#I’ll make better effort I promise don’t kill me

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Life is like a Box of Chocolates || LandOscar

Summary: When you take an edible chocolate with your boyfriends it has an unexpected side effect. Warnings: 18+ only, edibles, smut, oral (both), mmf. WC: 2. 3k

The box looked inconspicuous enough. 

Oscar turned the packaging over and read through the ingredients while you and Lando opened three individually wrapped treats. They looked like any other boutique chocolate you had tried but this one promised more than a sugar high. 

“Bottoms up,” Lando said with a grin. 

You tapped your square of chocolate against his with a reciprocal smile. “I hope so.” 

You both bit into the treats and moaned at the decadent richness that coated your tongue. You couldn’t even taste the drug that would absorb slowly into your system, leaving you with a long lasting high that would surely make the boring dinner party better. 

“Oh my god, that was so good!” you hummed as you licked your fingers clean and found Lando had finished his too. 

Oscar chuckled as he saw a spot of chocolate in the corner of Lando’s lips and kissed it clean before grabbing his own piece. “We normally take half.”

“You’ve never been to this event before, trust me, you’ll need a whole one,” Lando assured him, taking the chocolate and guiding it to Oscar’s parted lips himself. 

Your body started to heat in response to the small sounds Oscar made as Lando fed him. “Why are you two teasing me? You know we don’t have time to play before the car gets here.”

Reluctantly, Oscar pulled away and swallowed his mouthful before returning to pack up the box. He opened the box again and put the few remaining wrappers back in, before noticing the instruction booklet under the tray. “Uh, guys, I don’t think this was weed,” he mutters.

“What do you mean?” Lando said with a laugh. “This is the box Daniel said to get.”

“Wait, Danny?” You hoped you hadn’t heard correctly. “The same Danny who has been trying to get back at you for the prank in Vegas?”

Lando laughed and shook his head, but realisation seemed to slowly dawn on his face and he snatched the box out of Oscar’s hands. His eyes scanned across the page of tiny disclaimers until it fluttered with his shaking hands. 

“What did you give us, Lando?” you asked as you looked between both of your boyfriends. “Osc?”

“Okay, so, don’t panic,” Oscar’s words immediately made your heart start pumping faster and he pulled you into his arms to draw soothing circles over your back. “It’s fine, baby. You might just feel a little…”

“What?”

“Horny,” Lando answered for him before he couldn’t suppress his laugh any longer. “I’m going to get him for this.”

“You don’t sound very worried,” you said to Lando before looking at Oscar. Obviously, he was never one to worry so he just shrugged.

“I’ll take care of you if you need it,” he promised.

—

“I can’t tell if this is the chocolate or me,” you grumbled as you sat between your boyfriends in the backseat of the car. Your hands gripped their thighs in an effort to keep them from roaming any higher, but it was a losing battle. 

“That’s just you, baby, it said it could take an hour to kick in,” Lando said, fiddling with his tie again. “Why do these have to be so tight?”

“He says it like he didn’t asked to be choked last night,” Oscar chuckled, reaching over your shoulder to tuck the tie back under his collar. “Now relax.”

“That was the plan,” Lando said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m going to fucking kill Danny.”

“Worry about that later, we’re here.”

You accepted Oscar’s hand and stepped out after him to the flash of cameras. It was hard not to feel inadequate when you were standing beside two of the most handsome men you had ever met, but when they curled their arms around your waist and whispered sweet words the worry fell away. 

“You look so beautiful, darling,” Lando said softly as he brushed his lips over your cheek. “I’m having a hard time keeping this PG-13.”

Oscar caught his finger under Lando’s chin and turned his hungry eyes away from you. “Stop looking at each other like that, you’re not the only one having a hard time,” he groaned. You couldn’t help glancing down his body but the black suit pants hid the ‘hard time’ he was growing in them. “Stop looking at me like that,” he warned. 

“I can’t help that I am infatuated with you two,” you said innocently, a sweet smile drawing his attention to your kissable lips. “Tsk, tsk, stop looking at me like that, Osc. Have some self control.”

Lando laughed and led you away from Osc as he tipped his head back with a silent prayer to survive the evening with his brats. When he had his composure back, he scanned the area for you but in those short seconds you and Lando had disappeared into the busy venue. “Fuck,” he groaned before beginning his search.

The crowd of businessmen swallowed you whole and it was only Lando’s hand that kept you from being swept away as he followed the bodies into the venue. His stiff back that you tucked in behind was the only outward sign that he hated the event but it was a night that couldn’t be avoided as McLaren needed investors to continue its growth. 

“Drink, love?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Only if it’s strong,” you winked. He smirked before suddenly changing direction and towing you towards the bar. “Shit!”

Lando turned quicker than your eyes could follow and he was glaring at the shocked stranger who stared at the damp splash in your dress. It would have made you laugh if the dress wasn’t worth more than your monthly pay and currently freezing from the icy drink that now decorated your bodice. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the man apologised. 

“You didn’t see her?” Lando asked in disbelief. He couldn't understand how anyone could miss the most beautiful person in the room. 

“It-it’s just water,” he stammered as he reached to brush the water drops away but Lando caught his wrist before he could touch you. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t paying attention,” you said as you peered around for the bathrooms before spotting the arrow pointing down a hall. “Come on, Lan.”

“Watch where you are going next time,” Lando imparted the advice as he turned with you, feeling your elbow nudge into his ribs at the attitude. “What? There is no way he didn’t see you. Everyone else can’t take their eyes off you.”

You rolled your eyes at the idea and stepped into the room as he opened the door for you. “It’s you they are staring at,” you corrected.

He slipped inside the powder room behind you and checked the attached room for the toilet was empty before he attacked. His lips threatened to ruin your makeup as he pinned you between his body and the wall, grinding himself along your front until your eyes fluttered shut. “You don’t see what I do,” he murmured between his heated kisses to your neck. His hand ran up your thigh, finding the slit in the dress so it could climb higher and brush the edge of your panties. “So fucking sexy and everyone knows you’re mine.”

A throat cleared and your eyes flew open to see Oscar leaning back against the door, an amused smirk on his lips as he watched the show unfold. “Yours?” he taunted as he snapped the lock into place.

“Ours,” Lando accentuated with his usual sass that had Oscar pushing off from the door and crossing the distance in two long strides. 

Desire was pooling at your core as you watched Oscar’s hand envelope Lando’s throat and pull him closer. Their lips collided with a fierce need to determine dominance and Lando tried to fight it before he succumbed to Oscar with a moan. Satisfied, Oscar pulled back to see Lando’s pupils blown out and a breathy whimper escaped his swollen lips. 

“You are both mine,” Oscar clarified before his eyes danced over your body and noticed the wet material. “What happened?”

“Some idiot spilt his drink on her.”

Oscar grabbed a hand towel from the shelf and started to dab away as much moisture as he could but every brush of the material sent little bolts of lightning across your body. Suddenly it felt like your body was on fire and you bit your lip as the flames reached your core.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as the last touch caught the underside of your beast and it felt heavy with need. “Do that again, please.”

Lando was feeling the same heated effects course through his veins as the chocolates reacted with his body. “I think it’s been an hour,” he chuckled, reaching for the stiff peak he could see pressing against the thin material of your dress. He brushed the back of his knuckles over your nipple and hummed at the sound you made for him. 

Oscar abandoned the cloth and sank to his knees on the tiles. He swore he could smell your sweet arousal, the mouthwatering scent driving him insane as he bunched your dress up and kissed your core over the lace. The ax of time hung over your head as you all knew the dinner was about to begin but you didn’t care  the moment you looked down at Oscar’s eyes. 

“Just a quickie,” he agreed as he read your mind. Lando crushed his lips against yours as Oscar pushed your panties aside and tasted you with a languid swipe of his tongue. One boyfriend made you cry out and the other stole the sound with his kiss. Your hands tangled their hair, feeling the different textures between your fingers as you deepened the kiss and rocked your hips against Oscar’s face.

“Fuck,” Lando groaned at the pretty sight. “I’m so unbelievably hard right now.” He grabbed your hand to prove his words and you stroked his length over his trousers. “I don’t know if I want to kill Danny anymore.”

Oscar laughed against your clit and the vibration curled your toes in your heels and you cried out at the sensation. The sound cut through Lando’s amusement and his belt snapped open, his trousers falling just enough to free his cock. Your hand wrapped around him and he covered your hand with his, guiding you up and down in long slow strokes. 

“We are going to make a mess of your dress, baby,” Lando moaned as he felt his orgasm coming embarrassingly quickly thanks to the chocolate. You barely heard him as your own impending release hazed your mind but Oscar thought quick enough to pull away. Your body missed his mouth instantly but your cunt clenched at the sight of him taking Lando’s cock deep in his throat. “Fuck, Osc, that’s it, babe.”

You could hardly breathe as you watched Lando’s jaw clench and he shuddered as he spilled himself in Oscar’s mouth. Your boyfriend’s throat bounced as stood up and he swallowed the mouthful down, leaving Lando to sag against the wall while he recovered. 

“You missed a spot,” you said as you leant in and caught the drop of cum that clung to the corner of his lips. A soft hum reverberated as you shared the taste with a kiss and you pressed yourself against him to feel just how much he was feeling the drug too. “Need a hand?”

“Not quite,” he smirked, turning you around to face Lando. “Hold on.”

Lando reached out and you gripped his forearms as Oscar bundled your dress up in one hand and pushed your panties aside again with the other. He gave no warning before he sheathed himself deep inside your cunt and you buried your face in Lando’s chest with a gasp. You felt impossibly full before he snapped his hips back and then buried himself in you, over and over, an unrelenting pace that quickly brought back the edge of your orgasm.

Your cries were muffled by Lando’s dress shirt and your nails threatened to rip the expensive jacket he wore as you were rocked by your release that came so suddenly white spots danced across your vision. For a second your body was disconnected from your mind and the two only collided back together when Oscar joined you, warmth pooling in your core as he filled it with his seed. 

“Wooow,” Oscar chuckled as he pulled out and combed a hand through his hair. “That shit is strong.”

“At least we have something to take the edge off,” Lando said, before tossing the hand towel to Oscar. Oscar ran the towel under the warm tap and carefully cleaned up the mess he made before he pulled your panties back into place and let your dress fall around your unsteady legs. 

Oscar curled a brow at his boyfriend and the glint in his eye that said he expected a few more stops to this room during the night. “Let’s try to make it back to the hotel next time.”

“No promises,” he said with a wink. “Now, shall we go and sit through a bunch of old man speeches and try not to fall asleep?”

You looked down at your dress and found the wet patch had dried considerably, so much that it wouldn’t even be noticeable in the dim lights of the hall. “You still owe me a drink.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lando gave you a salute and unlocked the door, opening it to an empty corridor. “A strong one. Osc?”

“No, thank you, one of us has to be responsible.”

Lando looked at you, his lips barely suppressing the grin on his face. “He says it like he didn’t just fuck you in a bathroom.”

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #landoscar x reader #landoscar fic #landoscar smut #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #lando norris smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smut

[azriels-shadowsinger]

“All you do is push me away. I'm done. Whatever this is, it's done.”

Azriel x Reader

wc: 2.3k

a/n: responding to this request. sorry this took forever, i started my new job this week! also, thank you for 400 followers!!

prompt list

“It will be fine, y/n!” Feyre reassures, rubbing a gentle hand down your back. You bite your lip anxiously.

“I don't know, Fey. It's already awkward enough trying to introduce my boyfriend to the high lord and lady, the general, and scariest of all, Amren.” You chuckle. “But seriously, I’m even more worried about Azriel. He’s been so weird and distant since we ended our... situationship?” You sigh heavily. “Whatever it was, he got all weird when it ended. I’m worried he’s gonna make tonight weird.” You whine.

“Rhys already talked to him. Azriel promised to be welcoming.” Feyre reassures

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” You grumble. Truthfully, you knew very little about your new boyfriend, Wesley, and you had no idea how he would behave around your friends, but when Cassian caught you on a second date and blabbed about your new boyfriend to everyone, you had no choice but to introduce him to the group. Hopefully, Feyre was right that everything would be fine.

———

Everyone at the table was visibly uncomfortable, thanks to Azriel. He had spent the first half of dinner in a very tense silence, ignoring everyone’s attempts to interact with him. He only responded with mocking laughs under his breath at every other thing Wesley said. Rhys had tried to speak to Azriel in his mind, Feyre told you, but his walls were up and he refused to drop them.

You thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse, but once the final course came out, Azriel switched from chilling silence to obnoxiously challenging everything you or Wesley said. You were going to kill him.

“So what do you do for fun, Wesley?” Feyre asks, attempting to alleviate tension.

“Uh, I like studying history.” He answers quietly. Azriel chokes down a laugh, and you internally groan at the most boring answer he could’ve chosen.

“Hm, that's weird y/n. I thought your usual type was...” Azriel eyes Wesley with distaste “much different.” You scowl at Azriel.

“I don’t have a type, Azriel.” You say defensively. “And if I did, it would be Wesley.”

“Sure it would.” He says smugly. “I seem to recall you have a preference for tougher guys, specifically Illyrians-“

“That is enough, Az.” Rhys commands, cutting Azriel off and using his high lord voice. Everyone sits quietly, not sure what to say next.

“I think I should leave.” Wesley says uncomfortably, breaking the silence and moving to stand. “Goodnight everyone, it was wonderful to meet you all.” He says with a forced smile before heading towards the door. You hurry after him, heels clicking loudly on the floor.

“Wes, please stay! There’s dessert, and I promise it won't be as awkward. I’ll make him leave.” You beg once you two are out of earshot.

“Don’t bother. You didn’t tell me you used to date him. That would’ve been great information to have going into tonight.”

“We never-“ he cuts you off.

“Save it. I have no interest in competing with the fucking spymaster. You are not worth the effort.” You visibly flinch at the harsh words and tears begin to form in your eyes, as he turns away. “I’ll see you around.” He mutters and leaves.

———

When you return to the dining room, Azriel is sitting there with a victorious smirk on his face, eating his dessert. One look at the rage in your eyes, and everyone else had the bright idea to leave you two alone.

“Are you happy now?” You holler.

“Kinda, yeah.” He says smugly. You let out a frustrated groan.

“You spiteful, ignorant, selfish male!” He laughs slightly at your outburst.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? Could Wesley not take a little joke?” He grins.

“He broke up with me because of your gods damn immaturity!”

“Good. You can do better, he doesn’t deserve you.” Azriel replies nonchalantly.

“What the hell is your problem? Is this because I ended things between us?” That causes him to freeze, dropping any amusement from his face.

“No.”

“It is, isnt it? Well guess who’s fault that was! You don’t date, you told me so yourself. And any time I tried to get closer to you, you put up walls and shut me out.“ you let out an exasperated sigh. “Even now, all you do is push me away. So you know what Azriel? I'm done. Whatever this is, it's done.”

“There’s nothing to end, we aren’t dating. We aren't even fucking anymore.” He spits coldly, but you see the hurt lacing his features, matching your own.

“Yeah, I got that. Loud and clear.” You murmur. “Stay the hell away from me from now on.” You growl before exiting the room, leaving Azriel alone.

———

You had not so much as looked at him in three weeks, and it was driving Azriel crazy. He had assumed that with your now ex-boyfriend out of the way, you would eventually turn to him to resume your previous friends-with-benefits situation. He couldn’t help but miss your company.

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys sat around the table at Rita’s drinking whiskey. As soon as Azriel began complaining about you again, Cassian rolled his eyes, finished his glass of whiskey, and stood up.

“I’m tired of hearing about this every damn day. I’m getting another drink.” He grumbles.

