of it?"

"Well, rest is the best way. But I'm having trouble going to sleep. D'ya think you could tell me a bedtime story, Abhi?"

He seemed nervous, but decided he'd rather stay by your side anyways. Just in case. "Fine. What kind of story do you want?"

It had been a lie, originally. A simple white lie to get out of some gathering. The shock factor of his 'confession' gave him time to escape before any of them could protest. Truthfully, ALHAITHAM didn't have a child himself, nor would anyone in their right mind entrust him to take care of one.

But when Nilou volunteered to send you to join his lie, he couldn't turn you down. It was something about that look in your eye. And maybe the book in your hands. Most children in Sumeru didn't bother reading, not even with the Akasha gone. You were doing it for fun.

He decided he'd take you, at least to give him a solid excuse. Who knows, maybe he could do this more often if you didn't cause him any trouble.

"Mr Scribe, your bookshelf is very unorganized."

Okay, maybe this was a little more effort than he had expected. You couldn't blame him, he'd obviously never spent much time around children.

"Oh? Well, it doesn't bother me." He crossed his arms, sitting down on the couch.

You sat across from him, your big eyes taking in your surroundings. He noted your eyes lingering on the decor he'd bought to annoy Kaveh. Your wrinkled nose worried him. If you shared too much in common with the architect, he was in for a long night.

He made dinner, deciding that he could avoid you productively that way. You seemed to busy yourself by going through his books. You ate silently during dinner, and seemed to tire of sorting just after dusk.

Finally, you spoke up. "Mr Scribe?"

"My name is Alhaitham." He said firmly, turning the page of the book he was reading.

"Alright, Alhaitham. Your books are boring. Do you know any stories?"

He looked up from the book, his eyes catching on you. You had a book in your lap. It wasn't one he'd consider difficult, but it wasn't something he'd imagine a child would have the patience to read. "A… story?"

"You know, like a fairytale or a myth. A fable. A fiction. Or do you only read textbooks?"

He couldn't help the grin that pulled at his lips. "You've got quite the vocabulary there, don't you?" He closed the book, sitting up. "I suppose I might know one or two."

"I'd like you to tell me a story, please." You said, putting away the book you'd given up on.

"Alright, I suppose I could spare a few minutes. How about this, I'll tell you some stories from the desert. Have you ever heard about King Deshret?"

You scrambled onto the couch beside him and listened attentively as he told you one of the myths from before Deshret's death. He told stories of old gods and their followers. It may not have been a classical fairytale, but it was a story nonetheless. It wasn't long before you'd fallen asleep with your head resting against the cushions.

"You'll wake up sore if you sleep like that," he chided to your unconscious ears. He sighed and scooped you up, placing him on his lap instead.

You weren't a bad kid. Maybe he'd watch you again if he ever needed an excuse to leave work early or avoid being dragged to a party.

comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

[upat4amwiththemoon]

hiii! i just finished watching agents of shield season 5 and was wondering if you can write a daisy johnson x fem!reader based on the scene in season 5 when deke was going to confess his crush on daisy. so basically daisy and R (who's also on coulson's team) have been dating for a while but the team doesn't know yet, and when deke is about to tell daisy abt his crush on her, she casually mentions her gf. idk why i thought it would be hilarious 😭 also i hope it's not too confusing 😭

Lemons

Summary: When you’re in the past, don’t leave lemons on your crush’s bed.

Pairing: Daisy Johnson x female!reader, platonic Deke Shaw x Daisy Johnson x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 771

a/n: 🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

masterlists | guidelines

Deke walks towards Daisy’s room, hoping to find her there, so he could tell her he left the lemons on her bed. He doesn’t want her to think someone else, like Mack, was the one who has feelings for her.

Stopping in front of her room’s doorway, he knocks on the side. Daisy lifts her head up to look at him. He glances to see that the lemons are still on her bed, but his gaze moves to the big bag on the floor. “What’s in the bag?”

“My mom.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t what he expected, but he supposes these kind of things are normal in the SHIELD team. He walks into the room, “I heard about your little dust up, I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’ve been better. It’s like the universe keeps reminding me I should never have come back from the future,” she pauses, turning to look at her bed, “also, some creep put a bunch of lemons on my bed, as some weird sort of prank.”

Deke scoffs, glamcing at the lemons and Daisy. “Sounds like classic Fitz.” He lets out an airy and strained laugh. Curses flow through his mind, he should’ve known giving lemons wasn’t a custom in the past. “Look, I- um, I feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. I, on the other hand, I lived in a lighthouse my entire life, only to time travel into the past and still spend every single day of my life inside the freaking lighthouse. So..it’s like, even without Kasius gone, this place just has this leash that keeps pulling me back in.”

“Well, I’m glad you stuck around, even if it’s a little crazy.” She gives him a small smile before looking down at her hands.

The smile makes Deke feel all nervous and bubbly inside. Despite the setback with the lemons, he decides to gather his courage. “Well, maybe it’s not that crazy.” He chuckles quietly. “I-I’ve been wanting to tell you something since we’ve gotten, you know,” he moves to sit next to Daisy on the couch, “I don’t want to say closer, but-“

Daisy scoffs, interrupting him. “You really don’t. Everyone who gets close to me ends up dying.”

