#i’ve got bright blue bruises on me and they appeared same day… and here i was thinking i was being a pussy about the massage gun 🫥

[scottybrock]

The Show - Beck/Jade/Reader

A/N: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING A FIC THAT HAS A POLY COUPLE IN IT, PLS DON’T ROAST ME

“Move,” Jade ordered, slamming her lunch tray on the table. Tori glared at her, but Jade was unfazed. “You kissed Beck during your first week here,” Jade reminded the thin brunette. Beck scrunched his nose at the reminder, subconsciously lifting a hand to wipe at his lips. “That was because you poured coffee on my head!” Tori whined. 

You glanced at Jade, who smirked. “Be glad it was iced coffee,” Jade responded, roughly shoving her way between you and Tori. “If you ever try to put your dry lips near my girlfriend, you’ll have to worry about more than a cup of coffee.” Tori yelped as Jade slammed her hip against hers, but you welcomed the contact, leaning closer to your girlfriend. A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “Hey,” You grinned. Jade’s bright blue eyes lit up, and her expression softened. “Yeah, hey,” She grumbled. Beck shifted closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Hey babe,” He greeted. Jade rolled her eyes at him, but a soft smile spread across her face. “Whatever.” She grumbled.

Tori tilted her head, her brows furrowing. “How is it that Jade has not one, but two significant others, and I’m single?!” She whined. You exchanged a look with Beck, then rolled your eyes. Jade glared at Tori. “What’re you trying to say, Vega? That I’m hideous, so therefore I deserve to die alone?” She snapped. You nuzzled your face into the crook of her neck, pressing a light kiss to her neck. 

Her glare softened as she turned to you. “Excuse me, I’m trying to scare the wazz out of Vega,” She murmured, trying to stop the giggles that were building up in her chest. You pressed another soft kiss to her neck, and she sighed, her tense posture relaxing, leaning against you. Beck leaned over and brushed his lips over Jade’s. “Yeah, but there are more… pleasant things that we can be doing with that time,” He smirked. You lifted your head from its comfy place to turn around and kiss him, your tongue pressing against the seam of his lips. 

His response was immediate; he gripped your hips with bruising force, pulling you onto his lap. Jade leaned over to scatter rough kisses along your neck, biting lightly at your soft skin. “Guys,” Tori cleared her throat. You ignored the waifish brunette, running your hands along Beck’s back, pulling him impossibly closer. Jade’s kisses and Beck’s tongue were doing things to you that weren’t entirely appropriate in a school setting.

With great reluctance, you slid off of Beck’s lap. His hands gripped your hips as if to hold you there, but seeing the determined expression on your face, he relented and gave your hips a final squeeze. Jade’s kisses tapered off, and you finally looked at the table. While you’d been occupied with your boyfriend and girlfriend, Andre, Robbie (plus Rex, but you couldn’t stand the puppet), and Cat had all found their way to the table. “Whoa,” Rex said. If he could, he’d be grinning like the little leper he was. “That was hot, babe.” 

Jade’s brows furrowed, a thunderstorm of emotions flickering over her flawless face. “Call my girlfriend babe again and you’ll lose an arm,” She snarled. Robbie shielded Rex protectively as Andre snickered. Tori looked on with an amused expression, a subtle smile curving her lips. Cat let out a high pitched giggle. “One time, my brother…” She started, then adopted an offended expression when your friends all groaned, nearly at the same time. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” She exclaimed. Jade ignored her, turning to Beck. “Get me coffee,” She demanded. You perked up, giving your boyfriend a hopeful look. Beck caved almost instantly. “What’s the magic word?” He asked playfully. 

Jade’s glare sharpened. “Now!” She snapped at the same time that you shouted “Please!” and offered your boyfriend a charming smile. Beck rolled his eyes at Jade, but bent down to press a firm kiss to her lips. Her expression softened, and she looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes and uttered in a soft, sweet tone that she reserved only for you and Beck. “Please?” She requested. 

Beck’s handsome face lit up, a toothy grin settling on his lips. “Be back in a minute.” He acquiesced. As he walked away, Jade shouted after him, “Two sugars!” He turned back and gave her a thumbs up. Jade turned to her salad and began violently stabbing it as hard as the plastic fork would allow. You didn’t bother reminding Beck of your coffee order; after all, he’d been your boyfriend for almost three years. He knew what to do. 

You were broken out of your reverie by Tori asking Jade if she could have a cucumber from her salad. Jade glared at her frenemy. “No,” She snapped. Tori pouted, sticking her lower lip out. “C’mon, I just want an itty-bitty piece of cucumber,” Tori whined. Jade rolled her eyes, then picked up her entire salad, aiming it at Tori. Tori shrieked, ducking for cover. Andre immediately grabbed his backpack, ready to make a run for it. Cat was oblivious, eating her pizza without a care in the world. Robbie let out a whimper. You just watched, waiting to see what your beautiful girlfriend was going to do. 

Much to your amusement, she didn’t throw the salad at Tori. She chucked her half-eaten salad directly at Rex, and by extension, Robbie. The salad hit the two of them, landing with soggy splat. Robbie’s jaw hung open, his eyes wide. Jade glared at him. “That’s for calling my girlfriend babe,” She snarled. Robbie glared back at her, then immediately cowered away from her when he realized what he’d done. Without another word, he grabbed his backpack and his puppet and hightailed it away from the table. 

Andre and Tori laughed. You snickered, which brought a small smile to Jade’s flawless face. Jade raised an eyebrow at them. “I think you should leave,” She said, her tone matter of fact. Andre was well aware that when Jade used that tone, she wasn’t asking- she was telling. “Alright,” He acquiesced. “See you guys in Sikowitz’s class,” He stood, but Tori stopped him, furrowing her brows once more. “Why do we have to leave?” The songstress complained. Jade’s smirk sharpened. “Because,” She drawled. “While I no longer have a salad to throw at you, I have these,” With that statement, she whipped a pair of scissors out of one of her boots. 

Tori had a look of absolute horror on her face as she fled the table, with Andre following close behind her shouting, “Why’d you hafta ask why?!” Cat followed behind them, gleefully proclaiming, “Weee! I love running!” You giggled, pressing a soft kiss to Jade’s lips. “Wanna tell me the real reason you scared everyone away?” You asked, your voice teasing. Jade’s perfect lips curled into a soft smirk. “Maybe I just want to spend time alone with my boyfriend and girlfriend,” She replied, shifting so that you could pull her closer, your legs brushing against hers, then finally entwining. You pressed a hand to your chest, your voice playfully mocking. “Jade West, whatever do you plan on doing with me?”

Jade’s gorgeous face lit up, her smile roguish. “Oh, I plan on doing a lot with you,” She murmured. Your cheeks flushed, and you nudged her. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You teased, your lips brushing gently over the shell of her ear. She shivered. “Maybe when Beck gets back… We can go to the janitor's closet and ditch fifth period,” You suggested. Jade’s cheeks flushed, the redness contrasting quite lovely with the paleness of her skin. Her smile was uncharacteristically shy. “I’d like that,” She replied softly. 

Beck returned, balancing three coffee cups. “Where’d everyone go?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow at the blush on Jade’s cheeks. You reached for your coffee, taking a quick sip. “That’s not of importance right now,” You replied, a devilish smirk appearing on your face. Beck’s other eyebrow rose; he knew when you had that look on your face, trouble wasn’t far behind. “Oh yeah?” He asked, handing Jade, who looked rather flustered, her coffee. “Then what is of importance right now?” 

Your smirk grew and you glanced over at Jade, who was squirming in her seat. “The important thing right now is that our girl has some needs that need to be taken care of.” You replied. A matching smirk flashed over Beck’s face. He turned to Jade. “Is that so?” He looked unbelievably smug. How could he not be, when he knew that he was about to fuck two of the most gorgeous girls? “Well, babe. How about we move this somewhere else? Wouldn’t wanna give anyone a show, would we?” 

You shrugged, your eyes glinting playfully. “What if I would?” You teased. Beck’s eyes darkened, and Jade whimpered in the background. Beck set his cup of coffee down and pulled you to him, his hands gripping your hips tightly once more. “Fuck the janitor’s closet,” Beck’s voice was low and gravelly. “We’re ditching for the rest of the day. I’ll give you and Jade a show you won’t soon forget.” 

Jade stood on shaky legs, and you and Beck pulled her in close, so that you formed a small circle. Jade’s fingers ran up and down your leg, causing you to shiver. “I don’t doubt that,” Jade smirked. “Never had a reason to complain before.” You nodded in agreement. Beck growled lowly, moving one of his hands to grip one of Jade’s hips as well. “I’ve got no complaints on my end either,” Beck remarked, his dark brown eyes practically pitch black with lust. “Now get your sweet asses to the truck so we can get to the RV, and I can fuck you both into the mattress until the sun comes up.”

You grinned slyly at him, then glanced at Jade. “Can I fuck Jade into the mattress, too? You can watch.” Jade shifted slightly, letting out a soft whine. She loved that idea, and it was obvious Beck did too, as he pulled you into a bruising kiss. You nipped at his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him. “Get to the truck now,” Beck growled. “I’m gonna call us in sick. I want both of you in the truck and ready to go by the time I get back.”

“I’m already ready to go,” Jade grinned. Beck let out a soft groan. “Let me go call us in sick, stop tempting me.” Jade’s grin sharpened, and she collected the abandoned coffee cups. “We’re most certainly going to need energy to go until the sun rises,” Jade shrugged innocently. Beck grinned, then hurried back to the school. The lunch period was long over, but the fun was just about to begin. 

“Don’t take too long, or we’ll start without you!” You called after him. Jade laced her fingers with yours, and the two of you began walking to the truck. Her smirk would have made the devil proud. “I like the way you think.” 

You grinned at her. “And I like the way you taste.” Jade’s cheeks flushed once more. “Ditto. I like the way you taste. Now stop talking, or we’re really going to have to start without Beck.” She grunted, opening the door for you. You pressed a soft kiss to her lips in thanks, then slid into the car. Jade joined you seconds later, resting her head on your shoulder. You wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer. She inhaled deeply, then snuggled closer. 

The driver’s side door opened, and Beck slid in. “We’re all set,” He told you and Jade. His dark eyes glinted with the promise of pleasure and love. “Are you ready?” Jade made a soft noise of affirmation. You grinned back at him, your eyes twinkling. “Always.” You replied. 

Beck’s smile widened. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

#beck oliver #jade west #jade west x reader #jade west fanfic #jade x reader #jade west fanfiction #beck oliver x reader #beck oliver x jade west x reader #victorious #cat valentine #andre harris #robbie shapiro

[smallish-viking]

Hiccup the Third, King of the Wilderwest - a HTTYD book fanfic

A year after the war, Hiccup struggles with the pressures of kingship.

3000 ish words

Hiccup struggled to focus on the pages in front of him, eyes growing weary of letters, maps. Forcing himself to conjure solutions to problems as old and complicate as the Archipelago itself.

‘Hiccup?’

Camicazi peered around the door of the hut, flooding the room with the golden pink of dusk, her hair illuminated like a halo.

‘You spend so long in here we are beginning to forget what you look like.’

Hiccup looked at her, everything in him was aching to step out those doors and into the light of the evening, but his work tugged at the edges of his mind.

‘The Meathead land claims will be there in the morning. Come on, Hiccup’.

She was right, Hiccup thought. What use was a King who couldn’t think straight? He reached his aching, ink stained hands to his head and carefully lifted the crown and placed it on the table. Despite its weight, the crown fit him better than ever.

Camicazi grinned as he followed her out into the summer evening.

The golden light hit Hiccup like a physical blow. He stretched out his arms like a bird before flight, feeling the sea air flow between his fingers and blow back his hair. He breathed it in, almost desperately, and closed his eyes, relishing this feeling of weightlessness.

On the clifftop sat a small collection of huts, nicknamed ‘King’s Corner’, built flat and squat to survive coastal storms. Some were lined with books for reading or study. Others were used as meeting chambers where the Council of the Wilderwest gathered for discussion and meetings were held with representatives of the tribes. Hiccup had his back to them as he looked out to the sea. The last of the fishing boats were returning now, and their long shadows were etched into the dazzling blue and golden water. It was low tide and a few small figures could be seen setting out nets on the wet sand among the waders and gulls. Some dragons flew overhead with the cormorants, heading home to roost. There were other dragons, too, who scampered through tall grasses which were ablaze with the day’s final effort of sunlight.

Hiccup and Camicazi began to walk along the clifftop together. Wordlessly, Camicazi handed Hiccup his helmet. It was bashed and scratched thing, scarred by a lifetime of adventure. Unlike the Crown it was weightless as it sat upon his red hair. She reached up and adjusted it on Hiccup’s head, moving aside a lock of hair so the Dragon Mark was visible.

‘That’s better.’

‘Thank you, Camicazi,’ said Hiccup, his voice hoarse from hours of silence.

She flashed him a smile. ‘No problem’. Her eyes met his. There was a fierce warmth in her gaze, like a bonfire in winter, but, too soon, it was gone. She ran ahead of him and swiftly performed a few cartwheels on the grass.

‘So’, Hiccup ran up to her, ‘what have I missed?’.

‘Well,’ Camicazi breathed as she sprung upright again. ‘Tuffnut Junior won a friendly axe fight with Dogsbreath the Duhbrain.’

‘Uh huh’.

‘Gobber beat Baggybum in an arm wrestle. So Baggybum stole his trousers and they called it quits’.

‘Right.’

‘And my mother and your father had a bet on who could rustle the most sheep.’

‘And who won?’

‘My mother of course, she’s the undefeated champion! Better luck next time, Hiccup my boy!’

They had reached the tavern. The familiar sounds reached Hiccup from within, the ambient noise of scraping chairs and chinking glass, of dragon shrieks, laughter and fights about to break out. Camicazi went in first, peering around the corner as she did. She held the heavy oak door open for Hiccup and he stepped in. The shutters were open, so the dying light of the day cast golden beams over the Vikings eating and drinking at the tables and illuminated those who talked and swayed at the sides. Hiccup lingered at the back with Camicazi as he watched them.

Even though the tavern was bustling, Stoick looked up when the door opened, face lifting at the sight of his son. With a single motion of his head, he beckoned Hiccup and Camicazi to join them. Stoick the Vast sat among many of the old warriors of the tribes; Valhallarama of the White Arms and Chunky Thighs, Gobber the Belch, Big Boobied Bertha and several others. Hiccup slid down next to Stoick as Camicazi went to join her mother. The impressive stature of his father loomed beside him. Hiccup nestled into his shadow, a wave of comfort coming over him as he slipped into the role of his father’s son, a boy again.

‘How’s it going, Hiccup?’ said Stoick as he clapped Hiccup on the back.

Hiccup let out a heavy sigh. ‘Tiring’.

‘You’re doing a fine job son. A fine job.’

A large tankard of mead slid down the table and came to a stop by Hiccup’s hands, its contents spilling over onto the oak wood table. Gobber flashed a wink in his direction as Hiccup glanced upwards, and he raised the tankard in thanks. The drink was sickly and burned as Hiccup swallowed it but he welcomed the way that it warmed his insides.

Raising a little on the bench, Hiccup peered over the head of his father to scan the faces of those gathered in the tavern. He was looking for someone; a mop of curly chestnut hair, a pair of glasses beside a placid vegetarian dragon. He found him. Fishlegs was sitting in a secluded corner of the tavern, head bowed in conversation with Barbara the Barbarian. Old Wrinkly’s new allergy remedy must be working as Barbara's cat was prowling along his shoulders and, if anything, it looked like Fishlegs was enjoying it as he ran his long musicians fingers through its black fur.

Hiccup smiled to himself and slid back down into his seat. He was there for a while, basking in the conversation of the old warriors. They spoke of old battles won, and lands lost to fire and time. Some were old stories that Hiccup remembered being told when he was a child. They seemed strange to be spoken here, they belonged to a different age, Hiccup thought, the boy he was when he first heard them seemed so far from him now. He felt like an outsider among his company. Marked somehow. Their faces were all brandished with the Dragonmark, scarred and aged by war. They laughed together but there was a shadow of grief in their eyes; everyone had lost something to the dragon flames.

‘Excuse me, King –.’

Hiccup was pulled from his thoughts as a voice from behind him cut through the others. The bench squeaked as he wearily pushed back from the table and stood to face Baggybum.

‘I’ve been talking to Thuggery, fine lad, who says that the Meathead islands to the East that were destroyed last year need to be rebuilt so that they can move back there. I was thinking that we could take some supplies, wood and iron and such, over there on a few ships and help them out. The tricky thing is the lands lie just south of the Winter Wind of Woden -’

A sudden weight dropped in Hiccup’s stomach. A tangled memory arose that was too sharp to touch. He took in a long breath and stared intensely at his uncle, trying to prize himself away from the fogged window to the past. Baggybum had a scar that stretched over his left brow. Hiccup knew it. The Battle of Flashburn’s School of Sword Fighting, the first of many dreadful days.

‘– you see, and Mogadon wanted the village to be positioned on the West side of the island. That way the harbour will -’

The scar was little more than memory, a shallow wound compared to the tear in Baggybum’s heart, the absence where his son had been torn away, first by betrayal, healed, then broken again by flaming arrows and deep water. The hero that never was.

‘- four Hooligan ships should be enough, I think, but we might be able to borrow some Peaceable supplies along the way - ’

The eyes of Baggybum were the same as his son’s. The stormy blues that Hiccup grew up dreading the sight of, and the inevitable onslaught that soon followed. There it was again. The sudden assault of guilt, a raw wound reopened.

‘What do you think, Hiccup?’

He forced his mind to resurface, to the present, to the words of his beloved uncle. What was he saying? Hiccup felt sick.

‘I, um…’

Words clogged in his mouth.

Useless.

His thoughts weighed like rock.

Hiccup the Useless.

Stop it, please.

You aren’t the King that we wanted, but maybe you are the king that we need.

Snotlout appeared in Hiccup’s mind. Not ghostly, through the fog of memory and heartache, but clear, as if he was standing in front of him. Bruised and tear stained, the Black Star glistening on his chest.

‘Don’t you dare lose it. That Star is very important to me.’

There was a hand on his shoulder. Comforting, gentle. Hiccup obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Only as he walked blindly through the crowd did he realise that it was his Grandfather who was leading back outside.

The sharp sea wind collided with Hiccup’s body. The tavern doors swung shut. He walked back along the clifftop, followed Old Wrinkly until they came under the shelter of one of the few trees that were scattered among the heath.

‘It’s ok, Hiccup. Breathe. Just breathe.’

Hiccup hadn’t noticed his rugged shallow breaths. His shoulders tense and jaw set. Away from Old Wrinkly, he withdrew, throat and eyes stinging.

‘I – ’

He tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. Old Wrinkly reached out, his withered hands held Hiccup’s face, and when Hiccup met his gaze, he saw the pride that glimmered in his tired, bright eyes.

‘Oh Hiccup, my dear boy.’

They drew their arms around each other. It was not a gentle thing, that embrace, Hiccup held onto his grandfather as if he were the only stone structure in a violent storm.

‘This is the hard way,’ said Old Wrinkly after a while, ‘to become a King.’

They broke apart and his hands clasped Hiccup’s arms.

‘You’ve already done what the sagas will sing of. You’ve defeated a great enemy and saved the Barbaric Archipelago.’ Hiccup noticed that in the fading light, Old Wrinkly seemed to blend into the silvery wisps of cloud that blew towards the ocean. ‘Now comes the hard bit. Kings are remembered for the glory of battle, the might of the sword but great leaders, Hiccup, the leaders that are truly revered, are known for the love and devotion that their people show them and the better world that they work together to create.’

‘But that’s exactly it!’ replied Hiccup, ‘everyone is looking at me to be this perfect leader.’ He threw his arms into the air. ‘Not long ago I was Hiccup The Useless, the bottom in every class. Let’s face it I was a rubbish Viking, and now I expected to be this great King. Wherever I turn there are people there expecting me to do the perfect thing. To live up to their hopes.’ His arms came to rest on his head then he dragged them down over his face. ‘We all lost so much in that war, so much, and I’m expected to put it all back the way it was.’

‘The truth is, Hiccup,’ Old Wrinkly took out his pipe and begun to fill it. ‘The world will never be as it was. It grows and evolves like a living thing.’ He lit the pipe and drew in a long breath. ‘It’s your job to be like a father to it, to guide the world, to care for it, and set it off in the right direction.’ And then he smiled. ‘Just like training a dragon. You’ve ventured to the perilous Wild Dragon Cliff and you now have a wriggling and smoking basket under your bed, and the adventure has just begun.’

‘And maybe you can train a dragon better by talking to it then yelling at it,’ followed Hiccup, ‘yes, I remember.’ He laughed wearily. ‘Well, that’s certainly easier said than done. Sometimes yelling does seem to be the only language this lot understand.’

Old Wrinkly let out a smoke filled chuckle. ‘Yes, it has always been the way.’

They stayed there in silence for a while. Old Wrinkly smoked his pipe and Hiccup watched the dragons that scuttled and squabbled along the shoreline.

‘Hiccup!’ There was a shout from behind. Fishlegs and Camicazi were coming towards him, Camicazi struggling to keep up with Fishlegs’ long strides without breaking into a run.

‘That’s where you are!’

Old Wrinkly gave Hiccup a knowing look and patted him on the shoulder before turning and heading back towards the village. He raised his pipe in greeting to the others.

‘I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Fishlegs.’

‘Yeah, see you then.’

‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ asked Camicazi.

‘Old Wrinkly has been teaching me how to be a healer.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I reckon it’s a pretty useful skill to have. It’s been days since I’ve seen you Hiccup

Before Hiccup could reply, Camicazi cut in, ‘that’s because you spend all your time with Barbara the Barbarian.’

Fishlegs blushed a deep crimson.

‘I really think she likes me you know.’

‘I think she does, too,’ said Hiccup. ‘But more importantly I know her father likes you as well, he seemed genuinely impressed with that letter you wrote to her.’

‘Really? How do you know?’

‘I was in a meeting with him last week and he mentioned it. He was saying how he wanted to get rid of the “old fashioned notion” of parents dictating their daughters marriages. He was certainly hairy, but not as scary as I previously thought.’

‘Wow’ Fishlegs swung his arm around Hiccup, then the other around Camicazi as he faced the sea wind. ‘Love. You just can’t beat it.’

Camicazi wriggled out from underneath him. ‘Fishlegs, have you been at Tuffnut Senior’s home brew?’

‘No,’ said Fishlegs indignantly, ‘well, maybe a little, but the point still stands.’

Hiccup laughed and put his arm around Fishlegs. ‘Are you alright, though, Hiccup?’ Fishlegs said as he searched his friend’s face.

‘Yeah, its just this King business.’ He sighed. ‘It really weighs me down sometimes.’ Hiccup was feeling a lot better after his chat with Old Wrinkly. Mad as he is, he is certainly good at giving advice.

‘Hmm... I know what you need.’ Said Camicazi. And then she cupped her hands to her mouth and called out, sharp and piercing. ‘SHADOW!!’

A few moments later, as if Thor himself had chiselled out a part of the sky, the enormous Deadly Shadow dragon burst through the air, turning visible just as they touched onto land. Hiccup and Fishlegs stumbled backwards, but Camicazi, defiant as ever, stood firmly as she stared with glee at the beautiful dragon.

‘Hello there, Shadow,’ said Fishlegs as Innocence went to nuzzle his shoulder. He put his cheek to the side of Innocence’s head and stroked down his neck, now the green of the heathland.

Hiccup’s awe of the Deadly Shadow had never faded, and as he walked around them a swelling of immense gratitude rose within him for this beautiful creature, and for the dragons who flew in flocks overhead, for Stormfly, Wodensfang, The Windwalker and little Toothless. Camicazi reached out her hand for him, he took it and hauled himself onto Shadow’s back.

‘Where to?’ asked Patience.

Hiccup smiled. ‘Upwards.’

Shadow extended their enormous wings, which turned a dusky grey in anticipation for the awaiting sky. Hiccup braced himself and with a jolt, Shadow was off. Up, up, up they soared, wind rushed through his hair and he spread out his arms, tilted up his head, and gazed at the clouds which neared ever closer. Camicazi whooped and punched the air and soon, she too was reaching upwards to catch the clouds above their heads. Fishlegs had his arms around the neck of Patience and was peering round him, looking towards the ground that was disappearing rapidly beneath them.

For how long they remained there, Hiccup could not tell. He forgot all else. His world narrowed to this friends who sat in front of him, the gentle beats of Shadow’s wings, the sea below and the sky above. The air was sweet as he breathed it in. Very sweet. Hang on, is that drinking chocolate? Hiccup spun to look behind him and there, gliding along in the slipstream behind the Deadly Shadow, was the Windwalker!

‘Hello Windwalker!’ Hiccup called, beaming.

The Windwalker loop the looped in excitement and glided to position himself as close as he could to the enormous, sky coloured dragon. With the ease from a childhood on dragon back, Hiccup slid from the Deadly Shadow and onto the back of the Windwalker. And off he flew. Hiccup looked behind him to the others, a shadow of grey was rising in the east as night was beginning to reclaim the earth. Camicazi had positioned herself on Shadow so she was lying on their back, gazing at the sky above and Fishlegs was talking to Arrogance, but Hiccup couldn’t make out the words. He waved to them and they smiled and waved back at him, before the Windwalker climbed further upwards.

There is a moment, when a dragon ascends and soars upwards. When the land falls away and the world stretches wide, nothing but sky and cloud and freedom. It was Hiccup’s favourite time, when anything could happen and nothing yet had. He sat on the back of the Windwalker, and the wild night opened its arms. Tomorrow can wait.