Azriel wasn’t sure why he was bothered so damn much that you were avoiding him. Sure, he had plenty of females offering him pleasure every time he went out in Velaris, there were two eyeing him from across the bar right now, but he didn’t want them.

“Honestly, what I miss most about her isn’t even the sex.” Azriel admits, slurring his words slightly as the alcohol takes effect in his system. Rhysand’s ears perk up at this admission. Previously, Azriel had only ever admitted to missing the consistent sex or complained that you were overreacting, but this was new. Rhys wondered if Azriel even realized what he was saying.

“What do you mean, brother?” Rhys probes.

“I miss the nights we spent talking. And how somehow she managed to know exactly what I needed, without me having to say it.” Azriel downs the rest of his drink. “I just want things to go back to the way they were. Like when she would fall asleep next to me and I would actually be able to quiet my mind enough for once to fall asleep too. Or when she smiled and I felt all warm inside. I don’t even know why I shut her out when she asked about becoming more. Maybe because it scares me.” Azriel prattles on, talking to himself more than Rhys.

“You love her, you idiot.” Rhys states, which immediately pulls Azriel’s focus.

“That’s not… don’t do that Rhys. Don’t put shit into my head.” Azriel says defensively. Cassian returns with another round of whiskey for everyone.

“What did Rhys do?” Cassian asks casually as he passes a glass to each of his brothers.

“I informed Az that he’s in love with y/n.” Rhys smirks and sips his whiskey.

“I’m not-“ Cassian cuts Azriel off.

“You totally are!” Cassian laughs. Azriel huffs out a breath and downs his whiskey in one big swallow. There was no use arguing with his brothers once their minds were made up.

“I gotta go.” Azriel mumbles and storms out the door. Rhys and Cass just exchange knowing glances.

———

You hear someone banging on your door late that evening. You want to say you’re surprised to see Azriel when you open the door, but no one else would bother you this time of night. You just look at him expectantly, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“I was wrong before. I should've never pushed you away when you said you wanted more. I was just scared of how I felt and scared of getting hurt by you. I’m sorry for being a dick and I’m sorry for ruining that dinner with your ex-boyfriend, I just couldn’t stand to see you with someone else. Please, give me another shot.” Azriel has such a hopeful look in his eyes, waiting for your answer.

“I told you I was done.” You say, trying your hardest to stay calm and collected.

“But I-“ he takes a deep breath. “But I love you. Please, give me a chance to make things right.” You pause, mind reeling at the admission. As much as you want to admit the same thing, you can’t afford to get hurt by him again, so you do your best to calm your racing heart and force the words out.

“It’s too late, Azriel. I’m sorry.” You shut the door quickly before you can give in, immediately letting your tears fall once it's closed.

———

More weeks passed, and you eventually decided that you had to stop wallowing in self-pity and try to move on again. Wesley might have not been the one for you, but surely someone out there is.

You had decided to go out to Rita’s with Mor and eventually found a decently nice male to talk to. You two chatted for a while, and as the end of the night drew closer, you decided to shoot your shot.

“So, I don’t really do this, but do you wanna come home with me?” You ask the male nervously.” The lights of the bar turn on, indicating that it’s closing time.

“Yeah I-“ he pauses, looking you over. His eyes go wide and he backs away. “No. I can’t go home with you. I should’ve never talked to you.” He hurries off quickly, almost seeming frightened.

You turn towards Mor with a confused look, trying to ignore the hurt you feel from the harsh rejection. Did you really look that different with the lights on, you wonder.

The next day, you were in your room telling Feyre about the night before, trying to understand what went wrong.

“I don’t get it, Fey. We were having such a nice conversation. I was sure that he would agree to come home with me. But as soon as the lights came on and he saw me, he ran off. I didn’t think I looked that bad in the light.” You complain, flopping back onto your bed. Feyre choked on her drink for a moment, seeming startled.

“He didn’t…” she mutters to herself, shaking her head.

“What?” You sit up, confused. Feyre gets a far-off expression, likely speaking to Rhys in her mind about something. “What is it Feyre?” You ask curiously. She groans.

“The other day I overheard Az and Rhys talking, and Azriel made a joke about how he could just threaten all the males in Velaris that they can’t go anywhere near you. I assumed he was kidding, but I just asked Rhys about it, and apparently he wasn’t.” Feyre explains awkwardly.

“Are you kidding me?” You yell as you shoot up off the bed and storm out your door, muttering some apology to Feyre about having to leave.

———

You put a city-wide ban on dating me?” You scream angrily as you storm into Azriel’s room, not bothering to knock.

“Yeah, I did.” Azriel smirks at you.

“What the fuck Azriel? You don't have some claim over me! Call it off.” You shout.

“No.” His firm, unyielding voice gives you goosebumps.

“Stop it with the territorial male bullshit. It won’t change anything, so call it off!” You try to keep up the anger in your voice, but as Azriel stalks closer, you lose your boldness.

“I’m not calling it off.” His voice is dangerously low.

“Why not?” You mutter. Azriel leans closer.

“Because eventually you will realize that you still want to be with me, and when you do I don’t want anyone getting in the way of that.” He whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver slightly.

“I told you before. I’m done.” You try to sound confident, but it doesn’t come out quite right.

“Sure you are. Whenever you decide you wanna change that answer, I’ll be here.” He says with a wink. As you leave you feel conflicted. This may be the most territorial male bullshit you have ever witnessed, but you can’t help but smile slightly, realizing that Azriel basically just publicly announced his feelings toward you.

———

You lasted two days without returning to visit Azriel. You had told yourself it was to yell at him some more, but deep down you knew it wasn’t. Azriel opens his door after hearing you knock and looks genuinely surprised to see you.

“You win. You managed to scare off any decent male in Velaris. So congrats, I’m all yours.” You concede reluctantly.

“It was never about winning, sweetheart.” He shuts the door behind you, caging you between him and the door. You look up at him earnestly.

“Then what was it about?” You ask.

“It’s about getting a second chance to prove to you that I was an idiot. It’s about the fact that I will spend every single day for the rest of my existence trying to prove to you that I love you, and praying to the Mother that you decide to let me show you.” He whispers, leaning closer. You look up at him, seeing that hopeful look in his eyes again.

“Just one more chance?” Your voice comes out so soft he almost doesn’t hear you.

“One more chance, I promise that’s all I’ll need. I don’t plan on ever doing anything to mess it up again.” He answers sincerely.

“Okay then.” He doesn’t get a moment to process that you agreed before you pull his face towards yours, closing the gap between your lips. He immediately pulls your body into his and runs his hands through your hair.

“Thank the gods.” He murmurs into the kiss. You pull away for a moment.

“By the way, I love you too, Az.”

yes that last little bit about the dating ban was inspired by the deal by elle kennedy, but i just thought that was so funny and i believe without a doubt that Az could threaten all of Velaris to stay away from you

prompt list

taglist: @fxckmiup

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #my writing

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Gavin Quotes

this man is just pure love given form istg. @xanyiaz as promised, it’s gav’s turn, ta daaa~

“You can. I know you can.”

“What? I took my shirt off that was his tip.”

“Yes, I just sexualized a building.”

“I’d make an incredible Princess Peach. I’m a vision in pink.”

“My love.”

“Tell your guidance counselor that Gavin says hello. And that I hope the stains came out of his shirt.”

“Deviant, hold me back, the joke’s writing itself.”

“I know perfectly well what a miicrowahvé is. I just don’t know how to operate it.”

“I don’t suppose you feel like sharing his address, in case I wanted to help him… ‘move on’ a little more quickly?”

“Like Empathy Daemon Caelum? Talks too fast, little horns, almost too-sweet Caelum?”

“Oh, nothing special, I just want to see if I can send Vega into orbit around his namesake.”

“But you don’t mind sucking hard?”

“I’ve tasted every kind of ecstasy that the people of this world can experience, but yours is the one that sets my heart on fire.”

“I know feelings. Even the ones I haven’t given myself a chance to feel. I love you. I have loved you. Tried to show it in the ways I knew how, even before I could admit the words to myself. I love you.”

“Oh come on, do-able can be a form of praise.”

“Maybe I don’t care who hears. As long as I get to.”

“When I’m with you, I feel like I’m home. More than that actually. Being with you changes what home means.”

“Oh no! Oh I just realized something, Deviant! I’ve never had to whisk a combination of egg yolks, water, oil, and vanilla before! I guess you’ll have to show me how, by coming up behind me, wrapping your arms around mine, and guiding my hands.”

“Well, as of this morning, the human population has decided to reverse their historical position and now defer to my judgment on what time it is. And I say it’s still bedtime.”

“Is this what they mean when they say relationships are about compromise? Pinning your partner in place until they agree, under duress, to carve out a few minutes of sleepy cuddling?”

“What an odd way to refer to Huxley.”

“You make me so very happy, Deviant. In ways I’d never given myself lease to imagine.”

“You are sin given form, aren’t you? Looking up at me like that. Perfection.”

“Nothing will stop me from keeping you safe.”

“You’re my sky, Deviant. The space between my stars. What I feel for you… in a lifetime of sensing the emotions of others, I never imagined I could feel like this. This much. And I am so grateful for it. And for you.”

“Oh 7/11, I owe you so much.”

“I do have a more… chaste idea. I know, the shock may kill you.”

“It’s sweet, Damien. You’re allowed to be sweet.”

“Yes, I am bad. But I’m very good at it. And I’m yours, my love.”

“What? I’m not grinning, I’m not doing anything. I don’t know what you could mean by that Deviant.”

“Yes, it belongs to you, my love. However you want it. However you’d like it.”

“Who says I can’t study laying down with my eyes closed?”

“I’m allowed to whine. It suits me.”

“Put me where you want me.”

“Well I’m the tooth fairy, can’t you tell?”

“Your scent teasing my senses… If that’s weird, then what the hell do you call what we did last night?”

“You burn rapture through my body, until my vision hazes… and haloes and bends. Like liquid.”

“Your touch ignites my stars.”

“I don’t think you feel gross.”

“Not our fault we’re forever surrounded by a bunch of tyrannical Puritans.”

“I don’t know how well I can pass for a ‘bro’, but I’ll bravely soldier on in Huxley’s honor.”

“Yes, baby.”

“You changed my life. You change it every day. You make me better. And I love you more than human words can convey.”

“There’s no such thing as a perfect match, there is no form of a relationship that doesn’t come with disagreement and effort, but the feelings we hold for one another and the work that we put in for one another are enough to weather any storm. And that’s the difference.”

“And what greater crime is there than to disappoint a rat? Maybe Huxley is wearing off on me after all.”

“‘Adult Pink Fruit Monarch’costume, here I come.”

“Yours is a soul that makes the stars shine brighter. And you’re beautiful for it. Always.”

#and basically the entirety of Your Incubus Confesses His Feelings (Again) While You Sleep #redacted gavin #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #bubbler’s top quotes

[jessicascharacterbananza]

Yandere Polyghostface- Too much sometimes

They were a lot to handle. Only sometimes, but those sometimes got the better of you. You couldn’t say what started it, the shitty day you’d had at school or the fact that plastered all over the news was yet another killing committed by none other than your boyfriends. But it was enough for you to have locked yourself in the bathroom, head leaning against the door and hands covering your face.

You had tried to muffle the sobs but they became too loud and soon enough both of your boys were trying to coax you out.

“Baby, come on let us in. We wanna help you sweetheart,” Billy says from the other side of the door. You continued to cry, his words almost seeming to make it worse.

“Hey sweetcheeks, if you come out I’ll let you wear one of my sweaters all night long. And I won’t even complain if you spill food on it like usual.” Stu’s comments made you giggle slightly however you were still very upset.

Whilst you appreciated their efforts of comfort it still didn’t feel right to you that the same guys begging you to unlock the door were the same guys that heard the begging of their victims but chose to ignore them.

“Come on darling, let us in, please” He sounded so vulnerable, so caring and wanting of you to let them help. You opened the door just enough for them to squeeze through, closing it again when they both sat down in front of you. You eyes stayed trained to the floor as Stu moved beside you and moved your head to rest on his shoulder. Billy grabbed your hands that had began playing with your trousers and wrapped them in his, tracing light circles on your skin.

“I’m sorry, I sh-“ you started but Billy interrupted.

“If your about to apologise for crying your going to be in trouble,” he says sternly, reminding you of one of their rules.

You can’t apologise for anything unless you have done something wrong. It was a habit you’d picked up, apologising for nothing so as one of the rules you were forbidden from doing so. Meaning if you disobeyed you would be punished which was definitely not what you wanted right now.

“What’s happened?” Stu asks, reaching his hand up to play with your hair. You sigh and lean into him more, a reflex.

“ I got overwhelmed today and when I saw everything on the news it got the better of me. I know it shouldn’t and I’m fine with what you guys do but when I hear about it in details every day I can’t help imagine you both differently,” you ramble, eyes scrunched shut. You hear Billy sigh and feel Stu tense.

“Are you scared of us?” Billy asks reaching towards you and pulling your chin up, forcing you away from the comfort of hiding in Stu’s neck.

“No,” you reply with hesitation. They don’t scare you, but what they do, that scares you.

“It all just gets too much sometimes,” you explain making eye contact with Billy. He nods slightly and looks over to Stu.

They both stand and Billy reaches out his hand to help pull you up off the tiled floor. You allow them to lead you to your shared bedroom and relax slightly as you see Stu got to his closet and pull out the sweater he had promised you.

“New rule, no more watching the news,” Billy says as Stu pulls the sweater over your head and giggles as your hair goes frizzy.

“I like that rule,” you reply, smiling at your lover boys.

They may be a lot to handle and sometimes you question if it’s worth it. But in moments like these when your wrapped in the arms of the boys closest to you, you know that every tear drop, every rule and every punishment is worth the affection they give.

It can get too much, but only sometimes.

#poly!ghostface #poly ghostface #polyamory #polycule #yandere #stu x billy #billy x reader #billy loomis #stu x reader #stu macher #stu matcher x you #scream 1996 #scream

[lanitalay]

Renegade  Eris x Rhysand's sister!reader

Summary: inspired By big Red Machine and Taylor's song Renegade, Reader can't stand to see Eris suffer.

Warnings: canon typical mentions of violence and injuries

There was nowhere for me to stay but I stayed anyway.

The High Lord’s sister wiped the tears from her eyes before they had a chance to fall. “Eris, please” she’s been pleading with him for so long. He continues pacing “the timing isn’t right, y/n.” She’s not surprised to hear him say that. The promise to overthrow his father so that they could finally be free was something he had said to her the moment the bond snapped, years ago. She looks away from him and out the window.

“It will never be right.”

Eris stops his pacing when he hears the telling quiver in her voice. “My love, I am trying to do everything right so when the time comes you’ll have a stable Court to call home.”

Snow is falling, covering the path to the small cabin near the Winter border. “If you are doing this for me then let me help you.” He walks over to where she is and wraps his arms around her waist. “It’s too dangerous,” he says softly, as if it would make his words less infuriating.

“You need help Eris, you can’t do it all on your own” she turns in his arms and continues “I can ask my brother for back up, Beron won’t stand a chance against half of Autumn and all of Night.” He rests his forehead on her shoulder “you forget he’s allied with Kier and the Court of Nightmares.”

She sags, and this time the tears fall freely. “Eris, I don’t know how much longer I can watch you kill yourself for him” she turns fully and brings her hand to his face. Today he has a gash on his cheekbone, it is already healing but when he showed up the blood covered half his face, flowing down his neck like a fountain. She ghosts her finger over the coagulated blood. “It hurts me more than you know.”