“Me too.” Deke says almost enthusiastically, as if that was a good thing. “And that’s why I feel like we have so much in common.”

“My mom.” Daisy mumbles.

“I-I know, and-“ he tries to continue, but Daisy isn’t listening anymore.

“Lincoln.”

“Who’s Lincoln?”

“Uh, Lincoln Campbell. He..he was the first inhuman that I became close with. Fought at our side, and he- he died. He died for me, really.” She sighs, looking at the floor, the memories seeping into her mind. “Right when we were getting going, or, you know, getting good.”

“It sounds like you were really in love with this guy.”

“I was.” She smiles, now other memories invading her thoughts. Deke opens her mouth to confess, but Daisy beats her to it, “luckily I met Y/N.”

“Y/N?” He frowns. “Like, you’re lucky she’s your friend?”

“No,” Daisy laughs, “she’s my girlfriend.”

“As in..you’re dating?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“What?” She raises her brows, fully turning to look at him now.

His eyes widen. “Nothing! I just didn’t know the two of you are dating.” He explains quickly, hoping she can’t see the heartbreak on his face.

“You’re actually the first one to know.”

Deke actually starts smiling. It’s a good feeling to be the one to find out something before anyone else, also, he is relieved the others didn’t send him on a fool’s errand while knowing Daisy isn’t even single. “Well, that’s nice.”

The moment gets interrupted by Y/N walking into the room, “Dais, I heard about the f-“ she stops on her track once she notices Deke sitting there. “Oh, sorry to interrupt. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Deke knows.” Daisy states with a smile, offering her hand for Y/N, so she’d come sit with them.

“Wonderful.” She mumbles. “Does Deke know how to keep his big mouth shut?”

He raises his hands and nods. “Deke does know how to keep his big mouth shut.” He would never tell her, but Y/N actually scares him a little bit, in a cool way. He thinks she is cool. Which he would also never tell her.

Daisy laughs, kissing Y/N. Deke looks away at that, feeling a ting of pain at the affection, but he’ll get over it. So, he stays in the room, talking with the pair. Because he thinks this’ll be a great trio.

[ominous-feychild]

✦ Character Voice Tag ✦

Following tag from @honeybewrites!

Characters from Sun and Shadow: Freya, Crow, and Daleira Characters from the Arcane Rifts: Gene, Tazin, and Mislav

Lines to be used: - "Move over! I wanna watch too." @honeybewrites - "A little help, please?" @the-golden-comet - "Unhand me!" @the-letterbox-archives - "Okay, someone has to come up with a plan" @fractured-shield

"Move over! I wanna watch too."

Freya: "Move! Ugh--please, sorry!" *has already shoved her way past* Crow: *teleported through shadows to get to a better vantage point* Crow: "Excusez-moi!" *at the same time as slapping them aside with their wing* (note: they are not French.) Daleira: "Excuse me, please. I want to watch this too." Gene: "Uhm... ex-excuse me... please..." Tazin: "OUT OF THE WAY!" *meanwhile shoving people way more violently than necessary* Mislav: *way too quietly* "excuse me? I... excuse--vynost, I SAID MOVE!!!" *will shove if they haven't jumped out of the way of the screaming 9-year-old*

"A little help, please?"

Freya: "A little help over here!? Sooner rather than later???" Crow: "Ey! Over here! HELP!" Daleira: "Hey, could I get some help please?" Gene: *is not physically capable of asking for help* Gene: "Uhm... could-could I... please get some help?" Tazin: "Get your ass over here and HELP ME!" (note: read in a nasally, obnoxious 9-year-old's voice) Mislav: "hey, um... could I get some help? Please?"

"Unhand me!"

Freya: "what the--let go of me!" *will tear away from who/whatever grabbed her if she's able* Crow: *combat mode: engaged. Duck into their own shadows and teleport to get a moment to process the scene before reacting further.* Crow: *calmly, making eye contact* "you have less than five seconds to let go of me. Five. Four--" Daleira: *making eye contact, but trying to figure out if the grabbing was malicious or well-intentioned* "what's wrong." (hint: you do NOT want to be on her bad side.) Gene: *at the top of his lungs, voice cracking from under-use, and simultaneously yanking away with more strength than a 7-year-old should have* "LET GO OF ME!!!" (*panik attack*) Tazin: *insert unintelligible demonic screeching here. And imagine the grabber being set on fire. Because both will be the case.* Mislav: "LET GO OF ME!" *will yank away with, yet again, more strength than a human child should have. In fact, even more than a human adult if the grabber is intimidating. Will headbutt and leave a GNARLY bruise if necessary.*

"Okay, someone has to come up with a plan!"

Freya: "Guys??? What are we doing??? Don't tell me I have to figure something out!" Crow: *deadpan* "Don't make me break out Plan B. Trust me, you do NOT want Plan B." Daleira: *taking a deep breath and tying her hair back with a hairtie that JUST magically appeared* "alright, here's what we're going to do." Tazin: "GENE, COME UP WITH SOMETHING RIGHT NOW!!!" Gene: (regardless of whether or not ^^^ just happened) "I... I think I have an idea..." Mislav: "ohvynostpleaseno--does anyone have a plan??? Anyone??? Anything??? Ohvynostno--PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME HAVE TO USE IT!!!"