#whoa there we are #this fic has been in my head for four years #now it's out there #!!!! #thanks to my mum and my girlfriend for proofreading #httyd books #httyd book fanfic #hiccup horrendous haddock lll #book hiccup #fishlegs #camicazi

[accioxreparo]

ink stains

synopsis: soulmate au in which every mark that appears on your body also appears on your soulmate’s body including, as you discover one day, drawings. Needless to say you’re determined to make your soulmate smile, even if you haven’t found them yet.

pairing: George Weasley x ravenclaw!reader

warnings: none

a/n: Hi I’m late to the party but @thoseofgreatambition is doing a soulmate theme night and I’m a ho for soumate au’s so hopefully mine is decent enough lol also I may or may not be writing one for fred too but it’s taking me ages so 

tagging: @the-hufflepuff-of-221b

~~~~~~

When you were six years old you woke up one morning to dark stains splattered all over your face and arms. You were confused and quickly grew panicked, absolutely positive that you had contracted Dragon Pox overnight. It had taken an hour for your dad to calm you down enough so he could explain with a small grin that your soulmate must’ve spilled an inkwell on themselves. 

“What do you mean?” You had asked with wide, curious eyes.

“Well,” Your dad had reached for the bedside table and picked up a quil. “Everybody has a soulmate, Y/N. One day you start being able to see the marks that appear on your soulmate's body, permanent or temporary. For you, that day happens to be today.” He dipped the quil in a well filled with bright blue ink and handed it to you. “Why don’t you give it a try? Write your soulmate a message.”

“What if they don’t write back?” You had frowned then, suddenly worrying that maybe this mystery person on the other end would want nothing to do with you. 

“Well that’s okay,” Your dad had been quick to reassure you. “They might not be able to see the marks yet. But one day they will and I just know they’ll be ecstatic to know you’re here.”

After that day there was a constant stream of doodles all over you. Vines snaking up your ankle. Twisting patterns winding around your fingers. Planets and stars littering your collarbone area. Stripes of random colors all over your palms as you mixed new colors. The most detailed pictures were always on your left arm though, that was where you practiced new drawings. 

Occasionally you wrote a message but mostly you drew. Then one day you bought a book about charms to cast on drawings in Flourish and Blotts and you begged your dad every chance you got to cast them for you. After that at least a few pictures were always moving up and down your body.

When you got your very own wand at the age of eleven they were the first spells you practiced. By the end of your first year at Hogwarts you had mastered the whole book. Since then there was always a constant supply of different colored inks in your bag and pockets. The array of multicolored moving pictures that changed every day was your one connection to your soulmate. 

They had yet to write back. 

It had been ages since you first found your connection to your soulmate. You’d dealt with scars and bruises and occasional scribbled reminders but never once had you ever received even an acknowledgment of anybody seeing your drawings. 

You tried not to let it bother you, you really did. But it seemed like every single person around you had known their soulmate for years, in one way or another. Some days the smile you wore wasn’t quite genuine, the longing you felt growing a little deeper at times, but never once did you fail to decorate your limbs with gentle reminders that you were there for your soulmate to find on themselves. 

Not until that day. You were set to leave for school the next morning and your father had taken the week off of work to see you off. The two of you, your older brother, and your younger sister were probably too focused on the quidditch match you had going against each other in the backyard of your house. So much so that the bludger hit your way completely blindsided you. 

The match ended with panicked shouts, a trip to St. Mungos, and your left arm wrapped tightly in cloth bandages as it rested in a sling while your bones healed. 

It was only when you were sitting in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express that the strangest thing happened. Words scrawled in letters that weren’t your own had appeared on your right arm. 

Nothing new today? 

As you stared at the writing with wide eyes, more words appeared underneath those. 

I’m sure this is bending the rules but I had to know. Something’s wrong isn’t it?

Frantically you dumped out the contents of your bag, scattering them all over the floor of the compartment. You dug around the mess you had made until you found a self-inking quil. Just as you were about to write your response you caught sight of the bandages on your arm and gave a defeated sigh. 

“Would you like some help?” 

You looked up and saw Luna, a friend of yours a couple years below you, watching you with an amused smile. The two of you would always sit up late in the common room together, swapping theories and stories about anything and everything. 

“If you don’t mind,” You gave her a sheepish look and she only smiled before moving to sit next to you. 

“What would you like me to write?” Luna asked as she took the quil out of your hand. You smiled and told her, watching as she took your arm and wrote out your words for you. 

What makes you think something is wrong?

It was seconds later when you received your response. 

Not once in the six years since I’ve been able to see your drawings have you let a day pass where you don’t add new ones. What’s wrong? 

A smile graced your face and Luna was kind enough to help you continue the conversation happening on your arm. 

I’m fine. Just a Quidditch injury. I’ll have the bandages removed by tonight, don’t worry. 

Take your time. I don’t want you to hurt longer than you have to, love.

You were sure it was cheating, talking to your soulmate by writing messages on your arm. But if whatever soulmate forces were out there didn’t want you to talk to them then there shouldn’t have been such a simple loophole. 

That’s what comforted you late that night, now gently scrawling messy words quickly on your arm that had been broken only the day before. Never before had you been more thankful for Skele-Gro. 

Can I ask you something?

The print you wrote with was small on purpose, trying to keep as much room available as possible. It didn’t stop you, however, from doodling new little pictures on the back of your hand. 

Go for it.

Why haven’t you ever said anything before? Why now?

You stared at the words you had written for a few moments before sighing and heading to the bathroom that was connected to your room. Only after staring at the words covering both arms now for a minute or two did you start washing away the ink you had put there. 

For a minute you thought that you shouldn’t have asked. You stood in silence, watching as the remainder of the ink, the part written in your soulmates handwriting, was slowly washed away leaving only faint ink stains. Then to your relief a response came after it was all gone. 

I was worried. And let’s just say I’m not as artistic as you are, my talents lie in other places. 

For a second the writing stopped but then more words appeared, quicker than they had before. 

Also I may have missed seeing you draw new pictures for me a little too much.

You beamed at the words and walked back to your bed. After the curtains were pulled around it you lit the end of your wand and picked up your quil again. 

Do you like them? The pictures. 

The response was almost immediate. 

I love them.

***

“Miss Y/L/N.” 

You jumped in your seat at the sound of a voice calling your name. Slowly you looked up from where you were taking notes on nonverbal spells. Professor Flitwick stood only a few feet away with an exasperated look on his face. Meanwhile both of the Weasley twins sat at their desk looking quite satisfied with whatever they had just done. 

You’d been correct to assume they were behind whatever loud noise had been going on only minutes before. The desk the twins were sitting at was now charred and the other Gryffindors surrounding them were chatting excitedly about whatever it was you missed while your nose was buried in your charms book. 

Neither Fred or George Weasley missed the fact that you were trying and failing to keep back an amused smile.  

“You’ll be getting a new partner to do your project with,” Professor Flitwick lifted his wand and with a single flick a bag and a pile of unused textbooks was flying across the room and into the empty space next to you. “Mr. Weasley.” 

Both boys stood at the same time wearing matching smirks and chorused, “Yes, Professor?” 

You covered your mouth with your hand to stifle your laugh when Professor Flitwick sighed and shook his head upon realizing that he really should have seen that coming. “Mr. George Weasley. Come meet your new partner.” 

Oddly enough said person didn’t look disappointed by the new assignment at all. Instead he grinned as he approached you, sliding into the chair beside you easily. 

You could count the number of times you had spoken to George Weasley on one hand. The first time had been during potions when he’d asked to borrow some foxglove for a pompion potion. It wasn’t the potion you’d been assigned to brew but you hadn’t questioned it. The second time he’d walked up to you and your friends after a quidditch match to congratulate Ravenclaw on their victory against Slytherin despite the fact that none of you were on the team. And the third time was only a few weeks before when he asked to borrow a spare quil in transfiguration. 

You doubted he remembered any of that though. 

“So partner,” George leaned on the desk, head resting on one of his hands as he looked at you. “What do you know about,” He reached over to look at the piece of parchment you’d been taking your notes on. “Nonverbal spells? That’s our topic?” 

“It is,” You nodded and reached for your notes, hoping he wouldn’t flip over the parchment to see the drawings you’d absentmindedly doodled during the lecture. “Is that a problem?” 

“Not at all,” George’s smile turned softer then as he stared at you, a fact which you noticed. You turned away quickly as you felt your face burn, hoping silently that it wasn’t too noticeable. “On the contrary. From what I hear you’ve already mastered a few nonverbal spells yourself Y/N, dearest.”

You froze then, not sure which revelation surprised you more. The fact that apparently you had developed a reputation without you knowing or the fact that George Weasley of all people knew your name. 

You tried your hardest to fight the temptation to ask how he knew you and why. 

“Class is almost over,” Your words came out rushed and a little too loud to sound natural. It wasn’t a complete lie. In just ten minutes you’d all be dismissed and that was hardly enough time to make even a small dent into your project. “We should meet sometime before our next class to get started if we want to have it done by the due date.”

“You’re so...ravenclaw,” George spoke after a few moments. When you looked at him again he was still giving you that same soft smile, a different sort of glint in his eyes than the one you were used to seeing every now and then.

For a second your thoughts drifted to the words scrawled on your right arm and the pictures on your left. They were covered up by the sleeves of your sweater as they usually were but you could picture the words you and your soulmate had written to each other earlier that day clearly. 

“Is that a bad thing?” You found yourself asking, for some strange reason not being able to bring yourself to pull away from George’s gaze. 

“No,” He shook his head gently almost immediately. “It’s perfect.”

***

You had to give credit where credit was due. When it came down to it, George Weasley could in fact step up to the plate. 

Even now, an early Sunday morning the day after a trip to Hogsmeade, he sat right in front of you. 

You knew for a fact he had been up late the previous night causing his usual mischief alongside his brother. One of the Ravenclaw prefects had been patrolling the halls and you overheard him complaining about having to send the twins back to their dorm for the fourth day in a row when he entered the common room.

It had made you smile. 

You’d spent at least a couple hours each day alongside George for the past two and a half weeks. Some of that time had indeed been spent on your project but you found it easier to talk to him than you thought it would be. You couldn’t even begin to count the variety of tales he told you just to hear you laugh.

That, however, meant that the two of you had developed a tendency to avoid your work resulting in you being behind. The next day the two of you would have to present in front of the class. You had already gotten away with postponing the presentation twice. 

The first time you had told Professor Flitwick that you needed more time to gather as much information as the topic deserved. The second time George had eaten one of the products he had told you he was working on, one he called a nosebleed nougat. It had worked like a charm and the moment you left the classroom with him he ate another candy and it stopped.

It was the only reason the two of you had woken up at that godforsaken hour of the morning on a Sunday. There was simply no other option now.

“I think all of our research is done and I can write up some notes for us to remember during the presentation,” You reached for another roll of parchment from your bag to do just that before dipping your quil in an inkwell filled with bright blue ink. “But we still need to practice some nonverbal spells for the practical demonstration. What do you think we should -”

It wasn’t until you looked away from the pile of books in front of you and at George that you realized he had dozed off.  His head was resting on his arms which were crossed on the desk in front of him and he looked almost peaceful for once. 

The corner of a piece of parchment was sticking out from under one of his arms and suddenly you couldn’t help yourself. Slowly you leaned forward until you could reach the parchment and you began to sketch a field of flowers on the paper in various ink colors. 

You didn’t notice your own smile as you did so. 

Then the end of your quil brushed across George’s face and he almost immediately bolted up in his seat. After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes once more he looked over only to find you biting your bottom lip to keep from laughing. 

“You look suspicious,” George narrowed his eyes at you playfully when he saw the look on your face, still not noticing the addition to his parchment. 

“Do I?” You smiled then as you leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms in front of you. 

“You do,” He leaned forward on the desk again and the grin you’d come to see on a regular basis returned. “May I ask why?” 

“No reason at all. I’m just excited to learn some nonverbal spells is all,” You laughed as you stood from your seat, squinting a little at the late morning sun shining through the windows. “Speaking of, I’m gonna go search for some books a friend of mine recommended with some spells we could use.” 

“Do we not have enough of those here?” George said as he glanced at the pile of no less than seven books, none of which he could remember anything about. 

“Those are all on history and theory. We need something on practical application.” 

“Right,” George let out a sigh as he reached for one of the unopened books. “You’re lucky I like you. I can’t remember the last time I did this much reading for a project.” 

You hummed and then shook your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Don’t I feel honored.” 

“Just get on with it,” George glanced up from the pages of the book he’d been flipping through and at you again, this time with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Faster we finish with this, the sooner we can sneak into the kitchens for a late breakfast.” 

You were quick to agree. George watched as you disappeared behind one of the bookshelves. It was only when he was sure you were gone that he rolled up the sleeve of his sweater and reached for a quil, quickly scribbling a message to his soulmate on his right arm. 

When he was done writing the message he caught sight of the flowers that you had drawn on the corner of his parchment and he grinned. Almost absentmindedly he started drawing flowers around your own, albeit a little simpler than the designs you had made. It took a minute for his eyes to widen, quil falling out of his hand, realizing that the flowers you had drawn on the paper he had already seen dozens of times before. In fact, a variation of them sat on his left arm now.

***

Finally four hours later you and George sat in the kitchens which you’d found surprisingly empty. Breakfast and lunch had come and gone and the two of you had gladly accepted a variety of foods from a couple of the house elves. 

You were completely oblivious to the way George was studying you closely, trying as hard as he could to see if he was right. 

“Puddlemere United,” He said when he caught sight of the patch sewn onto the jacket you were wearing. “I take it you’re a fan?” 

“I sort of have to be,” You laughed a little when you saw the confused look flash on George’s face. “My dad is Puddlemere’s captain.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not, promise,” You smiled as you shook your head. Without hesitation you pulled off your jacket, flipping it around so the back was visible, and pointed to a navy blue crest with the Puddlemere United logo and the word ‘captain’ across it in bold, golden letters. “Has been for a few years now and here’s your proof.” 

But when you looked at George he wasn’t looking at the jacket at all. Instead he was staring at the variety of words and pictures covering your arms. You could see his eyes darting back and forth and quickly pulled your arm away and under the table. 

“Wait,” He reached across the table and took your hand in his, slowly turning your arm around so he could see all every single stroke of ink. You could only watch as he gently traced the designs with his free hand. 

The moment was soft, intimate in the purest way. You swore you could hear your own heart thumping louder each second that passed. It reached its peak when George placed your arm on the table in front of the two of you only to pull off the sweater he’d been wearing. It was then that the breath you were holding in left you. 

Every single ink stain on your arms was perfectly reflected on his. Now that you looked closer you wondered how you hadn’t recognized his handwriting right away, you’d spent the last few months writing back and forth after all. You’d been so focused on the drawings and the writing that you hadn’t noticed what, or rather who was right in front of you. 

“I knew it was you, you know.” 

Your laugh was light when you finally dared to look at George once more. He was looking at you with pure and utter adoration and you were positive you wore the same expression. “Did you now?” 

“I did,” George grinned as he took your hand again, more confident than he had previously been. “Remember our first year when I asked you for that foxglove? I was supposed to nick it from one of the shelves but you had your sleeves rolled up and I swore I saw the edge of the stars you had drawn earlier that day. I went to get a closer look but they were covered again.” 

“And I suppose it was the same thing in transfiguration a month ago?” You shook your head with an amused smile as you thought back to the encounter. It all seemed so obvious now.

“It was. Same thing with the quidditch match a few years ago too,” He leaned forward as if what he were about to tell you were a secret. Suddenly it was like he couldn’t let you go, not that he’d ever want to now that he’d finally found you. “What made me almost certain though was the little drawing you left on my parchment earlier. I knew I’d seen those before.” 

“Well I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve kept your eyes open unlike me apparently,” You were beaming as you glanced down at the matching pictures present on both of you. “What do we do now?” 

“I’m glad you asked,” George immediately stood, pulling you up with him. He grabbed hold of your jacket still sitting on the table and started pulling you out of the kitchens. “Now that we’ve found each other we’re going to make up for lost time.” 

“By doing what exactly?” You asked, eyebrows raised questioningly and a slight smirk on your face. 

“Head out of the gutter, love,” George laughed as the two of you walked back up the stairs still hand in hand. He looked down at you with a wild grin on his face. “We’re going on our first date if you’re up for it.” 

You agreed instantly and happily followed to wherever it was George would take you, just as you knew you always would from that moment on.

#the ending is eh but i love soulmates #hp fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter one shot #george weasley x reader #george weasley #george wealsey imagine #george weasley x y/n #soulmate au #george weasley fanfiction #c: george weasley #my stuff #my fics

[fanmoose12]

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi

Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance

Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 13/14

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Сhapter 7

Сhapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Beep, beep, beep

It didn't stop, didn't pause, didn't even quiet down.

Hange tried to ignore the irritating sound, tried to forget about it and return to the dark place where she was safe and warm.

Beep, beep, beep

As though mocking her, it got louder and louder, allowing Hange no respite. Accepting that this battle wouldn’t end in her favor, she groaned and forced her eyes open.

The ceiling above her was white, the walls surrounding her were mostly white too. The bed she was lying on was also white, and to her hand was attached a thin line of IV.

Huh. It was a while since she had the pleasure to wake up in a hospital.

Hange meant to continue her survey, but everything else was too blurry for her to see. Glasses. Where were her glasses?

Her hand flew to her face, touching her nose. No glasses there.

With a considerable effort Hange pushed herself up into a sitting position. She blindly reached to her left where a bedside table stood. She moved her palm all over it, there was lots of things on top of it. No glasses, though.

"The first drawer," a voice behind her helped.

Hange obediently opened it, her fingers immediately finding the familiar shape of her glasses. She put them on and sighed in content, as the world around her finally came into focus.

She turned her head to the direction the voice was coming from. Next to her bed stood another one, separated by a blue curtain. In the corner of it she could see Zeke. Their eyes met, and he gave her a weak, but unexpectedly genuine smile.

"Welcome back to the world of the living."

"Was I out for too long?" Hange frowned, trying to recall what had happened. She remembered Floch, remembered that horrible room in Zeke's safe house, remembered his brother, the erupting pain in her side as he had shot her and the dangerous glint of Floch's blade near her throat. She remembered being afraid and sorry for missing her another chance and not telling Levi how she truly felt all these years. Remembered Levi rushing in, saving her. Remembered his trembling fingers and soft touch. Remembered how he held her and refused to let go all the way to the hospital, remembered—

That was all she remembered.

"It's been almost a day since doctors operated on you," Zeke explained. "You've got your friends worried."

Hange looked to her bedside table again, gawking at the amount of gifts there. There was a box of candies from Nifa, teddy bear from Moblit, balloons from Keiji and Abel, a giant bouquet from Erwin... And a small postcard that stood at the far side. Hange picked it up, studying curiously. Her lips curled up and she giggled - the postcard was from Pieck.

"And what happened to you?" Hange looked back at Zeke. His torso was bandaged and he was unusually pale in the face.

Zeke grimaced, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. "My brother turned out to be a better shooter that I've anticipated."

"And..." Hange began uncertainly. Her fingers curled into the bedsheets, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know, but— she decided to ask anyway. "And what happened to Eren?"

Zeke sighed, pushing hair back from his face. "I took care of him."

Hange looked down, not knowing how to feel about it and what to do with that knowledge. Should she say something to Zeke? Tell him that she was sorry? Or that he did the right thing? What he wanted to hear? He probably didn't wish to hear either.

"And what happened to your eye?" she pointed her finger at a large bruise that bloomed on his face. "Was it... Eren as well?"

"No," Zeke scoffed. "That was your partner, detective. An eye for an eye, I guess," he chuckled dryly.

"Levi..." Hange's heart fluttered at the mention of him. "Do you know if he's—"

"He's been by your side this whole time," Zeke rolled his eyes. "He left just a few minutes ago. I'm sure he'll be there any moment now. He barely slept while you were out."

"Oh..." Hange couldn't help her smile. She wanted to see Levi so much...

"Jesus," Zeke groaned. "The two of you are sickening. If I spend another day watching you, I'd get cavities from your damn sweetness. Damn it, and I can't even smoke here..."

Zeke obviously meant to complain some more, but he fell silent, as the door to the ward opened. Hange turned to it with a grin that dissipated almost immediately, a heartbeat after she saw Petra's sheepish smile instead of Levi's gloomy scowl.

"Disappointed, aren't you, detective?" Zeke mocked with a shit eating smirk.

Hange discreetly flipped him off and roughly closed the curtain between them.

"Sorry about that," she mumbled, giving an apologizing look to Petra.

"It's alright," she said. "Levi is just behind the door, Oluo is distracting him while I'm here." Petra tutted, her auburn locks flying as she shook her head. "I had no choice but to resort to this. He doesn't let anyone else see you. Only Captain Erwin was allowed inside, and that too lasted just for a few minutes."

Hange chuckled, her heart swelling. Yep, that's the ridiculously protective shorty she knew and loved...

"I know you can't wait to see him, too," Petra winked, taking note of her pleased expression.

Hange flushed, but the embarrassed blush turned into angry one, when she heard a not so subtle scoff behind the curtain.

"So I will be brief," Petra sat down on a chair beside Hange, setting her hands on her lap. Her fingers twisted together in a nervous matter as stared at the floor, appearing deep in thought. After a long moment, she lifted her eyes, a small, slightly crooked smile playing on her lips. "I just wanted to thank you for... giving me strength back there. I lost all hope, thought I was done for, but you... You kinda rekindled that light inside me. You showed me what true bravery and resolve means."

"Petra," Hange smiled, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. "I should be the one thanking you. On the night Levi and I reunited, if it wasn't for you, if it wasn't for your bravery and resolve, who knows what would have happened? Perhaps, I would have never gathered enough courage to face Levi. Perhaps, he would have never found out that I actually survived. Don't sell yourself short, you're a strong and courageous person, and have been like that long before we met. You have a bright future ahead of you. I'm excited to witness it."

Petra bobbed her head, her smile growing wider, more open. "And I'm excited to learn more from you. But as for now," Petra stood up and fixed Hange with a rather strict look.

She is learning things from Levi too, Hange thought with an amused smile.

"Rest and gather your strength. Everyone is waiting for you to come back. Someone is more impatient that the others. I need to go before that same someone rips Oluo's head off for keeping you away from him. Take care," Petra waved her hand, gifted Hange another bright smile and left.

As soon as she closed the door, Hange heard a familiar, grumpy voice.

A second later, Levi walked in. His eyes widened when they met hers. With his hand still on a doorknob, Levi stood at the threshold, staring at her with an intent look.

Hange almost squirmed under his gaze, it was too intense to belong to Levi. She wondered what was the reason for it.

But then the spell broke, and Levi looked away.

His steps heavy, he marched further into the room. He didn't head to her bed, though. Instead he stopped next to Zeke's.

"If I hear just a pip from you," he warned in a low voice. "They'll have to prolong your stay in this hospital."

Levi didn't wait for Zeke to reply and turned on his heels, taking a seat next to Hange. Crossing his legs, he just sat there, his gaze not moving away from her face.

He didn't glare, didn't scowl, just stared like Hange was the most interesting thing in this room. Her stomach turned, and she wasn't sure if she liked this feeling or not.

"Where were you?" she asked, when it became evident that Levi wasn't going to start a conversation.

Her question made him look away, just long enough to roll his eyes.

"That idiot Oluo ambushed me in the hallway. Demanded an advice from me."

"An advice?"

"On how to be a good detective," Levi answered, before Hange could get funny ideas about other types of advice. Not that Levi was knowledgeable enough to give them. "Erwin decided to promote him. Now Petra will have a new partner."

"You and Petra won't work together anymore? Then who is going to be your new partner?"

"Yeah, Hange," Levi sat back in his chair, crossing hands on his chest. "Who will it be?"

"You," Zeke stage whispered.

Levi's eye twitched.

"I told you—"

"Wait," Hange put a hand on his arm, quelling his anger. A heavy feeling settled in her stomach, a hope that was ready to get crushed. She frowned at Levi. "Can I even return to work? Technically, I'm still dead."

"Erwin is working on it. He pulled some strings, asked a few favors..."

"And?"

"He managed to restore your documents. He even kept your full name."

"He wanted to change it? To what?"

Despite the faint blush, Levi held her gaze firmly. "Ackerman."

Now it was Hange's turn to feel flustered.

"And by the way," Levi rose to fluff and fix the pillow underneath her. Hange tried to ignore the subtle tremor she noticed as his fingers moved. "You'll have to stay at my place for a while. Erwin is looking for an apartment, but since most of your stuff is already there..."

Hange couldn't help it - she started laughing. God, both of them were so hopeless.

"Aren't we moving things a little too fast?" she gave him a sly look, a flutter inside her returning as Levi snorted.

"Too fast? If you ask anyone else, four-eyes, we're moving things way too slowly."

Well... Hange certainly couldn't argue with that.

"And if you want to help things move along more smoothly," Levi sat back down, putting his hand on the bed, his fingers almost touching Hange's. "I remember you promising to tell me about your type."

Hange did promise that, she almost did tell him too, back in his office, when they received news about Petra. It wasn't the right time back then. But now...

"My type is certainly one of a kind. You have seen him, though."

"Where?" Levi grew just a little bolder, moved his hand just a little closer to Hange's.

She grinned and shortened the distance, intertwining their fingers.

"In the mirror."

The possibly sweet, tender moment was ruined by a loud groan that was followed by, "God, I never thought that flirting could be so torturous."

#as you can see i have a little too much fun with writing zeke in this chapter.......... #also you won't believe it #but i wanted to use the joke 'an eye for an eye' for so long kjsdgljsgj #also wow! just one chapter left! isn't that swell? #levihan

[sundaysundaes]

Iridescent

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader/Female OC | Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst | NC-17 | Soulmate AU, Childhood-Friends-Become-Lovers AU

An epilogue to Monochrome. Contains HEAVY SPOILERS, so please read Monochrome and Spectra before you read this.

Summary: Lee Donghyuck once believed in the concept of soulmates—how fate would connect a red thread from one lover to another, in a form of dreams and memories. That was how his parents met, that was how they claimed their happiness, and he wanted nothing more but to live his life the way they lived theirs. Until one day, as he sees her slipping away from his hands, he has no choice but to stop believing entirely.

Broken bones can be mended and bruises may vanish over time, but what befell Lee Donghyuck after the accident was deeper than fractures and scars. It took him five days to wake up from his comatose sleep, eight months for his body to fully recuperate, and another ten months in rehabilitation to overcome his trauma and mental state. But even then, he was never the same. He would never be the same.

As he could never be able to see the light again.

“Vision loss may strike as a devastating injury that could change your life,” his doctor once said during his regular check-up, “But it doesn’t mean that your life has ended, nor should you stop living. There’s still a beautiful world out there waiting for you. It may feel hard today or tomorrow, but you will get through this. You will get better.”

But to Donghyuck, they sounded like a string of murmurs as if the older man was drowning but still trying to mouth the words to him. Or maybe he was the one who was drowning instead, with no chance to resurface. And he didn’t mind, not at all. He wasn’t sure he had the will to do it anyway.

A gentle caress of warm fingertips and a voice as smooth as a lullaby to a child’s ears were the only ones who kept him sane. She was there, from the very first day he’d opened his eyes and seen nothing, and she continued to stay, no matter how much he’d cried in agony or screamed from bottled-up anger. She would hug him when the thought of hurting himself became too much to bear, and she would tell him over and over again, how lucky she was to have him alive and breathing in her arms. And she would still call him in the same way—Haechannie, Haechannie—between loving words that were filled with nothing but honesty, even if he no longer shone as bright as the sun.