His eyes are closed. Soaking up her touch and wincing at her words. “I am getting closer every day” she retracts her hand at the empty promise.

“I need a timeline.”

He shakes his head “at least another year.” 

She was making soup on the crackling wood stove when Eris came in, dripping blood.

Beron was violent but never like this.

He tumbled in and collapsed on top of the kitchen table. Her stomach turned as she saw hundreds of jagged pieces of glass embedded in the skin of his back.

“Eris, stay awake. Tell me what happened.” She quickly got to work. Finding tweezers and a bowl to begin to take out the shards. “He was going to execute a farmer for stealing grain from the Court’s reserves and I stepped in,” he coughs, “later he called me to his office and he had a bed of broken glass waiting for me. Before I could block his attack he threw me into the pile.”

She cursed loudly. If she knew anything about how Beron deals out his punishments she was sure that once eris was on his back and rendered defenseless his sadistic fathers kept him down, stopping on his stomach with a heavy boot.

“I’ll be fine, love. Just get the glass out so it can heal”.

She takes out a piece so long it takes extra effort to not throw up. “It is not alright Eris, that male is a monster. I’ll kill him myself for this.” He winces as she pulls out another shard.

“You can’t.” She huffs,  “I can and I will”. Half an hour later she has removed every piece of glass from his back, she brings over a disinfectant tonic and gives him a rag to bite down on as she pours the liquid over his raw flesh. His groans of agony twist her heart in and she promises to herself that she will have Beron’s head.

Eris passes out half way through her stitching the bigger wounds shut so they heal faster. She packs snow on his back to help with the swelling and irritation of the trauma and sits down next to him. Running her fingers through his long, red hair and counting his freckles until the sun comes up and he wakes up. His back is better in the morning and he can move around with only a bit of soreness. She helps him bathe and put on fresh clothes.

He kisses her “I’ll be back.” Her hand grabs his before he can winnow “you need help Eris, last night was too close. If you hadn’t had the energy to winnow here you’d be dead or close to it.”

He kisses her hand and says “it was a mistake, but I’ll be fine” squeezing her hand once before leaving. 

The next time they see each other Eris thinks he will die. She was at the Forest House. He could barely breathe. Barely keep his mask on. Watching in horror as she is escorted to Beron's private quarters. Her gaze never meets his as she walks right in front of him and into the lion’s den. 

She had sealed off the bond, just like he had a million times before.

An hour after arriving, she left. 

That night, Eris winnowed to the cabin and found her leisurely reading a novel, he scoffed. “Are you insane?”

She doesn’t look up. “I’m reading.” He picks up the book. His eyes were raging with fire. “What was that?” She shrugged. “Y/n I’m serious, you could have a price on your head.” She yanked her book out of his grasp “I handled it.”

He pales. “What?”

“I handled it, by morning you’ll be High Lord.” He grabs her shoulders and looks in her eyes, hoping to see the glimmer of a lie. “It wasn’t time yet.” She rolls her eyes.

“Eris, he was going to kill you. You didn’t see just how close the glass had come to severing your arteries. He had no intention in keeping you around for long and I was not going to stand by and watch it happen.” She grabs his hand and brings it to her chest “you aren’t alone in this, I’m here. I’ll help you every step of the way. Your burdens are mine, remember?” Knowing that bridging their vows up would soften him. A reminder of their commitment to each other. “You’re not the first person to need somebody.” She kisses him and pours all her love down the bond, flooding him with it.

By morning it was a new age for the Autumn Court. News of Beron's death had spread like wildfire.

The villagers were saying he was cursed by a witch. Only y/n knew that his organs were torn up and ripped apart by a million microscopic shards of glass.

#acomaf #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acofas #acowar #jurian acotar #acotar fanfiction #lucien vanserra #acosf #rhysand #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #acotar fic #taylor swift

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

My Little Shadow: Epilogue/ Part fifteen (Azriel x Reader) Final Part

Warnings: OOF, jealous Elain, smut, smut AND MORE SMUT- Oral, F-receiving, fingering, shadow bondage play, and Y/N losing her virginity to her mate!

Part fourteen (I will be starting another series once the vote I started ends, you can find it here

Tag list: @mis-lil-red @bubybubsters @luvmoo @rorel1a @minakay @foreverrandomwritings Note! If any of you want to be on my Azriel tag list for *any* stories involving him, please message me! I'm still new to tag lists 😅

After healing, you and Azriel find some alone time, and talk about the future a little bit.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I felt cool hands wrap around my midsection, hugging me from behind.

Azriel pulled me into a hug, nuzzling my neck and breathing in my scent.  “Hello, what have you been up to?”  He asked in a pleased tone of voice.

I was told Rhys had found us in the hall, the both of us passed out from our injuries.

Apparently, the collapse had killed all those people following Meave, and of course Meave herself.

With Madja’s help, we had healed extraordinarily fast, almost none of my injuries had scarred over, healed over as if they had never been there in the first place.

Except for my hands, which now matched Azriel’s.

“Not much, just reading.”  I say with a grin, putting down the book I had been so invested in.

He chuckled, and I sighed sadly as he pulled away, taking his warmth with him.

“I’m going to have to go again, I’m needed at the townhouse.”  He said, petting my hair comfortingly.

I couldn’t help but to whirl around, biting my lip in worry.  “Will Elain be there?”  I ask, trying to seem less worried about it than I am, even though it’s a lost cause.

He frowns a bit, worry crinkling his brow.  “I promise you Y/N, there is nothing there.  I love you, and only you.”

I looked away, crossing my arms, I knew I looked pouty, but I didn’t care.  “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

Elain had been strange to me since Azriel and I announced the bond, and if I didn’t know any better she was purposely trying to make my life hard at times.

“I’m sorry my little shadow, but you know that you’re the only one I want, right?”  He said, smiling down softly at me.

I don’t know what spurs me, but I say with the utmost confidence, “Why don’t you show me then?”

His eyes go wide, and I immediately think I’ve gone too far, getting ready to run off and hide.

He pulls me forward and traps my mouth in his, kissing me deeply and exploring my mouth with his tongue.

I shiver as he pulls away, his eyes darkened with lust.  “When I get back shadow, I’ll show you exactly how much I want you.”

And with that he disappears, leaving me with my legs snapped shut tightly and hands shaking.

I make an effort to not think about Azriel while he's gone, one so I don’t worry about Elian, and two, so I don’t look flustered all evening.

I head down to the library, helping Nesta and Gwen with random chores.

“So what’s it like being mated to Azriel?”  Nesta asked as I lifted a particularly heavy set of books.

I tried not to blush as I flashed back to that look he had given me earlier, the way my breath had caught in my chest when he did.

“It’s nice.  I love him a lot.”  I said, hoping to quickly change the subject to something else.

“So you two have a plan to make the mating bond official then?”  She raised a brow, as if to ask me why I’d been holding out on her.

I blink in surprise.  “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Nesta smiles comfortingly.  “That’s fine, but you’re inviting me, no matter what you plan.”

I giggle, “Of course I will, I wouldn’t dream of leaving you out of something so important.”

Something so important that neither Azriel or I have brought up.

I was quiet after that, thinking of ways to bring it up to Azriel.  That I wanted to be his mate, for the rest of our immortal lives.

The edge of my mouth quirked up at the thought.  I think I would like that.

I had spent hours in the library with Nesta, and as I made my way back to the river house, I saw something in a storefront that made me stop in my tracks.

It was a lingerie shop.

Azriel and I hadn’t done anything of this sort yet, after everything that happened, I don’t think Azriel wanted to push me into something I wasn’t ready for.

Biting my lip, I look at the dark lacy set on the mannequin.

I made it back to the little place Azriel and I were calling home.  I paused in the doorway when I caught a fresh wave of his scent.

I grinned, sending my shadows out to look for him.

We had this game, him and I.  We would see who would hide from the other the best.

So while my shadows searched, as did I.  Though, I quickly realized he wasn’t in any of the main rooms.

“Az?”  I called out, giving up for today.

I just wanted him to hold me in his arms, tell me how much he loved me.

One of his shadows found me, gently wrapping around my wrist and tugging me upstairs.  Toward the bedroom.

My thighs clench together, and I take a deep breath, concentrating on getting up the stairs and finding Azriel.

The shadows tugged me toward my bedroom, the door already cracked.

Leaving me, they slid back into the room.  My shadows follow them in, and I’m standing there, biting my lip.

I finally step forward, opening the door to see Azriel lounging in my bed, book in hand.

He didn’t look up as I entered, and I realized he was reading one of the romance novels I had told him was my favorite.

“Hello Little Shadow, what took you so long?”  He asked, his voice low and seductive.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again, fussing with the end of my shirt.  “I was helping out at the library in the house of wind.  You’re not usually home this early.”

He stood, stalking over to me.  “After your request?  How could I leave you waiting?”  He asked, his breath hitting the shell of my ear, making me shiver.

His hands went to my waist, bringing me closer until we were touching.  “What do you want Y/N?”  He asked, his pupils wide with love as he brought a hand up to brush away a strand of hair.

“This.”  I gasped as his other hand grazed my side.  He must have smelled my arousal that was now pooling in my panties, because he grew taught, as if he was holding himself back.

“Hmmmm.”  He said, leaning down to nuzzle my neck.  I moved, granting him access as he planted kisses and little nips there, making me pant.

“I love you so much Y/N.”  He whispered into my skin, making my eyes roll into the back of my head, pressing my thighs together.

He went to move one of his beautiful hands down my pants, and one of my shadows wrapped around his wrist as I gasped, “Stop-”

Suddenly, he took his hand back, and stopped kissing my neck, his eyes wide in worry.  “Are you alright?  I’m so sorry- I-”

I shake my head.  “No- no.  That’s not it.”  I say, still breathing heavily.  “It’s just… I’ve never done… this, before.”

I swallow thickly, expecting him to look disappointed.  But instead, his eyes gain a predatory glint, which has me struggling to stay standing.

“If anything gets to be too much, you tell me, okay?”  He asks, half growling, and I nod.

He picked me up, and I straddled his waist, whimpering as I felt the hardness of him through the layers of clothes separating us.

I make a little noise of protest as he lifts me away, but he quickly places me on the bed, and I love the way he looks, towering over me with eyes only for me, tracing my form.

“Let's get these clothes off, hmm?”  He said, running his calloused thumb along my jaw and tipping my chin up.

I can’t help the sly smile on my face as I peel my shirt off, revealing the top part of the beautiful black lacy set I had bought on impulse.

The decision was a good one, I decide as I see Azriels face as he growls with desire.

I shimmy out of my pants, and Azriel helps, and he just stares at me for a minute afterward, taking it all in.

My cheeks turn red, and I realize he can see all me scars, ever single one.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen the ones littering my arms and legs, but this was different, I was more… vulnerable.

I go to sit up, but he leans forward, kissing me passionately as he runs his hands up the planes of my stomach.

“You’re so beautiful shadow, and I’m never going to let anyone else lay their hands on you again.”  He says after pulling back, and then he goes over and starts kissing where the tattoo from our bargain curls over my shoulder bone.

He undoes the latch on the bra, whipping it off and I gasp, melting into a moan as he lowers his mouth to my breast, taking my nipple into his mouth and rolling it gently with his tongue, teasing the other one with his hand.

He stayed there for a while, building me up until I just couldn’t stand it anymore, reaching for him.

I gasp as both my and his shadows wrap around my wrists, pinning them above my head.

Azriel looks up at me, grinning before he nips at my breast in reprimand.

“I’m gonna take my time with you baby, I’ma make you feel real good.”  He said at my whimper, trailing down and planting kisses as he reached the panties, taking his thumb and pressing lightly through the fabric, making me gasp as he hit that bundle of nerves.

Shadows slither around to my breasts, teasing me and leaving a cold trail in their wake.

Az pulls the panties off, and I have no time to react as he places his mouth on my wet heat, tasting me with little licks.

I moan, hips bucking as his thumb comes up to rub tight circles around my clit.

Even though I had never done this before, I knew that no one else would have ever been able to make me feel this good.

He pulled back, looking up at me as he licked his lips.  “Enjoying the show, shadow?”

Before I can respond, my eyes are rolling into the back of my head as he stuck a finger in me, pumping slowly.

He growled in pure satisfaction as he listened to the noises of pleasure I was making.

After a minute, he stuck another finger in, stretching me out blissfully as he placed his mouth on my clit, licking it teasingly before pulling it fully into his mouth, moaning around me in a way that made me see stars.

Pumping harder, he brought me over the edge, and I cried out his name in bliss, revealing in this new feeling.

He was softer as he pleasured me through the waves of pleasure crashing into me.

I was panting when he pulled away, his shadows freeing me.  He pulled me up against his chest, and looked down at me longingly.  “May I, shadow?”

I whimpered and nodded, and he took a step back, making quick work of undressing. 

My mouth went dry at the size of him.  I wondered if it would even fit, but I knew that I would make it.

He had beautiful tattoos on his chest, and when he stepped closer again, I traces them with my fingers lightly.

His wings flared slightly before they settled behind his back.

I smiled at the dark, beautiful male I could call my own.

“I want to make the bond official.”  I said, looking to his face to gauge his reaction.

His expression softened into something soft, and he smiled a little bit.  “Then we will.”  He said, gently nudging my legs open.

“I would do anything for you Y/N.  Anything to make you happy.”

I glow in his praise, and he slowly nudges at my entrance.  I gasp, wincing a little as he enters me slowly, stretching me out in all the right ways.

“Move.”  I beg, and he chuckles.

“I have to go slow, shadow.  Hold onto me.”  He says, and I wrap my arms around his neck as he slowly pulled out, and then pushed in all the way, making me moan lewdly.

He grinned against me neck as he did it again, and again, going just a little bit faster with each stroke.

I moaned as the shadows came back to my chest again, and azriel used his fingers on my clit as he shifted, hitting me even deeper than before.

“Azriel- Azriel, I’m gonna cum-”  I said through moans, barely able to think straight.

“Good.”  He growled, thrusting harder, if not a little less smooth as he neared his release too.

I spotted his wings, and I remember something Feyre had told me and grinned mischievously.  I reached a hand out, grazing his wings lightly until he gasped, groaning as he thrust into me hard, and we both toppled over into bliss together.

After we rode it out, I shivered and let out another moan as he pulled me off, carrying me into the bathroom to get us cleaned up.

He set me on the counter and started a bath running, and I couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles shifted under his beautiful skin.

He noticed and chuckled, coming back over to place a kiss on my forehead.  “What type of mating celebrations would you like, darling?”  He asked, and I grinned.

I really did have him wrapped around my finger, didn’t I?

“I’m not sure yet, but Nesta sort of invited herself, so I guess we’ll have to invite your brothers and her sisters too.”

He huffed a laugh, pressing a feather light kiss onto my puffy lips.  “We have all the time to decide my little shadow, and I’ll love whatever you decide.”

“Because I love you.”