Your line: "Well, you see, Perry the Platypus, it all started on the day I (...) AND THAT'S WHY I PLAN TO CONQUER THE TRI-STATE AREA!" (in other words, if you don't want to Doofenshmirtz it, "This is why I'm about to do this No Good, Very Bad Thing. That is also why you are not going to stop me or change my mind." I thought it'd be fun with Doofenshmirtz's way, but either should work!)

Tagging (with no pressure) @darkandstormydolls @yourpenpaldee @.honeybewrites @.the-letterbox-archives (avoiding double-tags) and whoever else wants to join!

Divider from @cafekitsune

[angelsanarchy]

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 21

Tagging: @ophelialaufey@madamemaximoff06@forever-not-gonna-sink@ajmiila02@liquidsmoothdomme@shady-the-simp @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27

Oystein had stopped putting in orders for a few weeks. He figured after what Y/n went through seeing the photo of Pelle, it would be best to give her a bit of a break. If he got a craving, he didn't mind just stepping in and grabbing it. The few times he went in though, he hadn't seen Y/n in the back or even sitting in the office. When he resumes putting in his orders, some guy ends up dropping his order off.

"Did Y/n finally decide to stop bringing you lunch?" Faust asked confused.

"Honestly, I have no idea. I haven't seen her in a few weeks. He tried again the next day and it was still another person and not Y/n. Eventually he walked into the shop and saw Hammeed standing at the register.

"Your regular Mr. Oystein?" He asked and he gave a nod.

"Hey did Y/n quit?" Oystein could see a saddened look on Hammeed's face.

"Oh no, she asked for some time off. She works very hard. She wasn't doing well. I do apologize she hasn't been able to deliver your orders. Has there been a problem with the deliveries?" He asked

"No no they've been great. Don't worry about it. I was just curious." Oystein took his food back to the store and locked himself in his office. He debating on doing another drive by but after her neighbor had spotted him last time, he didn't want to make it worse.

Instead, he called the grocery store she also worked at.

"Hi I was looking to place an order but wanted to know if Y/n was available to deliver it? She delivers for my parents usually." Oystein asked sitting back in his chair.

"Oh Y/n is on bereavement leave for another week. We can try and find someone else to make a delivery but you might have to just pick up your order." The woman on the line explained.

Oystein hung up the phone and chewed on his lip. Bereavement leave might someone had died. The only person he knew was sick was her mom but she was mentally sick, not on the verge of death sick. He sat for hours trying to decide what to do. He finally searched for a phone book and was able to find the number that matched the address he had written on a small ripped piece of paper he kept in his wallet. He dialed the number and waited nervously for someone to answer.

"Hello?" It was a woman but not Y/n.

"Um...hi I was calling for Y/n...to offer my condolences." Oystein sat up hoping this wouldn't backfire on him.

"Oh I'm sorry sweetheart but she's sitting in Shiva right now. Would you like me to take a message?" The woman asked quietly.

"I um...I'm a friend and I was just worried about her. I heard she was on bereavement leave and I got worried...how is she doing?" Oystein asked cautiously.

"Honestly she's not doing well. She really thought her little brother was getting better. She had spent a lot of time with him working through his issues but his soul was just too broken to bare another day here. It didn't help that she found his body." Oystein closed his eyes tightly hearing what the woman was saying. Y/n's little brother must have killed himself. He wasn't expecting that at all. He remembers her mentioning her brother had issues like Pelle but he never considered that he was so closely related.

"Shiva is over in another few days and she said she would be going back to work soon. Do you work with her?" The woman asked and Oystein swallowed the lump in his throat.

"No I'm just a friend. Can you tell her that Oystein is here if she needs anything, anything at all." He said tearing the photo of Pelle off the wall.

"I will let her know Oystein. Thank you for calling and the condolences." The woman hung up the phone and Oystein took his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose. This is not what he was expecting. Everything felt so upside down. He should have known why Y/n was so hurt by his actions when it came to Pelle's death. He came off as a heartless and callous and she was desperately trying to keep her brother here. He felt like the biggest piece of shit on the planet.

He picked up the phone and dialed his home number. He waited to hear his mother's voice.

"Mom, I need your help. Y/n's brother died and I need to know what to send for condolences." Oystein stayed on the phone with his mother for over an hour in search of food delivery, flower delivery and any sort of funeral plans that his family could send an arrangement to. He asked his mom about what Shiva was and she explained that is a period of mourning after the funeral for the family to heal. She explained it was a very personal time for the family's healing journey and that it would be best for him to stay clear of her for now.

He also talked to her about Pelle and how things have happened between the two of them and while she wasn't thrilled to hear how he exploited the death of his friend, she explained to him that she knows how painful it was for him to lose Pelle. Oystein cried on the phone with his mother for the first time since he was a child.

He knew he had to get his shit together for his own sake. He needed to get back to the roots of what brought him to where he was today and stop letting stupid shit overshadow it all.