She was the sole reason why he continued living, though not truly alive. The only one who gave comfort to his shattered heart and soul. To him, there would be no life without her.

On the day he was discharged from the hospital, dressed in his favorite white tee and a knitted navy-blue sweater she often borrowed to wear around her figure, his chocolate brown hair was long and untrimmed, nearly brushing against his collar. His skin was starting to lose its beautiful tan, and his collar bones were protruding from how much he had lost weight during his recovery. His matching dark eyes were  slightly opened and they shone in a soft glow under the sun, but they were as lifeless as the waves before the storm.

But to her, he was still a sight to behold.

Pushing his bangs out of his eyes with her fingertips, she smiled. “I haven’t seen you standing under the sun for a long time,” she said, mesmerized by the way his hair was fluttering under the wind. “My Haechannie is so pretty.”

He responded by kissing her inner palm and they hugged once before she accompanied him walking down the stairs.

“One step at a time, okay, Haechannie?” 

Her voice was always warm, always filled with the passion of life, as if she was trying hard to be happy for his sake as well. And it made him feel various emotions at once, from the elation of having someone as patient and loving as her nurture him back to health, from agony for being the one who always caused her trouble, and from fear of losing her if one day she woke up and decided to not love him again.

“Don’t let go of my hand. I’m here with you, Haechannie. I always will be.” 

Her promise found its way to his heart, and instead of making him feel drowned like anybody else, she was the one who pulled him out of the water.

“I won’t,” Donghyuck said, tattered voice escaping chapped lips. “As long as you’d let me.”

He couldn’t see her smile, but he could somehow sense it in the way she let out her breath, in the way she squeezed his hand, in every time she spoke his name.

“I got permission from your parents to take you somewhere today before we head back home,” she mentioned before a small, excited giggle tumbled down her lips. He was sitting in what he supposed to be his father’s car by the smell of it, and he let himself stay in silence as she dragged a seatbelt forward and tied it around his body with a click. “I hope you don’t mind taking a walk because I’ve been dying to go on a date with my boyfriend.” He could hear her placing her seatbelt and the sound of dangling keys. The car engine soon started with a stutter and Donghyuck’s fingers immediately tried to find reassurance by sinking their nails into the edge of his seat, his heart ramming against his ribcages.

“Hey, it’s okay.” She hastily laced their fingers together, stealing his shivers away with how firm she held on to his hand. “Breathe, Haechannie. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you, do you hear me?”

It reminded him of their old days when she tried to protect him with a plastic sword from the monster that hid under his bed. She still had the same effects on him as to how she did back then, clouding his entire mind with the feeling of safety and assurance.

He followed her guidance and tried to smile even when his throat felt like burning and his heart trying to find its way to leap out of his chest. “I’ll—” he swallowed when an inevitable crack appeared in his voice. “I’ll be fine.”

There was a pause and he desperately wanted to see what kind of expression she had on her face, but the thought went away when he felt a pair of lips meeting his in a soft, chaste kiss.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding somewhat shy when she parted away but close enough for him to feel her breath on his face. “I know you’re shaking in fear and a kiss would probably be the last thing you wanted right now, but…” She brushed her thumb along his lower lip, yearning for him. “I really miss you.” 

 Given the situation, perhaps it wasn’t the right thing to do but to him, it was exactly what he needed. She made him feel wanted, made him feel like his existence did matter to her more than just as a burden. So Donghyuck blindly reached out to her, searching for her hands, her face, her everything, and she met him halfway, lips melding into his as naturally as breathing.

To her, he still felt the same—just as warm, just as pleasant, just as passionate although his touch felt frail on her skin. Donghyuck was still Donghyuck she remembered, the one who reminded her of the sun, and how his entire presence made her feel joy in the way no one had ever given to her before.

She was devastated when she nearly lost her sun. Countless nights were spent with her crying with her face sinking at the sheet of his hospital bed, just a few moments after he fell into his slumber with lines of tears smearing his cheeks. She had always tried to be strong in front of him and his family, but when she was alone in the dark, listening to his soft breathing as he slept, she would allow herself to break apart, just for a few moments.

Those five days when he was in his comatose state was the  loneliest, most painful time she had to endure in all her years of living. Her fingers were desperately squeezing his just to feel a slight movement and she had called and called and called but he never answered. Her life was suddenly as dark as the night, where the moon had crumbled to dust with stars transforming into black holes.

So when he finally opened his eyes, her name escaping his lips, she felt like she was being reborn, finding back her purpose in life and there would be no way, no matter how hard it would be for them, for her to let go of her sun again.

“I love you,” she whispered between kisses, finding her way back to his lips with a sense of urgency every time, “I love you, Haechannie.” Fingers curling against his soft locks, lips moving from his mouth, nose, temple, cheek, before they went back to the start with shy tongues darting only to take a hint of how they other tasted. “Don’t ever leave me again. Please.”

It was he who should’ve spoken those words. It was he who should’ve begged her to stay. So knowing that she felt the same way, Donghyuck whimpered against her mouth, lifeless eyes began to spark in the way they used to.

***

He didn’t know where she was taking him away but by the briny scent that traveled the air, he muttered his guess, “Are we going to the beach?”

“Correct. Any idea which one?”

“The… The one where we spent our summer vacation?”

“Try being more specific.”

He curled his fingers, flush bloomed on his cheeks. “The one where I confessed my feelings for you for the first time?”

A soft chuckle. “That’s right. The one where you made my heart flutter, as promised.”

“I didn’t know I succeeded at that time.”

“You’ve always won against me, Haechannie. Even if I did win at something, it was only because you’d let me.”

The trip was a three-hour drive from the hospital, and they filled the silence by recalling their memories or humming songs to whatever the radio was playing. She begged him to sing, but he was only brave enough to do it after the fifth time she’d tried, and although he hated the croaky sound he made from his throat, she squeezed his thigh, saying, “Thank you for making me so happy.” He wasn’t sure what she was referring to—was it his voice or his entire existence?—but he realized he didn’t care, as long as he could fulfill his sole purpose of living.

The evening sun was warm on his face when she opened the car door and guided him to step forward into the sand, his sneakers sinking slightly into it under his weight. “Careful,” she reminded, circling one hand around his waist as he shakily wrapped his around her shoulder. “Can you smell the air?”

He could smell the scent of her strawberry shampoo. “Yeah. Salty.”

She quietly laughed. “Do you want to get closer to the water?”

“I’m…” The thought of him not wanting to trouble her was heavier than his desire. “I’m fine here.”

There was a pause, which made him ponder whether he said something wrong but then she huffed loudly. “You’re no fun. Well, we’re going to get, at least, our feet wet, whether you like it or not. So come on, keep up with me, slowpoke.”

Hearing that coming from a girl who didn’t even want to get sand on her shorts was something that made his entire body feel warm, and the sun had no part in it.

She helped him untie his sneakers, rolled up his jeans to his knees before she pushed him slowly into the water. He could feel the waves meeting his skin, could imagine how it would look like—the sand being carried away by the pressure of the water, his feet sinking a little deeper into the ground, perhaps a strand of seaweed catching around his bare toe.

“The sun is setting,” she said and he could somehow hear the grin in her voice. “Isn’t it romantic?”

“I guess.” He felt her wrapping her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna take you dancing.” Her smile was sheepish, her cheeks reddening almost the same color as the glow that illuminated her features. “Oh, wait. I forgot the music.”

“Noona—”

“Just a sec.” She held up a finger to his lips as she fiddled with her phone with her other hand. “Where’s that song you—oh, here it is.”

Donghyuck could hear the song—the exact same song he’d played back then when he’d asked her to do the same thing under the starry sky. “You’re right,” he murmured with a weak smile, as she tucked her phone back into her coat’s pocket. “I should’ve picked a better song. Thinking Out Loud is way too overrated.”

“It’s okay, it’s been growing on me these days. Been using it as my alarm even.” 

Her giggle was adorable and gleeful while his was soft, almost inaudible. “Is that so…”

She caressed his face, eyes becoming tender when she noticed him leaning more to her touch. “I’ve missed hearing you laugh.”

Donghyuck’s breath hitched a little so he stayed in reticence. The sound of the wind and the crashing waves were louder than her speaker, so she urged him to sing, knowing that he already remembered the song by heart. He disinclined at first but he grew soft at her pleading.

As he began to hum along the first chorus, she stroke the skin on his nape soothingly with her fingertips. “Have I told you about the day when I realized I loved you?”

He smiled, another flashback hitting him like the soft waves around his feet. “Enlighten me, please.”

“There were two different times, actually.” She leaned closer, swaying their bodies side-to-side ever so slightly. “The first time I realized I felt something for you was back when we were still in junior high. An asshole in my class stole my sketchbook and you got into a fight to retrieve it back—even though you said you got your bruises from tripping down the stairs. I felt so happy knowing that there was someone out there who cared a lot about me.”

“I did trip down the stairs, actually.”

“Of course, you did.” But like the old days, she saw right through his lies. “The second time was when we were celebrating your birthday. I wore this yellow dress that looked way too tacky for the occasion and people were looking at me weird. And you stayed by my side, ignoring everybody in the house even though it was your birthday, and you told me that I was the prettiest girl in the room.”

He hummed in agreement. “Prettier than me even.” 

“That’s right.” She snickered but her tone gradually turned into something more sincere. “So when I told you that you were my first love, I wasn’t lying nor was I exaggerating. I’ve loved you just as long as you have, I just wasn’t brave enough to admit it unlike you. And I still regret that, even to this day. We wasted so many days, and I hurt you so many times—”

“It’s okay.” He shook his head, his closed eyes somehow began to feel hot. “It’s in the past.”

She broke down into another smile, fingers reaching out to swat his bangs away from his face. “You’re right. We still have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

When he suddenly became mute, it made her heart thump faster in anxiety. But Donghyuck soon tugged her closer into his chest, his arms enveloping her entire figure and she sighed in relief as he laid his chin on top of her head.

“What are you wearing?” He asked, his lips brushing against her hair.

“Only in my skimpy bra and g-string, lover.”

“No, I’m serious.” He could feel his laugh reverberating from his chest and it still felt unfamiliar after all this time. “Describe it to me in detail. I want to imagine the scenery.”

She was smiling but her eyes grew softer. “I’m wearing that red dress you said you loved.”

“O-oh…” He wetted his lips. “I didn’t realize that since you’re wearing—what is it, a coat?—“ She confirmed with a nod. “Right. What else?”

“My hair is untied, but I’ve cut it short since it became a nuisance whenever I have to go to work early and don’t have time to style my hair.”

“How short?”

“Short enough to show the necklace you gave me.”

His heart was loud in his ears, almost deafening. “You’re still wearing that?”

“Yes.” He could sense her moving away, sliding her hand down his arm in a silky-smooth touch before she intertwined their fingers. “Along with something else.”

“Wha—” He felt her guiding his fingers to trace hers and the second he touched it, it felt like his world was turning upside-down. “You’re wearing… a ring…” whether it was a question or a statement, he wasn’t clear himself.

“Yes,” she gently replied, moving even closer. “Want to guess what ring it is?”

His heart was in his throat. “Please don’t…” he shook his head, taking a step back. “Please don’t say it’s the engagement ring I was about to give you.”

But she didn’t need to answer, because what else could it be?

She reached out for him but he slapped her hand away when it reached his sleeve. “Haechannie—”

Donghyuck tripped on his feet, falling to his knees and felt the ocean swallowing him inch-by-inch, seawater seeping into his clothes. His face was nowhere near the water and yet he was gasping frantically for air, his chest suffocating and sending jolts of pain to his entire body. 

He could hear her shouting his name in concern, could tell the panic in her voice, but how could he comfort her when he couldn’t even help himself?

The world was swirling in his head even when he could only perceive the darkness with his eyes. His stomach lurched as he coughed multiple times, throat burning in flames.

“Oh God, okay, you’re having a panic attack,” she sounded breathy, afraid, as she clutched her hands around his shoulders. “Breathe with me. Haechannie, focus, I need you to breathe.”

He had a hand on his chest while his other one was sinking deep in the sand. The memory of the accident—how it ruined everything he had planned for her, for himself, and the future they were about to face together—and knowing how useless he had become, to simply reduce himself into nothing but a burden who couldn’t even pass through a door without help, made him feel like his world was ending.

She pulled him into an embrace, sinking his face into the crook of her neck—a habit he once grew fond of—and whispered his name over and over again until it sounded like a prayer, steadying his heartbeat little by little with every second passing by. She only hugged him even tighter when he managed to calm his breathing. “You’re okay,” she exhaled in relief, “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

He brought his hand to the back of her head, feeling her strands under his fingers and finally noticing how short it was. “You should let me go,” he whispered, voice quivering.

Whether he was talking about her embrace or letting him out of her life, she didn’t care. The answer was the same for both. “No.”

“I’m fine now.”

“Well, I’m not. I want to stay like this.” Her voice was muffled by the fabric of his sweater. “Let me stay like this.”

He kept still but he no longer answered her hug, letting his arms fell loose on the side of his body. “Why did you wear the ring?”

“Because I want to.” 

It soothed him a little that she answered with those words and not “Because it’s something you wanted to give me and I know how much you want me to wear it.”

He noticed her body shivering as their knees were still buried in the sand, engulfed in seawater. “We should move. It’s getting colder.”

She eventually nodded, helping him up to his feet and went back to their car, immediately turning the heater on before she carried him to the back seat where they settled close next to each other. 

“Are you cold?” She asked, her voice quivering as she took her half-drenched coat off. “Guess it wasn’t a smart idea going back to the beach in autumn, huh?” He didn’t answer, too busy maintaining his composure so he wouldn’t freak out again. “Your clothes are soaked, we should get you changed. I brought some spare with me. Oh, and a blanket too.”

She was doing enough talking for both of them to fill the silence so Donghyuck kept his lips pressed tightly shut and followed her order, lifting his hands so she could pull his sweater over his head. She unbuttoned his shirt, blushing a little when his chest and stomach came into view, reminding her of the times where they spent their days raking nails down each other’s skin, exchanging wanton moans between wet kisses.

When he was left only in his jeans, she unzipped her dress, the clothing falling off her shoulders before she slipped it off her body entirely. Grabbing a blanket from the trunk, she scooted over to his place, wrapping the fabric around both of their bodies. She took his hand in hers, rubbing his cold one with hers over and over until he stopped shivering. “You really are sensitive to cold,” she mumbled to herself, “Warm enough?”

“You should’ve just thrown it away.”

She abruptly stopped moving, hands freezing as they were holding him mid-air. “What?”

“The ring,” he murmured, sliding his hand away from hers and bringing it down to his lap. “It doesn’t have any meaning now, so…”

She took her time to reply, begging herself to stay calm even when the pain was tearing her apart. Her tone was expressively hurt when she finally spoke, “You don’t want to marry me anymore?”

He could feel his jaw tightening. “Do you still want to marry me?”

“Yes, just as much as I did on the day you proposed to me for the first time. If not more.”

She answered him fast and firm, without a trace of  hesitation or doubts. But the fear that his thoughts screamed at him echoed louder in his head, reducing her promise to sound nothing more than a whisper being carried by the wind. To him, she seemed like she was about to cry, and perhaps she was, but not because she had doubts about marrying him. She was heartbroken because he appeared like he was forcing her to do something she disgusts, when marrying him had been her wish all along.

If he could see her, he would’ve seen the hurtful look that painted her face. She became mute, averting her focus to her hands that laid frozen on her lap. “Haechannie,” she eventually called, “When I think of you, what do you think comes into my mind?”

A liability. A deadweight. Someone you should abandon to make your life bearable. But he stayed as soundless as the night.

“Do you think I’m doing all of this because I’m forced to do it?” Her voice was soft, but he could sense a hidden rage between her words. “Because I’m obliged to take care of you as your girlfriend—your fiancee?”

“It’s not that, it’s—” He spluttered, turning to look at her although his eyes could only see the darkness. “I just wasn’t sure it’s still the future you want us to have.“ He hesitated, his voice became quiet. “And I’m not sure whether you still want me in this condition—”

“Why are you saying that?” Her voice grew frantic. “That’s really—That’s not—“ She buried her face in her hands, her chest tightening. “I want you—of course, I want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

Somehow, her affection felt like a stabbing pain from all the self-loathe that bubbled in his chest. “But I’m not the same now.”

“Doesn’t mean that I’ll stop loving—God, Haechannie, why can’t you see that we—”

“That’s the fucking problem, isn’t it? I can’t see!” His voice was resonating loudly, colored with dismay and agony, muting the sound of waves crashing behind them. “I’m fucking blind! I don’t know what kind of face you wear around me these days. I can’t tell whether you’re lying or not when you say these words—”

“I will never lie to you—”

“Yes, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m afraid!” He broke apart, voice filled with quivers as it nearly reduced into short gasps. “I’m afraid of having you look at me like I’m a liability. I’m tired of trying to convince myself that I can be some kind of help to you when I can’t even button my fucking shirt properly. I want to marry you—God, I want to marry you so bad—but what do I have to offer? I can’t function like a normal person, I’ve lost my job, I’m going insane, and I can’t see a damn thing!”

The second he stopped speaking, only the sound of their surroundings could be heard, along with their ragged breathing. Donghyuck brought his face to the side, hiding half of his face behind his shaky fingers, inhaling a few times to control his breathing but failing on each try. 

Her eyes began to water as well but she erased the tears before they could stroll down her face. “I’m not sure if you know this already but,” she said, forcing herself to smile between hot tears. “I know how you’d prepared everything that day. I was shocked when my mother told me that you’d asked for their permission to marry me. I didn’t know you were so serious about this. I was so happy, but even then, I wasn’t as happy as the day you finally woke up, five days after the accident. I was just so relieved that I could see you alive and breathing again—to hold you in my arms, to hear your voice saying my name. I know how devastating this feels to you, losing your vision so suddenly like this, and I know how insensitive I will sound to you but let me just say this.” 

She reached out to him, cupping his cheek with one hand so he could turn his face around. His eyes were tightly shut, but his eyelashes were wet as they rested against his cheeks.  “I don’t care that you’re blind,” she said, rubbing her thumb gently along his cheekbone. “And I don’t care if you can’t walk without hitting walls, or if you can’t make your own coffee or wear your own clothes—what I care about is that we’re both here, together, alive and well, and there is nothing in the world that could change my mind.” When he was about to turn away again, to be swallowed by his emotions, she held his face with both hands, forcing him to bare his soul in front of her eyes. “I’d rather have you in this state or worse, rather than losing you entirely, Haechannie. I need you just as much, if not more. So, if you could just trust me, please.”

Donghyuck laid his palm against the back of her hand. “You’re better off without me, Noona. And it’s not just because of how I am now. Bad things do happen when you ignore the signs and deny your soulmate—you should’ve been with Mark—”

“I don’t care about soulmates.” She was frustrated, he could tell, by the way he was so adamant about this. “Isn’t that what you said to me too back then?”

“I know, but seeing how this happened to me, I—”

“Haechannie,” she called, gripping his hand tightly until his knuckles turned white. “What happened to you is an accident. It has nothing to do with soulmates or fate—people get into accidents, these things happen—”

“Yes, I get that, but what if it’s not? I don’t care if anything happens to me, but I can’t—” He took a sharp intake of breath. “I can’t afford anything happening to you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Then do you want to spend your days alone instead of being with me?” Her tone was inscrutable, almost impersonal to his ears. “Be honest.”

Donghyuck bit his lip. “It doesn’t matter what I want—“

“Stop listening to your own thoughts. Listen to mine. Listen to what I’m saying.” Her temple was pressed against his, her breath fanning against his lips. “I need you, Hyuck. And if you’re too afraid to be with me, just like how I used to in the past, then let me fight for this. Let me fight for us the way you used to.” Her lips were so close to him that he could almost feel every syllable with his own. “And before you regret everything as much as I did about us, accept me.”

And just like a twig cracking under pressure, Donghyuck snapped.

He rushed to close the gap between them, his lips meeting another pair in a searing kiss and she gasped against his mouth, body tumbling backward to the seat with him pressing hotly against her. He finally let himself go, finally caved into his desires, finally devoted himself back to her like how he did in the past.

He was rushing everything, hands desperately clawing against every part of her skin that he could reach, his kiss frenzied. But all of that was a mere distraction so she wouldn’t be able to hear him whimpering against her mouth, lips quivering as he tried to contain his sobs. 

“I love you,” he hastily said, holding her face with one hand as he kissed her fervently. “I’m sorry for hurting you over and over again—” The way he smashed his lips against hers was both bruising and comforting. “I just—I want you to be happy,” he groaned at the back of his throat when she tugged his lower lip between her teeth, “With or without me, I don’t care, as long as you’re happy, I—”

“With you,” she immediately confirmed, yanking against the strands of his hair as she peppered kisses down the column of his neck. “I’m only happy when I’m with you, Haechannie, so—” And she melded their lips together again, tongues sliding against one another, drowning in passion.

It was a mystery to her when Donghyuck said he wasn’t the same. He still felt like flames, burning her skin with his every touch, igniting sparks of fire in her heart with whispers of her name. But even if he was transforming into an entirely different person, she knew she would still dedicate herself to him either way.

There’s no life without you.

What started as a rush of a moment gradually turned into something slow where they began to savor each touch with more affection and less uncontrollable lust. As he needed her guidance, she switched their positions, letting Donghyuck sat with his spine pressed against the seat, the skin on his back sticking uncomfortably against the leather. 

She noticed how he flinched more under her fingertips, sensitive to even a small graze of skin meeting skin. “Are you okay?” She asked, settling on his lap, straps of her bra falling off her shoulders.

He nodded anxiously, tilting his face so she could take the sign and kiss him again and she did, but her touch was paper-thin. “You seem nervous,” she commented, caressing his cheek in concern as he circled his arms around her waist.

“I am,” he admitted, cheeks turning rosy. “I’m going crazy because I can’t see you. I’m afraid that I’d do something wrong and make you feel—”

“Then I’ll let you know,” she assured him, thumb tracing his lower lip. “I’ll say everything if that’s what you want to know, so stop thinking too much.” She leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead before she brushed the tip of her nose against his. “And just… feel me more.”

Donghyuck let her take his hand and exhaled softly when she pressed it against her cheek, shaky fingertips began to trace her jawline, the shape of her lips, her chin, her neck. His eyes were closed but his eyebrows were furrowed deep in concentration, and she would’ve smiled at the sight if his touches weren’t scorching on her skin, enveloping her with sensations she had been longing for months.

His other senses were heightened, noticing her scent better, listening to every gasp, every moan of his name, feeling her veins, her small scars from her childhood days—everything.

“So beautiful,” he praised under his breath but she caught it, sending goosebumps all over her body. “A-are you okay?” He asked, noticing how she fidgeted and shifted her weight. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s just—“ She bit her lip when his fingers ran along the valley of her breasts, stopping when he reached her bra. “It’s been a while since we last—” a moan escaped her lips when he slipped his thumb behind the fabric, calloused skin meeting her sensitive nub. “Haechannie…”

Donghyuck gulped, his ears turning scarlet. Not being able to see the whole thing yet hearing the sounds she made really drove him to the brink of his sanity. “God, I wish I could see you,” he nearly whimpered. “I want to see your face.”

“Do you— ” She shuddered, as he brought his lips to trace every line he made with his fingertips before. “Do you still see me in your dreams?”

He nodded once, cupping her breast and sighing in content when it fit his palm perfectly.

She flinched, pressing her hips down to meet him more, urging him to move even closer. “Present ones?”

“N-not these days,” he moaned against her neck at the needed friction. “I see your past memories more often.”

She had to stop him and push him away for a moment because she couldn’t concentrate with his lips shyly sucking bruises on her sensitive parts. “Then let’s make as many memories as we can,” she said, slightly out of breath. “Maybe you can’t see me now, but you’ll see me in your dreams. Maybe then you’ll realize just how happy I am these days, because of you.”

He parted his lips in realization. He was too consumed by his depressing thoughts that he never tried to look through a new perspective. Even when he had lost his vision, she still managed to paint a spectrum of colors in his mind, in one way or another. As long as he’s with her, his life would never be monochromatic.

So this time, he could truly smile.

“Then…” He brought his hand down, whispering against her ear, “I can see you when we’re doing this too?” He suddenly slipped behind the fabric of her underwear, sliding his finger along her folds and she almost leaped out to her feet, yelping in surprise.

“Haechannie!” Her face was flushed, even going down to her neck and for the first time in what felt like forever, Donghyuck laughed, so airy and so him, making her eyes widen when she realized just how much she’d missed seeing him like this. “Ah, you’re really just—“ but she never finished, already moving her hips against him again, lips meeting in a heated kiss as it became a necessity for both of them to fulfill.

“Marry me,” he said, breathless and desperate as he kissed her shoulder, almost sinking his nails on the sides of her hips from how tight he was holding her. “Please marry me. I want—I need you to be my wife.”

Her eyes were unfocused, just like his were. Hooking her fingers around his silver necklace, she tugged him closer before she mouthed against the mole on his neck, making him moan her name.

“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time.” She giggled, grabbing him by the chin in preparation for another kiss. “Idiot.”

***

#haechan #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #haechan imagines #haechan stories #haechan fics #haechan smut #haechan fluff #haechan scenarios #haechan blurbs #haechan drabbles #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct #nct u #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 #nct timestamps #nct fanfics #nct fluff #haechan fanfics #nct fics #haechan timestamps #haechan nct dream #haechan nct #donghyuck smut #donghyuck

[pinkoptics]

Cherik ‘Fallen Angel’ Fic

Part 2 (of Chapter 1)

Find Part 1 (of Chapter 1) here.

Charles is an angel. He loves Erik. He saves Erik. God takes issue with that. Hilarity and adorableness (with a smidge of angst) ensues. In this part, protective!Erik makes an appearance at the hospital.

*

“I don’t know what his last name is!” Erik growled at the nurse, just barely managing to hold back the ‘fucks’ he wanted to pepper the sentence with. “I wasn’t exactly trying to get all of his info while he was bleeding to death on me.”

Erik released them in his mind— Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She’s just doing her job. She’s just doing her job. Don’t strangle her with metal.

“I told you,” Erik gritted his teeth and repeated a variation of the same combination of sentences he had already uttered twice. “I was crossing the street. The car barrelled through the red light. He jumped in and saved my life. I tried to return the favour. His name is Charles. He’s cute. I promised to take him to dinner. That’s all I know and that’s as far as we got before he passed out.”

How was Charles? Was he okay?

It didn’t seem like he could be. It had looked like so much fucking blood. The utterly insane things the man had said (“You should know you’re beautiful. Before I leave this mortal realm, I want you to know that”). Those spectacularly bright blue eyes fading to a frightening dullness. Not that Erik knew anything about anything medical, but none of that had seemed promising. So, not only was this nurse annoying as all fuck, she was stonewalling him. They wouldn’t tell him a goddamned thing because he wasn’t Charles’ next of kin. No one, in fact, knew if he had any next of kin in New York because he didn’t have a wallet, ID or phone on him. This was why the nurse was presently grilling him for information he did. not. have. They hadn’t let him ride in the ambulance, so he’d taken a cab and prayed that the ambulance had made a hell of a lot better time than he had. The only reason they were talking to him at all was because he had been there, had a name, a first name, and that was it.

The swinging doors opened and a woman in scrubs emerged. Erik nearly lunged.

“Are you Erik?”

“Yes.”

“He’s asking for you. I don’t want to let you in at all, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to start anything beyond emergency treatment until he talks to you.”

Asking meant conscious. Living. Thank fuck. The relief was powerful and nearly knocked him on his ass. Later, when he wasn’t teeming with barely contained frustration, and desperately trying to ascertain just how okay Charles was or wasn’t, he might spare a moment to think about how unexpected it was to be so powerfully moved by a stranger (a cute stranger who’d saved his life, granted), but not now.

“How is he?”

“He lost some blood, will need stitches on his arm and he has a few fractured ribs, but he’s stable. He’s going to be fine. After he stops trying to get out of bed to talk to you, we might actually be able to treat those things with something other than bandages.”

If Erik had thought the first wave of relief was powerful, he was not prepared at all for the second.

She sighed deeply and gestured to the double doors from which she had emerged. “This way.”