#a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #a court of wings and ruin #acotar #acowar #reader x azriel #azriel acotar #y/n x azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #y/n x shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #shadowsinger #shadows #sarah j maas #nesta acosf #acosf #nesta #nesta acotar #nesta archeron #elain archeron #elain acotar #night court #velaris #azriel x you #azriel smut

[edenmemes]

andor sentence starters

❝ i don’t like seeing you nervous. ❞ ❝ the risk of doing nothing becomes the greatest risk of all. ❞ ❝ i’m gonna do us a favor and not mention this happened. ❞ ❝ you’re gonna get us both in trouble. ❞ ❝ i’m not moving. you want it, you take it and i walk away. ❞ ❝ if it’s not important, why not tell me? ❞ ❝ don’t tell anybody you saw me. don’t tell anybody you know where i am. ❞ ❝ you don’t look so good. ❞ ❝ you need to get as far away from here as you can. ❞ ❝ you're like me. we were born in a hole. all we know is climbing over somebody else to get out. ❞ ❝ it’s all about you, isn’t it? it’s always all about you. ❞ ❝ ah, you’ve remembered how to mock me. ❞ ❝ that’s as close to an apology as you’re gonna get. ❞ ❝ maybe we should quit while we’re ahead. ❞ ❝ welcome. and just in time for dinner. ❞ ❝ there’s no way out alive. of that you must be sure. ❞ ❝ my anger, my ego, my unwillingness to yield, my eagerness to fight...they've set me on a path from which there is no escape. ❞ ❝ i'm struggling to understand why my faith doesn't calm me. i believe in something. why am i so unsettled? ❞ ❝ you don’t have to worry about me anymore. ❞ ❝ i thought you left without me. ❞ ❝ you have a different path, and i’m not judging you. ❞ ❝ it’s better you don’t know. ❞ ❝ you’re avoiding the question. ❞ ❝ hey. you know something i don’t? ❞ ❝ i told you, i’m doing everything i can. ❞ ❝ you might as well wear a sign that says, "i promise to disappoint you." ❞ ❝ you’re bleeding on my floor. ❞ ❝ you knew where this was going. you’ve always known. ❞ ❝ i need to hear you tell me you can follow the plan. ❞ ❝ pull yourself together, all right? ❞ ❝ this time...you can’t stay, and i can’t go. ❞ ❝ i burn my decency for someone else's future. i burn my life to make a sunrise that i know i'll never see. ❞ ❝ i said i know you. i know all about you. ❞ ❝ why don’t we do something fun tomorrow night? ❞ ❝ i knew i could count on you. ❞ ❝ i am going to ask you a question. i expect an honest answer. ❞ ❝ i yearned to be a savior against injustice without contemplating the cost and by the time i looked down, there was no longer any ground beneath my feet. ❞ ❝ that’s cold. even for you. ❞ ❝ you’ll stay with me. i need all the heroes i can get. ❞ ❝ i’m thinking clearly and you’re not. ❞ ❝ is that your defence? you’ve been ‘careful’? ❞ ❝ any civilized being knows an open invitation is no invitation at all. ❞ ❝ rule number one: never carry anything you don’t control. ❞ ❝ what’s the hurry? got some place to be? ❞ ❝ you come all this way to scold me? ❞ ❝ i’d never lie to you. ❞ ❝ you’re not here to save anybody but yourself. ❞ ❝ what, not happy to see me? ❞ ❝ i’ve never loved anyone the way i love you. ❞ ❝ i won’t have peace. i’ll be worried about you all the time. ❞ ❝ turning back will be impossible. ❞ ❝ there’s no room for doubt on the path to success. ❞ ❝ two guys jumped me. it went too far. ❞ ❝ you fall here, you fall alone. ❞ ❝ i’m just saying out loud what you already known. ❞ ❝ you love me because i show you what you need to see. ❞ ❝ it’s just me against everybody else. ❞ ❝ you don’t want to hear what happened? ❞ ❝ hey. i won’t forget this. ❞ ❝ you think it’s hopeless, do you? freedom? independence? justice? ❞ ❝ no one’s more at risk than i am. ❞ ❝ you wanted to leave? this is what it comes to. ❞ ❝ what are you staring at? ❞ ❝ we’ll die with nothing if we don’t put aside our petty differences. ❞ ❝ you’ll make an effort tonight if it kills you. ❞ ❝ i write when i can’t sleep. ❞ ❝ you haven’t been listening to me, have you? ❞ ❝ us? i don’t know you. ❞ ❝ i’m not gonna put my people at risk for someone else. ❞ ❝ your father’s looking for you. ❞ ❝ why would i go anywhere with you? ❞ ❝ i'm glad you’re here. no matter what the reason. ❞ ❝ that’s what a reckoning sounds like. you want it to stop, but it just keeps coming. ❞ ❝ come on. we need to get out of here. come on. ❞ ❝ being a leader isn’t just something you can turn on and off. ❞ ❝ it’s been a day of surprises for all of us. ❞ ❝ you lived because you ran. ❞ ❝ i imagine that no matter what you tell me or tell yourself, you'll ultimately die fighting these bastards. ❞ ❝ you think i haven’t thought this through? i’d be the first one to fall. ❞ ❝ wouldn't you rather give it all at once to something real than carve off useless pieces till there's nothing left? ❞ ❝ you’re wasting energy. you know i’m right. ❞ ❝ i just want what’s mine. ❞ ❝ must everything be boring and sad? ❞ ❝ you have a problem, you come to me. ❞ ❝ i’m starting to think we’re in over our heads. ❞ ❝ everyone has their own rebellion. ❞ ❝ can one ever be too aggressive in preserving order? ❞ ❝ the day before is always hard. too much time to worry. ❞ ❝ don’t touch me. ❞ ❝ i wake up every day to an equation i wrote fifteen years ago from which there's only one conclusion, I'm damned for what i do. ❞ ❝ i’m just trying to clear my name. ❞ ❝ working with other people is never easy. ❞ ❝ just being in your presence...i've realized that life is worth living. ❞ ❝ do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in right now? ❞ ❝ i knew you were lying. i knew it. ❞ ❝ losing hope? your mind? keep it to yourself. ❞ ❝ must everything be boring and sad? ❞ ❝ the axe forgets, but the tree remembers. ❞ ❝ perhaps my deranged belief that there was something better fated for me in the future was a dream worth clinging to. ❞ ❝ i’m not here for career advice. ❞ ❝ there’s a difference between fear and losing your nerve. ❞ ❝ you’re slouching. is that how you present yourself to the world? ❞ ❝ perhaps you should have a rest. ❞ ❝ i didn’t deserve what happened. ❞ ❝ you should go. i didn’t realize how late it was. ❞ ❝ i’d forgotten how sensitive you can be. ❞ ❝ you’re lucky to be alive right now. ❞ ❝ so, that’s it? that’s why you’re here? revenge? ❞ ❝ you can wear a ball gown if you’d like. ❞ ❝ this is the last place you should be. ❞ ❝ so much going wrong, so much to say, and all of it happening so quickly. ❞ ❝ it’s easier to hide behind forty atrocities than a single incident. ❞ ❝ what were you gonna do if i wasn’t here? ❞ ❝ i’ve been worried you might do something like this. ❞ ❝ don’t you dare talk to me like that. ❞ ❝ the very worst thing you can do right now is bore me. ❞ ❝ if you’re not willing to risk your conscience, then surrender and be done with it. ❞ ❝ we’ve come a long way from where we started. ❞ ❝ i show you the stone in my hand, you miss the knife at your throat. ❞ ❝ people blame you for what happened. ❞ ❝ i think about you constantly. ❞ ❝ i dreamt you came back. ❞ ❝ you pull in the net and the easy thing, the quick thing, is to assume that everything you've dragged to shore is a fish. ❞ ❝ i should...i should say thank you. ❞ ❝ i've given up all chance at inner peace. i've made my mind a sunless space. i share my dreams with ghosts. ❞ ❝ don’t die until you put up a fight. ❞ ❝ you came here to kill me, didn’t you? ❞ ❝ i’ve been shamed enough for one night. ❞ ❝ if you wanna say something, you should say it now. ❞ ❝ i would rather die trying to take them down than giving them what they want. ❞ ❝ is that meant to scare me? ❞ ❝ i’ve been turning away from the truth i wanted not to face. ❞ ❝ you’re bleeding. ❞

#roleplay meme #roleplay starters #rp meme #rp starters

[seijorhi]

Scion

yakuza arranged marriage anyone??

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

wc 8.5k

tw dubcon, noncon, drug use, mentions of murder, torture, minor character death, implied infidelity, human trafficking, blood, general yandere themes, smut, nsfw

“You know we’re not actually in a relationship, right?”

Oikawa grins, “The big, sparkly diamond ring I’ve got in my back pocket begs to differ.”

You fix him with an unimpressed look, which only serves to make his grin widen. He really can’t help himself when you get all worked up like this. 

“I’m serious, Oikawa. Ring or no ring. Contract or no contract, I think it’s better for the both of us to just act like–”

“Act like this isn’t happening?”

“That’s not– you’re being difficult,” you huff. “I just meant that we don’t need to pretend to be all… coupley in the meantime. You’re free to see and do whatever you want, and… and so am I.”

It’s not a question exactly, there’s something distinctly uncertain in your tone. Are you seeking his permission or trying to reaffirm to yourself that you still have some semblance of freedom – romantic or otherwise – until the moment you walk down the aisle to bind yourself to him?

Neither thought sits particularly well with him, though before Oikawa can open his mouth to deliver a retort, you’re cutting him off. “And I’m not wearing the ring.”

“No? But I haven’t even shown it to you yet. I picked it out myself, and you know I have excellent taste.”

Your scowl deepens. “Would it kill you to take this seriously?”

“Like you are?” he parries. “You understand that you’re essentially giving me a free pass to fuck whoever I want while we’re engaged.”

He doesn’t miss the flicker of distaste that you try (and fail miserably) to hide. You’ve always been like that; wearing your emotions on your face, bare as the light of day. And while that’s an admirable trait in somebody else – one he admittedly finds more endearing than he should as far as you’re concerned – it won’t do you any favours in this world of his. The world you were born into, loathe as you seem to be to accept your part in it.

Admittedly, it does make it so very entertaining whenever he decides to push those delightful buttons of yours.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself perhaps, and lift your gaze to meet his. 

“I don’t know why you even agreed to marry me, and honestly I don’t care. I'm doing this for my family, but if this whole thing falls apart before I ever make it down the aisle, I’ll sleep just fine. So by all means, fuck whoever you want, whenever you want, I promise you I won’t stop you – so long as you hold up your end of the bargain.”

Though you never raise your voice, there’s a fire that burns in your eyes, unwavering. Unflinching. And far from being put off by it, Oikawa’s thrilled. 

“Fine,” he purrs, “but you’ll be wearing the ring.”

—

You’d asked for a year, and graciously, he’d agreed. 

Oikawa’s waited a long, long time for this, another twelve months will hardly make a difference. Besides, there’s nothing stopping him from stealing you away every now and then; there’s meetings with the wedding planner, picking out a venue, organising caterers, going over the guest lists – all responsibilities he could technically pass off to someone else, but why deny himself the pleasure of your sparkling company when he has the chance? 

And of course, there’s special occasions that people would traditionally want to celebrate with their soon to be spouses. Days like today; his 30th birthday. 

He doesn’t bother informing you of this, because then he’d miss out on seeing your bright, sunny grin when you open the door, and how it falters when you realise that it’s him. 

“Oh, Oikawa…”

Though it’s an admittedly poor effort, he’ll give you credit for trying to pretend that it’s not blatant disappointment leaching from your tone as you grip the edge of the door, your gaze darting over his shoulder quickly.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Ah. His eyes drift downwards, taking in the short, summery dress, the light sweep of makeup across your pretty face. Spies the ‘fuck me’ heels sitting by the door, ready for you to slip on before you leave. 

Date night, then. And on his birthday no less.

“Did you have plans?” he asks, plastering an innocent smile across his face. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

The answer is obviously yes, even if it weren’t clear from your outfit, he can see it written all over your expression. 

Your fingers tighten a fraction on the door, “I assumed– I thought tonight you’d be out with your… friends.” Friends, bodyguards, lieutenants, brothers. His family, soon to be yours. “To celebrate, I mean. Today’s your birthday, right?”

Oikawa’s touched that you remember. Then again, perhaps he shouldn’t be – ever since he was a teenager, your father had essentially enforced your presence (yours and your brother’s) at any of their events, birthday celebrations no exception. 

Another glance risked over his shoulder.

He shrugs easily, “We will be, later. For now I want you all to myself.”

You open your mouth, only to abruptly snap it shut, suddenly hesitant. Not without cause, he supposes. One thing to insist that your engagement with him doesn’t construe a proper relationship, another to openly admit you’re seeing somebody else while it’s his ring that glitters on your finger. 

His smile widens. “Unless you have somewhere else to be?”

“… Not at all.” 

Good girl. 

He takes you to his favourite restaurant in the city. Wraps an arm low around your back and lets his thumb rub slowly – posessively – at your hip when the staff bow deeply and address him by name, ushering you both to a private room, his usual, out the back. 

You’re quiet through dinner, picking at the food on your plate.

Normally it’d irritate him, push him to poke and prod until you came alive and played with him, however tonight he finds it oddly satisfying. Delightful, if only because he knows he’s the cause of your discomfort.

Did you manage to message your jilted lover before he swept you away for the night, or does the poor bastard think you’ve stood him up, he wonders.

“You know,” he begins, idly gazing down at his glass as he swirls the last dregs of whiskey, “I’ve been thinking that we need to amend our contract.”

You glance up sharply, and he only barely resists snickering. “What?”

“I think we should add a fidelity clause.” He pauses, lets the words sink in as he drains his glass in a single mouthful, “You seemed convinced I’d be fucking other people after we married, well, now you don’t have to worry.”

You blink. “But… I told you I didn’t care–”

“This way, if you catch me being unfaithful, both our marriage and the contract become null and void, and you can go on your merry way.”

Setting the now empty glass back on the table, Oikawa rests an arm on the back of his chair. For all your naivety, you’ve never been stupid. He can tell from the sudden tight, apprehensiveness in your features that you understand the subtle threat, yet it never hurts to hammer the point home, “Of course, that goes both ways, sweetheart.”

“Of course,” you echo back, your voice unsteady, and knock back the last of your wine.

Oikawa grins, “Another round?”

—

“Her brother’s outside,” Matsukawa informs him. “Demanding to see you.”

The night before his wedding, Oikawa stands at the sink of his bathroom, a damp face cloth in hand, wiping at the blood splattered along his face and neck. He’s already shed his shirt, dumped it on the floor – it’s likely beyond salvaging, the blood already in the process of drying. Another casualty to this lifestyle, though considering how much of a colossal fuck up this night’s already been, he can’t find it within himself to give a shit about one measely shirt.

Mattsun meets his gaze in the mirror, “Want me to get rid of him?” he asks.

Oikawa exhales, dropping the towel into the sink. His tattoos, the vibrant bursts of colour inked between swirling blacks and greys, stand stark against the pale skin of his torso, rising and falling with each measured breath. There’s a temptation for him to tell Mattsun to simply get rid of him. An even bigger temptation to march out there himself and soothe the monster raging beneath his skin with more blood. 

Instead, he holds out a hand, to which Hanamaki quickly passes him a clean shirt to shrug on.

“No. Let him in.”

In truth, he’d been somewhat expecting a visit tonight, sending your brother to grovel for last minute clemency, though? Oikawa’s almost disappointed, he expected more from you.

Your glowering brother isn’t nearly as pretty to look at.

A few minutes later, dressed and clean, Oikawa makes his way into his study, ignoring the man already seated while he settles himself into the leather backed chair behind his desk. His right hand, Iwaizumi, lingers by the door, arms folded across his chest, scowling silently at their guest.

“Oikawa,” he grits out, his head inclining just a fraction – all the respect he can seem to muster for the man marrying his sister. His soon to be Oyabun, considering that after tomorrow, all that he was poised to inherit becomes Oikawa’s. 

His answering smirk is practically vulpine. “Come to play white knight? Leaving it a bit late, don’t you think?”

“She doesn’t know I’m here,” he spits, eyes narrowing. “Tell me what I need to do to end this.”

“And what makes you think I’d be interested in that?”

And Oikawa has to give him credit; he doesn’t waste a beat, “Because you’re a greedy little fuck who enjoys manipulating people. Stop playing games and tell me what it is you want in exchange for breaking this engagement, and I’ll go.”

He laughs, lazily drumming his fingers along the edge of the ornate, wooden desk. “Always a charmer, Eita. I’m curious, though, are you here begging for her sake, or your own? Because you know as well as I do what’ll happen to you and your father if this wedding doesn’t go ahead.” There’s nothing kind in his expression as his lips curl upwards, “Is the price worth it?”

“God, you’re an asshole.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.” 

Eita’s eyes narrow. “You know she hates this, right? Wants absolutely nothing to do with any of it. She had to beg our father for months just to be allowed to attend a normal school, and flat out refused to have any part in the business, to even be in the same room when it was being discussed – which was fine because he had me to do all that.”

“The prodigal son,” Oikawa mocks, earning himself a sneer in response.

“She wanted out, and we were so close to convincing him when he had to go fuck everything up. And because he’d spent years making bad decision after bad decision, running our family into the ground and then decided to screw over the wrong syndicate, he comes crawling to you, begging for help.”

“Such gratitude, as always.”

Eita scoffs, “Am I supposed to be grateful? It wasn’t enough to take over our territory and operations, was it? You had to take her too, and because she for some fucking reason loves the old bastard, she’s going along with it. I don’t give a shit about losing any of it, but she’s not gonna throw her life away for his sake, or mine. So I’ll ask you again, Oikawa; what do you want in exchange for letting her out of this?”

Interesting. Nothing he didn’t technically already know, or at least suspect, nevertheless… interesting. And with glittering eyes he leans in close. Smirks. 

“As tempting an offer as that may be, I have everything I want.”

—

As the head of one of the largest Yakuza syndicates in the country, a small wedding was never an option. Hundreds of guests pour into the estate, all with the sole purpose of witnessing the two of you tying the knot in a beautiful, lavish ceremony. And it is a beautiful, lavish ceremony. Champagne towers and endless floral garlands falling between the glittering chandeliers, a string quartet plays as the wedding procession begins. 

Your dress was technically the only thing he hadn’t had a hand in. He’d wondered earlier, staring at his reflection as he fixed the cuffs of his tuxedo jacket, what kind of wedding gown you’d chosen for yourself. After all, despite you agreeing to this marriage, you’d made no secret of your ambivalence towards the entire day, only giving input when Oikawa prodded.

There was always a possibility you’d choose something plain and dull, simply because you didn’t care enough to pick otherwise. As you walk down the aisle on your father’s arm, however, he realises he needn't have worried. 

You’re perfect.

Heart-stoppingly beautiful in ivory lace and tulle, and though Iwa leans over, claps him on the shoulder and says something in his ear, Oikawa can’t hear a word of it. Can’t focus on anything – anyone – but you. 

And your eyes are shining for all the wrong reasons, and yet he can’t bring himself to care when the elder Semi places your trembling hand in his. A perfect fit.

From there, the rest of the ceremony passes in a blur. Vows are spoken, yours somewhat apprehensively, and rings exchanged, and when the time comes to kiss his lovely bride, Oikawa obliges, his arm snakes around your waist and pulls you flush against him, dipping you to a flurry of raucous cheers and clapping.

You stand dutifully at his side as the hoard of well wishers come to congratulate him – the both of you, technically – and pay their respects, saying little beyond the expected pleasantries. All the while his thumb strokes along the back of the hand you have placed in his. 

Cocktails. Dinner. Toasts. The cutting of the cake. Tossing your bouquet. Necessary traditions expected of you both, Oikawa suffers patiently through each of them until finally, it comes time for the two of you to leave.

The moment he has you alone, in the backseat of the wedding car, the last frayed tether of his self control snaps, and he’s on you.

Leaning across the seat, one hand cups the back of your neck, anchoring you in place as his parted lips crash greedily against your own, the other pulls at your skirt, blindly seeking the what awaits him beneath.

Oikawa can taste the notes of champagne on your lips, the sweet tartness of the chocolate dipped strawberries he watched you swipe from the dessert table before you left. Will your cunt taste as sweet, he wonders, his tongue sliding into your mouth in search of more.

“Tooru,” you gasp when he eventually draws back, a thin strand of spit connecting your mouths as you struggle to catch your breath. “Wait, just–”

“No,” he growls, tightening his grip and dragging you back in. 

The force of it, his kiss, the weight of him bearing down on you has you sliding awkwardly back in the seat ‘til you’re almost horizontal. Despite that, you make no further attempts to dissuade him, letting him kiss you senseless. 

Letting him ruck up your skirt and run his fingers along the seat of your lace panties.

Maybe because you know it’s pointless to fight when Oikawa’s made it clear has no interest in stopping or slowing down, maybe because you knocked back one too many glasses of champagne at the reception, or because you’re getting swept up along with it too – he doesn’t care for the reasons. 

He’s been waiting all day to finally have you, and for years before that, and now that you’re irrevocably his, Oikawa fully intends on taking – and enjoying – what he’s owed. 

The drive is fifteen minutes from the reception to the hotel, and by the time the driver pulls to a stop out front, Oikawa’s sliding those same panties off your smooth legs, pocketing them with a wicked grin. “Ready, sweetheart?” he purrs.

A little dazed, a little drunk, you only manage an unsteady nod, taking your husband’s proffered hand to step from the car and hastily adjust your dress, smoothing out any wrinkles. A waste of time, in his opinion, considering what he has planned for you, still, sort of cute, in its own way.

The clerk behind the counter is friendly enough, smiling politely and congratulating the two of you as he passes across the keys to the honeymoon suite. The second the doors to the elevator slide closed, Oikawa’s on you again, shoving you back against the mirrored wall, latching onto your neck, sucking and nibbling on the delicate flesh and palming at your tits as you throw your head back and heave a breathy sigh. 

Your wedding dress, beautiful as it is, doesn’t make it much further than the front door, Oikawa’s fingers scrabbling to rip open the fastenings at the back, buttons scattering across the floor as it yields to him. And he’s enough of a gentleman to help you out of the wreckage of your dress, though he makes no effort to hide the way he stares hungrily, eyes darkening as you’re bared completely before him. 

The curve of your breast, nipples peaking from arousal, those lovely, soft thighs he’s been waiting to dig his fingers into, the pretty little pussy you shyly try to hide from him, glistening from his earlier attention–

His cock twitches in anticipation. 

Fuck.

“No bra?” he teases, as if his voice hasn’t dropped an octave at the sight of you. “And here I was looking forward to unwrapping my pretty bride on our wedding night.”

He watches your brow furrow as the soft dig works its way through your tipsy haze, and before you can let yourself get upset by it, Oikawa grabs you again. Kisses your lips fleetingly and grings, tugging you towards the bed covered in rose petals, shrugging off his tuxedo jacket and tossing it aside as he does so.

“Lie down for me,” he commands, working on the buttons of his shirt, his bow tie already lost somewhere in the fray. “On your back.”

Obediently you settle on the mattress, propped up on your elbows as he sheds that too. Through glazed eyes you stare at him. At his bared chest–

No, he realises belatedly. You’re staring at his tattoos, your eyes trailing from his forearm to his bicep, rounding his shoulder and down his pectoral, following the snarling red dragon that curls up his right arm, the oni and the twin snakes baring their fangs on the left.

This is the first time you’ve seen them, yes, but they shouldn’t come as a surprise. Both your brother and father have their own, it’s the mark of the Yakuza, and yet you seem entranced by his, staring at them with something akin to wonder. 

“See something you like?” he asks, chuckling when you pointedly ignore him.

His ego stroked, he settles down on his knees at the foot of the bed. Holding you by your hips, Oikawa hauls you forward, ignoring your startled squeak, and nudges your thighs further apart. Licks his lips and lifts his lust darkened eyes to meet your own.

He watches you inhale, a flutter of trepidation teasing at the edges of your expression.

All you can seem to manage is a shaky, “Please.”

And he doesn’t know if you’re asking him to stop, or slow down or if it’s a plea for him to hurry up and get on with it. Again, it hardly matters – he has no intention of letting up tonight.

Leaning in, his nose skims along your inner thigh before he comes face to face with your pussy. Warm and glistening, clit nice and puffy, he’s waited long enough to taste you. 

His mouth descends, tongue dragging along your pussy with broad strokes that have you gasping, jerking in his hold. It’s not the sweetness of your lips, still, there’s something heavenly about the taste of your cunt, the soft, feminine musk that envelops him. He moans against your sex, the vibrations drawing another whimpering breath as your hips arc up, gently rolling against his face in search of more friction.

Fuck that’s hot. 

Oikawa teases at your clit, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth, sucking gently, letting the very tip of his tongue flick at it, before returning to lap at your folds. 

“T-Tooru–”

A moan slips from you, your hips bucking as his tongue delves deeper, pushing between your slick folds, sucking and slurping, waggling his tongue back and forth to drive you to the point of madness. Your hands fist at the white sheets, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to try and stifle all of your pretty noises while he eats you out, tits heaving with every stuttered breath. 

Now that just won’t do. 

Adjusting his grip, Oikawa breaks away and instead brings his fingers to your cunt, teasing at your lower lips, before finally sliding two fingers inside of you with a smirk. 

And your pussy’s so wet, so fucking needy, clinging to the digits as they slowly stretch your tight little hole out. It’s not enough. He knows it’s not enough, sees the frustration pinching at your face every time you chase his fingers when they withdraw. He can’t resist holding out just a little while longer, though.

Call it male pride, the twisted satisfaction that coils deep in his guts at the sight of you desperate and fighting against yourself to beg him for what you truly want– and he hasn’t even started fucking you yet. 

“You wanna cum, don’t you baby?” he croons softly, “Just tell me what my pretty little wife needs.”

It takes a minute or two of that slow, agonising pace, but as you writhe and whine and jerk against his hold, finally your pride gives way. “Please!” you pant. “Please Tooru, more. I-I need more. Just hurry up and fuck me!”

He chuckles darkly, curling his fingers inside of you to rub at your g-spot as he leans down and resumes sucking at your neglected clit. 

Whatever his wife wants. 

—

Oikawa takes a slow drag of his cigarette, the tip glowing cherry red in the dark, and exhales into the cool night air.

“Whose?” he asks.

Iwa shrugs, “Dunno yet. Mattsun reckons one of the Osaka assholes trying to cut into our territory. So far they aren’t talking.” 

Oikawa’s attention shifts for a moment. Sure enough, the last two gang members have been dragged off to have a chat with Makki and Matsukawa. The latter of the two currently straddling one of them, beating him into the ground, Makki tightly gripping the other’s face forcing him to watch. 

There’s nothing but cold certainty in his voice when he simply says, “They will.”

He drops the cigarette to the ground and grinds the smoldering embers beneath the heel of his shoe. Without another word he strides into the warehouse – a makeshift den. 

The bodies haven’t been touched yet, lying where they fell in pools of congealing blood, scattered bullet casings littering the ground around them. Oikawa pays them no mind. Instead he glances at the pallets strewn across the warehouse floor, brick upon brick of drugs, cocaine, meth, bundled baggies of non-descript little pills. More than he can count, at any rate.

And there’s cases of weapons too. Nothing flash or fancy, but guns are guns, and Oikawa’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Iwa’s silent beside him, gazing around the room with a shrewd look in his eye, likely trying to calculate the street value of it all.

Ever the businessman. 

Oikawa smirks.

Drugs will sell no matter what they’re cut with. It’s impossible to tell the quality by sight alone – retrieving his switchblade from his jacket pocket, he slices one of the bricks open, dips a finger in and swipes it along his gums. 

It takes only a second for that familiar rush of euphoria to wash over him, a pleasant shiver rolling down his spine. He grins. “It’s good. Pure.” A glance to Iwa, watching at his side, “How much?”

“Gotta be more than 300 pounds here.”

And fuck if he doesn’t like the sound of that. Oikawa whistles, unable to hide the smug satisfaction on his face. 

“There’s girls too,” Yahaba, one of his men, says, stalking in from the back. “Mad Dog’s with ‘em.”

Five of them, he counts when he follows his lieutenant, huddled up out by the rear entrance, cringing away from the scowling blond who looks as if he’d love nothing more than to tear them apart, one after the other. 

Part of the shipment, or merely entertainment, he wonders. 

He steps closer, grabs one of the girl’s faces and forces it upwards, tilting it this way and that, studying her like a prize mare at auction. Clear eyes. Clean hair. No sign of bruising under the thickly applied – now smudged – makeup. Girls fresh off the proverbial boat tended to be drugged to high heaven to keep them compliant. 

Even their clothes, the scraps they still have on at least, point towards a more established lifestyle. 

Escorts, no doubt, brought along by the men for some entertainment while they guarded their stash before transport.

Shoving her away, Oikawa exhales, bringing his hand to his chin as he ponders the options. 

Nobody will miss the girls if he orders Kyoutani and Yahaba to kill them. Either they’re owned by the same people who shipped in the drugs and the weapons, in which case their deaths’ll be chalked up to being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or they have a pimp, who beyond the loss of income, won’t give a shit. 

No one kicks up a fuss over a few dead whores.

And even if they did, Oikawa owns the working girls in this city, this is his fucking turf. They should know better than to send their girls out here. 

Yahaba and Kyoutani are both watching him carefully, awaiting the order. They wouldn’t so much as blink if he told them to cut the girls down right where they stood. 

If he were feeling particularly generous, he could let them go, run on back home to whatever brothel they crawled out of. Unfortunately for them, he’s all too aware that the only things girls like them are quicker to open than their legs are their mouths, and that just won’t do.

At the end of the day, though, a whore’s a whore; they’ll make money one way or another. Even the ugly ones. 

“Take them back to Hirama’s, she’ll find work for them. Who knows, Mad Dog,” he says, throwing his enforcer a wry grin and a wink, “If you’re lucky, she might even let you fuck one of them first.”

The blond scowls, even under the flickering lights he can’t hide the pink flush that stains his cheeks. 

Iwa raises an eyebrow, snickering at Kyoutani’s expense, “You think so? I thought she was still pissed at him for breaking the last one.”

“Mad Dog just likes to play rough, that’s all,” he smirks. “Hirama knows that, and besides, she owes me a favour.”

The girls are already out of his mind as he turns to leave, carrying on his conversation with Iwa. Tonight’s endeavours have been surprisingly fruitful – enough that he can’t justify being pissed off at getting called away in the middle of fucking his wife.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t itching to return.

He’s almost at the warehouse door when a clamour breaks out behind him. Yahaba curses, a few of the girls shout, and there’s a gasped “Wait!” called out. 

Oikawa whirls to find one of the escorts, a slight blonde with painted red lips and wide doe eyes, ducking out from under Kyoutani’s outstretched arm. 

She ignores the snarl from Kyoutani, the pistol Iwaizumi instinctively whips out, focused wholly on him as she grabs at his arm and clings to it, presses her lithe, scantily clad body close, “Wait,” she says, tears glimmering in her eyes even as she tries for a convincing sultry look, “Don’t send me away, I– we could–”

He doesn’t wait to hear what the two of them could do, backhanding her hard enough that she sprawls to the ground with a ugly cry. 

“Whores don’t get to touch,” he sneers, spitting on her curled up figure for good measure.

Good mood all but evaporated, he meets Kyoutani’s eye as the blond snaps forward to grab her by the arm and roughly haul her back to her feet. 

“If they decide to be difficult, get rid of them.”