He followed her a short way down the hall, nearly stepping on her heels each step of the way. She stopped so abruptly before they entered the room that Erik nearly ran straight into her back.

“I should warn you that he’s... well, you’ve both been through a trauma. The mind processes such things in all sorts of ways. If he doesn’t seem... ‘all there’ don’t be overly concerned. Play along, don’t distress him further.”

Charles certainly hadn’t been ‘all there’ at the scene of the accident. His bizarre last words kept spinning through Erik’s head at random intervals— you are so loved. On their own, they were strange enough, but the reverence of Charles’ tone had sunk the words into Erik’s bones like a telepath projecting the emotion behind what they were saying. He hadn’t heard the words, he’d felt the words. Even if Charles was a telepath, it didn’t make them make anymore sense. More forthcoming then... he nodded at the doctor.

“You’re here!” Charles beamed at him from his sitting position on the hospital bed, looking much happier than anyone had any right to be in his situation. “And, you look well. Are you well?”

Charles did too, relatively speaking. He was a little pale, a little bruised but nowhere close to as bad as Erik had expected. Though the car had clipped him as he’d tackled Erik out of the way, it seemed to have been a case of looking much worse than it was at the scene. Small miracles.

“I’m fine.” Fine enough, at any rate. Like Charles, he was understandably bruised, and it was probably going to hurt more in the morning, but his suit had taken the harder beating. Between contact with the pavement and Charles’ blood, there would be no saving it, not that that mattered in the slightest. “You’re the one who was bleeding out all over me. How are you?”

Erik was sitting at his bedside now, the doctor presumably hovering in the background for all Erik’s attention was on Charles. The man in question blinked, cocking his head slightly to the side and giving Erik’s question a more thorough consideration than Erik would have thought necessary.

“I really don’t know,” he finally answered. Charles stretched his injured arm out in front of him, now bandaged (if not stitched) and looked at it with a plainly perplexed expression. “I’ve never been hurt before you know. It’s curious... interesting, but I don’t at all recommend it.”

“You were hit by a car.” Erik couldn’t help but be amused. Perplexed Charles was endearing. “Not something that happens to a person every day.”

“Quite.” Charles conceded the point. He went from staring at his arm to deliberately poking his own rib cage, and subsequently wincing. “You’re all very fragile, you know. So much could kill you every single minute of your life and yet so many of you manage to survive until old age. How do you do it? I’ve only just arrived and I’ve already nearly died.”

He turned his focus from his ribs to Erik and genuinely looked as though he were waiting for a response. Erik opened his mouth and then closed it. Despite the doctor’s suggestion to ‘play along’ he didn’t have one. Erik decided to change course.

“The hospital needs your personal information— last name, address, insurance.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy enough. I don’t have a last name. Just Charles. Or an address for that matter. I feel it’s unlikely my former profession came with any benefits.” Charles suddenly laughed. “That’s not true. It absolutely had many benefits, but certainly not State Farm. Besides, I’m no longer working for Him.”

The emphasis on the last word was... odd. Was Erik supposed to know who he was?

“I was... goodness. I was fired I suppose. Fired. That means I’m—I’m unemployed. For the first time in a millennia, I’m... on the pogey!” He laughed a little harder, the edge of hysteria he’d had at the scene worming its way back in. “Wait, no, you don’t say that anymore, do you?”

Pogey?

“Oh you look so confused. I apologize. It’s a Canadian phrase come to think. Or it used to be, a century ago.”

Shit.

Had Charles hit his head? Was this some kind of bizarre amnesia? The doctor hadn’t mentioned either possibility but... Erik side-stepped again.“How about family? Is there someone I can call and let them know you’re here? Maybe they can provide your information?”

The shift in Charles’ expression and demeanour was so abrupt and dramatic that Erik’s gut clenched. The stunning blue eyes that had stared up at him with such naked concern and relief, took on an unmistakable sheen. The wetness made them impossibly bluer, an unnatural colour that was as striking as it was otherworldly. The tears did not fall, yet Erik somehow knew that Charles would cry beautifully if they did. Erik somehow also knew what the response was going to be before he uttered it.

“No. There is no one. Not anymore.”

Erik surprised himself by doing something he would normally never do, under any circumstance, even with someone he knew well, let alone someone he had just met. He reached out and took Charles’ hand, squeezing it gently. His was a pain Erik was all too familiar with.

“It’s all right. We’ll... we’ll figure this out. You’re Charles. You saved my life. You have me. That’s all we need to know right now. Don’t worry about the insurance or anything else.”

Charles stopped staring out into the middle-distance and focused on Erik. “Truly, you don’t owe me anything.”

Erik snorted. “The hell I don’t. Besides, we’ve got to get you healed up. I can’t take you to the diner in this state. We’ve got date, remember? So there you are. Here you think I’m indebted, but really my reasons are purely selfish. You’re hot and I want to date you. Humour me.”

The wetness retreated and that red mouth quirked up into a small smile.

“As long as you’re being self-centred.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.”

Somewhere behind them, someone cleared their throat. Erik turned. Oh, right, the doctor. “As much as I would love to watch the two of you keep flirting, we need to take care of those injuries.”

She was right, so Erik reluctantly stood and even more reluctantly released Charles’ hand.

“I’ll be back later, so stop trying to leave and let them take care of you, all right?”

Charles nodded. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

Erik forced himself to turn and exit the room. Only after he’d left it, did he truly exhale. Charles was okay. Charles was okay. Charles was flirting even... well, possibly. They were still on for that date. Erik took a few much needed breaths and strode more determinedly, and much less frantically, back toward the nurses’ desk. He would take care of this.

He would take care of Charles.

*

Thanks for reading 😊. I really hope inspiration continues to strike because I’ve had a lot of fun with this thus far.

On to chapter 2 part 1

#cherik #cherik fan fic #cherik fanfic #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #pinkoptics fic #fallen angel fic

[skinsharpenedteeth]

RNM After Dark - Friday - Down to Earth

Here's my submission for @rnmafterdark

Day 1 - Down to Earth.

It features... dom/sub behavior, discussions of kink and safewords, impact play, cock and ball torture (CBT), masochism, sadism, a little bit of humiliation, and a school bus converted into a sex dungeon...

it's 6400 words, rated E-AF for Explicit As Fuck.

Also posted on AO3 for your kudos-ing, commenting, and bookmarking pleasure!

-

"What You Need and What You Want"

.

Alex didn't know why he needed it. He'd thought he was past needing to be yelled at after basic and living with his father, but the drill sergeants could only yell at you about the most superficial weaknesses. He could be called soft, pretty, or a mama's boy all day and it wouldn't even tweak a nerve. But late at night in foreign cities stateside and abroad, in clubs he’d found for people like him, people who needed something more, he had found other men who got closer to making him feel the way he needed to feel. Their rough hands, their sharp words, and the way they weren’t moved by his tears unless he said a word to make them stop, had turned out to be exactly what he’d needed that was more.

Then Alex had come back home from combat and anonymity. He’d tried to move into his old life, tried to fit into the version of himself that was normal, and found out that so many things were not what they seemed. But he hadn’t been able to get what he needed in a small town. So he’d driven to Albuquerque, looking for someone to fill that part of himself that needed to wallow in punishment and pain. But Albuquerque wasn’t big enough, wasn’t dark enough, wasn’t learned enough to know the difference between dominance and cruelty. It was close enough though. Close enough for Alex to fill in the gaps with his mind of the things he was missing.

Michael had noticed his trips. Michael noticed everything. He’d noticed that Alex wasn’t coming home calm, but haunted. He'd come home with the edge taken off, but not the need taken care of. Not fully. Never fully. The itch was always there, just sometimes more manageable if he'd let someone slap him around for a bit. The trips had been to someone who would do just that. But they didn't know him. Not really. He’d been the one to point out to Alex that he really wasn’t getting what he needed. Then, after an out-of-town trip that had left Alex with one too many bruises and scratches and a significant limp, Michael had begged him to let him help instead of continuing to go to someone who wasn’t treating him right.

"Just come to me for it," Michael had said, half order and half offer. Alex had scoffed initially. He hadn't thought Michael had understood what Alex actually wanted. Michael had leveled him with a glare and continued. "I don't like the idea of you going somewhere else for this. I don't like the idea of you trusting a stranger. And it's obvious it's not enough. Next time you have to scratch the itch, just come to me."

"Sure," Alex had agreed. He'd said 'sure’ like he meant 'not a chance'. Then he'd had a week of nights filled with nightmares. Caulfield, explosions, death, dismemberment, and ghosts plagued him whenever his body lost the fight to unconsciousness. The guy he'd been seeing was too far away and busy and Alex was almost trembling with the need for someone to bleed the tension out of him. So he'd called Michael just to see. Maybe he could do it. Maybe he could be enough until Alex could find another person or another way.

He’d never expected it to work, but he’d underestimated how well Michael knew him. Michael saw the way he seemed to bend towards harsh criticisms against him or his family. He saw how he warred with letting go of those terrible pieces of himself and holding onto them as tightly as if they were his security blanket. Michael had seen inside his mind and had rooted around for the most shameful things to use against him. Once Michael had figured out what he'd been going out of town to get, he’d made Alex an offer he couldn't refuse.

Alex stepped up into the old yellow school bus apprehensively. It sat near the Airstream in the junkyard, electric cables running to it and making it glow through the cracks. Michael had blacked out the windows with paint, making it look vaguely ominous in the blue hours of dusk. He wasn't sure what he'd find inside. What he found was a work in progress.

The cavernous space had been stripped of the seats and given a new floor. Michael had installed a drop ceiling down the middle of the bus and lined it with invisible lights around the edges. It made the ceiling dark, but the rounded walls and windows glow with subdued light. The effect was modern and sophisticated, and not at all what Alex would normally expect from Michael. Michael was watching him take in the bus's interior from a dark modular sofa that had been pushed along the side of the bus. He was wearing a loose, distressed pair of jeans and his ever-present plaid-over-tank combo. Alex felt his apprehension tighten the muscles in his back, but he pushed forward until he was standing in front of Michael looking down at him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and made a show of looking around the bus.

"So, starting an escort service?" Alex asked, watching for Michael's reaction.

"Maybe. Nothing wrong with sex work. It wasn't what I had planned for this space, but maybe there's a niche market for a mobile brothel in Roswell," Michael answered, spreading his arms over the back of the sofa and leveling Alex with a look. "I assume you didn't call to insult my decorating."

Alex scoffed. He shook his head slowly and gave Michael a wry smile.

"No. I guess I didn't," Alex replied. "So are we going to do this?"

"Sure. But sit down. We need to do some quick housekeeping," Michael said, waving to the empty space next to him. Alex sat and tried not to fidget. He didn't want to talk right then. He wanted to hurt and have the demons inside him go silent and be sated. Michael watched him silently, gaze intense and laser-focused to the point that Alex stilled himself, suddenly self-conscious.

"Okay. So, first I need to know what you want out of this," Michael started. Alex rolled his eyes, but Michael just kept looking at him, even and steady.

"I want… release," Alex bit out. He could feel a flush starting to heat the skin of his neck. This wasn’t what he wanted to talk about.

"I'm assuming you don't mean orgasm...well, or not just orgasm. How do you want me to give that to you?" Michael asked. Alex's knee bounced and he scratched his thumbnail over the inside of his palm, letting the sting settle him enough to answer Michael's question.

"Yes, orgasm would be nice. But, what I need isn't just physical. I want to… I need you to… I need someone to make me make my physically feel as shitty as I need mentally. I need someone to strip me bare and then flay me alive. I need to hurt. I need to feel… empty at the end of it. Quiet, ya know?" Alex explained. His thumbnail scratched over and over, dragging across the same spot. Michael's hand closed gently over his wrist, startling Alex out of his thoughts. Alex looked up to catch Michael's eye and felt Michael pull his hand away and lay it on his thigh before taking the hand Alex had been scratching and holding it in his own.

"Do you need this to be verbal or just physical?" Michael asked, carefully. Alex tried not to let his shame overwhelm him. He wanted both. He needed both so badly and he hated how weak that need made him feel.

"Both," Alex replied just as quietly. Michael waited for a moment before speaking again. Alex watched the gears turn behind Michael's eyes, but he didn't see any pity in his expression… or disgust. A small part of him was surprised. He'd expected one or the other.

"So, hard limits?" Michael continued. He had started to rub his thumb sweetly over the red line Alex had made in his palm. It was at once painful and soothing.

"Nothing permanent. No choking, for obvious reasons. No broken skin. Don't call me ‘soldier.’ Don't call me ‘son.’ Don't make me…" Alex broke off, suddenly feeling ashamed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Michael paused his thumb over the scratch and pressed down firmly. A bright flare of stinging pain gave Alex the resolution to continue. "Don't make me feel good about any of it til we're done. And I don't need aftercare."

"Aftercare isn't optional, Alex. Not for you, not for me. That's a hard limit of mine," Michael replied, voice low and serious. Alex stared at him before huffing out a little laugh.

"How would you know what your limits are? Have you done this before?" Alex asked, removing his hand from Michael's. Unconsciously, he'd started to turn his body more towards Michael's. One leg was folded in front of him on the couch seat, his prosthesis still resting on the floor of the bus.

"You're not the only person who's found themselves with a need that wasn't fulfilled by what was easily obtained. You're not the gatekeeper to kink. You were gone for ten years and I had plenty of time to experiment and learn on my own. Stop acting like just because I've never been off the continent, I'm a fucking narrow-minded moron." Michael's voice was sharp at the end, making Alex flinch internally. He couldn't imagine a world where Michael had explored BDSM or kink. He'd just assumed Michael was drinking and sleeping around like a college frat boy the entire time. It stung Alex that he hadn't even imagined Michael really living a full life without him. He always just thought of Michael biding his time, waiting on him, perpetually looking over his shoulder and waiting for Alex to appear on the horizon. What a selfish, egotistical dick he was to assume Michael had nothing better to do than cool his heels dreaming of an idolized version of Alex (the version of Alex that he wished he was in reality, that he tried to be and failed to be every single day).

"Sorry," Alex said after a quiet span of minutes where he manually adjusted his mental image of Michael Guerin.

"Try again, Alex. And look me in the face while you do it." Alex raised his head and looked at Michael. He looked older and calmer than he had a moment before. He looked like he was wearing all the years of his life on his shoulders and he was used to the weight of carrying them. Alex felt younger somehow. He felt chastened.

"I'm sorry, Michael," he repeated, keeping his eyes locked on Guerin’s. Michael nodded once before continuing.

"What's your safeword?"

"Finland," Alex replied without hesitation.

"Mine's ‘orbit.’ Are you okay with using the stoplight system?" Michael asked easily. Alex nodded.

"So, do you want a trial run tonight?" Michael asked.

Alex took a deep breath and nodded again before clearing his throat, knowing he had to speak it out loud. "Yeah, sure. Let's give it a go."

"So stand up and take off your clothes. I'll be right back," Michael said as he stood up off the couch. Alex stood also and waited for Michael to disappear behind a partition that presumably hid the way to the bathroom. Slowly, Alex undressed himself, feeling nerves and anticipation start to flutter behind his bellybutton. He folded his clothes and laid them on the couch. Before he had to figure out if Michael wanted him to be kneeling or not, Michael came back into the room. He'd stripped off his plaid shirt and was just in jeans and a tank. Alex watched him walk across the room and pick up a remote from one of the window ledges. He pointed it towards the ceiling and the lights turned from a warm golden light to an almost sinister red.

"Going to murder me?" Alex tried to joke. Michael gave him a quick grin.

"Want a different color? I've got the full range. We can disco through the whole pride flag if you want," Michael joked back.

"No. Red is fine," Alex assured him. While he spoke, Michael had discarded the remote back onto the window ledge and moved to stand in front of Alex. He reached up and brushed some of Alex's hair behind his ear, watching his own action contemplatively.

"So what brought this on tonight? What are you feeling?" Michael asked, eyes seeming to float back to meet Alex's while his hand rested on the side of Alex's neck, fingers gently playing with the too long curling pieces near the nape of his neck.

"Just… stuff. Nightmares," Alex mumbled, dropping his eyes and staring at the dark patch of chest hair that showed above the scoop collar of Michael's tank. He wanted to get started. He was doubting his decision to come. Why didn't Michael just do something already?!

"What would you tell your anonymous Dom in Albuquerque or Santa Fe if they asked?" Alex's eyes darted back up to meet Michael's and he scowled. Through tight lips, he managed to spit out an answer.

"They wouldn't have asked about why I needed it, they’d just give it to me."

"Well, you gotta give me something to work with here. What feeling is causing the nightmares?" Michael asked patiently. He let the knuckles of his left hand drag down the side of Alex's bare stomach, reminding him that he was standing naked in front of Michael while he stood there fully clothed. Maybe they should've just had sex. Maybe that would've been enough.

"Guilt. I feel… guilty about a lot of things," Alex finally confessed, shame filling his cheeks with heat and color. Michael nodded, almost to himself.

"Okay. I can work with that," he replied. Then his hands slid away from Alex's body and he stepped back. He let his eyes travel down every inch of Alex's skin and back up. "I thought I told you to get naked."

Alex furrowed his brow in confusion and looked down at himself. He wasn't wearing any clothes. Michael smiled and bent down slightly to tap at Alex's prosthesis. Alex looked at him, still confused.

"Take it off. I'm going to have you kneeling on a pillow when you're finished. Arms up and behind your head," Michael instructed. Alex sat back on the couch and began to remove the prosthesis. Michael produced a square floor cushion and sat it in the middle of the bus floor, then stood in front of it and waited on Alex to finish. The floor cushion was just far enough that Alex would have to crawl to get to it from the couch. Humiliation bloomed in his stomach, and his cock twitched with interest. Michael was testing him.

Lowering himself down from the couch, Alex crawled the short distance to the floor cushion and then began to arrange himself. He sat forward on his knees, widening them for easier balance, and then slowly he lifted his arms up and interlocked his fingers behind his head. He was bared for the cool gaze Michael was giving him, and it thrilled him how very vulnerable he was in the position he’d been asked to hold. He could and would hold the position easily, but Michael could also just as easily knock him to the ground if he chose to. Alex let his eyes lift only as far as Michael's best buckle, brain beginning to quiet and settle as he did so, and then he waited.

"Very good, Alex. You look good like this," Michael complimented with a slightly mocking edge to his tone. He made a slow half-circle to stand behind Alex so that Alex could see them. "So you're feeling guilty, huh? Think you need to earn your forgiveness? Want someone to take your penance out of your flesh?" Michael asked from behind him. Alex nodded briskly, not sure if he was allowed to speak. "What do you feel guilty for? Because I can't punish you for having dreams."

"Just… everything. I'm so angry at myself for not being over shit. For failing you, for failing my dad, for failing everyone," Alex choked out, feeling like fleeing but forcing himself to stay still.

"How did you fail me?" Michael asked, voice cool and impartial. Alex appreciated the lack of emotion. It helped him keep going. He wouldn't be able to continue if he could tell he was hurting Michael with his honesty.

"I always underestimate you. You’re better, smarter, and more capable than I think you are a lot of the time," Alex admitted. Michael hummed thoughtfully.

"How many hours of sleep do you think you've gotten this week, Manes? Sixteen? Twenty?" Michael asked. Alex did the rough mental math in his head. He cleared his throat before he spoke.

"Fifteen-ish," he answered. His lower back muscles were starting to quietly let themselves be felt as they were continually used to keep him upright, the muscles in his thighs and arms warming up from holding him still. He felt Michael step up close behind him, legs on the outside of his own and cool belt buckle pressing into the bottom of his interlocked hands. Michael's hands slid through the gaps between his arms and shoulders and smoothed down his chest before scratching back up, nails dragging red lines into his tanned skin. He shifted into the sting, wishing for Michael to scratch harder.

"Color?" Michael asked quietly as his hands once again smoothed down Alex's pecs.

"Green," Alex answered through a harsh breath as Michael scratched back up, but harder. The bite of pain had Alex gasping in surprise, and he felt his cock starting to plump up from the attention.

"How about I give you ten on your ass and give five to your balls? If you take your punishment good, I'll help you cum. Does that sound fair?" Michael asked, thumbs rubbing roughly over Alex's nipples. The low thrum of arousal was starting to build under Alex’s skin from Michael’s words. The low level sting from Michael’s nails was already starting to put him in the right headspace. He closed his eyes for a moment, just enjoying the rough push and pull of Michael’s fingers on him.

“Yes,” Alex agreed out loud. Michael brought his hands back up to rest on Alex’s shoulders. He bent close to his ear before speaking again. His breath was warm where it tickled over Alex’s skin.

“Then get on your elbows and knees. I want your ass higher than your head,” Michael instructed. Alex took a deep breath in and nodded before unclasping his hands from behind his head. Gingerly, he moved until his head was resting on top of his forearms against the floor. He tucked his knees under his hips and presented himself. He was keenly aware of how exposed he was. The cool air from the A/C unit fluttered over his backside. Michael hadn’t moved as Alex had gotten into position, so he could also feel the threat of someone lording over him. He could almost feel Michael’s eyes trailing over his naked skin, taking his time, mentally caressing every curve. After what felt like an eternity, Michael moved. He knelt down next to Alex’s side. When his fingertips started to skim down Alex’s side, it made him jump.

“None of that now,” Michael said, though his tone was soothing instead of harsh, like Alex was a spooked horse he was trying to calm. His hand continued stroking gently over Alex’s side and then down his back, around the curve of his ass and down his leg. The touch almost tickled and Alex had to fight not to flinch or shy away from the sensation.

“You always think you know better than me, don’t you, Alex?” Michael asked quietly. He shifted his body, moving further down Alex’s body and behind him. He started to use both hands to tickle over Alex’s back. When he got to his ass, though, Michael paused. Carefully, he spread Alex’s cheeks to look at his hole. A light touch of Michael’s thumb trailed down the center, barely glancing over Alex’s hole, and then down over his taint until Michael could cup Alex’s balls in his hand. He massaged them gently in his palm, pulling gently at the skin of his sack. Circling his thumb and forefinger around the base of Alex’s scrotum under his cock, he used the other three fingers to cup around the fleshy sack and began squeezing gently. Discomfort and heat prickled at Alex’s skin, making him whimper softly when Michael’s hand began to tighten and loosen in a slow rhythm. It wasn’t rough, wasn’t painful, but it was uncomfortable in the way that triggered his most primal instinct to escape. Alex stayed still and breathed deeply against his forearms. The feeling was mesmerizing, so it caught Alex off guard when Michael reached down with his free hand to stroke his cock.

“Fuck!” Alex burst out, shifting restlessly knee to knee. Michael held still as he settled. The electricity of that touch crackled along Alex’s nerve endings, pins and needles under his skin.

“Color?” Michael asked, not moving.

“Green,” Alex replied, feeling suddenly out of breath. Without warning, the hand that had touched Alex’s cock came down with a crack on one of his ass cheeks. This pain too was electric, but more like a quick strike of lighting, localized and bright. Alex swore, but tried to stay still.

“One,” Michael counted. His hand rubbed over the stinging skin before he removed it. A moment later, he was using it to loosely stroke over Alex’s cock. The hand around Alex’s balls tightened, again threatening the violence that Alex wanted. He moaned, wishing for more. “I was just never good enough for you, was I? But you kept coming back. Kept slumming it with the foster kid. Did you think I didn’t notice the way you kept me secret?”

Another slap against Alex’s ass, another sting, and another gentle caress by Michael’s hand over the heated skin. The next one came faster and harder than the first. Michael learned forward over one side of Alex’s back, the roughness of his jeans irritating and wonderful over Alex’s heated skin. He leaned close enough to be able to rest his chin on Alex’s shoulder.

“Two and Three. You’re an arrogant piece of shit sometimes, Alex. You’re wrapped up in classism, just like your father was. At least you can recognize that you’re a fucking asshole for it and that you deserve for someone to take you down a peg.”

He kept his voice calm and the words stung all the more for it. Alex held his breath against their effect until he couldn’t any longer and then let it out in a long, slow breath. Michael took his hand away from the base of Alex’s balls.

“Do you think you’re better than me, Alex? Smarter? Think you need to always be the white fucking knight for everyone?” Michael asked, fingers dragging up Alex’s perineum in a firm line.

“No,” Alex said, shaking his head. A hard crack sounded and fire lit up the previously untouched ass cheek. Alex felt a throb run through his body as the heat started to radiate. His cock hung heavy between his legs. He looked down the line of his body and could see it hanging, tip wet and threatening to drip onto the floor.

“Are you lying to me, Alex?” Michael asked, nails scratching over the abused spot on Alex’s ass. His voice was quiet, threatening, teasing and starting to make Alex feel unraveled. Alex shook his head weakly. Another lick of fire, another crack, and Alex was moaning into his forearms.

“I think you’re lying to me. You think I’m stupid, Alex? Your actions speak louder than words. You think you’re the only one in the room who's aware enough to notice other people. You think we don’t have you pegged? You think you’re better than your friends, your family and me and you always have, haven’t you?” Michael asked, right before pushing up off from Alex’s back to sit back on his heels. His hands came to rest on Alex’s waist, pulling him back to center Alex’s hips back over his knees and correct his position. A hand slid up Alex’s spine and then pressed between his shoulder blades. Alex followed the unspoken direction until his chest was resting on the floor. He laid his cheek against the cool flooring and closed his eyes, letting his mind sink into Michael’s words.

“We’re halfway through your ass punishment. Your skin is getting so pretty and pink for me. And your cock is making a fucking mess on my floor. You look so fucking shameless right now. It’s a good look for you, Alex. You just needed to be reminded of how good you look when you’re being put in your place,” Michael praised from behind him.

Michael’s hands slid back from Alex’s hips to grip his ass. Alex felt himself being spread wide, Michael’s thumbs pulling at the skin next to his hole gently. The feeling of something warm and wet hitting his pucker and starting to slide over his entrance confused Alex for only a moment until he realized Michael must’ve spit on him. Hot shame and arousal flushed through him at the mental image. One of Michael’s thumbs moved in and he massaged his spit over Alex’s hole, pressing firmly but not truly trying to penetrate. Alex groaned, pushing back against the pressure of Michael’s thumb, vainly wishing he’d open him up and fuck him. He wanted to feel pinned open under Michael’s cock.

“Maybe next time. If you’re good,” Michael assured him before he took his hands away. Alex shook with need. He needed pain or pleasure or words or something. He was rewarded with a quick series of slaps, two on each ass cheek, one right after the other, heavy enough to thud through his muscle. These weren’t the stinging, surface slaps of earlier. When Michael finished, his hands massaged roughly across the skin. Alex felt a dizzying rush of blood and emotion coursing through him a moment before he felt the warm wet of Michael’s mouth and the sharper sting of his stubble as Michael nipped and kissed over the abused cheeks. His final slap on one cheek was quickly followed by a sharp bite to the other. Alex cursed and his foot flexed against the floor, toes trying to dig against the hard surface as Michael used his jaw’s grip on Alex’s skin to coax a whine from Alex’s throat. Alex didn’t need to see the floor under his cock to know it was sticky with a pool of his arousal.

“Mmm,” Michael hummed, rubbing his stubbled cheek over his bite mark, sounding well-pleased. “So warm.”

“Michael, please,” Alex managed to choke out. Michael hummed again, but Alex felt subtle movement behind him. A moment later, Michael’s hand wrapped around Alex’s cock, wet and slick and tight. His hand slid up and down Alex’s shaft and it was all he could do not to hump forward into the pressure. It felt so fucking good. Michael was still rubbing his bristled chin and upper lip over Alex’s ass, mouthing at the inflamed flesh.

“You’re doing so good. I love hearing you beg, Alex,” Michael murmured against his skin. Alex almost didn’t hear him, his attention so wrapped up in the slick sounds and tight hole Michael’s fist was making for him. He was getting close, he could tell, but he knew he hadn’t finished his punishment. Abruptly, Michael let go of Alex’s cock and sat up. Alex wailed into his arms, eyes stinging at the loss. His cock ached where it swung, newly neglected and dripping between his legs.

“You still need to take the five to your balls. Then I’ll let you cum,” Michael reminded him, tone lazy. He said this while wrapping his hand around the base of Alex’s sack again and pulling back towards him. Alex whined at the stretch, his balls had been tightening close to his body in preparation for cumming and now Michael was stretching them away. He’d stretched them far enough that Alex could imagine they looked like two pink plums in Michael’s grip, skin tight over the swollen orbs, looking fit to burst. He felt Michael’s hot breath against them a moment before the blunt pressure of his teeth resting on either side of one of his balls. Some heady mix of fear and arousal shot through Alex’s body making him tremble, his stomach tightening and hips hitching forward. “So full. I bet you haven’t cum since your last trip to Albuquerque. Maybe I should make you wait longer, see how big of a load you’ll save up for me.”

“Please, Michael, I need…,” Alex started, only to yelp in surprise at the first three-fingered smack to his testicles.

“You need,” Michael started, voice harsh and admonishing; another smack, wringing out another, higher-pitched yelp from Alex, and then Michael continued, “to let me make the decisions here. I know what you need, Alex. I’ve got you all figured out. You need to stop,” SMACK! “Underestimating,” SMACK! “Me.” SMACK!

Alex's breath was heaving from his body. He didn’t even realize he was speaking until Michael was pulling him up to sit back onto his lap, hands around his waist to help support him and Alex’s back pressed against Michael’s chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Alex continued to mumble thickly. Michael was shushing him softly, arms tight and comforting around him, lips delivering soft kisses to Alex’s shoulder and neck. Alex’s cheeks were hot, his eyes tight, and he knew he was crying.

“I know you are, sweetheart. I know,” Michael murmured against his skin. Alex’s breath hitched under another sob. Michael gently maneuvered him to half turn so he could wipe at the tear tracks on Alex’s cheek and kiss the corner of his mouth softly. “You did so good. I know you’re sorry cause you followed all my directions and took your punishment. So good, baby.”

Alex found himself turning more until he could cling to Michael’s neck and hug his body close. Michael stroked one of his hands up and down Alex’s spine while the other combed through his hair. The new position trapped Alex’s aching balls and still-hard cock in between their bodies. The cotton of Michael’s shirt was irritating against Alex’s sensitive skin, but Alex couldn’t bear to pull back.

“Did you want me to help you cum, Alex?” Michael asked, nose gently bumping against Alex’s, lips a hair's breadth away. Alex took a deep breath in to steady himself before nodding. He moved forward, hoping to capture Michael’s mouth in a kiss. Michael let him, opening obligingly when Alex smoothed his inquisitive tongue along Michael’s lips. Michael let Alex kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. While they kissed, Michael’s hands wandered over Alex’s naked body until his hands came down onto Alex’s ass cheeks. Alex had almost forgotten about them until the flare of fire was reignited under Michael’s grip. The pain only served to excite Alex further.

“Michael, fuck me, please,” Alex begged, lips against Michael’s cheek as he pressed his body back into Michael’s strong grip.

“Not this time,” Michael responded gently. “But I’ll help get you off. You did so well, I can let you cum.”

“Please,” Alex said again, writhing softly in Michael’s lap to get some much-needed friction against his cock.

“So impatient,” Michael griped fondly. Removing one of his hands from Alex’s ass, Alex watched as he went to a previously unseen pump bottle of lube. He pumped twice and then brought his hand between their bodies and wrapped it around Alex’s cock. The lube was slick and sticky, and Alex immediately hitched his hips to push his cock through Michael’s grip.

“Oh, it’s like that?” Michael teased, tightening his grip to slow Alex’s quickening thrusts. Alex whined, hands flexing against Michael’s shoulders. Slowly, Michael started to move his tight-fisted hand over Alex’s cock. It was too tight for Alex to get off on it, but the edge of pain kept him hard and hoping. “If you keep acting greedy like this, I’m going to strap you down and edge you until you’ve learned some patience. Would you like that, Alex? Want me to keep you hard and begging for hours? Or do you want me to just make you cum until you’re dry and begging for me to stop?”

“Both, please,” Alex gasped out after a particularly cruel twist of Michael’s wrist. Michael loosened his grip then and paused, letting Alex catch his breath.

“You insatiable creature,” Michael praised. He kissed along Alex’s jaw to his shoulder where he bit harshly into the meat of Alex’s muscle. Alex groaned and tried not to writhe against the pain, but couldn’t seem to stop his body from rocking gently against Michael’s fist.

“That’s it. You can fuck my hand now.” He continued to kiss and bite Alex’s flesh after he said it, causing small fires everywhere his teeth touched. His mouth moved down from Alex’s shoulder to his chest, causing Alex to lean back. Alex held onto Michael’s shoulders tightly, but didn’t stop thrusting into Michael’s perfect, slick grip. Michael sucked Alex’s nipple into his mouth and let his teeth scrape over the sensitive flesh as he pulled his head back. Alex moaned and cursed at the feeling, throwing his head back. The tension in Alex was building quickly. He wanted so badly to cum, wanted to feel himself released from reality into oblivion if only for a few seconds.

“Please, Michael. Just a little tighter, please,” Alex managed to pant out. Michael kissed across his exposed throat.

“Show me, sweetheart,” he insisted. Alex pulled one of his hands from Michael’s shoulder and wrapped it over Michael’s. He squeezed until the pressure was perfect and then let go, replacing his hand on Michael’s shoulder. The hand that had been harshly kneading at Alex’s ass, encouraging his rolling hips and sloppy thrusts, came around to stack itself on top of the hand gripping him. Together they created a deep channel for Alex to thrust his cock into over and over again.

“Shit, shit, shit, Michael. I need to cum. Can I? Please?” Alex whined, even as he kept pushing his body towards the edge.

“Sure, darlin'. You can cum,” Michael said agreeably. Alex let go of any restraint, pressing close and letting his thrusts get quick and out of rhythm as he felt the pressure building behind his balls. When Alex was only a few thrusts away, Michael continued, “But I’m going to make you clean up the mess you make with your mouth.”

The last bit did it for Alex. With a strangled, silent yell, his cock swelled against Michael’s hands and then erupted white, sticky streams that dripped and smeared along the insides of his fingers and palms. When Alex was able to move, Michael let go of his slowly softening cock and Alex lowered himself onto his back on the floor. The coolness of it felt good against his overheated skin. Carefully, Michael crawled over him to straddle his stomach, careful of his oversensitive cock.

“Open up,” Michael demanded, tapping two sticky fingers against Alex’s lips. Obediently, Alex opened his mouth and felt Michael plunge his salty, spunk-covered digits in. Alex moaned at the taste of himself on Michael’s skin, using his tongue to trace every inch of skin to find more of his leftover pleasure. Michael made him lick and suck all of his fingers and then palms. When he was finished, he swooped down and took Alex’s mouth with his own, plunging his tongue in for any traces left for him to taste. When the taste dissolved into nothing they parted. Michael helped Alex up onto the couch, where he held Alex against his chest and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Want some water? Dinner?” Michael asked a little while later when Alex was practically dozing off against his chest where he was sprawled. Alex hummed noncommittally and nuzzled his head against Michael’s shirt, laying a kiss against his cotton-covered chest.

“How was it? Everything you expected?” Michael asked easily. Alex nodded, eyes still closed and mind still wrapped in a blanket of satiation.

“Anything you didn’t like or would like me to do differently next time?” Michael asked next. Alex thought about it. His hand drifted down to Michael’s crotch, completely covered, but still half hard from their scene.

“I want you to use this on me next time. Mouth, ass, hands, whatever. I want you to get off too,” Alex replied, voice drowsy but firm. He opened his eyes and locked eyes with Michael. His hand stayed resting over Michael’s crotch and he could feel it twitch against his palm. Alex raised an eyebrow in question. Michael smiled, bent his head down to kiss Alex’s mouth, and brushed his hand away.

“Next time. Promise,” Michael responded easily. Alex knew it wasn’t a real rejection, so he nodded and turned his head to lay it back down against Michael’s chest, his ear pressed to where he could hear the steady thumping rhythm of Michael’s heart. He drifted and with faint surprise, realized he was really falling asleep. He wondered how long Michael would let him lay like this if he fell asleep. Would he wake up to warm sunshine tomorrow morning? Would Michael only let him nap for a while and then wake him to get dressed so he could go home to his own bed? As if hearing his thoughts, Michael ran the back of a finger along Alex’s cheek bone.

“Do you want to sleep here, the Airstream, or your house?” Michael asked softly. Alex considered it.

“Let’s go to the Airstream. I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight,” Alex said through a yawn. Michael nodded and hugged his arms around Alex’s shoulders.

“Sure. Whatever you want,” Michael concluded. Alex only hummed a vague response before he was oblivious to anything else. He didn’t have nightmares that night.

#rnmafterdark2021 #rnmafterdark #rnm after dark #smutty #malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes

[plasticnightmaredoll]

I’m still working on the NSFW Alphabet for Enigma/Edward Nashton/Riddler-Before-He-Was-Riddler from “Arkham Origins,” and it’s going to take some time because of my work schedule being the PITA that it is...

However, I do have some snippets of an Arkham Knight!Riddler x female!Reader fic I’ve been working on here and there over the last few weeks. 

Now, these are not beta-read, so there may be some mistakes, and some things might change or be added or rearranged, etc. when I do get around to proof-reading the complete fic, but the basic idea of each snippet won’t change from here on to the finished product. 

The general concept behind this fic is what would it take for AK!Riddler to, well, get his shit together? We all know how he started out as a snack -- or more accurately, a damn MEAL:

then became a...well, a hot mess (still adorable, though):

Possibly having someone in his life who actually appreciates him and shows him some affection could get him to clean himself up? Because we all know this boy is most likely touch-starved and would probably cry if someone was actually sweet to him, and he’d probably do whatever he could to be as presentable as possible to keep them around -- anything to keep them from vanishing from his life and leaving him all alone and unwanted again.

Anyway, here are the three (non-beta’d!) snippets from the fic:

Snippet 1:

Initially, Edward told himself it was for his own good. He was Gotham’s one true genius so why shouldn’t he take better care of himself? Cloning was not possible, nor was there any way to transfer the human consciousness into a machine. All of this meant there was only ONE Edward Nigma, and he deserved to look and feel his absolute best. 

Besides, he thought it was yet another way to one-up anyone who opposed him. Yes, of course he could look just as put together as anyone else -- or better. He was superior in every possible way after all.

It had all started with a comment from Selina as she was leaving to take care of the job Edward had assigned to her.

“You know, Eddie,” she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Ladies like men who don’t smell like a car repair shop.”

With that, she was gone and Edward was, at first, not even registering what she had said to him. But it did creep into his thoughts faster than he would have liked, and he analyzed every piece of it. Why would Selina say such a thing? Then again, most people said pointless -- or more accurately, stupid -- things. Normally, he would have disregarded and forgot about it as he went about his work, but it nagged at him like a mathematical equation without a proper solution.

Taking a break from working on some new Riddlerbots, Edward went to the bathroom to locate anything he had on hand to take care of the headache he was currently dealing with. He found a bottle of Aspirin in the medicine cabinet, but when he closed the door, he stared at his reflection for a moment (When was the last time he’d given himself a proper glance in a mirror?)

As Edward took the Aspirin, he remembered Y/N was coming to see him that day -- soon, actually. Perhaps a shower would be a good idea? She would probably appreciate it if he didn’t smell like a car repair shop. And he probably would feel better being clean. Could help him think a little more clearly.

As he showered, Edward told himself this was primarily for his benefit and he wasn’t trying to impress Y/N -- or anyone for that matter. Deep down, though, he knew this was part of something he didn’t quite understand, something dealing with Y/N, something he hadn’t experienced before. That part of him was too afraid at that time to come forth and propose an answer to this dilemma. This was unfamiliar territory, something that wasn’t logical or scientific but emotional and...no, that “strange” part of him needed to stay quiet if he wanted to keep his thoughts together.

This was nothing. Nothing was going on. Everything was normal. And no, Edward didn’t feel relieved when Y/N complimented him on his appearance upon arriving. Taking a shower and putting on nice, clean clothes had nothing to do with gaining her approval. He did it for himself, to give himself a “refresh” before getting back to work. He wasn’t aiming to please or impress anyone, remember? Not even Y/N.

Especially not Y/N.

Or so he thought.

Snippet 2:

Something was different when Edward put someone else before anything of his, namely his work. Had it been anyone else, he’d have tossed a bunch of insults and told them never to bother helping him again. 

However, with Y/N, it was completely different -- and he didn’t even realize it at first.

She was carrying a box of mechanical parts to bring to Edward to aid in constructing new robots, and he had warned her to be careful, to not overload the box or it would be too heavy for her. While carrying the box of gears, wires, and metal bits, she tripped over her own feet and fell forward. The box toppled over onto the floor, spilling the contents everywhere, and she collapsed on her left forearm and knee.

“I told you to be careful!” Edward growled as he rushed over.

“I’m sorry!” Y/N said, pushing herself up and looking at the mess. “I don’t think I broke anything--”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Y/N fully expected Edward to examine the scattered parts to see if they had sustained any damage but he went right by them. Kneeling down beside her, he gently took her left arm and briefly studied the scratched skin. 

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Edward said as he carefully felt her forearm and elbow. “And your knee….”

“I think it’s ok,” Y/N said as she moved to sit. “It hurts, though.”

Edward placard his hands on Y/N’s left knee, feeling around and noting how she winced several times. 

“Not broken,” he said. “But most certainly will be sore and bruised for a while. Here…let’s get you up.”

Edward let Y/N put an arm around him to steady her as he helped her to stand. Of course, her left knee ached far too much for her to walk on her own, so he continued to guide her to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry about the stuff,” Y/N said, looking and sounding as guilty as she felt.

“Don’t worry about it,” Edward said absent-mindedly as he located some clean bandages and antiseptic cream. “Most of it probably won’t even be needed for what I’m doing now, and I can always acquire more. In fact...I have more in storage.”

Edward turned on the faucet and tested the water until it was comfortably warm, then he gingerly took Y/N’s left arm and began cleaning it with soap. It stung a little but she tolerated it, studying his highly focused expression and wondering if this was even happening? He truly wasn’t upset that she dropped the box of bits and pieces? She just couldn’t wrap her head around it, and doubted that anyone would believe her without proof.

Edward dried Y/N’s arm with a clean towel before tossing it in the trash. After applying some antiseptic cream to a strip of bandage, he proceeded to wrap it around her arm, covering the wound. 

“There…” Edward said, admiring his handiwork. “How does that feel?

“Good,” Y/N said.

“Now for your, uh, knee.” Edward swallowed, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “It...doesn’t appear to be bleeding so...I think we can just put, um, ice on it. Unless you think it needs to be looked at?”

“No, I think it’s fine. Ice is fine. Thank you.”

Edward nodded before clearing his throat and reaching out to Y/N.

“Come,” he said. “Let me help you to the couch.”

Snippet 3:

“Ok, who are you and what did you do with Eddie?” asked Selina as she looked Edward over incredulously.

It appeared that Edward finally got his shit together and was taking care of himself. Not only was he free of grime and grease, he was dressed in rather impressive attire: black dress shirt, green gloves, green trousers, and dark brown boots. Even his hair was cut and styled differently as it was shorter with subtle layering, the offset part causing bangs to fall over most of his forehead and just above his brows. 

Another noteworthy change was Edward’s weight. Instead of surviving on snacks and coffee, he must have been eating actual food again as he was no longer skin and bones. Actually, he looked a little bit...toned? Was he back to his old routine of perfectly planned, ultra-healthy, balanced meals coupled with a decent amount of exercise? Selina remembered he used to get up early in the and exercise almost right away most days of the week. It helped him “get focused” before even having coffee, he had said.

“What are you going on about?” Edward asked in an agitated tone. “Nevermind. It’s nonsense anyway.”

“Personality is still the same,” Selina muttered as she followed Edward to a workbench.

Once he was done explaining in excessive, almost condescending detail the particulars of the items she needed to steal for him, she decided to ask some questions.

“So, tell me, Eddie,” Selina began, turning to him. “What inspired you to finally start looking like a professional criminal mastermind as opposed to an overworked grease monkey?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Edward said, before clearing his throat and straightening, a smug smile on his face. “I came to the long overdue conclusion that, as Gotham’s one true genius and Batman’s superior, I should look after myself and be presentable. What’s on the outside should reflect what’s going on inside, so to speak. I mean, what a waste of a brilliant mind such as mine to live in a body akin to a starving, filthy rat scurrying about in the sewers?”

“So you are basically telling me you did this for yourself,” Selina said resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Edward’s narcissistic ramblings. “Are you sure you didn’t do this for any other reason?”

“Like what?” Edward asked, clearly puzzled by such a question.

“Hmm...well, let me ask this: Has Y/N seen your ‘transformed’ self?”

Selina noted how Edward’s blue eyes lit up upon hearing Y/N’s name, and suddenly, his obnoxious personality changed to a much more amiable one.

“She likes it,” Edward said with a bright smile. “Her compliments about my appearance go hand in hand with her compliments about my genius. It’s wonderful having someone around who actually appreciates my existence.”

“I take it that her approval means a lot to you then?”

“Of course! Considering she’s the only person who treats me with respect, I think she deserves the privilege of having me listen to, accept, and sometimes take her advice.”

Selina smirked as she had received the answer to her question.

“Well then, I must be going, Eddie,” she said as she turned to leave. “I’ll get you what you requested in no time.”

“Yes, please do,” Edward said sternly, going back to his arrogant tone. “My request should be of the utmost importance compared to whoever else you’re working with at the moment.”

“Yes, yes, Eddie, of course. Bye!”

#edward nigma #riddler #riddler x reader #edward nigma x reader #riddler x female reader #edward nigma x female reader #the riddler #edward nygma #arkham riddler #arkham knight riddler

[stopeatingwhales]

about a girl (pt.2) x kurt cobain

hi guys :) so sorry for my inactivity, but i’m here finally lmaoo, this is a part two to my kurt fic that i wrote about a month ago, due to school its been much harder for me to keep up writing as usual, but i will absolutely try my best to finish your guys’ requests soon! anyways, hope you enjoy this <3 Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing :)

Word count: 2.167

Requested by anon (the second part was my idea, but i felt like i should still credit the anon for giving me the idea for this x) 

༉‧₊˚✧

The wind exhales short, breezy waves as you lay there, engulfed in your dreams. From the night succeeding to your outstanding performance, you were requited to a favourable hibernation which by admiring you, was needed for not only the sum of a few hours. Your solemn features are painted still, the only movement stimulating from your body is heavy breaths accompanied by a light snore from time to time. I question whether it's righteous of me to allow my eyes to adorn themselves in your serene features, yet I simply cannot stop myself. I find it surreal to witness you in such fragility; for all the pain and sorrow you’ve had to experience in your life, it’s almost like you shouldn’t be sleeping in such a tranquillic state. I wonder if you prefer sleeping than being awake, I wonder if you think it’s a chore to get out of bed. Does the world haunt you? Every click, flash, snap of a camera, does it devastate you? The image you portray to the world is magnificent, yet flawed. It’s almost as if you’re hiding something, yet you don’t care what others think of you, so you do whatever you please. My heart skips a beat every time you shift slightly, cradling your body in the duvet. I advert my stare to your arms, sculpted perfectly in God’s chamber, the lankiness of your bones withering an appearance of discrepancy. You’re not like the rest of them. Your steady breaths softly ease in and out of your flawless torso, your hair so impeccable it looks untouched even when you’re shifting around in your slumber - the hair you willingly dyed and strained with a flavoured drink mix. As I admire you, sleeping beauty, it reminds me of how lucky I am to have you in my life - regardless of where we stand. When you’re awake, you’re the only thing keeping me sane during the day; spending even just a day without you would feel as if I had lost my legs, lost what’s kept me steady for all these draining years. In all my time of knowing and understanding you, have you never not known what to say, for you have such a way with words, it's unfathomable. You carry a sort of intelligence that no one can seem to obtain; you speak words out of a bible and it’s ironic I say that, Mr ‘God is gay’, but it’s true. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re like a hard candy, sweet and delicate, although the texture is very hard making it a burden to get through to you. I want to taste you on my tongue every morning, if you would like me to be honest. I crave for things as little as your scent even before I’ve risen from the cushion. Your grace must be envied by the heavens; there is and will never be anyone as alluring as you, not that I’m surprised. 

As my eyes continue to wander on him, a sudden stretch of his arms and a small groan echoing out of his vocal chords results in my body almost instantaneously sitting up. I watch him as he blinks his eyes a few times, his vision still not clear enough. “Good morning,” he whispers, his arms thrown to the skies; he’s like a baby, reaching out for their mother in the early hours of daylight, moaning and whining for affection, warming my heart with soreful ease. Quickly taking note of the small clock situated beside him that I was aware of for the many hours I had been trapped in thought, it read a bright and early 11am. My stare continues to linger onto him as I watch him shifting around, the heart situated in my upper chest now beating as fast as drum solos in heavy metal songs. A short silence stood in between both presences; I assume that he hadn’t taken note of my pondering state adjacent to him, though was that idea contradicted by his light greeting. “Did you sleep well?” he chirps, now using both palms to rub his what-seemed-like itchy eyes.

Now what is humorous from this scenario is that he asks this as if it means nothing; a simple conversation starter it may be, though, to me it means so much more hearing those light words roll off his tongue, compared to if someone else had said it, even if it was in the exact same moment living right now. A whiff of bad breath hits my face as I laugh lightly, shaking my head in a sort of admiration towards the man lying down ahead of me. He again blinks a few times, now in attempt to adjust the bright scenery to his view. For a couple seconds the room is frozen, Kurt’s alteration in position to sitting up becoming the only sound ringing through both our ears. As I find my gaze glued onto him once again, I subconsciously repeat the question he asked me, this time directed for him. However, from what I’ve seen, I’m certain he slept wonderfully.

A tired chuckle escaped his mouth. “I asked you first,” he mutters, the morning rasp still prominent in his vocal chords. This makes me smile. The raw, genuinity forwards the idea of realism that this moment was actually happening, coming like a pinch snapping someone out of their daydream, though my thoughts will never be known to understand how I was able to spend time with such a man. “I slept well, though.” he adds, a warm smile playing on his lips. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” I answered, my face now being cradled by my palms. 

I now feel the stare of Kurt burn onto my face. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, a hint of annoyance laced in his words. “We could’ve stayed up together,” 

A small chuckle breezes out of my nose. How considerate, how caring must you be to, even when you have performed such an exasperating gig, stay awake with me because of one night of my mind’s continuous ambles? For all I know, Kurt wouldn’t sleep for days if it meant I would be in absolute glee. It’s those sorts of traits in those who are lost which draw you towards them becoming the significant other to stay with for life. It’s that sense of attachment, connection you hold with someone, so strong that you would give up the roof over your head if it meant a smile to be drawn on their face. ”You looked so peaceful in your sleep,” I replied, staring directly into his loveable eyes, the shade of blue brightening as the sunlight melted onto his face. His hair was now a little more messier compared to how it was less than ten minutes ago, and the urge of me running my fingers through his golden locks only seemed to grow even more as time passed on. For a moment I decided to hold back my words, inhaling sharply to gain composure to my fatigued state. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” 

Kurt sighed - knowing that he needed sleep more than anything, though a hint of sadness dwindled in his stomach, his mind conflicted from the idea of me drowning in worry as I tended to do when I couldn’t sleep. Reaching his arm towards the table sat beside him, his fingers got lost in between the opened packet of cigarettes that slept reverently on the white wood, grabbing a random one at choice before placing it in a loose grip between his lips. With the known information that you need a torch to light a cigarette, I threw the one I had on his lap, a small laugh escaping my lips for no apparent reason. Actually no, there was a reason. “Who the fuck smokes first thing in the morning?”

Before he torched the lighter, he stopped, his piercing blue eyes locking in contact with mine. “Me, I do,” 

Another laugh tempted to flee itself from my throat, yet I held it back. If you would’ve said that to me the first night I met you, in that small, cramped room, littered with amps that Krist had dragged me into going in to listen to your material, I would’ve scoffed at your blown attitude towards such a random question. Watching you now as you’re admiring the cancer stick with pure attachment, my mind begins to wander over such a topic. I look at you and see a troubled, young kid who just wants love and affection because he seemingly never got enough from the people who designed his childhood; for you haven’t grown up since then. Perhaps in size and features, yes (and definitely the fact that children do not smoke), but hidden inside you is the same boy that was hidden away all those years ago - following onto your parents’ divorce. You say you’ve never been happy since then, you’ve never been able to think optimistically, and maybe you haven’t. Maybe the smile you give to me isn’t genuine; with continuous assurance I’ll consider it to be. Maybe I’ll never heal those bruises that were once your only source of living, and that’s okay, if you’re able to cope with the imprints. If you’re the Kurt Cobain that prefers smoking than having a normal breakfast, so be it; I’d give up my heart for you, and if anything, you’ve already stolen it. Words merely brush the surface of my adoration for you, and sometimes I believe that I’m just lying to myself, that nothing I’m saying in my head is true. Yet, as every minute, every second passes throughout the day, even in silent, contented situations with ceilings bright as yellow from the smoke like these, everything I say to myself simply strengthens in morality. My sweet, you deserve more than one could wish for. You deserve things that this world cannot give you, yet all you believe is that you are worthless. If only you saw yourself in my eyes, maybe then you’d realise, realise the impact you’ve sincerely doused onto me and my mind, you’ve got the moves to empower a generation and perhaps hundreds more - even if you don’t see that yet. 

“Give me one,” He hands me one, the strong gusts of cloud escaping his mouth creating a want for the rough substance to coat my throat in brutal ways; even if it’s slowly murdering me. It was a murderous addiction, nicotine, yet it kills us all, our addictions; and we are too blinded by the goodness it seemingly overshadows what we force to neglect in our minds - the bad in it all. We become so unbelievably enthralled by the pain we choose to accept it; we believe it is favourable, not disastrous and catastrophic. Drugs are frowned upon dearly, as they should be, but once you’re stuck, it takes more than simple courage to escape out of the deadly grip it chokes you in. Placing the cigarette in between my lips, identical to how he had just done, I reached my arm out to obtain the lighter that was in my clutch merely seconds ago, swiftly lighting it with one hand. As I breathed out the first tar-filled cloud from my cigar, I fixed my gaze onto him once again, sucking in my top lip as I allowed the droplets of ash fall onto my shirt. “I know I always say this,” I began as I studied his features, trying to identify any solemn, unpleasant emotions, noticing that there was none at all for the time being. “You’re going to make it big one day, I’m now for certain you’re going to take over the world,”

His eyes now locked into mine, a short chuckle leaving his throat as he blew out an even bigger gust of smoke. “I don’t want that,” 

Smiling, I took hold of my cigarette and inhaled deeply, holding it in my mouth until my body was unable to carry on without oxygen for longer - not that the air in the room was even oxygen; it was more corrosive chemicals than anything else, yet we’ve become so dependant on a small roll of tobacco to guide us to a path of slow death, its unnoticable. I watched as Kurt’s eyes drifted on to admire the elusive sunlight gleaming through the window, the whiffs of grey contrasting the happiness that was attempting to journey itself into the silent room. No matter how many times I may tell, his belief that he will never be as big as acts like the Sex Pistols will empower over anything I endevour on to phrase. It was inevitable though, whether he dreamt of it or not, that they will be big, bigger than anything they’ve ever seen. The path bridging onto it may cause destruction, heartbreak, and even more addiction, but the future is never in our hands - only until it is close enough for the present to capture it. Time is simply a mantelpiece, the light eventually burns out when there’s not enough coal to keep it going. You continue to refill it as the days go by until you simply cannot any longer, which is what all youths fear and avoid. Surprisingly enough, Kurt wasn’t one of the many crowds in devastating apprehension; he wanted to burn out more than anything else, for there were only small things keeping him going, or perhaps he was waiting for a longer, more agonizing death, hence the many packets of cigarettes vanished in a day.

There was nothing left to say in the room; there was no need for a response - it was only going to result in the same bicker as it resulted in many a time. The room, now physically undergoing a change in colour from the smoke, held a significant ambience, one so serene it left you more relaxed than the aftermath of a crazy high in drug use, though sometimes the relaxation is more pain than anything else. Even when my mind was so consumed in ideation earlier in the morning, my thoughts were louder than ever in this given moment. My mind was mulled over the concept of Kurt and stardom. He would never like it, nor does he even want it. It’s humorous to an extent; how much authenticity can one acclaim, to not even look up to the sugar-coated concept called ‘fame’? You’re not like the others. You don’t want fame, you want to create music. And in all honesty, I wish I lie through my teeth whenever I mumble those encouraging words of how you’re going to make it big; I can’t stand the idea of losing you, but like I said, it's inevitable, one day simple moments like these will just be memories to look back on when you’re old and laughing about your previous attachment to drugs. Maybe you won’t look back on times like these however, maybe you’ll remember the more vivid, buzzing moments like your first gig as Nirvana, and maybe I won’t remember this either, maybe these moments aren’t to be remembered, to be lived in instead. If only you knew how much I loved you, would you be surprised that I haven’t ruined my life because of it. You mean more to me than the stars mean to the night sky, more than a memory means to a person’s mind. It hurts my heart knowing I can’t heal you, though I dream that one day, you’ll wake up, just like you did today, turn to me and say, ‘I’m happy,’ because that’s all I ever dream of you to be.

#kurt cobain x reader #nirvana #dave grohl #krist novoselic #kurt cobain #band imagines #my writing #smut #fluff #angst #grunge #90s #music #imagines

[sevlgi]