—

She made us. She’s pissed.

Oikawa glances up at the approaching sound of your heels clicking against the marble floor. Quick. Agitated. Kunimi wasn’t wrong, it seems.

Mere seconds later, the door to his study is thrown open, and in you stalk; a storm of beautiful fury. “You’re having me followed?!”

Smoothly, he pockets his phone and rises to his feet. “Ah, there you are, sweetheart. I was wondering when you’d be getting back.” He takes a long, lingering look at your outfit; the red knit, halter dress that clings so beautifully to the curves of your body. “Gone for hours at a time, dressed like that… What’s a husband to do?”

The grin on his face is nothing short of a challenge.

“So you think I’m cheating on you, is that it?” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest. “You really think so little of me?”

He comes out from behind his desk and mimics your posture, arms folded as he leans back against the varnished surface and meets your narrowed gaze. “Do I need to remind you, baby, of what’d happen if you were?”

And if he weren’t staring at you so intently, if he didn’t know your expressions and body language inside and out, perhaps he might’ve missed that tiny flicker of fear in your eyes. 

Not a confirmation exactly, yet enough for him to know he’s not entirely off the mark, and oh how that makes him burn. 

“You’d… divorce me and take away my family’s protection,” you mutter, your tone more petulant now than angry. 

Oikawa nods, “On paper, yes.”

“On pa– what do you mean on paper?” 

His lips curl into a cruel smile, “That was our deal, wasn’t it? Either one of us cheats, and our contract becomes void.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “That’s what I just–”

“That’s all. The contract becomes void on paper. It means that if I decide I want to get rid of your father myself, no one’ll stop me. No one would fucking dare.” He pushes off the desk and closes in on you – a tiger stalking its prey. “And that brother of yours. Your shining white knight. What do you think I’ll do to him?”

His voice is soft, sweet almost. A loving caress, if not for the terrible words he speaks. But he wants you afraid, wants you terrified. Two fingers gently tilt your chin upwards, and he basks in the way you flinch from him, the alarm you seem so desperate to tamp down bleeding all over your lovely face. 

“And me?” you whisper. Would you kill me too, he reads in your eyes. 

“You really think so little of me?” he parrots back, sickly satisfied when your stricken expression stutters. “You’re my wife; I love you, you know that. Why would I go to all the trouble of making you mine just to throw you away so heartlessly?” 

He sees the flicker of confusion in your eyes, and the moment your lips part he’s kissing you, tamping down any protest. Devouring, though, would probably be a better word. Kissing to bruise, to hurt. To claim. Teeth harshly nipping at your bottom lip, Oikawa moans when he tastes the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. 

It’s not enough, though.

You make the mistake of trying to wriggle out of his hold, whining pathetically into the kiss, and the last meagre tether on his composure snaps. The desk is only feet away, but he doesn’t have the patience to drag you over to it when the wall is right fucking there. 

Breaking away, he grabs your sides and roughly spins you around, slamming you back against the door hard enough for a pained gasp to leave your lips.

“Tooru– Tooru, wait, please!”

No. He’s never been cruel to you – not how men can truly be cruel – tonight, though, he can’t be bothered caring about the tears spilling from your lashes or the panicked shriek you give when he hikes up the skirt of your dress and yanks your panties aside.

“I haven’t– I wouldn’t–” you keep babbling – he pays it no mind as he hurriedly frees his cock from his pants and lines himself up. 

“You’re mine,” he hisses, sheathing himself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust. “My pretty wife.”

Your cries are louder now, agonised and wailing, Oikawa’s long past the point of caring, though. His staff know better than to pry, and his men won’t intercede on matters between their Oyabun and his wife, no matter how loud you get. 

This is between you and him. 

“You think I don’t know about the texts you hide?” Another thrust. “The calls, late at night? Your disappearing act last week?” His hips clap against your backside, his pace vicious and unrelenting.

The dryness of your cunt makes it an unpleasant start, yet it hardly takes long before your syrupy slick begins to coat his length, easing his passage no matter how violently he pounds into you. 

And despite your whimpers and hitched pleas, how you struggle fruitlessly against him, the plush, velvety walls of your heat cling to his cock, sucking him deeper with each fevered stroke. He pushes himself closer to you, buries his face in your hair and breathes deep, relishing how you shake and tremble as he stuffs you full, your poor little pussy moulding to the shape of his dick. 

As if he can imprint himself permanently inside of you if he just fucks you well enough.

The door shakes against its stop every time he slams you against it, and that, plus your sweet sobs and the panting breaths you share, is almost enough to drown out the slick, gushing sound coming from your pussy and the rapid paps of his balls hitting your top of your thighs.

Almost, but not quite. 

He’ll never tire of fucking you, not when your cunt’s so warm and you feel this good squeezing and fluttering around him. Oikawa’d rather die than ever give this up, and with a fist tangled in your hair, he yanks your head back to whisper as much in your ear. Drags his hungry mouth over your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft, supple flesh for good measure. 

You shudder around him, and he groans in pleasure. His wife. His. 

“I haven’t… fucked him,” you gasp out, mewling as his cock hits a sweet spot, deep inside of you. “It’s not like that.”

His expression darkens, a scowl twisting at his lips at the mention of your would-be lover. “End it,” he snarls, “or I’ll kill him myself.”

—

Less than two weeks later, Oikawa's being driven to an important meeting when Iwaizumi’s phone suddenly blares to life.

He pays it no mind, content to let his oldest friend handle whatever issue has sprung up while he busies himself with retrieving his cigarette case from the breast pocket of his jacket. Flicking the silver lid open, Oikawa slips one out and mindlessly offers the case to Iwa – who ignores it entirely  – as he pats his other pockets in search of his lighter. 

“When?” 

He knows that flat tone all too well, and glances up sharply to find Iwa staring ahead, his jaw set, face grim. Whoever’s on the other end of the line speaks for a moment more, the volume too low for him to discern what they’re saying. Whatever it is seemingly does little to set Iwa at ease. 

“Fuck… Alright, get back to the house. Tell Makki and whoever else is there not to let her out of their sight ‘til we get back.”

“What is it?”

Iwa sighs, pocketing his phone and pressing the button to lower the partition between them and the driver, “There was a drive-by downtown fifteen minutes ago. Semi Takuma’s dead.”

—

For a man who once helmed one of Tokyo’s most formidable syndicates, your father’s funeral draws a pitifully small turnout.

Oikawa could blame the weather, the dreary grey sky and the rain clouds that show no sign of letting up for keeping mourners away. The truth of the matter, however, is simply that by the end of his life, Semi Takuma’s friends were few and far between. He recognises all bar a few of the faces in the crowd, most of them from his own family, there not to pay respect to the dead – the elder Semi inspired little of that – but in support of you, the beloved wife of their Oyabun. 

Clinging to his side under the awning, your face wet with fresh tears and eyes puffy and rimmed red from the countless that had come before. Perhaps the only true mourner in attendance. Not even your brother, standing stone faced at the temple doors, greeting those who’ve bothered to turn up, seems to be able to muster much grief for the man he called a father. 

Briefly, it occurred to him that you might’ve been the one behind the hit. A cold hearted, calculating move to be sure, still, even you must recognise what you’d stand to gain in removing a bargaining chip from the board.

Could you do it? Kill the man who raised you? Who loved you, and sold you like cattle to save his own skin despite it? You’re not like Oikawa, you’re not even like your brother; you’ve never had the heart for their kind of corruption. He’d never peg you as a killer, even via proxy, but… maybe he’d pushed you too far that night in his study. 

Desperate people do desperate things.

And yet Oikawa hadn’t come home that day to crocodile tears or smirking pride, only pain and heartbreak and clenched fists beating at his chest as you sobbed yourself hoarse and broke against him.

‘You promised! You promised you’d protect him!’

He’d taken the blows, held you tight until the tears subsided. Kissed you so tenderly as your fingers curled into his shirt and you buried your face above his beating heart. 

It’d be a lie to say that he cares one way or another about your father’s death beyond the implication of trouble brewing, but this – your sweet dependency, how desperate you’ve become for any semblance of comfort in his arms (however temporarily) – Oikawa wouldn’t trade this for the world. 

He sighs heavily, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head. “We gotta go in. It’s almost time.”

Finally, you lift your face, lips parting to say something, only to fall silent instead, your expression morphing into one of shock as you spy something over his shoulder. 

Oikawa turns sharply, following your gaze. Sure enough, standing under an umbrella near the old, wooden pillars by the temple gates is a dark haired man dressed in a black suit. Familiar, though when he racks his brain to try and place from where, he comes up with a blank. That in itself is enough to unsettle him. 

And while there’s nothing threatening in his stance, no obvious bump or crease in the line of his suit to suggest a concealed weapon, he knows better than to assume this stranger isn’t carrying, much less that he isn’t a possible threat. 

Oikawa hasn’t gotten to where he is today by ignoring his gut. 

“Tooru,” your voice is quiet. Hoarse. And though you clutch at his larger hand, tugging at it with insistence, he doesn’t budge. “Let’s go inside. Please, Tooru, I can’t– I can’t do this without you.”

Your father was not a well loved man, and they’ve yet to find any solid leads as to who’s responsible for the hit against him. If the man by the gate had so much as a hand in it–

He makes a snap decision. “Stay with Iwa,” he orders, prying his hand from your grip with what little gentleness he can muster. “If he tells you to do something, you do it.” Even as he spits the words, hears the sharp hitch in your breath as your fingers scrabble to keep their grip on him, his attention remains firmly fixed on the dark haired figure. 

Yet the stranger makes no move to enter the temple grounds, seemingly content standing in the rain under the cover of his umbrella, staring right back at Oikawa.

… No. Not at him, he realises after a beat. He’s staring at you. 

“Tooru, don’t!” you cry.

Two words. 

With a painful slowness, he turns back to look at you. Narrowed eyes sweeping across your face, studying it with a frightening intensity. You’ve never been able to hide your feelings from him; he can read you like a book, knows you like the back of his hand.

Your expression is twisted. Agonised, but not with the raw, aching grief you’ve succumbed to over the past few days.

It’s fear that shines in those beautiful eyes of yours. 

Panic.

Two words, a tightening grip, and Oikawa understands. 

“Please,” you beg, clutching at him desperately. “We’ll go inside and just forget all about this, okay? I told him not to come, I swear! I-I told him–”

You’re starting to hyperventilate, short, squeaking breaths shaking your frame. Like a bunny, cornered and frightened, cowering from the jaws of the big, bad wolf. 

He grins. Takes both of your trembling hands in his, lifts them to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of each. Kisses the glittering diamond atop your ring finger last of all. “Baby,” he purrs, silk over a razor’s edge, “Do what I tell you. Stay with Iwaizumi.”

His second is already there. Has been since the moment he clocked the interloper, maybe even before Oikawa did. Without a word he takes you from Oikawa, sweeps you back with a strong arm curled around your waist and holds you there, struggling pitifully against him. Mere feet away your brother watches on, jaw set, hands clenched into fists by his side, glaring at the both of them as you beg and cry softly in Iwa’s arms. 

Oikawa doesn’t even bother acknowledging his presence. Eita can glower and sneer all he likes, they both know he won’t interject. Not with this. Not against them.

Not even for you. 

Pulling his umbrella from the stand, Oikawa opens it with a flourish, spares you one last grin, and steps out into the lashing rain. 

“Relax, pretty girl. He and I are just gonna have a friendly chat, that’s all!”

The sound of your sweet begging follows him until distance and the rain drown them out. 

Closer now, he gets a better look at the man who fancies himself in love with you (and he’d have to be to risk coming here, knowing who your husband is).

His face is pretty enough, he supposes, fine, delicate features with eyes a piercing, gunmetal blue. His hair’s short, dark – messy and windswept – and yet the rest of his appearance; the well tailored suit, polished black oxfords, even the watch that pokes out from under his sleeve; they give the impression of someone put together. Methodical, even. 

He can’t be much older than Oikawa, if he’s older at all, and he stands a few inches shorter, his build perhaps a fraction slighter. And if the man has tattoos – if he’s from another syndicate – they’re covered as his are, hidden beneath his clothes. 

Unlike Oikawa, though, he isn’t smiling. 

“You know who I am.” 

It’s not a question, he doesn’t phrase it as such, however the dark haired stranger nods anyway; a short, sharp jerk of his chin. “Oikawa Tooru. I know plenty,” he replies bluntly. 

“Good,” he says. “Now, I have a funeral to get to, a grieving wife to comfort, so I’ll make this quick. Showing your face here today was a ballsy move, I’ll give you that, it was also incredibly stupid. See, the thing is; I love my wife. More than some little shit like you could possibly begin to understand, but I’d sooner chain her to our bed and break every bone in her fucking body than let her touch another man, much less leave with one.

“If I were you, I’d tuck tail and run. Find some other city, some other man’s wife to pant after, because if you don’t…” he trails off, finally dropping his charming smile, “I’m gonna take my time killing you, and I’ll make her sit through every last second.”

The stranger says nothing, expression carefully blank, save for the slight narrowing of his eyes. They shift, sliding past Oikawa to gaze at the temple – or more accurately, at you, watching the interaction unfold from the safety of Iwa’s grasp. 

After a moment, he looks back at Oikawa. “My condolences,” he says, and without another word, walks away.

—

Weeks ago, you’d stormed into his office, claws out and itching for a fight after finding out he was having you followed. 

When he brings you back in the days following the funeral and tells you that you’re not allowed to leave the comfort of the sprawling estate without him by your side, you simply stare at the rug by his feet and in a tight, controlled voice, ask why. 

Sighing, as if your refusal to meet his gaze physically wounds him, Oikawa takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently – lovingly – and leads you across the room to sit. Or, more accurately, he sits, and you somewhat reluctantly allow yourself to be tugged down onto his lap. “We still don’t know who killed your father, it’s not safe for you to be out there without me,” he murmurs, his palm grazing along your thigh in a false show of comfort. 

Not a lie per se.

“Can you blame me for being overly cautious, baby?” he asks, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. The scent of you – jasmine and vanilla, the faintest hint of citrus – has his blood stirring, sends a pang of heady want straight to his cock. God, he’d fucking lick it off of your skin if he could. “I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt,” his fingers creep up under your skirt, his lips littering the curve of your throat with soft little kisses, “I like knowing my beautiful, lovely wife is safe and sound at home, right where I left her.”

…Until one day, you aren’t.

Divorce papers, signed in your name lay atop the mahogany desk in his study. Your wedding and engagement rings carefully placed next to your signature; impossible for him to miss. 

Not a spur of the moment scramble for freedom, then.

The estate is eerily quiet. Not the calm before the storm. The blood on the gravel of his driveway, a stolen wife, Makki riddled with bullets – the storm’s already begun. Ripped its way through his home and family. This, this is the eye of it.

“How?” his voice is ice.

Kindaichi scowls, glaring at nothing in particular. He knows as well as Oikawa does; keeping an eye on you today was his responsibility, and in the wake of your disappearance–

“Bedroom window,” he admits with a frustrated huff. “She said she was tired and wanted to lie down for a bit. What was I supposed to do, follow her in there?”

Oikawa’s eyes flash, and Kindaichi’s jaw snaps shut. “And Makki?” he presses.

“Makki wasn’t supposed to be here. I dunno know why he showed up when he did. I guess he saw her running and tried to stop her and–” he breaks off abruptly, suddenly interested in looking anywhere except at the steaming Oyabun.

“… And?” Oikawa hisses, dropping the papers and rounding on his subordinate. “And what?”

“It was him. The guy Iwa says you’re looking for, the one you ran into at the funeral. Her–” he stumbles over the word, and changes tactics. “… He shot him. Came outta fucking nowhere.”

Fury rises up, choking at him as his blood roars, and for a moment, he can’t speak. Of course you hadn’t been the one to shoot Makki. You, who’d never so much as held a gun. You, who abhorred the more violent aspects of his life. You, who ran off with a fucking–

“Get out.”

He waits until the door shuts before fishing his phone from his pocket. Scours through his contacts until he finds the one he’s looking for. 

It rings once. Twice. Three ti–

“Oikawa,” Eita greets, and there’s something in that tone, beyond the irritating arrogance and barely concealed disdain he usually holds for his brother in law that has him narrowing his eyes. He sounds almost… pleased.

“… You knew,” he surmises after a beat. “You fucking knew?!”

Eita snorts. 

“Are you honestly surprised, Oikawa? Not so easy to keep your wife in line when your leverage gets gunned down in broad daylight, is it?”

Oikawa’s grip on his phone tightens, and he draws a sharp breath in through clenched teeth. “You think I won’t come after you?” he seethes. 

“You’re more than welcome to try, asshole. I watched you hold me and him over her head for too fucking long, watched you hurt her, try and break her. I’ve been waiting for this a long, long time.”

“Tell me where she is, Eita.”

Silence greets him, and when he pulls the phone from his ear, the call’s been disconnected. He swears viciously, tossing it aside. Planting both of his hands against his desk, Oikawa hunches over and breathes raggedly, waiting for the white haze of pulsing anger to abate.

You left him. You left him. You left him. You left him. You left him.

The rings you left behind stare mockingly back at him, and he makes his decision. Snatching them both up, he shoves them in his pocket and rounds the desk, yanking open the right hand drawer to grab the pistol he keeps stashed away in there.

With a cold focus, he slips out the magazine, checks the rounds and jams it back into position, cocking the slide to load it before tucking it in the back of his waistband.

He told you once what he’d do if you ever laid a finger on another man, the lengths he’d go to to keep you his. Told your trigger happy lover, too. 

What happens next; well, you can’t say he didn’t warn you.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

[godsmenusuperbowl]

Scary Thunderstorms ~ *Bang Chan*

Summary: You love your adorable werewolf boyfriend. But you never expected him to be so scared of thunder. If only you could help take care of him!

Pairing: Bang Chan X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 755

Warning: vague implications of MinSung, also Minho may be committing animal neglect? I don't know how to classify it.

Masterlist

Taglist: @foxwinter @mxnsxngie @maeleelee @kpop-will-kill-me

A/N: I wrote this during a thunderstorm, watching my dog get anxious from the thunder. It made me wonder if werewolves would feel the same way during thunderstorms.

When we think of werewolves, we often see them as big, scary, and overly protective. You used to think the same way, that is, until you met Chan. Of course, he was big, scary, and overprotective as a werewolf. But when the full moon fell on a night with a thunderstorm, those traits went out the window.

Currently, he was curled up in your lap, pressed heavily against your thighs, and he was letting out the most pathetic whines. You had one hand tangled in his thick, soft fur, while the other was trying to scroll through your phone. You were trying to find solutions to make things easier for Chan, but with every roll of thunder, he’d headbutt you gently in the stomach. In an effort to calm him down, you’d give him a kiss on the forehead for each strike of lightning and each rumble of thunder.

“You’re okay, Channie, I promise.” You assured him, which only earned you a whine. “I know, I know. It’s very loud for you and I’m sorry. But I promise I’m looking for ways to help. Just give me a moment and I’ll make things better.”

His big wolfish eyes looked like a puppy’s, making you melt inside. It also renewed your determination to find something to take the pain away. Which means you had to do the one thing you knew you’d regret doing: you called Minho.

“Hello?” His voice was groggy, as if you just woke him up. Granted it was one in the morning, but he also had a werewolf in his care. He should be awake regardless, because Jisung was more of a baby than Chan was when it came to storms.

“Hey, it’s me. How’s it going?”

“Really? You called me this late during a thunderstorm to ask me how I’m doing? And on a full moon no less?” He groaned. “Seriously, nights like this are so much easier when they’re human.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I totally get it. But you’ve been taking care of Jisung longer than Chan and I have been together. Surely this has happened before? Is there any trick to make it easier for them?”

Minho sighed on the other line. “You’re going to judge me but I have Jisung locked in the basement right now so I can get at least an hour of sleep.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I told you you were going to judge me.” He shot back. “Look, with Chan, I think just being with him will help. He’s strong and can take care of himself. When he used to live in the dorms, he’d lock himself in his room on full moons or thunderstorms. That helped, but he would be exhausted and paranoid the next day. However, if he knows you’re right there with him through it all, I’m sure he’ll be okay. Just stay with him.”

You smiled. “I can do that. Thanks, Minho.”

“No problem. I’ll call you in the morning to see how everything went, okay?”

“Sounds good. Let Jisung out of the basement.”

“Not a chance.” And with that, he hung up on you.

With a sigh, you looked down at Chan, who gave you the saddest eyes ever. You hugged his neck and buried your face into his fur. “I’m sorry, Channie. I know this is scary and very loud for you. But I want you to know that I am here and I’m not going to leave you, no matter what.”

A loud crack of thunder made you freeze and Chan whined. “S-sorry, I just don’t like the loud, high-pitched thunder, you know? They always jumpscare me.”

You felt him sit up and before you could ask what he was doing, he licked your cheek. You smiled and hugged him tighter. “Thanks, Channie. You always know how to help.”

He gave a small woof and you giggled. “You want to try and get some sleep? Worst case scenario we cuddle in bed until the storm passes, and sleep through the day tomorrow. I promise I won’t leave you. We can do whatever you want.”

Chan didn’t respond, because he was a wolf, however he did get up and walk to your shared bedroom. You followed him into bed and curled in close to him. As thunder rolled through the night, he let out another soft whine, and you hummed in response.

“I got you, Channie. Nothing can get you as long as you’re in my arms.”

And you  meant every word of it.

#Stray Kids #Stray Kids Fanfiction #Stray Kids Drabble #KPop #KPop Fanfiction #KPop Drabble #Stay #Bang Chan #Bang Chan X Reader #Bang Chan Fanfiction #Bang Chan Drabble #Bang Chan Fluff #Chan #Chan X Reader #Chan Fanfiction #Chan Drabble #Chan Fluff #Werewolf #Werewolf AU #Drabble #Fluff

[miguelschamp]

the exit pt. 2

pairing: john b routledge x fem!reader

summary: you see john b for the first time in months

warnings: none

a/n: requested by @mirellef2001. i hope you enjoy :)

it had been a few months since you walked away from john b. from the outside looking in, a lot had happened.

john b being accused of murder, then he and sarah passed trying to get off the island. of course, you didn’t believe that john b had killed peterkin. john b was a lot of things, but a murderer wasn’t one of them.

then you found out from kie that john b wasn’t dead and that he was actually okay. that gave you some relief knowing that he was okay.

now, as of recent, it came out that john b was cleared and that rafe cameron killed peterkin. you were happy that the truth came out, but hadn’t made any effort to actually talk to him.

you were still hurt by what happened with him and sarah, but considering all that happened, if you ever did see him, you wouldn’t rub it in his face.

looking around at the bonfire, you couldn’t quite tell if you still wanted to be there. your friends left you alone awhile ago and had yet to make an effort to come back. you were sat on a brick wall with a half empty solo cup in your hands.

the fire burning in the middle of the party calmed you, but the teenagers running around and drinking different concoctions left and right made you anxious.

you left out a deep sigh as you shut your eyes. your finger tapping the side of the cup as you open your eyes slowly.

“you here all by yourself ?”

your heart drops. you knew exactly who was standing beside you. you turn and your eyes meet the only boy you’ve ever been in love with.

“john b ?”

“that’s me.” he smiles softly. he watches as you look him up and down slowly before you turn towards the fire again. “you mind if i sit ?”

“go ahead.” you shrug. john b takes a seat next to you making sure to leave some space between the two of you.

this was the first time he had seen you in months. he couldn’t believe how beautiful you still were, if not more.

when you walked away from john b this past summer, he knew he messed up. terribly.

the day was on repeat in his mind for a long time. he couldn’t believe he actually let you go. it was stupid. he knew that. and his friends wasted no time in reminding him of that.

“how have you been ?”

you chuckle, “i should be asking you that considering you were on the run and on trial for murder.”

“well, i made it out pretty okay.” he smiles, ���but how are you ?”

“i’m fine.” you mumble

john b eyes you as you stare into your cup. his mind reeling for some way to get you to talk to him. “y/n-“

“if you’re gonna bring up you and sarah, please don’t. i’ve thought about it enough.”

john b sighs, “okay, well. can i at least apologize ?”

“for what ? we weren’t together.”

“but we were supposed to be.”

“we wanted to be.” you say finally looking over at him. your heart skips as you look into his brown eyes. they were as gorgeous as you remember. “you didn’t cheat or anything, john b. you don’t have to apologize.”

“i’m still sorry.” he says, “i hurt you and i always promised i wouldn’t. i was just so caught up in finishing what my dad started that i got caught up in something with sarah.”

“you guys were on the run together. you don’t have to downplay what you felt for her to make me feel better.”

“i’m not. i’ll always be thankful for her helping me and sticking with me, but what i felt for her is nothing like what i felt for you.”

“john b.” you sigh as you look away

“i’m serious.” he says scooting closer, “i’m sorry, y/n/n.”

as you turn to him, john b looks down. his hand reaches for one of your hands laying in your lap. he removes it from the cup and holds it gently.

he looks up at you, “i’m sorry and i love you.”

your face softens, “i love you too.”

“i know.” he nods, “but it’s not about me right now. i wanna make everything up to you. i want you to understand how much i really do appreciate all that you’ve done for me despite what happened. i want you to understand how much i love you.”

your eyes flicker between his before his own fall to your lips. as he leans in closer, you heart beats harder in your chest.

you didn’t know if kissing john b was a good idea. was a simple apology really enough ? john b wasn’t one to break promises. once he has his mind on something, he sticks to it. so, if he promised to make everything up to you, then he would.

so who cares ?

your eyes shut as he places his lips on yours. you sigh softly as he moves against you. he pulls away, but doesn’t go far at all.

your eyes open and he’s already looking at you. his eyes swarming with a look only you’ve seen. you didn’t know that, but he did.

he also knew that no matter what happened, he would never let you go again.

#john b routledge #john b imagine #john b x reader #chase stokes #outer banks #outer banks imagine #miguelschamp

[guessm0del]

Only You - Three

Chapter Three: A Good Day to Die

Warnings: eventual smut (these chapters will only be posted let alone WRITTEN after he’s turned 19 and I don’t mean right away I ain’t like that), profanity, mentions of abuse, descriptive violence, protagonists hate each other, Jungwon is an absolute ass, both come from filthy rich families :)

Pairing: Jungwon x fem!bodied reader

———————

Chapter Three

_____________

Today is the day.

I can feel it, boiling beneath my skin like lava. A rage so itchy, so irritating it makes me want to tear the flesh from my own face.

Today is the day I kill Jungwon.

Gone is my moral stature from yesterday.

I know what’s coming now, and I know no one can stop me. I feel his hands shift softly in my hair as he leans in, drowned in concentration. Suppressing the urge to punch him square across the face, I muster the sweetest smile I can. My father sips his morning coffee from across the table, bearing a ridiculous grin.

If there’s one person who knows me better than anyone, it’s him. He knows I’m about to explode. Even he knows what’s coming.

All too aware of our company, Jungwon smiles gently as he pulls away, lifting a small leaf from my hair. He lets out an awkward laugh as he tosses it to the side, letting his eyes follow the light before turning back to me. “Sorry about that, you had a leaf in your hair.” I conceal a scowl as I glance over to our witness. My father gives a tight smile, struggling to hide his amusement.

Jungwon, on the other hand, finds the situation amusing in a different way. Sitting back in his seat comfortably, I watch as his eyes laugh at me with the sweet whisper of five words.

“An eye for an eye.”

—

The remainder of my week follows in a similar pattern. Jungwon pretends to give a shit in effort to get a rise out of me.

He knows they’re watching, and he knows that if he assumes the role of a sweet, promising young man, they’ll adore him.

He also knows that I’m unaware of the game. The very second he sends me a smile, I’ll gouge his eyes out without hesitation, with or without an audience. And he knows they’ll hate me for it.

Clever boy.

A dead, clever boy.

I continue to chant the promise in my mind, letting it echo through the crevice of my heart as I gaze affectionately into his eyes. Picture, what you would, a similar scene as before. Only now, Jungwon stands beside me with a panicked expression, his hands clasping tightly onto mine, and our families gawking awkwardly at us from afar. My father has made the ill assumption that kayaking will bring our families closer, and now they wait silently in their kayaks, observing the situation before them.

To give a brief explanation;

Moments ago, as I went to board my kayak, Jungwon tripped me, I slipped.

Thankfully, he caught me just in time, the dick was only doing it for show.

Our mothers share a glance, and I struggle to discern the hidden message between their exchange. But as I catch the way Jungwons mouth curves up on one side, teetering on the edge of a grin, I know. Our mothers have graced a terrible, awful idea.

An idea of which has been planted by the very person I had hoped to avoid. I don’t need him to admit it aloud, it’s a smell, a stench so foul, it reeks off him in waves. A stench of victory. I glance back up to him.

He’s winning.

He’s winning and he knows it.

He’s feeding them an idea. A thought. A theory.

The lil shit is feeding them a love story. A romance in which the male lead, kind and gentle as he is, endangers rescues the protagonist, which would explain his untimely insolence chivalry for the last week and a half.

But it’s not enough, you see.

In a romance, the male lead can only win said maidens heart after rescuing her on several occasions. I suppose giving my father his little “show” this morning wasn’t enough either.

He’s come back for more. Or at least, that’s what I can tell from the way his fingers thread through mine. The way he discreetly steps back so our mothers have a clear view of our entwined hands.

His thumb grazes softly against the palm of my hand and his panicked eyes devour mine, sending me a million messages through the fabric of thin air. Though it might not seem as such, he’s giving himself away. Maybe not to our mothers, but at least to me. His eyes search mine for a reaction, watching, waiting.

He’s waiting for me to push him away.

He’s waiting for me to lose.

I can’t help but find it amusing as his gaze grows frantic, darting from my eyes down to my hands as they begin tracing light circles on his palm.

I know the rules now, and I know a way to win.

For what seems smaller than a second, his eyes betray him in a moment of weakness, and I watch his lips part ever so slightly as his hair falls upon his face like fallen strings of snow. Our breaths grow slower, gradually matching the same pace.

Everyone around us is gone. Our mothers, our fathers, the boats, the beach. All our false pretences fall away, and we find ourselves in a trance of strange affliction.

It’s just us.

His fingers thread through mine and his gaze falls from my eyes to my lips. His tongue darts out to moisten his own, his gaze unmoving on my mouth as he does so. For the smallest of seconds, I find myself wondering what his lips feel like.

But the moment is gone as fast as it came, dying out like a weak fire burning in the snow. The world resumes to its natural unsettling state, and it’s clear we’re no longer alone.

Snatching his hand from mine, Jungwon turns away abruptly, mumbling a small apology to me as he goes to join our fathers in their boat. I watch him leave, standing momentarily by the shore as a feeling seeps into the corners of my heart. Not a feeling of affection, or of comfort, but of hatred.

Mrs Yang sends me an sympathetic smile, leaning forward as she glances to the summer sky. I suppose a place this beautiful can make nearly anyone forget their problems.