I need u

requested: yes

group: blackpink

pairing: rosé x fem!reader

genre: angst

contents: pyromaniac!reader, based on bts hyyh universe. [26/33]

warnings: fire, mental health issues, mentions of abuse, death, mild violence, suicide attempt

synopsis: Rosé would be nothing without your fire, but what happens when she’s the one who has to rescue you from it?

a/n:  DISCLAIMER BEFORE YOU READ: this is not meant to portray a healthy relationship in any way. this is based off of a music video, the HYYH series to be exact, and is not meant to reflect how I think rosé would act. PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNING

word count: 1.7k

Before she met you, Chaeyoung didn’t think she was missing anything.

Sure, she knew that it wasn’t exactly normal to be so indifferent about everything, to not feel an ounce of passion for a single thing in her life. 

As soon as you first blazed into her life, though, it all became so much clearer. There was so much fire behind your eyes, the intensity of your feelings fueling you in an incredible explosion that was too close to burning you up for comfort. Where she was calm and level-headed, you were impulsive, the fervor you felt for your dreams the direct opposite of her slow pace.

And suddenly, she felt things that she had never had before. Chaeyoung finally experienced the butterflies she read about, something that might even be called love.

Either way, she was fascinated by everything about you. Your fires and your storms, your passions and your anger, everything that formed the blazing light that illuminated her darkness.

She needed you-- Chaeyoung knew that she was nothing without you. Without your fire, she was just a trickling stream, cool and silent in a way that no one would miss.

But slowly, that intensity to you began to scare her. The sheer passion you held burned you up from the inside out, too much fuel and not enough time or room to contain it. The calluses on your hands from playing piano in the middle of the night became the imprint of a lighter’s ridge, the excitement you felt at mastering a new piece becoming fury at the world around you.

You didn’t seem to love anymore, only hate. And that meant you didn’t love her anymore, which was what scared Chaeyoung the most.

Because she needed you, and you were burning up like the last sparks of a bonfire in the last night of summer.

“Does it hurt?”

Shrugging to hide her wince when you touched the bruise on her cheek, Chaeyoung assured you, “It doesn’t. Promise.”

It did nothing to quell the anger furrowing your brow, but you sighed and turned back to the cloudy gray sky, legs swinging over the side of the trailer. Below the two of you, the sounds of your friends playing echoed, scaring away the crows perched opposite you. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What for?” the lavender-haired girl asked, her hand cold compared to your warm one. “It’s not your fault.”

“It might not be,” you agreed, reaching over to brush some hair out of Chaeyoung’s eyes. Somehow, you were unaware of the effect you had on her. “But I still hate it. There’s just so much wrong with the world around us.”

Chaeyoung huffed out a breath through her nose, crossing her legs. “Don’t say that, Y/N. Aren’t you always the one telling me to see the brightness of things?”

Frowning, you got the lighter out of your pocket again, your thumb rolling over the ridge mindlessly. “Yeah. But I was wrong whenever I told you that, Rosie. You can’t believe that. Just look at your face- strangers did that to you, just for bumping into them.”

“It’s not their fault,” she tried, watching as the hem of your jacket was nearly singed. “They were angry. You’re angry, too, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t hit someone if you were mad enough.”

You looked over to her disbelievingly. “I wouldn’t. God, Chaeyoung, who do you think I am? I wouldn’t hit someone, never mind you, not unless they hit me first.”

“Good.”

After some silence between the two of you, you began flicking at the lighter again, the clicks louder than they should’ve been almost a story above the ground. “We should leave someday.”

“Leave?” Chaeyoung cocked her head at you, tapping a stray rock she found on the blue-painted metal of the trailer’s roof. “What, all of us? To where, Y/N? Where would we go that would accept us?”

Sprawling out on the roof, despite all the dead leaves and dirt surrounding you, you watched the clouds go by and sighed. “I don’t know. All I know is that none of us can stay here, jagiyah. Seoul, maybe, or somewhere else in the world. Your English is good, we can survive.”

She let out a breathless laugh, scooting back so that you could lay your head on her thigh. Plucking the lighter out of your hand, she blew the fire out and tossed it aside. “Maybe. Would we go to America?”

“Where do you want to go?” You squinted up at her, the sky reflected in your eyes. “I’ll go anywhere you and the others want to.”

“What about Australia?” Chaeyoung giggled. “I’ve always liked their accents.”

“Australia, then,” you agreed, smiling up at her. It was moments like this that she would forever treasure, just talking about the possibilities of the future with you. No matter how hopeless it was, you had each other to brave through all of it, and it was enough to make her want to keep going.

Jennie appeared from below the trailer, her hands steady on the railing leading up. “What about Australia?” she grinned, Lisa hitting her from behind to make her go faster. “Yah, Lisa!”

“Y/N, stop it!”

Chaeyoung grasped futilely at you as you shattered a glass bottle on the concrete stairs leading up to your bedroom, screaming out as the spray of leftover alcohol hit you. With a shove, all the empty bottles on top of your dresser smashed to the floor, your unhealthy coping methods creating an even larger mess to have to clean up.

She rushed at you, arms wrapping around you in an attempt to stop you from doing anything else you’d regret. You only laughed and swayed, your girlfriend’s hands digging harder into your back. “Let go, Rosie.”

“No, not until you stop,” she panted, feeling her eyes sting as she squeezed. “Please-”

Once you found that your struggling was futile, your hands shot out, pushing at Chaeyoung’s stomach hard enough to slam her into the wall away from you. She gasped, even though it didn’t really hurt, sliding to the floor as you stumbled away. “Told you to let me go,” you snapped, stumbling over your own two feet as you backed away.

Desperation hit her, desperation to bring you out of your alcohol-induced fit, and she lunged forward, her hand bracing on your chest before her fist connected with your face.

There wasn’t much power behind the hit, but under the influence, you collapsed onto the stairs next to the remaining shards of glass, coughing out as you felt blood on the corner of your mouth. Chaeyoung hauled you up, her hands fisting in your shirt as she begged, “Come back, Y/N. Please, I need you.”

“You need me?” Once again, the sheer fury in your eyes was scaring her, seeming somehow cold in all its blazing glory. “Yeah, well, you’ll have to live without me. I’m gone, Chaeyoung, I’m leaving. I’m leaving this-- this shitty town, and you’re coming with me.”

The lavender-haired girl practically sobbed out, “I’m not! I’m still in school, Y/N, I can’t go without you. Don’t do this to me, please.”

Instead of a response, you twisted hard, flinging Chaeyoung onto the couch by the stairs and walking off. “Y/N! Jagiyah, don’t-”

The door slammed behind you, and she could only stare up at the ceiling to push down the boiling tears welling behind her eyes.

Where did it all go so wrong?

The lighter was warm from how long you had held it, an imprint of the switch seemingly permanent in the side of your thumb.

Your initials and your girlfriend’s were scratched in the cheap plastic; every time you bought a new one, you did the same thing. Recently, you’d started using the dull knives you could find in motels and other places.

After the day you threatened to leave, you were evicted. That made it easier than it ever had been to just up and leave, the only possessions you owned being the flannel Chaeyoung lent you and the clothes on your back, but for some reason, you stayed.

She had just graduated the night before, and you had asked her to finally go with you. Even Lisa was ready to leave, and all it took was Chaeyoung coming to your motel room.

Glancing over at the clock, you sighed, realizing that it was 4 hours past when she said she’d arrive. The plan was to pick her up, then go to Jisoo’s, where you could steal her brother’s car and leave, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards any longer.

Hauling yourself up, you seized the open tub of kerosene, splashing it all over the room. It soaked the sheets, the rugs, until your bare feet were wet with the liquid where you stood. Alcohol, anything that could be burned- you poured it all over the room and yourself, staring at the blank screen of your phone. I’m so sorry, Chaeyoung.

The lighter thudded to the floor and orange light lit up the room.

“Shit,” the girl gasped when she saw the smoke billowing out the window of what she knew to be your hotel room. Her bags were dropped to the floor as she pulled out her phone and charged for the motel, banging the door open faster than she needed to.

“Excuse me, young- hey!”

Chaeyoung ignored the receptionist yelling at her, turning the corner onto the stairs as she called the fire department. “H-hi, there’s a fire. Yes, in the motel on the corner of Main, please get here as fast as you can!”

She kicked your door open, gasping when she found you lying on the bed amidst the flames. Covering her face with the sleeve of her jacket, she rushed in, shaking you. “Y/N, get up. Y/N!”

The lighter, she realized, was on the floor. That couldn’t have been a mistake- you never let it out of your sight.

Either way, she looped her arms underneath yours, struggling to pull you out without touching any of the flames. “Come on, Y/N,” she groaned, hissing when she stepped right by the fire.

“I need you.”

#blackpink #blackpink x reader #blackpink reactions #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #blackpink rose #blackpink Rosé #blackpink park chaeyoung #blackpink chaeyoung #park chaeyoung #Rosé #park Rosé #Rosé x reader #rosé imagines #rosé scenarios #blackpink angst #girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #girl group reactions #girl group angst

[theloversthedreamersandme82]

Malice and 40?

'Exes meeting again after not speaking for years'

There's another chapter to come, maybe next week, cos I need them to be soft with each other 🤣 I've been deliberately vague about what caused the bust up cos I couldn't be bothered making up a case.

I didn’t think you cared

“Jean!” Alice greeted her, as her friend enveloped her in her arms. “It’s so good to see you!”

Jean smiled into Alice’s hair, “It’s been too long. Why do you have to stay away for so long?”

“Work I’m afraid,” Alice pulled back and smiled at Jean. But at the back of her mind, she knew the real reason she wished to spend as little time as possible in the place that held too many memories. Her eyes darted around the room searching for anything that might remind her of him, and at the same time dreading finding it.

Jean saw her looking. “Matthew’s at the station,” she said gently.

Alice shot a sharp look at her, “What? Why do I care?” she lied.

Jean sighed. “Why don’t you just talk to him. It’s been years since the Johnston case.”

Alice shook her head. “Jean, what’s done is done. You can’t change the past.”

Alice remembered as if it were yesterday. A combination of not enough sleep, quick tempers and stubbornness had led to a huge blow up, right in the middle of the driveway. Alice had turned and walked away from the single most important person in her life, and Matthew hadn’t come after her. She had signed the job acceptance letter that night, packed up her little flat, she didn’t own much, and had moved to Melbourne by the end of the week.  Since then she’d only returned to Ballarat for the occasional weekend, often barely spending a day there before heading back. She knew they had both handled things badly, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she recalled how she had behaved. ‘It was for the best’ she kept telling herself. She didn’t need a man hanging around, making things difficult, and Matthew would be much better off with someone less complicated and messy. Alice shivered as she remembered his feather light touch, the way he used to trail his fingertips up her arms. There was no denying that she missed him. She missed the way he held her, the way he made her feel safe, the way he knew just how she took her tea. Within Melbourne general hospital she was very well respected and her expertise was often sought, but at home she was lonely, and missed the familiarity she had had with Matthew, and the little family that they had formed with Jean and Lucien.

Jean stared at her for longer than was necessary and Alice felt, not for the first time, as though Jean could see right through her, could read her soul.

Finally Jean looked away. “Right, well I was just about to head to the grocery store. You coming along, or staying here?”

Alice shrugged, I’ll come with you,” she was eager to see if the town had changed since she’d been away.

It was a beautiful Autumn day, the bright orange leaves covering the ground, and as they walked, they chatted easily. Alice told Jean about some of the more interesting things she’d seen in Melbourne, and Jean updated Alice on the goings on in Ballarat.

When they got to the store Jean turned to Alice. “You needn’t come in, I won’t be long.”

Alice nodded and leant against the verandah post. If she was honest with herself, she felt slightly relieved. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy Jean’s company, but after so many months of her solitary life, with limited work interactions, her social tolerance levels were low. She looked up at the huge gum trees that lined the street and watched them sway in the soft breeze, enjoying the moment of peace and quiet. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the familiar eucalyptus scent and felt a pang of homesickness. They didn’t have trees like this in the centre of Melbourne. She moved backwards to admire the tree’s grandeur, and stepped right into the path of a cyclist racing past. Knocking her off balance, he gave a shout and sped off as Alice fell. Her head smacked into the pavement as the world suddenly was on an angle.

People crowded around her as Alice tried frantically to not black out. “I’m fine, Please, go back to whatever you were doing, I just need a moment,” she heard herself mumble slightly incoherently. The bikes handlebar had caught her in the ribs and it hurt to breathe.

“What’s going on here?” an all too familiar voice cut through the crowd. The one person Alice did not want to see. Not now, not like this, preferably not ever again. She struggled to sit upright as the crowd parted and let Superintendent Lawson through. Their eyes met and Alice saw a flash of recognition in his piercing blue eyes.

“Alright everyone, nothing to see here, bugger off.” Matthews low gruff voice grumbled, and the crowd of people slowly and reluctantly dwindled away. Alice had forgotten how soothing his voice was to her and she closed her eyes and her breath hitched with pain as she tried to breathe deeply. When she opened her eyes again Matthew was staring at her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked stupidly.

“Um In case you’ve forgotten, I live and work here? My name is Matthew Lawson? I’m the Police Superintendent?” His voice dripped with bitter sarcasm. “Maybe it’s me who should be asking you that question.” He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at her.

Alice glared. “Idiot. I meant here, here. In the main street.”

“Popped out to get some smokes.”

“They’ll kill you you know.”

“Didn’t think you cared” Matthew retorted dismissively.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“What are you doing back here anyway?”

“I came to see Jean. My friend.” Alice replied pointedly God, she wished he would just stop looking at her!

Matthew shrugged nonchalantly, “Want to tell me what happened here?”

“I stepped backwards into the path of a cyclist.”

“Are you alright?”

“Didn’t think you cared,” Alice shot his own words back at him and they stared at each other awkwardly.

Matthew sighed with frustration. “You’re the doctor, do I need to call an ambulance?”

“I just banged my head as I went down. And I’ll have a bruised rib where the handlebar caught me.” Her fingers tentatively probed the back of her head and she found a lump forming. “No lasting damage, I’m sure you’ll be disappointed.” It was a stupid thing to say and she wasn’t sure why she said it.

Matthew crouched down and looked her in the eyes. “I know this might be hard to believe after everything that’s happened but I could never wish harm on you,” his low quiet voice rumbled.

God Alice had forgotten how lost she could get in his eyes. For a moment she felt that all too familiar pull towards him and had to force her eyes elsewhere. They weren’t together anymore. They hadn’t been for some time. And she’d been doing perfectly well without him.

She cleared her throat and began to stand.

“Are you sure you’re ready to get up. You could have concussion if you hit your head” Matthew garbled as he took her arm and tried to help her up.

Alice wrenched his arm out of his hand. “I am a doctor, As you so kindly pointed out, Superintendent. I do know how things work.” She pushed herself up, and gasped as pain shot up her ankle and she almost collapsed back on to the ground.

“Here, lean on me.”

She shot Matthew a glance, who finally lost his temper.

“Listen, whatever you think of me right now, it’s time to swallow that bloody pride of yours and accept some help!” he hissed crossly. “You’ve obviously twisted your ankle and you’re not going to get far without help. Lucien’s at the station. Let me take you to him.”

Alice’s mind was racing and she was just about to tell Matthew Lawson exactly what he could do with his 'help', as Jean appeared with her arms full of groceries.

“Alice? Oh My goodness, what happened?”

“I had a slight altercation with a cyclist” Alice sniffed as she held on to the verandah post for balance.

“She’s twisted her ankle, banged her head, and bruised a rib. I was about to take her to see Lucien at the station,” Matthew supplied.

Jean looked at Matthew and then back to Alice, who was looking anywhere but at him.

“I’m fine,” Alice said through gritted teeth.

Matthew raised one eyebrow, “Doctor Harvey, I would assume you would know how to diagnose and treat a twisted ankle, a concussion and a busted rib?” he asked pointedly.

“Of course!”

“Well then, If you can tell me, in all honesty, that if you were treating yourself, that you wouldn’t diagnose a twisted ankle, a concussion and a busted rib, I’ll leave you be” Matthew said knowingly.

Alice ground her teeth, looked stubbornly at the sky and said nothing.

“I thought as much. Come on,” Matthew held his arm out and after a moment of hesitation Alice took it reluctantly.

Jean followed behind them swallowing a smile as she listened to them bickering. It was like old times really, Maybe this was the start of a reconciliation.

Also on ao3

and ff.net

#yesmadamepresident #thankyou #kermit writes #exes meeting again #the doctor blake mysteries #tdbm #alice harvey #matthew lawson #jean beazley #tumblr prompt #my writing #malice #matthew x alice

[bauslut]

ii. what makes a man?

pairing: aaron hotchner x rowan rivers

word count: 3.840k

warnings: canon typical violence -- blood, gore, mentions of murder, discussion of murder, discussion of weapons, cursing, trauma, dealing with trauma, death of children

prev. | next

“here you are,” jj bore a kind smile as she slid a manila folder towards the brunette, “here’s your official welcome to the bau. i’m sorry it wasn’t on more.. positive terms.”

“oh,.it’s quite all right,” rowan’s eyes widened, “this is what we’re here--”

“she’s sitting in my spot,” rossi chuckled, “but i don’t mind.”

“are you sure?” rowan stammered, a rosy blush painting her cheeks, “i-i can get up and move--”

“don’t sweat it,” rossi nodded curtly, “there are plenty of open seats.”

“hey baby girl,” a wide, jovial, grin painted morgan’s lips as a woman entered the room, her blonde locks intricately woven into an up-do, “don’t you look delicious today?”

“as always,” the woman scrunched her nose, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, “how are you this morning baby-cakes?”

“hey there!” a chirp startled rowan, sounding from her left, “i’m emily, but around here, i’m referred to as prentiss.”

she was met with kind eyes, a warm mocha hue. they were bright, glimmering as they followed every minute movement as rowan studied her features. the woman was gorgeous without a doubt, with full lips and an oblong face. her hair was luscious, parted down the middle, styled into bouncy curls.

“hi,” rowan breathed, sticking out a hand, “i’m rowan riv--”

“i am afraid we do not have time for introductions,” a stern voice echoed through the space, “we are fbi agents, not kindergartners. we can have icebreakers or whatever it is you’re doing on the jet.”

rowan choked back a sharp retort as hotch strode towards a whiteboard, his spine straightened, chest puffed out slightly. sliding into her seat, her hands settled on the armrests, a puff of air exhaling from her lips. she was sandwiched between two seasoned agents, as morgan was munching on a bag of cookies on her left, prentiss sifting through papers to her right.

maybe if she just shut her mouth, she would blend in and he wouldn’t pay any sort of attention to her. which, wasn’t such a bad idea in the moment. the less he focused on her and berated her, the better.

“cookie?” morgan rattled the bag.

“not right now. thank you though,” rowan whispered, lips curving into a small smile.

“i’m about to begin discussing the case,” hotch shot rowan a glare, words barbed with venom, “so listen up.”

he pinned several images on the board, bile rising in rowan’s throat as her focus transitioned to the pictures. prentiss sucked in a shaky breath, while morgan muttered a strand of incoherent sentences.

the images progressively became more grotesque as they spanned across the board. mangled, beaten, and bloodied corpses were presented, the bile approaching the back of her mouth as she realized the age range.

the bodies were children, their jugulars slashed, lacerations and bruises littering their tiny frames.

“there has been a surge of murders in the rural farm town of homer, illinois. in the past week, there have been a total of five. all of the victims were children, with no specific physical attributes,” hotch cleared his throat, “however, all of them bear one aspect in common.”

“they’re all boys,” reid murmured, “from the images it appears as if they’re about ages eleven or twelve.”

“then they are pre-pubescent boys,” rowan’s voice was clear, pairs of eyes falling on her as she spoke, “i’ve seen something like this before, when i was working in columbus. we had a ring of traffickers who preferred this age range.”

“and?” morgan arched a brow, “why pre-pubescent boys?”

“hotch,” rowan nearly trembled as the supervisor’s cold gaze shifted on her, “i-if i may ask, were there any signs of assault or rape?”

“the severity of sexual assault varied on each victim.”

“you said that they have no physical attributes in common but looking at these photos,” reid shook his head slightly, “the brunettes are the only ones who have lacerations covering their entire bodies. the blondes, the only sign of violence demonstrated is the murder itself, the incision along the jugular.”

“could it be that our unsub has something against brunettes?” morgan inquired.

“potentially,” rowan blinked, scanning over the text, “it also says here in the autospies that the only boys who were sexually assaulted were the brunettes. i may be going on a whim here, but i think our unsub is lashing out on the brunettes for a reason. it could be power, dominance, you name it. perhaps the hair color is a stressor, or was the initial stressor. he might be reliving a traumatic event from his childhood.”

rossi whistled, “look at you, rivers. already building a profile and we’ve only met for five minutes.”

“sadly i’ve seen a lot of this before,” rowan let out a sigh, rustling through papers, “it also says here that the bodies were all found at homer lake forest preserve. i have a strong premonition that our unsub is male.”

“and what makes you say that?” hotch countered.

“by the way the bodies were handled,” rowan shrugged, “they were beaten, mutilated, and dragged through the woods. the amount of physical strength to do that is just an inherent trait males have."

“how were the bodies discovered?” jj bit her lip, a trace of fear glimmering in her icy blue depths.

“they were found by a new fisherman every morning around dawn, in the same location. they were located about half a mile from the entrance of the preserve,” hotch tossed the file onto the table, “our unsub is bold.”

“he wanted the bodies to be found,” rossi added, “he’s arrogant.”

“or he’s sloppy,” rowan remarked, “he’s devolving. he could be killing just on that need burning within him, with no remorse or any sort of emotion within him at all--”

“we need to get to homer as soon as possible,” hotch interrupted, glancing at his phone, “it’s ten o’clock in the morning. it’s only a matter of time before another body is found.”

“where’s the closest airport?” jj folded her arms across her chest.

“willard airport in champaign-urbana,” reid piped up, “other than that, the other closest one is in bloomington-normal.”

“and how do you know that?” morgan’s eyes widened.

“champaign-urbana is the home of the university of illinois,” reid swallowed thickly, “i’ve been there a few times. it’s an exceptional school for engineering, truly one of the greatest in the country--”

“all right, all right,” morgan stuck out a hand, “you answered my question.”

“wheels up in thirty,” hotch announced, plucking the file off the shiny wood.

rowan followed the others in suit, filing out of the space. trailing reid, she was the second last to leave the room, hotch right behind her, deep, smooth, voice filling her ears.

“i need to speak with you agent rivers.”

“yes?” she swiveled on her heel, facing the supervisor, folding her arms across her chest.

“i hope you’re aware that i do not tolerate any sort of childlike behavior. we’re not teenagers reuniting on the first day of class. i did not appreciate the interruptions in my conference room. you can socialize on your own time.”

“you’ve never once interrupted anything in your entire life? wow, you really must be mr. perfect. i mean look at you, all put together. i doubt you’ve even done anything wrong in your life you’re so per--”

“you realize you’re speaking to your boss with this tone, right?”

“i don’t fucking care,” tears brimmed rowan’s eyes, “this is my first day and it’s even worse than i could have ever imagined.”

“excuse me?”

“you’ve really made sure i’ve had a warm welcome to the bau, mr. perfect,” rowan scoffed, rolling her eyes, “it’s been an amazing first day, i’ll tell you that.”

for just a moment, hotch’s tough exterior cracked, a flicker of sympathy flashing in his gaze, “i’m sorry.”

“‘i’m sorry’?”

hotch paused, inhaling a deep breath, “i was going to write you up. however, i may have been a little too harsh on you. after all, this is your first day. strauss put in a good word for you, and i want to see your skill set out in the field. come on, we’re going to be left behind.”

******

“gotta love the midwest,” morgan placed his hands on his hips, chest rising and falling.

“you love it?” reid’s lips curled in disgust, “it smells like manure.”

“it smells like home,” rowan giggled, shouldering her way through the men, “c’mon, let’s go.”

“well she’s eager,” rossi chuckled, turning to hotch, “where are we setting up?”

“there’s the local p.d. in homer,” hotch slung his bag over his shoulder, “the station is only about four miles from the forest preserve.”

“i was doing some reading on the village of homer,” reid stated, “there’s only about one thousand people who live there. it’s such a tiny place, and as hotch mentioned, it’s only four miles from the preserve, surely the unsub lives there.”

“or he lives close to the lake,” rowan pointed out, “there are so many homes out there surrounding the lake in the countryside. with these rural communities, your neighbors could be a mile down the road, or miles away. it gives him the perfect opportunity to make frequent trips to the lake without being noticed.”

“you make a good point rivers,” hotch remarked, “we’ll have to keep that in mind when we investigate the lake and the surrounding woods.”

“this murder isn’t going to solve itself,” rossi cleared his throat, nodding his head towards the cluster of suvs, “we need to get to the police department and we’re losing time.”

stepping into the vehicle, rowan slid into the back seats, figuring that hotch would take the wheel, while rossi would sit shotgun. yet, curiosity buzzed in her mind as rossi took the wheel, while reid settled into the passenger seat.

“you’ve got to be shitting me,” she muttered as hotch thrust open the door, “rossi, are you usually the one who drives?”

“typically, no,” in the rearview mirror, rowan snorted when she noticed the shit-eating grin plastered on the agent’s face, “but i figured that you and hotch would love to get to know one another on the way there.”

“can i pick the station?” reid bounced in the seat, hands flying to the knobs and levers.

“pick something good, find an oldies station or something. maybe they’ll play back in black,” within seconds, the suburban was in motion, rossi revving the engine, “i plan on racing morgan, jj, and prentiss to the station. whoever loses has to buy dinner.”

“this is ridiculous,” hotch rolled his eyes, the vibration of his phone piquing rowan’s curiosity.

“by the way,” reid turned in his seat, facing hotch, “who’s been calling you so frequently today?”

“haley,” rowan tilted her head as the name spat from hotch’s mouth, “it’s not important.”

haley. from the sound of it, she was hotch’s significant other, girlfriend, fiancee, even a spouse, maybe. rowan’s eyes drifted downwards to his lap, where his hands rested on his knees. in the light, a golden band gleamed on his left ring finger.

so, hotch was married. he had a wife.

but there was something in his tone that was unsettling. were they fighting? having the typical lover’s quarrel? maybe that’s why hotch was so distant and cruel, he was constantly dealing with his marriage.

“so tell us a little about you, rowan,” rossi was far ahead of the other suburban, shades resting on the bridge of his nose, “i never got an icebreaker.”

rowan scoffed, fidgeting in the leather seat, “there’s not anything too riveting, i can spare you guys the details.”

in the corner of her eye, rowan felt his eyes pierce through her, digging deeps within the confines of her psyche. he was profiling her, desperate to get some sort of read. perhaps he was well aware of how uncomfortable she was by rossi’s query. the way her palms were slick against her pants, sweat prints clinging to the fabric. the way her cheeks were tainted pink, her jaw tightened, throat dry.

“didn’t you go to ohio state for undergrad?” reid licked his thumb, scouring through some novel or book.

“yeah,” she nodded, “i’m from a tiny town in ohio, called tiffin. i went to ohio state for an undergrad in psychology, along with a few minors in criminal justice, linguistics, spanish, so on. i stayed there for grad school since i loved the city, and the university. from there, the bureau picked me up from the academy, and i was thrown into the infamous case.”

“the child sex-trafficking bust,” hotch murmured, “i remember glancing over that in your file.”

“how long did that case go on?” rossi turned the radio dial, lowering the volume.

“longer than it should’ve been,” rowan brought a hand to her temple, a dull pain seeping into her skull, “hey, does anyone have ibuprofen?”

hotch’s eyes softened, concern painting his features, “i think i have some in my briefcase. hang on.”

rowan brought a bottle of water to her lips, sipping as hotch placed a couple of pills in her open palm. as he set them in her hand, skin grazed skin, her heart skipping a beat.

for someone as rough and callused as hotch, his hands were so utterly soft.

“thank you,” she whispered, “i appreciate it.”

“of course,” he murmured, “do you usually get frequent headaches?”

“yeah,” rowan admitted, a new wave of blush spreading, “i’m just prone to them i guess.”

“the humidity is also high today,” reid remarked, “and from the way the wind just picked up, along with the darkness of the clouds, i think it’s going to storm. your headache could be from the low pressure.”

“fantastic,” rowan threw her head back, squeezing her eyes shut, “you know reid, that’s kinda a myth.”

“actually research has been inconclusive.”

“how many did you take?” hotch nudged rowan, inflections of concern within his inquisition.

“six.”

“jesus christ,” rossi’s lips pursed, “are you trying to kill your liver?”

“we’ll see about that,” a giggle bubbled up in rowan’s throat.

as the suburban sailed down the interstate, her lashes fluttered, sleep threatening to pull her into its clutches. she blinked, rubbing soothing circles onto her temple, lips falling to a frown as a dull pain seeped into her forehead.

biting her lip, she fought back tears, inhaling a shaky breath. this was no place to show any weakness.

not with him around.

*****

“good afternoon, chief sellers. i’m supervisory special agent hotchner with the fbi,” hotch stated, his voice ringing with authority as he shook an officer’s hand, “and these are my colleagues.”

“thank god you’re here,” the officer’s voice was hoarse, wavering as he spoke, “it’s been a living nightmare these past few days.”

“i can only imagine,” jj murmured under her breath, “there’s someone out there killing little boys.”

“he looks so shaken up,” prentiss exhaled, folding her arms across her chest.

“we had most of the state p.d. flock out here once the second body was discovered,” chief sellers cleared his throat, his focus directed on hotch, “we’re all doing the best we can, but of course, as other duties call, we tend to be short-handed at times.”

“we’re going to do everything in our power to help,” rossi’s words were warm, brimmed with sincerity, “we’ll catch this guy, i promise.”

“and we’ll help you all in every way we can,” chief sellers nodded curtly, “anything you folks need, let us know.”

“should we start by heading out to the crime scene?” hotch inquired, “it might also be best to split some of us up.”

“of course,” chief sellers strode over to a pair of state officers, “these men will escort you to the scene. what else do you need?”

hotch’s eyes flickered over to his team, “i want morgan, reid, and rossi to go investigate the scene. prentiss and jj, would you speak with some of the locals? we need to gather as much information as possible in order to rule out anyone or gain essential details about our unsub.”

“what about me?” rowan coughed.

“you’re staying with me here at the station,” he commanded, “and you’re going to answer every phone call we get from garcia.”

“good luck newbie,” rowan rolled her eyes as morgan teased her, his breath hot against her ear.

“you might want to listen to morgan,” rossi shot her a wink, “you’re going to need it.”

“thanks,” the reply was a deadpan, the agent’s shoulders slumping as hotch approached her, “putting me on a short leash, are we?”

“you’re the one who understands the profile of our unsub the best,” he retorted, “and before you fire back with another verbal assault, think before you speak. this is your big girl job now. act like it.”

“don’t you think it’s interesting that the unsub stopped killing?” hotch murmured a few words of gratitude to an officer who handed him a coffee, cocking his head as he took a sip.

“do you think that there’s a reason behind that?”

“possibly,” rowan shrugged, denying the same styrofoam cup, “hey, where’s the closest gas station?”

“about half a mile away,” the officer replied coolly, “would you like a ride? a few of the guys and i are going to pick up pizzas for lunch.”

“i’m okay,” she paused, running a hand through her hair, “thank you, though.’

“you don’t like hot coffee?”

“i prefer iced,” the agent muttered, surveying the empty desks, “i assume they cleared some space for us?”

“indeed,” hotch huffed, “if your phone rings, assume it’s garcia.”

“i feel like i’m at columbus p.d. all over again,” the brunette slid into the seat, rolling a few inches as she plucked the file out of her briefcase.

“well this is nowhere near that,” hotch rolled his eyes, leaning against the wooden surface.

“well it sure feels like it,” his throat tightened as her eyes drifted upwards, locking with his, “it sure fucking feels like it. now, if you don’t mind, i’m going to look over the file.”

“would you like some company, agent rivers?”

“i’m sure you have ‘unit chief’ matters to tend to,” the words were barbed, hot and venomous as she spat them out, “hovering around your new recruit like she’s some child is quite ridiculous don’t you think?”

“i should have you turn in your badge right now.”

“you seem like you’re all bark and no bite. you scolded me only only hours ago about the conference room, threatening to write me up. that tough exterior of yours is only an act. or at least, i think it is. you’re not going to write me up until you have a valid reason to. also, like you claimed earlier, ‘strauss put in a good word for me.’ i know you won’t terminate me. plus, you just went through all of that paperwork to get me here. do you really want to go through all of that again?”

“you piss me off.”

“good,” she puckered her lips, “maybe you should chat about that with strauss hmm? she’d probably just tell you to suck it up and that i’m here to stay.”

hotch’s jaw clenched, prepared to retaliate, yet the vibration in his pocket distracted him momentarily, the shrill ringtone piercing through the air, “yes?”

biting her tongue, rowan glanced back at the file, bringing her hand to her cheek. part of her was wailing, screaming and kicking, fighting the urge to study those horrid images. but the other part was driven, adrenaline coursing through her veins, pumping into her body.

even the slightest detail that she hadn’t noticed initially would be immensely helpful to building the profile, piecing together who this deranged individual was. flipping through the photos, rowan’s eyes narrowed.

although the team held a short briefing before departing from headquarters, there was one minor aspect about the way the bodies were laying in the shrubbery. the boys were all on their backs, dried blood coating sliced flesh. not a single article of clothing framed their bodies, just the thin layer of briefs or boxers.

her heart lurched as one arm was pressed tightly against their sides, while the other was raised. right hands pointed upwards, three fingers: the index, middle, and ring. yet, the pinky connected with the thumb, almost as if the children were purposely holding up three fingers.

“garcia called with an update,” his voice floated into her ears, “with the bits and pieces fed to her from jj and prentiss, we still have a lot of ground to cover. are you up for a drive?”

“wait,” rowan held up a hand, “hotch, were you ever a member of the boy scouts?”

his brow furrowed, confusion settling across his features, “what?”

“just look,” she huffed, gesturing to the images, “look at the way the unsub left their bodies. it’s a clear message, almost like how he dumped the bodies in clear sight. his arrogance blinded him, goading him to taunt us. but little did he know i would see right through his bluff. i think he stopped the killing spree because he knew we’d be looking for him. it’s like he wants us to find him.”

leaning over, hotch’s chest hovered above her shoulder blade, a hand settling on the desk. the ghost of his badge hung over her cheek, a speck of white in her peripheral vision. a hum rose in his throat, “you’re onto something here. let me call garcia.”

“did i make a break in the case?”

“perhaps, but don’t let that get to your head,” the supervisor brought his phone to his ear, “hey, garcia, i need you to run something for me. how many boy scout troops are in champaign county?”

*****

“you up for some drinks tonight?” prentiss giggled, wrapping her jacket around her shoulders, “it’s all on me, especially since we should be celebrating your first case with the bau!”

“i’m fine,but thank you,” rowan beamed, “i still have a forty minute drive ahead of me. i shouldn’t stay out too late.”

“oh come on,” jj groaned, “we won’t be out for long. just a couple rounds.”

“pleaseeee?” garcia practically pranced over to rowan, jutting her bottom lip out, “we don’t know a single thing about you. hotch had you under his watch all day.”

“okay,” she exhaled, “a few drinks, and then i need to get to my apartment. i’ve barely finished unpacking so i’ll have to rummage for my towels and pajamas when i get back.”

“you have an apartment?” prentiss queried, “do you have a roommate or do you live alone? did you bring a boyfriend with you, by chance?”

rowan blinked, “uh, no. i live alone.”

“good thing you’re a fbi agent huh?” garcia winked, “c’mon, we know the perfect bar.”

“maybe we’ll get you loosened up and you can spill some secrets,” jj chuckled, the sound airy and light.

“sometimes,” rowan felt the corner of her lips tug into a wide grin, “sometimes i truly wonder what i’m getting myself into working with all these other profilers.”

*****

{feel free to ask for a tag or let me know what you think! :))}

tagging: @tempus-ut-luceant @daffodin @kleinbluu @inlovewithaaronhotchner @spencerreidsbitch @art-and-thoughts @criminallminds @ethade3

#hotch #hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #cm

[peach-the-owl]

Of a Kind Sol

Pumat Sol & Child!Reader

Request: Our favourite enchanter Pumat Sol and his arcane copies because who doesn't love them? Only crazy people. So a kid, maybe into their teens, coming into the shop and asking to learn from him how to enchant stuff and become his apprentice and later on he finds out they have nobody.

Child is a bit of a loose term for this because the reader is about 12-13 years old. I regret nothing, anyways enjoy! 😁

The Invulnerable Vagrant a humble little shop located in the city of Zadash, you walk up to the shop, adjust your cloths to look a little more presentable and take a deep breath before making your way inside. The first thing you notice upon your entry is the two identical employees walking around stocking up items and rearranging them, the third one manning the counter also looked the exact same, it was almost intimidating.

"Well hey there, what can I do for a youngin' like yourself today?" The firbolg at the counter asks kindly.

"Umm, h-hello, my name's (y/n)." You say a little shakily holding out your hand, the firbolg returns the handshake.

"A pleasure to meet you (y/n), I am Enchanter Pumat Sol." He greets you back.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you too. Uhh… well… I had a question I’d like to ask." You put on as confident a smile as you could muster.

"And I’d be happy to answer any questions you have, respectfully. What’s your question." He gives you a patient look. You take another deep breath to psych yourself up.

"I was wondering if you were looking for anyone to help with the shop? I’m really interested in learning about enchantment." You give him a hopeful look, he leans back placing a hand on his chin in thought before looking at you again.

"So you’re interested in enchantment eh? Well that’s a question I’ll have to talk to Pumat prime about."

"Pumat prime?" You give a questioning look.

"Yes, you see myself and the other two over there," he points to the other firbolgs running around. "We're what you’d call magical manifestations created to aid the original in his work." He explains to you.

"So you're not the real Pumat Sol, just a copy to help around the shop?" You try to hide the nervousness in your voice at the revelation.

"More or less. Now you wait here just a moment, I’ll be right back." With that he gets up and disappears behind a curtain leaving you to stand there, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. After a minute he returns with who you’d assume to be the original Pumat Sol, who removes his goggles to get a better look at you.

"So you’re interested in enchantment I hear?" He asks same question as the other had.

"I am, I’ve always been interested in the ways of enchantment but I’ve never really been able to learn it for myself." You brighten up.

"Well…" he thinks for a moment, "that is, respectfully, a fine offer. I already have a lot of hands helping with the shop though." You start to deflate a little. "However, it would be nice having someone else helping me with enchantments." You perk up again.

"So I have the job?" You ask eagerly.

"As long as it’s alright with your parents-"

"Yes! Yes, of course it is." You quickly lie, cutting him off. He stares at you but smiles regardless.

"Well alrighty then, we can get started right now if you'd like, respectfully." You just nod. "Keep up the good work me." He tells the copies before he takes you back behind the curtain to his little workshop area to start your training.

For the next few weeks you’d come to the shop bright and early to learn and hone in on your enchantment skills, which you pick up on rather quickly, helping with projects and making a few small items of your own, at the end of the day you’d get your share of money and head "home" to start the day anew tomorrow. You even got your own work apron and pair of goggles. To make things easier on yourself working with four of the same guy you gave the arcane copies nicknames, Matty, Sol, and Puma respectfully, they all seemed to like the little nicknames from you so that was how you’d refer to them from then on. How could you tell who was who? Simple, you made little enchanted name tags with the help of Pumat. One day a set of new adventurers hobbled into the shop, you only being made aware of this when Matty came into the workshop with a request for something to be made prettier.

"Do you wanna handle this one (y/n)?" Pumat asks.

"Me? Really!" Your eyes sparkle with excitement.

"Why not, you’ve made great progress and it’s good practice." You get up and follow Matty through the curtain where you see the previously mentioned adventurers. They all take quick notice of you.

"Hold on a moment. Didn’t you say the forth one's in the back?" The half-orc questions.

"I'm actually his apprentice." You say with a large, proud smile. You see the red-head give an amused side look but decide to ignore it. "Anyways, I was called to make something pretty?"

"Yes!" The blue tiefling pipes in, showing the Fantastic Haversack. "See I’m going to be wearing it and I want it to match my outfit…" While she’s say all this you try to think of what to do, coming to a rather quick and obvious solution.

"What’s your favourite colour?" You ask.

"Pink!" She replies, without missing a beat. You wave your hands around, muttering a few arcane words and watch the bag simmer turning a bright pink. "Ahhh! It’s beautiful! 200 gold, here you go." The tiefling happily exclaims, handing you a bag of gold.

"You’re welcome miss…" You pause realizing you didn’t know her name, she catches on.

"I’m Jester." She greets properly.

"I’m (y/n). Nice meeting you Jester." You greet back. "Keep up the good work Pumats." You then turn to retreat back behind the curtain with a few "thank you's" and make your way back into the workshop.

"Hey uh (y/n), one more thing, you got a request for more of those little explosive spikes you made from a little goblin girl." Puma pokes his head into the workshop to inform you.

"Wait, someone actually wants more of those? But they aren’t very strong." You were surprised anyone was interested in something you made seeing as all the bigger and cooler enchantments were Pumat's doing.

"They said something about them being perfect for arrows." Puma explains.

"Oh! Umm, ok. How many are they asking for?"

"Fifty."

"Fifty! Wow, I got a lot of work to do then, it’s gonna take me a while. Thanks Puma." You give him a smile that he returns then leaves to help finish up with the costumers.

Some time went by, you continued your usual routine showing up early, working throughout the day and carefully returning "home" with a nice bag of coin for meals, all was well… until it wasn’t. One evening you were a little too confident in yourself and got a little careless, not checking for any thugs or muggers while turning down an alleyway like you usually do. You were just walking along merrily when you bumped into someone.

"Well, well. That sure sounds like a awful lot of coin for a street rat." A rather stocky dwarven man chuckles darkly. You take a few steps back towards where you’d entered but stop when you hear someone approach from behind, a tall lanky man blocked your exit pulling out a dagger. You started to panic, as much as you’d like to cast something to aid yourself, you left your spellbook and components for said spells back at the shop leaving you defenceless. You tried to dart past the dwarf hoping to loose the two further into the alleyway, what you didn’t count on was the dwarf to be nimbler then he appeared. You’re grabbed by the collar of your shirt and slammed against a wall, effectively knocking the air out of you and before you can push yourself up off the ground you feel a harsh kick to your side and a sharp pain in your arm. You try to scream for help but again before you can react your head is slammed hard against the ground leaving your vision blurry before completely blacking out…

You awaken with a feeling of slitting pain in your head and your entire body aching, slowly pushing yourself off the ground into a sitting position proving to even be a difficult task. Once you get a better look at yourself you can see a few cuts on your arms from the dagger the lanky man had used and you were covered in bruises, you reach a hand up to where your head was throbbing the most only to flinch away from the intense pain. You stare at your hand seeing it covered in your own blood, taking proper note that you were in fact surrounded by a small puddle of your own blood. You were surprised you even managed to regain consciousness, regardless your vision was still blurry and you needed medical attention, soon. You didn’t have any coin or items on you anymore leaving only one location for you to get help, a part of you dreading the idea but deep down you knew it was only a matter of time before you’d have to deal with the consequences of telling the truth. Shakily you get yourself to stand and hobble your way out of the alleyway towards your destination, looking to the sky you could estimate that it must’ve been close to late morning, early afternoon by now. You approach the door and with what little strength you had left you open the door and stumble into the shop.

"Welcome to the Invulnerable- Oh my goodness! (Y/n), what happened!?" You teeter and before you fall to the ground you feel a set of gentle hands catch you, then a second set of hands help to bring you to the back. After a few minutes your able to regain your focus back, seeing Matty and Sol on either side of you both with identically concerned looks on their faces.

"Here you are, this'll help fix you up." Sol hands you a greater healing potion which you waste no time in using to help ease away the lingering pain and get rid of bruises that weren’t covered by bandages. At this time Pumat walks in and gives a small nod to the other two.

"I’ll take it from here fellas." He tells them. They get up, Matty giving you one more gentle pat on the shoulder, and head back to the front leaving you alone with Pumat. "Care to tell me what happened?" He starts slowly and calmly.

"I umm, got mugged by some dwarf and lanky man in an alleyway." You say quietly.

"Now why were you in an alleyway so late, you should’ve been home with your parents." You let out a sad sigh and turn away from him a little. "(Y/n)?" You stay quiet but give a quick side glance. "I think I deserve an explanation here." He uses a more stern voice this time making you look over at him, despite the tone you could see genuine worry written on his face.

"I-I lied about my parents agreeing to this, because the truth is I don’t have any. I was left here all alone a few years ago, nobody came for me and I was forced to live on the streets. I meant to say something sooner, but I was scared…" You trail off a bit, feeling tears prick at the edges of your eyes.

"What could you be scared of, if you don’t mind me asking."

"I was scared you wouldn’t accept a dirty street rat. For so long I wanted to belong somewhere, but I was always turned away. I thought if I lied about myself you would accept me as an apprentice, but I wasn’t lying about learning enchantment I really do like it. I just didn’t want to be turned away again." By now you were sobbing, a stream of tears flowing down your face, your eyes turning red and puffy in the process. "I don’t want to be turned away again, please don’t be mad." You finish quietly through your sobs. There’s a pause before you feel yourself being pulled into a gentle, comforting hug. You stay in the hug for who knows and who cares how long until you finally pull away.

"Believe it or not, but I get it. I didn’t really fit in when I was about your age either." Pumat confesses, you look at him confused and he just gives you a kind smile. "I mean, do you see any other firbolgs that live here. I think not." You give a small giggle at that. "Now why don’t you take the rest of the day off, head on upstairs and get yourself some rest, you can use my room for now. I can handle myself just fine."

"Really? You’re sure it’s ok?" You give a curious look.

"It’s fine, I’ll get one of the others to help clear out our spare room for you to stay in later." You blink a couple of times to process what was just said.

"Wait, stay in? Like, live here?" You ask, wanting to know if you’d heard correctly or if you were hallucinating.

"Well of course! I can’t have my favourite apprentice sleeping in the streets, I’d worry too much knowing you might get mugged again or worse. It's real bad for the health." He states sorta matter-of-factly. You break out into a large smile at this.

"That is, respectfully, a very generous offer." You say with a playful bow. "Thank you. For everything." You continue more seriously this time.

"It is my humble pleasure." He gives you a nod. "Now go on, you need to rest and recover." You give him one more hug which he happily returns before heading up for that much needed rest.

I stayed up way later then I thought to finish this…… worth it

#critical role #critical role & reader #mighty nein #the mighty nein #pumat sol #pumat sol & reader #npc appreciation month #nothing romantic here

[tessiete]

HELLO. *Yeets at you with no expectations or pressure* The grass reached for the sky in uncoordinated brambles. Flowers sprouted in the voids, gasping in relief in the sun. If one was to lay within it, they would be completely hidden. "I thought I might find you here, little one."

OH HI! No, I’ve not completely forgotten about prompts, and yes, I will post at midnight again. 

I fear no gods.

Anyway, thank you @kyber-erso for letting me make this about my boy, the Korks, and his dumb grandpa.

ILU Your gorgeous prose is such inspiration!!! (It was the only part @lieutenantmittens praised :sunglasses:)

Let’s have a title....um...

TO FORGET OURSELVES

The grass reached for the sky in uncoordinated brambles. Flowers sprouted in the voids, gasping in relief of the sun. If one were to lie within it, they would be completely hidden. Qui-Gon Jinn, however, was a large man, and though he crawled forward on his belly, and twisted to lie on his back, his knees still arced above the grassline like ancient monuments on a foreign plain.

"I thought I might find you here, little one.”

Beside him, couched like a barah fawn in a nest of broken reeds, and soft needle greens, Korkie Kryze grumbled out a paltry welcome. He snapped the twig in his hands then launched the pieces into the air above him. They arced high, then fell out of sight, disappearing into the long grass surrounding them. 

“No one knows this place,” the boy countered. “It’s secret.”

“Ah,” Qui-Gon said, suitably chastened. “Do I need a chain code, or civil chit to stay?”

Korkie frowned. The dry litter crinkled beneath his head as he shifted to consider Qui-Gon with all the seriousness of a Mand’alor.

“No,” he decided. “Just a password.”

“Oh,” Qui-Gon said, nodding sagely. “What is it?”

“I can’t tell you,” Korkie sighed. He kicked his feet out straight, flinging a handful of needles into the sky to emphasise the impossibility of Qui-Gon’s request. “You have to guess. Otherwise it’s not very secure, is it?”

Staves - small brown and green slivers of yesterday’s sunlight - fell like confetti around them, pricking the skin of his cheeks and brow. He closed his eyes, as beside him, Korkie flinched away to shield himself.

Once recovered, Qui-Gon considered his options.

“What password shall I guess?” he asked.

“If you can’t guess it, then you don’t know it, and you can’t stay,” Korkie decreed.

“A fair judgement,” Qui-Gon said. “But I am so very old that perhaps I just forgot it. Would you be kind to an ancient, aged fossil such as myself, and give me a clue?”

Korkie sighed again, loud enough that he nearly gave it voice, just to be certain that Qui-Gon was quite aware of the inconvenience of his request. Still, he relents, and he cupped his hand to Qui-Gon’s ear to breathe the secret between them.

“Oh, I see,” the Jedi said. He opened his mouth, and exhaled, the confidential code a near corporeal thing in the world before Korkie slapped his hand across his mouth, preventing the sound from escaping.

“You can’t say it out loud,” he cried. “You have to whisper it to me. Otherwise anyone might hear it.”

So Qui-Gon held his own hand to the boy’s much smaller ear, and murmured the password back.

“Okay,” Korkie said, satisfied. “You can stay.”

“Thank you,” the master replied. 

For a while, they lay in silence, staring up at the wide expanse of sky above them. The firmament above was a bright blue, but to those two votaries it appeared bruised, and dark as the heavy dome of Sundari arched high to dim the effulgent rays so that mortals, too, might bask in them.

Between them, there was perfect accord, both content to rest in the company of the other. There was a meditative peace in the sound of grass, and in the touch of the sun. But, at four, Korkie had little patience for the beauties of the world. Instead, he was much preoccupied by his own troubled thoughts, and unlike the heavy evergreen needles, they refused to settle softly beneath his head.

“It isn’t fair,” he houghed, another twig straining to reach the escape velocity of their orbit.

“That is true about many things,” Qui-Gon agreed. He reached his hand to the earth beside him, digging until the litter gave way to fine silt. It ran over his fingers like silk, weighed down by the oils of his skin, and left a dusting over his palms. “What, in particular, are you most troubled by, my boy?”

Korkie sighed again. His sighs contained whole systems within the bounds of their expulsions. He rolled to his side, facing Qui-Gon, curling his legs, and tucking his hands beneath his head. His entire aspect was bent toward the consideration of his most serious complaint.

“It isn’t fair that Bebu must leave again when you only just got here.”

Qui-Gon rolled to face him, equally considerate.

“Well, that’s not entirely true, is it?” he asked. “After all, your father and I have been here for nearly four months. Since before your mid-break. And we shall not be leaving until after Holyhod Day. That is quite a long time, don’t you think?”

“If I were in school the whole time,” Korkie agreed. “But break doesn’t count. And plus, I was in school for some of it, so I didn’t get to see you as much.”

“Your buir saw you every day, Kiorkicek,” Qui-Gon said, quite firmly. There would be no slighting of his own evergreen, and erstwhile padawan by anyone.

Korkie felt the justice of Qui-Gon’s correction, and thrust his lower lip forward in tremulous defiance.

“I said, not as much.”

“So you did,” agreed Qui-Gon, quick to acknowledge his own fault. “Forgive me. Go on.”

“I am only saying,” continued Korkie, “That it isn’t fair that Bebu is going so soon, and taking you with him.”

“As I am the elder, perhaps it is I who is taking him.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Korkie said.

“No, I suppose not,” Qui-Gon said. It was his turn to sigh, as he rolled to his back once more, and stared up at the sky, watching it ripple behind the glossy dome, like light over water. “Do you know, when your father was little he used to lie in the grasses at the Temple, just like this, and look up at the vaulted claricrystalline of the Coruscant day?”

“Bebu did? Like me?”

“He did.”

Korkie screwed up his mouth, riddled with scepticism. “No, he didn’t,” he said. “This place is much too dirty for Bebu. He always tells Belli that I look ‘a wild creature unfit for civil tables’ when I come back like this.”

“And what does your mother say to that?”

“She says she loves wild and untamed things the best. And Bebu always laughs, and -” he added, leaning near to confess - “he never gets actually mad when I get mud on his trousers or his tunics. He just pretends.”

“Well, I tell you quite truly,” Qui-Gon murmured back. Korkie’s eyes were brightened with expectation. “When your father was not much older than you are now, he used to hide in the grass in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and look at the sky.”

“Really?”

“Really, really,” Qui-Gon vowed. “And I can recall several instances where he found himself covered in muck up to his ears!”

“You’re tricking me,” Korkie said.

“I am not,” Qui-Gon denied. “On one occasion, he dropped your mother into a great puddle of mud, and she was covered, too!”

“And then what?”

“What do you think,” Qui-Gon said, his eyes glinting with mirth. “He reached in to help her out, and then -”

“Then?”

“Then she pulled him in after her!”

At this, Korkie burst into a riot of laughter, so bright and clear as to startle a flock of dozing echo’lanaar from the trees. 

“Bebu was covered in mud!” he shouted, alive with joy. “And Belli, too! They must have looked so silly!”

Qui-Gon grinned. “They did,” he swore. “Quite silly. Much sillier than you look when you go home covered in needle greens or clay. And do you know what else?”

“What?” Korkie asked, falling silent and reverent again, caught in the grip of Qui-Gon’s voice.

“Every time we left the Temple he missed his home, and his friends, too. Just like you miss him when he’s gone.”

“It’s different,” Korkie said, feeling slightly betrayed by the way Qui-Gon has turned back to beckon his troubles join them in this den. “Because he left his friends. His friends didn’t leave him.”

“What is the difference, Kiorkicek, if everyone is still parted?”

And that is something he had not thought. 

Korkie frowned, trying to puzzle it out, but Qui-Gon spared him the struggle because the lesson to be learned was difficult enough for a master, fully grown, never mind a boy hardly older than a few revolutions of the earth.

“Don’t you think that your Bebu misses you?” he asked. “Don’t you think he’s sad when you’re not there?”

“Maybe,” Korkie conceded. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” Qui-Gon said. “And I can promise you that when you are here, and he is there, he always wishes you close.”

“I don’t think so,” Korkie said. “Because if that were true, then he wouldn’t leave at all. He’d always be here, and he wouldn’t care about there.”

“But he has many duties and responsibilities to do there,” Qui-Gon countered, his voice soft as the brambles below. “You know he saves lives. You know he frees people. You know he changes whole wide worlds, Kiorkicek. And he can’t do that from here.”

Korkie breathed deep, and exhaled. Needles scattered. The curving back of a tiny strill appeared in the dirt beneath his finger, gaining a wide jaw and a long tail as Qui-Gon watched, and Korkie thought about things.

“Are you sure he misses me?” he asked, at last.

“I am certain,” Qui-Gon said.

“How do you know?”

He looked at Qui-Gon then with such belief, such faith, and all at once, the Jedi saw another little boy who’d looked at him much the same for years, who also hid in brambles when upset, who also longed for the reassurance of desire, and he knew that this time, he would not hold back.

“I know,” he said, his voice solemn, and his gaze steady, “Because when your father is here, and I am there, I miss him just as much.”

#korkie kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #my fic #prompt fill #thank you

[danicarosaline]

If you let me

𝙹𝙹 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Part two of: Favourite Mistake

a/n: ah yes, here is the part 2 y’all wanted so badly😩not really fond of this one but since it’s done, here ya go!! hope y’all like it🥺✨

Keep in mind that i do NOT condone cheating, it’s just writing & for the drama of the story.

Warnings: not edited, fluff

The skies were overhung with a blanket of grey, so much that you could barely tell the difference between the sky and the clouds. You watched raindrops race down your bedroom window. The occasional strike of lightning appears, showing off a brilliant shock of white in the graphite sky and you jolt at the roar it came with it.

You rolled over to the other side of the bed, pulling up the covers over your shoulder and fluttered those eyes shut for the third time in the past two hours. Thoughts of that night swirling around in your head like motion pictures and your brain only managed to highlight the most upsetting part of the story.

He angles his neck to look at you, bright blue eyes welling up with tears as he mouths a ‘sorry.’

You felt the muscles of your chin tremble and your lashes brimmed heavy with tears. A lone tear traced down your cheek and before you knew it, more tears escaped your eyes as you let out a loud sob. Your chest sorely heaving.

You were in the wrong just as much as JJ was and you knew that you should have reached out to Cher before she left the Outer Banks for good, but before you could mend things back together, it was too late and she was already on that ferry.

It almost felt wrong to grieve over the situation because it was not you who have been hurt, it was Cher, but this ache in your heart was too damn excruciating.

How was it so easy and exciting to fall in love with somebody but then the next, it’s utterly unbearable? and all you wanted to do was spend your days and nights locked up in your room. Never wanting to be seen again.

That’s exactly what you did, actually. You spent every waking minute sealed away in the safe quarters, known as your bedroom. Only leaving the room to grab yourself a meal from the kitchen as your family gives you sympathetic looks, making you feel awful for acting so unapproachable lately.

They have heard the scandal that went down at the kegger a few nights ago because word spreads fast around Figure Eight (you wouldn't be surprised if it has made its way to the Cut also) and your parents are disappointed to say the least. They had raised you better than this, they thought you knew better than to involve yourself with a man who had a significant other.

It wasn’t like you could help who you fall in love with.

You didn’t mean to get involved with JJ and It certainly was not supposed to be an on-going thing between you and the pogue but it happened, and it was too late to turn back time to change all that.

The unexpected rushed knocks on your window nearly sent you into a hysteria, your heart pounding in your chest as you angled your body to face the felon trying to break into your house, but upon locking eyes with JJ who was soaking wet from head to toe and a tender smile plastered on his face despite seemingly in a somber mood, it made your nerves calm and your heart to go back to its normal pace.

You pushed yourself up on the bed and quickly made your way towards the window. Once unlocked, the blond slips in effortlessly and he turns his back for a second to lock the window before facing you again.

JJ shakes his head, sending water droplets to fly in every direction and you gently swat at his arm when a few landed near your eyes. He chuckles quietly and brings a hand up to wipe away the remaining droplets on your face.

“What are you doing here? It’s storming outside” You lean into his touch, and rumple up his soaked cut off tank top in your hands, hoisting it up so you can remove it from his frame. JJ complies and lifts his arms in the air, letting you undress him.

“Already? I just got here pretty girl” he smirks, grabbing you by the waist to pull you in closer. With a roll of your eyes you lightly push at his chest and toss the drenched top into a hamper.

“Why are you here J?” You asked the boy impatiently and JJ stays silent, his head hangs low and he avoids eye contact with you. After a long minute of silence and studying his appearance for any bruises, you took a sideways step to pull open a drawer full of your clothes and half of his that he accidentally left behind.

“Here, go change” you toss a pair of his old sweats and a band shirt his way and proceed to drag your feet towards your bed. Situated on it comfortably in a crisscross position.

As the hothead disappears, you couldn’t help but notice how calm and reserved JJ seemed to be.

It kind of irked you in a way. Almost like he’s trying to forget the recent event that occured at the kegger, as if forcing it out of his mind by running into your arms like he normally did when something minor inconveniences him. But this was no minor inconvenience, and you hoped to remind JJ of that.

“We need to talk..” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Brows sloped downwards in a serious expression and the usual flirtatious smile had drawn into a hard line across his face. JJ lazily lays himself on your bed, fingers running through his damp locks. You nodded slowly.

“Uh- yes, yes we do” you slowly lay your back on the bed, eyes trained on the ceiling whilst JJ’s gaze was solely on you, he pulls a strand of hair between his fingers and you curved your neck to look at him.

“I had a chat with um- Cher, before she left and..” he pauses for a second, “and she was surprisingly chill- like she didn’t care at all?” Your brows furrow at his words and your mouth opens to respond but he continues.

“She didn’t know we were sneaking around, but she told me that she started feeling something for someone else a few months ago. I forgot his name but anyways-“

“-Wait JJ, Cher said this?” You asked baffled, sitting up against your elbows to get a better view of JJ.

“Yeah and like- she apologised for reacting the way she did in front of everyone, even though i told her she had every right to react the way she did, but all she said was that she didn’t feel like she had the right after emotionally cheating on me months prior to the time we hooked up” JJ spoke so quickly that you almost missed half the words that passed his lips.

You were more confused than before and the blond sensed that by the expression you displayed. “Basically what i’m trying to say is, Cher has had feelings for someone else for a long ass while now.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth agape as you tried to examine JJ’s reaction to the matter, a tongue darting out to lick his lips before smiling widely, showing off his cute dimples.

You blink once, twice. Simply trying to comprehend why Cher reacted the way she did, and why JJ doesn’t seem slightly bothered by his ex girlfriend practically being in love with someone else while she was with him. Even way before you and JJ bumped into each other that first night.

“I know you’re confused by all this so let me explain” JJ swiftly moves to hover above you, hips between your legs and forcing you to lie on your back. “I know what we did was wrong and not in a million years would I have ever thought of cheating but..” he trails off, eyes darting to your lips before he brings it back up to yours.

“I- I’ve fancied you for as long as i can remember, and obviously I didn’t know you- but i thought you were cute! And that night, i was just so lost in the moment that i-“

You interrupted his rambling by grabbing the back of his head and attaching your lips with his. You pull apart and take shaky, shallow breaths, staring into each other’s eyes adoringly just like the first night you kissed.

Unable to contain yourselves anymore JJ holds your head in his hands and pulls you into a passionate kiss. Your hands work their way around his body, feeling each muscle tense with every touch. But before things could get any further, you place your hands on his chest, beckoning him to stop.

“JJ I like you too.. but-“

“Hey, no buts okay? Cher and i are okay now, and i like you-“

“Okay i get that, but we still shouldn’t have done what we did to Cher and i‘m scared you’d do the same to me” you sighed and turned your head to look off to the side. JJ places a finger on your chin to bring your attention back on him.

“I know babe and I’m sorry okay? I'm sorry to Cher and I’m sorry for bringing you into it, but i fucking promise i would never do that to you. It was just different with you, like i felt like i couldn’t be myself around Cher but with you.. I’m not ashamed of being whoever i wanna be.” JJ leans down, resting his forehead on yours.

“If you let me.. i would love to be yours. I’ll be a better man and I promise to take good care of you, always” He says in barely more than a whisper.

You stared deep into his ocean eyes and cupped his cheek that was slowly turning red. His warm breath ghosted across your face. JJ fluttered his eyes shut in anticipation and stifled a surprised gasp as your soft lips captured his.

The heat travels through his veins, warming him entirely just as you felt a rush of euphoric bliss envelop you, making your heart sing with pure joy. JJ drew away and you huff in annoyance, a small pout making its way onto your face.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes?”

“It’s a definite yes, you goof”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj outer banks #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj x you #fanfiction #rudy pankow #jj maybank outer banks #rudy pankow x reader #fluff #angst #rudy pankow imagine

[erin-bo-berin]

Adventurous

MASTERLIST

This was an anon request for a fic where Spencer is dating and avid outdoorsman and she takes him camping. Bless you for whoever requested this cause I had such a blast writing this one and could imagine perfectly poor Spencer struggling. But, it all works out in the end. ;) Happy reading!

Many thanks to my brainstorming buddy Mandy over at @multifandommandy​ for coming up with the no sleeping bag scenario, leading to the smut. It was definitely perfect for the fic and humorous enough to fit in with the rest of Spencer’s struggles.

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 5,191

“I can’t believe it. Spencer Reid camping?”

Luke’s loud laughter filled the bullpen as Spencer's mock glare was shot his way.

“Why is that so funny?” he asked.

“Well for one, I never thought you to be the outdoorsy type. Two, do you even own anything that isn’t a suit or work clothes? Three, it’s just fucking funny,” Luke smirked.

“Are you gonna help me or not?” Spencer sighed, exasperated, “I don’t want to look like a complete idiot in front of Y/N.”

“Dude. Your girlfriend is the avid outdoorsy one. Why don’t you ask her?”

“Because,” Spencer whined, “I want to impress her. Nature isn’t my thing.”

“How well we know,” Garcia mumbled as she passed the two men, picking up part of the conversation on her way by.

Spencer stared after her, open mouthed and turned back to Luke with a desperate look.

“Okay, okay. Take her bird watching, you know all about everything, you can talk about birds. Build a fire, set up a tent, go fishing, make s’mores, go hiking with her. You’re smart, I’m sure you’ll figure it all out.”

Luke patted Spencer’s chest as he walked off, leaving Spencer mystified. He exhaled deeply. 

Camping couldn’t be that bad, could it?

•

You were so excited when Spencer had agreed to go camping with you. 

Camping was something special you had done with your family ever since you were a child and you were anticipating sharing the fun of it with your longtime boyfriend.

The two of you had arrived at the camping grounds early in the morning so you could set up your camp and get started exploring. Spencer had been chatting the entire way and still continued to as he helped you carry the majority of the things.

“We can go fishing, hiking, birdwatching and make s’mores,” he rambled on.

You couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your heart to know he was excited about camping and you couldn’t help the huge, goofy grin on your face as you gazed up at him while he talked.

“Easy there Spence, we’ve got all weekend,” you chuckled.

“Sorry,” he flushed, “I’m just excited.”

“I’m glad,” you said honestly.

You took a look at his attire for the hundredth time that morning.

“I have to say, I didn’t even realize you owned pants that weren’t part of a suit.”

He was wearing what looked like cargo pants, but in a jogger pants style. With a tie and an elastic waist, it was like the best of pants and sweatpants in one. He was wearing a simple t-shirt with it and hiking boots. It had to be the most un-Spencer like outfit you’d ever seen him wear, but he pulled it off well. He looked like a normal, rugged, outdoorsman and you couldn’t help but feel proud.

“Yeah, I might’ve had to buy some new pants,” he said and then added, “And shoes.”

You smiled, amused, before speaking again.

“I figured we could get the tent and our camp set up and then go for a hike, maybe do some fishing then figure it out from there.”

“Sounds good.”

Twenty minutes later, you’d arrived at the perfect spot to set up camp.

You set down your own backpack and the mini cooler you’d brought, full of ice and bottles of water. Spencer set down his armload of things and automatically got to work.

“Spence, I can set up the tent, don’t worry. I’ve done it so much, I could do it in my sleep,” you chuckled.

“No, it’s okay. I got this.”

He’d cleared the area of sticks and rocks, laying down the ground cloth of the tent. You stood back, impressed that he knew what to do without being told.

He did good inserting the tent poles into the frame, but it went downhill after that. You pressed your lips together trying to hold back your giggles as he fought with the tent covered poles. He was trying to raise the tent and set it in place, but it just wasn’t working.

Every time he thought that he’d got it right and it would stay, the tent would collapse again. He huffed, trying again, only to have the same result.

“This looked a lot easier in the book,” he mumbled to himself.

You watched with growing amusement.

“You need some help babe?”

“No, no I got this!” he called, continuing his fight with the tent.

It wasn’t until he landed in a heap of tent and poles that he sighed resignedly.

“Okay, I need help.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore as you helped him up and assisted him in raising the tent into place, telling him why his attempts were failing.

“I totally knew that,” he waved it off, cheeks turning a tad pink.

With help from him, you hammered the pegs in the ground to secure it safely and attached the rain fly just in case it rained.

“There we go.”

You grinned triumphantly, setting your bags in the tent for safe keeping.

“You ready to go hiking?”

“Already? It’s barely 9 am.”

”But it’s also so pretty around this time and it’s a beautiful day. Besides,” you paused and smirked, 

“It takes a lot to keep up with me.”

“Tell me about it,” he mumbled, purposely grabbing your arm as you were about to walk past him to retrieve your backpack.

He pulled you in his lap and you squealed momentarily. He smiled and kissed you gently before letting you go. You chuckled and stood again to gather your backpacks.

“Grab us a couple granola bars and bottles of water, please?” you called to him.

“Sure thing.”

Once your backpacks were filled with the necessities, you both took off for your hike.

“So which trail do you want to take?” Spencer asked, peering back at you, looking at the map.

“Uh, well I was going to suggest the beginner’s one for you since-”

“No, don’t worry! I got this.” He pretended to flex, “Let’s do, this one.”

He pointed to the middle trail, the intermediate one.

“Spence, you sure? That’s the more challenging one. It’s totally okay for us to do the easy one.”

He scoffed.

“How hard can it be?”

•

“Just to clarify, I was an idiot half an hour ago when I questioned you,” Spencer panted, sweat dripping down his face.

“Are you alright?” you asked, worried, stopping to let him catch up.

“Oh yeah! Totally fine! I could walk a couple of miles more.”

His shirt was stuck to his chest from all the sweating he was doing and he was out of breath. He was most definitely not fine.

“Come on, what are you waiting for slow poke? Let’s go!”

He was walking backwards, still facing you as he advanced more up the trail.

“You know we can stop if you- Spencer!”

You were in mid-sentence when you saw his foot step on an unsuspecting rock and his arms shoot out, trying to catch his balance as he fell backwards with a yelp. 

You winced, running over to him, offering your hand to help him up.

“You okay?”

You brushed the dirt off his clothes and inspected him closely for any scrapes or cuts. Your eyes flicked up to his hair and you stifled a giggle.

“What?”

“You have some leaves stuck in your hair,” you snickered, reaching upwards to pick them out of his messy curls.

He groaned.

“I’m okay. Just a bruised ego. I think it would be a great time to take a break though.”

You agreed and the two of you settled on a large rock just off the trail. You tossed him a bottle of water which he guzzled greedily.

“We can head back after we rest and try some fishing in the nearby stream.”

“I think I’d be better at fishing than hiking,” he chuckled, setting his bottle of water next to him.

You looked around at the scenery, smiling.

“I just love the smell of nature and fresh air. Plus the scenery is so beautiful.”

“It is,” he agreed, watching a bird fly overhead.

“Do you know what that is?” he asked, pointing to a bird sitting on a nearby branch.

“A bird?” you questioned, confused.

“Besides that, smartass.”

You almost choked on your sip of water. It was rarely Spencer cussed, but his sarcastic remark was so funny you half choked, half spurt water everywhere from laughing. He gave you a huge grin in result, the sun shining bright on his face, making his hazel eyes appear even more green than they normally did.

“I meant what kind of bird,” he reiterated.

“No, I can’t say I do.”

“Well that one is a belted kingfisher.”

“Oh really?” you quirked an eyebrow.

“Mhm. You know how most male birds are prettier than their female counterparts?”

You nodded.

“The males of these species are the ones with the duller colors and the females have the brighter, prettier feathers.”

You heard a familiar hollow sound.

“Ah, that little guy over there,” Spencer pointed to a faraway tree, “Is a red-headed woodpecker.”

“I was going to say that definitely sounded like a woodpecker,” you commented.

“And there is a blue jay. They can range from lavender blue to mid-blue. They like to store nuts like squirrels.”

“Can’t say I blame the squirrels. If their families are anything like you, they’d have to hide their food like I do to keep you out of it.”

He rolled his eyes, but gave you a smile.

“Come on big guy,” you patted his thigh, “Let’s go fishing.”

•

“I thought you said this was easy,” Spencer huffed, messing with his fishing line.

“Well it is for me,” you shrugged. 

“Well that explains it all,” he grunted.

“Here,” you chuckled, helping him tie the hook on his line.

“Now, all you do is hook the bait—no live bait here, you won’t be catching me touching anything that wiggles—then throw your line back and into the water and wait.”

“Oh that’s all I do, huh?”

You watched as he fumbled with his fishing line, but finally managed to get it in the water. 

“See? Not so hard. Now, we wait.”

“Why don’t we see who can catch the bigger fish, why don’t we?” Spencer smirked.

“Oh you are so on, Reid.”

Spencer grinned, determined to actually be good at something on this camping trip if it killed him.

-

A lot of waiting ensued.

“Are these fish sleeping or something?” Spencer complained.

“I didn’t say fishing happened quickly,” you pointed out, “Sometimes it just takes a bit for them to start biting.”

It was just then that Spencer’s line tightened.

“Wait, I think I got something!”

He attempted to try reeling it in and once again struggled. You threw your own rod down, to assist him, but it seemed to be stuck or he’d caught a really large fish.

“Why is it so hard to reel in?” he grunted, pulling the rod back as you tried to reel in the fish, “Maybe I’ll win after all!”

He sounded so proud. That is until the item broke the surface of the water and his face dropped.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.

“Well Spence, congrats. You just caught yourself a nice boot.”

“Who the hell throws a boot in the water anyway?”

You were biting your lip hard to keep from laughing, but he saw your expression.

“Okay, laugh it up.”

Your laughter burst from you and you patted his arm.

“Don’t worry babe, I’m sure it was just a fluke.”

You kissed his cheek sweetly, causing him to smile.

If only he could catch a fish, Spencer thought, just one little one to impress her.

After an hour, the two of you had had little luck. You did end up catching a decent sized fish, much to Spencer’s dismay.

As you always did with your family, you threw it back so it could continue to have a good life. Those were the words you’d said once as a child while fishing and it ended up becoming the rule of fishing when it came to your family’s fishing trips.

You could tell Spencer seemed a bit bummed, but you didn’t say anything, just in case it might upset him more.

“What now?” you asked.

“Well it’s past noon, so why don’t we head back to camp and eat lunch and rest?” he suggested.

You agreed, your muscles beginning to ache.

“Tired?” he asked, peering over at you.

“A little.”

“You up for playing some cards?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I’m in.”

•

You and Spencer sat in your tent, resting from the days’ activities and playing Uno. You never realized how competitive you were when playing any card game until you started dating him. He always seemed to win every kind of game. Whether it was Uno, Go Fish, Poker, you recalled him even winning a game of Old Maid once. The boy was just that good.

You sat down a draw four card making him groan.

“Pay back!” you grinned mischievously.

He’d thrown one your way earlier, just when you thought you were about to win.

“You may be from Vegas, but that doesn’t mean you can win every card game,” you smirked, as he drew his four new cards.

“You were saying?” 

He laid down a skip card, making you grimace. Obviously since your turn was skipped, it was his again. Next, he laid down a wild card, declaring he was changing the card to red.

You mumbled under your breath as you drew another card, a blue. No luck.

When it came his turn, a red draw two came your way. Suddenly it was like your hands were doubled with cards, the opposite of what it had been just moments before.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely.”

His turn. Another skip. Once again, he laid one more card down. He was down to one.

“Uno,” he smirked.

“You’re not gonna win this easily, Reid.”

You placed a blue seven over his red seven, changing the color, thinking it was to your benefit.

“Oh well, thanks sweetheart,” he grinned as he placed his blue card on the pile.

“You’re joking,” you gaped at him wide mouthed, “Unbelievable.”

He chuckled, kissing your head as he stood from the ground.

“It’s starting to get dark. Should we start a fire soon?”

“Yeah, let me just pick up and I’ll go get it started,” you said, gathering the cards to put back in their Ziploc baggie.

“No worries, I can do it,” he offered, smiling.

“You sure?”

You peered up at him doubtfully.

“How hard can it be?”

-

Turns out, much to Spencer’s dismay, it was harder than he thought.

All the reading beforehand hadn’t prepared him for just how tricky it actually was to start a fire. He was sweating and his hair was sticking to his forehead. Wiping a hand over his forehead, he leaned down to try again.

“Spence, what are you doing?” you asked

His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, willing sparks to come from the wood.

“Making a fire,” he grunted.

“Babe.”

He looked back to see a small smile on your face. You held up the bag of tinder you’d brought from home, to get the fire started.

“I already brought the tinder, we just need to get some kindling like tree branches and sticks then some firewood for it and then I can just light it with the lighter I brought. No biggie.”

“Oh, right,” his face flushed pink once again, “Totally knew that.”

You chuckled.

“Come on my little mountain man, let’s get to work.”

-

After a half hour, the campfire was coming to life and you sat near it, trying to take the chill off that nightfall had brought.

Spencer joined you, wrapping a blanket around you. You smiled at him, pecking his cheek.

“Wanna roast some marshmallows and have some s’mores?” you asked.

“Um, I’ve actually never done that or even had a s’more before,” he grinned sheepishly.

“Oh man. You’re in for a treat then.”

You stood, clutching the blanket around you as you dashed to the tent to grab the ingredients from your bags.

You came back, handing him the items along with a couple of paper plates.

“Here, you get out the graham crackers and the chocolate squares and I’ll go get some sticks for us to roast the marshmallows on.”

He did as he was told and you returned with the sticks to see he’d laid out the graham crackers enough to make two at first, a couple of squares of chocolate on one side.

“I’m impressed,” you commented.

“Hey, I said I’ve never had one, not that I didn’t know how to make them,” Spencer chuckled.

You stuck the ends of the sticks in the fire to sterilize them before sticking a marshmallow on the end of each one.

“Now, all you have to do is stick it close to the flame like this. But not too close. You don’t want to burn it. Then you just simply rotate it, to toast it on all sides. Simple.”

You turn to see Spencer just staring at you blankly.

“Yeah, you lost me.”

You giggled, putting your hands on his stick helping him rotate it, to get the perfect toast.

“You know, to any onlookers, this could potentially look incredibly phallic,” he muttered.

“Spencer!” you hit his arm playfully, causing him to chuckle.

He was a genius, but he could also be a dirty genius, surprisingly enough.

“Now, see? The perfect marshmallow.”

You pulled the stick back for it to cool a second before you popped it off with your fingers, feeding it to him.

“So, what do you think?”

“Wow, that’s actually really good,” he smiled.

“Oh just wait until you taste the s’more then.”

When you’d both successfully toasted more marshmallows, you assembled your s’mores, tapping each of yours together in a cheers before taking a bite.

You grinned big at the childlike wonder on his face after his first bite. You knew chocolate and marshmallow were all over your mouth and chin, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was how amazed he seemed to be at a simple s’more.

He ended up eating three more.

•

With stomachs full of marshmallows and s’mores, you and Spencer laid on the blanket, looking up at the night stars.

Lightning bugs—or fireflies as Spencer kept arguing were their actual name—flew by occasionally, lighting the dark just a smidge with their small spark of light.

“See? That constellation right there is the Big Dipper and that right there is the Little Dipper. Also known as Ursa Major and Ursa Minor,” Spencer pointed out.

“Somehow it doesn’t surprise me that you know that.”

“Technically I know a lot of things.”

“That’s definitely true. Probably more than I could even begin to understand.” 

“Which makes it more fun to teach you,” he smiled.

You looked up at the sky, amazed at its beauty.

“I can’t believe how beautiful it is,” you murmured

“You know, I could say the same about you,” Spencer said, head turning to look at you.

You blushed, the compliment warming your heart, no matter how corny it was.

“Thank you for coming with me on this trip,” you said, appreciatively, “I know it’s not exactly your thing, but I’ve had a lot of fun being with you.”

Spencer looked troubled and sat up, his brows furrowing.

“What is it?” you asked, worried, sitting up as well.

“It’s just-” 

He ran a hand through his hair, turning to look at you.

“I wanted so badly to impress you but all I’ve done all day is make a fool out of myself. I just wanted you to think I could be capable of doing these things, but I sucked at them all.”

You smiled a little.

“Yeah, you did,” you rushed to finish your statement before he could interject, “But that’s perfectly okay. I’m flattered that you wanted to make a good impression. It was so incredibly sweet of you, Spence. But I don’t love you any less just because you don’t love the outdoors as much as me or aren’t as good at outdoor activities. That’s like me trying to profile a criminal or trying to create a geographic profile. I’d be horrible at those things.”

He laughed, his beautiful smile on full display as he nodded, agreeing with you.

“I’m just glad you came in general. And I want you to have fun as well.”

“I have been,” he smiled down at you, “Because I’ve been with you.”

His lips captured yours in a tender kiss before pulling away, circling his arms around you. 

You rested your head on his shoulder, stargazing until your eyes became heavy. You soon found yourself dozing on his shoulder.

“Hey, let’s go to bed, hmm?” he whispered, gently stirring you.

You nodded, standing to pick up the food and blanket while Spencer put out the fire. You headed to the tent, putting things away while he finished up around the campfire.

You were laying out your sleeping bag and preparing to lay down when Spencer finally joined you, zipping the tent closed behind him. He paused, eyeing you and your sleeping bag for a moment, an embarrassed expression crossing his features.

“What’s wrong? You can wait and lay out your sleeping bag later if you aren’t tired yet.”

He hemmed and hawed before finally spitting out what he was trying to say.

“I uh, didn’t exactly bring a sleeping bag.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You do know a sleeping bag is an essential when it comes to camping right?” 

You pressed your lips together, having a difficult time trying to hold back your giggles at his expense.

“I didn’t say I was good at this camping thing,” he grumbled.

You shook your head, smiling.

“Just be glad I always pack a double sleeping bag. Singles are too claustrophobic for my taste.”

You opened up the opposite side of it for him to climb in.

“It might be a bit of a tight fit, but we can make it work.”

He slid in next to you, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Thank you for putting up with me.”

“I wouldn’t get any laughs if I didn’t,” you retorted, squealing when he tossed his pillow at you.

“I’m just kidding!” you laughed.

He smiled, retrieving his pillow and putting it back into place at the head of the sleeping bag before pulling you against him. An arm draped around your waist.

“Night, Y/N.”

“Night, Spence.”

•

You thought you’d drift right off, but surprisingly sleep didn’t come easily. You shifted your position multiple times with no luck.

You swore Spencer was asleep too, at least it sounded like it by his deep, even breaths, but apparently he wasn’t.

You were just drifting off when you felt a familiar jab against the back of your thigh. 

“Uh Spencer?”

“I know,” he mumbled, “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. All your shifting wasn’t really helping the uh, situation. I’m sorry,” he winced.

You turned to face him, eyebrow quirked.

“I can help,” you said, nonchalantly, already sitting up.

“No, Y/N, don’t worry, I can- I mean you’re tired and-”

But you didn’t listen to his protests. You’d already straddled his legs, your fingers unbuttoning his pants.

“Spence,” you said, serious, “After all the trouble you went to try and impress me today. The least I can do is give you a little something.”

His breath hitched as he watched you pull the zipper of his pants down agonizingly slow, his tongue wetting his lips in a quick movement. His chest heaved just the slightest and you already knew he was anticipating what was coming.

Your mouth met his, the kiss starting off innocent enough but turning fiery rather quickly. The thought of doing something like this in a tent was kinda sexy to you. 

His tongue twirled with yours before running over your bottom lip, his teeth biting gently into it as you pulled away, a small whimper coming from him. His semi arousal from earlier was now full blown, you could feel it from where you were sitting on his lap.

Just to torment him a little, you grinded against the bulge in his pants, your clothed core still rubbing against him just right to make you moan right along with him.

You situated yourself where you were level with his crotch as you pulled his pants down his hips, far enough out of the way to forget about them. The same followed with his underwear until he was left exposed to you, hard and throbbing.

Your hand slowly enclosed around him, taking your time as each finger made contact as it curled inwards, touching his cock.

“For fucks sake Y/N, turtles move faster than this,” he groaned.

“I mean I could just leave you to your own hand,” you shrugged, pulling your hand away, acting like you were going to move off of him.

“No, please,” he grabbed your wrist, trying to bring it back to his erection.

“I thought you’d see it my way,” you smirked.

You leaned down, your tongue licking a stripe up his cock, his hips jerking at the movement. Instead of more teasing, you switched it up, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks as you sucked, your head bobbing.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, “Yes, baby, yes.”

Your hand occupied the rest of him that your mouth didn’t, alternating your pressure and speed as your tongue swirled around him, stopping long enough to flick over his head, driving him wild.

You felt his hand gripping your hair and you peered up to see him watching you, his teeth bearing down on his bottom teeth, hard. 

You sucked harder, willing to give him all he wanted for the lengths he went for you.

“Y/N, shit,” he moaned, his hand finding your shoulder, trying to push you back.

Before you could ask what was wrong, he’d reached for you, pulling your body closer to his.

He mumbled against your lips before kissing you.

“I’d rather cum inside you.”

His hands clawed at the unnecessary material on your lower body, trying to rid of it as fast as he could. His want was overpowering his ability to think clearly, you could tell.

You pushed your pants down and he aided you in kicking them off your legs. Your lips didn’t part from his the entire time.

You’re pretty sure your entire body trembled when you felt his fingertips graze over your soaked core through the satin of your panties.

You anxiously pushed them down, Spencer helping you rid of it the rest of the way.

You couldn’t quite remember how you two managed to get to this point of intimacy in a tent, but suddenly it didn’t seem all that important. All you could focus on was having him inside of you as soon as possible.

Your knees rested on either of his sides and you reached down between you two, guiding him in as you slid down on him, a whimper coming from your throat at just how good he felt, filling you to the hilt.

You hovered over him, your hair creating a curtain around the both of you as you moved on him. Your hands cupped his face, kissing him passionately, occasional moans mixing with your kisses.

His hands were situated on your sides in a constant push and pull of your body, aiding in your own movements. 

You broke the kiss long enough for a loud moan to fill the tent as your body moved roughly with his.

“Sp-Spence,” you stammered, your eyes screwing shut at the intensity of your pleasure.

You tried your best to try and focus on him. Besides, it was him you wanted to give the most pleasure to, especially after his commitment to this camping trip, but you found it hard to focus. He had that effect on you. When he was buried inside of you, your mind went hazier than a thick fog.

Your bodies moved in a hasty, lust filled frenzy, each of his thrusts hitting a sweet spot deep within you just enough to send you writhing. You inadvertently tightened around him, causing a deep, guttural moan to sound from Spencer.

“Shiiiit,” he gritted out, hips thrusting upwards erratically.

His sudden thrust elicited a sharp gaspy moan from you. Your eyes locked on his, your pants just about matching his. Other than your heavy breathing and the sounds of your moving bodies, your sounds of pleasure were pretty mild. 

His lips found your jaw, sucking on it lightly before trailing kisses toward your ear where he bit your earlobe gently.

“We’re...in...a tent. Be as loud as you fucking want,” he half panted, half growled in your ear.

Your jaw dropped as if his words electrified you, sending shock waves to your core and a high pitched moan from your throat. The build up of your orgasm was coiled in the pit of your stomach. Just like a snake, ready to strike, you could feel the fingers of your ecstasy ready to grab you and pull you under.

With a loud moan of his name, you were coming apart above him, quite loudly too, might you add.

You caught a look of Spencer watching you, the darkness not entirely shadowing your features as he made you come undone. 

He swallowed hard, his own orgasm coming quickly. You could tell by his body language and grinded your hips down on him as you thrust, your own orgasm causing you to inadvertently clench and unclench around him.

Spencer was soon to follow, spiraling down the rabbit hole of his own bliss. Your hand gripped the edge of the sleeping bag as you both rode out the remnants of your orgasms. 

Your bodies slowed then finally stilled as your lips moved against his at a much slower pace. This was the, soft, sweet, post-coital type of kiss. You let it linger for a second then you pulled back, opening your eyes to smile lazily at him.

The effects of the post-coital bliss were still evident on his face. The dreamy look etched in his features, the sleepy look of his beautiful hazel eyes and the smile of happiness on his naturally pink tinted lips.

He pushed your hair back, tucking it behind your hair as he licked his lips.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You responded with your love for him too, with a shy smile as he kissed your nose.

“Do me a favor?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Make sure to invite me on your next camping trip. I could always use some more practice at sex in a tent.”

You hit his chest making him roar with laughter as you climbed to your side of the sleeping bag, a smile on your face.

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

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