“A good day, isn’t it my dear?” She laughs, outstretching her arms in effort to brace the wind.

I feign a smile, one I’ve customised special just for her. “Of course.”

A good day to die.

__________

Authors Note:

Ommmlllllll thank you sooooo much to all my supporters😍 I’ve been dead with my schedule lately :( and I’ve had absolutely NO time to write. I’m so sorry for the long wait guys, unfortunately Only You is just one of those stories where the chapters will be released at random times…I just can’t make any guarantees at this point, I’ve just got way too much on🥲. But one thing is for certain, the smut is coming soon and this story will definitely not be scrapped midway, I 100% plan to see it through!!!!

Anyway, massive thanks to all the ppl sending me support😙🤩genuinely y’all make me cry you’re all so sweet.

Taglist:

@enhaluvblog @jungwonseyebrowsonflick @chaechae-23 @hooniewnderland @user127dream @en-luvrr @jeysamores @milkhao @weyukinluv @helpmewhatdoiputhere @vieniee @bachiraslvr @minji-07 @crazyforenhypen @ris1sia @pinkcloudllamapeach @sungniverse @6nadia9 @renchai @mimisamisasa @jakejaki @lskjki @kyusprouts @kamiliora @snoowhore @soobinsjawn @fadedluvv @rashkeqamr @maxxierosie @cha0thicpisces @jaeyunsbimbo @heebabyy @heesbby @wonypop @yinieeeeoh @viechic @simmjake @yooanim @maspire @hyunsunni @rein-deer-stuffs @jjktata @teddybearjwon @f-fullmoon @

#jungwon x reader #jungwon smut #jungwon x y/n #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen x female reader #enhypen fanfiction #yang jungwon #jungwonsmut #enhypen jungwon #jungwon fluff #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smau #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen sunoo #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen jaeyun #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen niki

[glade-constellation]

I've seen your takes in eclipse, and as a new TSAMS fan I honestly agree, man's a cornered dog that everyone's been trying to put down ever since they learned of his existence. That said, do you know about any fic recs that actually explore the points you're making? I would appreciate if you share some! Or just tell me about an ao3 tag I could visit!

Sorry this took me a moment to get to! I’m terrible at not bookmarking things so I had to dig through the TSAMS tag. This list isn’t in any particular order. Not all of these dig deep into Eclipse’s character but, if they don’t, they’re still good Eclipse-centric fics that I recommend giving a read.

For a general tag to check out, usually “Eclipse Redemption”, “Redemption Arc”, or even “Fix-It Fic” will get you something. There’s not really one definite tag for it sadly, and stories that aren’t redemption arcs don’t typically go deep into Eclipse as a character.

As for fic recommendations, I’ll put the list under the cut :

Rising Eclipse (Sun and Moon AU)

by BrightStar2000

After Sun's minor spell mistake, Eclipse finds himself alive, and not exactly well. He can't move without causing himself immense pain. He has nothing, but time, and Eclipse finds himself reflecting on his actions, and actively regretting them. What will begin as a revenge mission, becomes his chance at redeeming himself.

First in a series! I do recommend the whole series if this one interests you. This takes place after Eclipse’s first death, and goes into a lot of the guilt Eclipse V1 was shown to have. Mostly from Eclipse’s POV.

Sunk Cost Fallacy

by thedemonsurfer

"the phenomenon whereby a person is reluctant to abandon a strategy or course of action because they have invested heavily in it, even when it is clear that abandonment would be more beneficial"

Or–

Eclipse has put too much effort into getting the star to give it up now. Even if it kills him.

Honestly recommend anything by Demon. All of their stories do an amazing job at digging into Eclipse and why he is the way he is. This particular one takes place after Eclipse V2 gets the Star, and shows how the Star affects him both mentally and physically.

Forgotten But Not Gone

by Smol40

Eclipse did...something. Why can't Sun and Moon remember?

Another Eclipse V2 where Eclipse has the Star. His loneliness and guilt gets to him, and he decided to try and wipe everyone’s memories to make his own family. (I would pay close attention to the tags on this one, especially the “Bittersweet Ending” one.)

Ghost in the Machine

by Snorp_Lord

Emails start coming through on Moon's computer with helpful information, but no name on them. Each email gives him more questions.

The sender turns out to be the last person he expects.

Short but good. Takes place when Eclipse V2 is working with Killcode and is trapped in the computer system. Moon and Eclipse actually get to talk about a few things.

Karma’s Bitter, But So Am I

by SinisterShepard

He lost. Eclipse actually lost. Banished to a forest with no one to help his quickly degrading state, Eclipse has to decide between his dignity or death.

And, once the pain sets in, he quickly realizes how much he's willing to lose for the promise of another day. Even if that day involves pushing Lunar even further away than before.

Amidst all this, he still manages to say the wrong thing, which...may end up costing his life all over again, judging by that look in Blood Moon's eyes.

~

Set after "The Death of Eclipse"

This will have 5 parts, and is a sort of redemption arc for Eclipse. That isn't obvious in the first chapter though.

One of the things I love about this series is how Eclipse still keeps his asshole-ish personality after his redemption. It’s one of the fanfics that I feel still keeps him pretty in character to canon after he’s supposed to be better.

Canaries in a Cage

by 22FluffyTheSpider123

Life in the terrarium while far from convenient, was somewhat getting a little easier. Even if most days left Sun with little to do and bored out of his mind. But he was still alive at least, which was certainly something given the name and overall existence of his captor.

Perilous situation that forces Sun and Eclipse to actually communicate and work together? Amazing.

Charade

by thedemonsurfer

Even false comfort is welcomed when you have nothing else.

(Is it really fake or are you just in denial?)

---

Sun and Eclipse share a moment of mutual comfort despite agreeing that they hate one another.

Another Demon recommendation. Another good fanfic that goes over Sun and Eclipse’s relationship.

Kill Code, You Are the Father

by I_See_Four

An Alternate Dimension where KC tries to build his family and connect with his sons. Due to miscommunications and general Kill Code shenanigans, it's a rocky road but attempts were made. Lunar gets caught right in the middle.

Just when things are looking up, old conflicts and threats of alternative dimensional possibilities come back to haunt them.

Diverges from the Sun and Moon show lore roughly around "Bloodmoon and Killcode TEAM UP?!".

This is not Eclipse-centric, but does do a very good job at dealing with both his and Lunar’s trauma. Honestly, just an overall good fix-it fic for TSAMS.

#Glade Gossip #🌟 Ten Talks #tsams #sams #the sun and moon show #sun and moon show #tsams eclipse

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

Speak of the Devil (Part 1) ~ Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader

{Author’s Note} Thought I’d share another story I’ve been working on (excuse the vague descriptions). I’ve got most of part 2 finished but I don’t know when I’ll complete it just yet as the words feel like they’re coming out weird lol. Anyway, this one is mainly bonding between you and Ghost as you’re hanging out on base. Soap is your trusty wingman and loves watching the two of you interact. Hope y’all enjoy :)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader (Alias: Halo)

Part 2

‼️Content Warning: swearing‼️

~ ~ ~

“If I’m gonna be honest, Ghost scares the shit out of me,” you admit with a frown. “Every time I try to talk to him, he just grunts at me and walks away. That, or he’s yelling orders in my ear.”

Soap chokes on his drink, his shoulders shaking as he laughs. “Sounds about right,” he snickers. “You’re the new gal so he’s just tryin’ to figure out if he can trust ye. He’ll lighten up soon enough.”

You let out a small hmph. “Do I need to prove myself to him or something?”

“Nah, just keep doin’ your job and you’ll be fine,” Soap assures. His eyes then widen slightly and a smirk pulls at his lips as he nods at something over your shoulder. “Speak o’ the devil.”

You turn to see Ghost enter the lounge, his infamous mask still covering his face. You could just imagine him scowling beneath the dark fabric. 

“There he is!” Soap exclaims, lifting his glass. “Finally decided to join us, eh?”

Ghost’s gaze settles on you and you attempt a smile, hoping to get a better reaction this time. As usual, he merely grunts and makes his way over to the fridge to grab his own drink.

“See?” you say with an exasperated gesture to the man, which only makes Soap laugh again. 

“That’s no way to treat our newest member, L.t.,” Soap teases. “She’s already proven herself, don’t ye think?”

You raise a brow as Ghost stares, his eyes darting over your features. He’s always trying to pick you apart and you can’t help but shift nervously in your seat. 

“She follows orders, I’ll give her that,” he finally says, his accented voice low as he settles in the open chair between you and Soap. You huff, deciding it was better than nothing. 

“I guess I’ll take it.”

~ ~ ~

“Why you still up, Halo?” Ghost asks as he leans over the couch. His dark eyes find yours and you try not to shudder at the intensity of his gaze. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” you mutter simply, returning your focus to the patterned ceiling. “Rough mission.”

Ghost hums his agreement as he moves to sit with you, gloved hand lifting your legs and setting them on his lap before you could make room. He lets his arm rest atop your shins, masked features giving nothing away. 

“We made it out alive,” Ghost murmurs in an effort to offer comfort. “We still got each other.”

You nod and heave a sigh. “I know. It just gets to me sometimes,” you admit. “Why were they killed instead of me? Why was I one of the lucky ones?”

“Don’t get caught up in all that fate shit,” he says, his tone sharp and firm. “You got more important things to worry about. ‘Sides, you’ve earned your place on the team. You don’t gotta doubt that.” 

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips, touched by his words. He doesn’t give out compliments lightly but when he does, they’re to be cherished. 

“Thanks, Ghost,” you say. “I’m pretty sure that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

The man scoffs, his shadowed eyes rolling at your words. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” he replies. “Can’t let the others know I’m gettin’ soft.”

“Aww, the infamous Ghost has a soft spot for me?” You send him a wide smirk. “Who woulda thought?”

“Shut it, Halo,” he grumbles but there’s a tenderness in those eyes of his that you’d only recently started to notice. He seemed to reserve it just for you. 

You snicker, swinging your legs off his lap and leaning against his shoulder instead. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret,” you assure him. “I promise.”

“Atta girl.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x halo #ghost x halo #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #cod #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare ii 2022 #cod mwii 2022 #simon ghost riley #halo😇 #Ren's writing #mine mine mine

[shina913]

On Tilt, Part 3 | KNJ

On Tilt, Part 3

Definition: a poker term for a state of mental or emotional confusion or frustration in which a player adopts a suboptimal strategy, usually resulting in the player becoming overly aggressive.

On Tilt Masterlist

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞

Genre: idol!AU; strangers-to-FWB-to-lovers; toxic relationship; angst; fluff; smut

Warnings: unhealthy/toxic relationship dynamic; cussing; vulnerable confessions; alcohol consumption; explicit and suggestive sexual conversations; jealous!Namjoon; Namjoon at the gym; ttam-Joon 😅; ass-slapping (not in a sexual context); drop of fluff; unexpected boners (I think that's it?)

Summary: You’ve said time and time again that you wouldn’t lose yourself to him. You were in control now. You were going to make better choices. For a minute there, you were able to keep up with it. It wasn’t ‘til Namjoon’s extended break that you found yourself falling into old habits. Will you ever learn to quit Kim Namjoon?

Word count: 4.6K words

A/N: This was supposed to be short...and then that All Day Part 2 vlog happened and now it's 4.4K 🤡 Also, pay no attention to OC's workout gear...I just thought it looked hot but I have some doubts about the support here. Buuuuut for interest, I thought it would be a good add-on and I love Rihanna's other stuff from her line, otherwise 😂 Anyway! Please enjoy and know that my inbox and DMs are open. Would love to know what you think 😘

“God damn…are you planning to kill him with that outfit or what?”

You guffaw at Lani’s question, nearly messing up the wing on your eyeliner. Namjoon hasn’t given you a hint as to where you were headed tonight but he asked you to dress ‘nice’. You picked a black, ruched, long-sleeved body-con mini dress with a deep-plunge neckline.

“Calm down. It’s just dinner,” you say while finishing your makeup.

“Ooohh…and you’re on the menu. Got it,” She teased, motioning to your partially exposed cleavage.

You turn and throw a balled up tissue at her in jest. “I most definitely am not!” You turn back to your mirror. “Besides, I told him that we’re having none of that until…we establish some ground rules. If he wants to be with me, I want to see a bit more effort on his part,” you reason.

“Are you putting the kitty on lockdown or what?”

You snort at her comment but your expression turns sober almost immediately after. “I just want to know whether this can work without sex being on the table the entire time.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, Lani starts cackling.

You squeeze your eyes shut and wrinkle your nose. “Damn, that came out wrong.”

After recovering you clarify, “Anyway! What I was actually trying to say was that…I want to see if there’s more to this.”

Lani paused and turned serious in a matter of seconds. “Well, you started off as good friends, right? That’s promising.”

You twisted your lips wryly. “Yeeeaah, until we fell into bed. Add him being this superstar idol and it gets more complicated. I just want to know if there’s something else that would hold us together. And if there isn’t…then I’m completely wrong and maybe I’ll wake up and realize that I was being delusional this whole time,” you finish quietly.

Lani comes up from behind to wrap you in her arms. You leaned into her hold, giving her forearm an appreciative squeeze. She was one of your oldest, most trustworthy friends. “I understand,” she says softly, recalling your conversation when you confessed how you really felt about Namjoon.

“Do what you need to, but remember to be good to yourself, too,” she reminds you.

You cocked your neck sideways at her, face wrinkled in confusion. “What are you talking about? I am good to myself,” you chuckled.

She released you from her hold and sidled next to you. “I meant, if things don’t go as you hoped they would, you shouldn’t blame yourself.” With that, Lani gives you a quick peck on the cheek then leaves your room.

Though her parting words sounded ominous, you couldn’t deny that you were banking on the thought that this would all work out in your favor. You loved Namjoon and wanted to be with him…but it wasn’t that simple. Namjoon hasn’t shown any signs of slowing down in his career at all. There may be a group hiatus but solo efforts were underway.

If work would start to ramp up for him, where would that leave you?

******

Namjoon’s face reflects on your wine glass while you watch the crimson liquid swirl around it. He’d been on the phone for the last ten minutes.

The evening started off promising. Lani was right–you practically had to fight him to keep his hands off you until you reminded him of your agreement. Five dates. And depending how those dates go, maybe you’d consider getting into bed with him again.

It was going to be a challenge, though. Just as you’d throw down the gauntlet, he was happy to pick it up. He showed up looking just as mouthwatering–dressed in a simple black suit with a crisp, dress shirt, top two buttons undone. Although his brushed-back hair made you feral, you had to stick to your guns.

He cleared out the entire back room of a restaurant, all wait staff signing NDAs.

His phone kept buzzing through the first course, which he mostly ignored. Once they brought in the main course, he couldn’t mute the incessant ringing any longer. He apologized to you before answering it.

He glanced at you nervously while you silently munched through your side order of fries and distractedly scrolled through your phone.

“Jon, Jon, listen bro…can we just work this out tomorrow when I stop by the studio?...Yeah…I know but it can wait. We’ll take care of it first thing, the second I get there. Alright…Yeah, thanks. See you then. Bye.” He hung up then sighed. “Sorry,” he says to you immediately.

You peered up from your phone’s screen and gave him a small smile. “That’s alright. Work is work,” is all you say.

He shook his head, reached for your hand across the table and held it. “No, I should have just sent it to voicemail. I told my assistant to field all of my calls because I wanted our night to be free of interruptions.”

You wanted to say something snarky but you held back. At least he didn’t cancel on you and he really tried to ignore his phone since you arrived. Acknowledging his effort, you relax your tense posture. “It’s fine. You’ve got a lot going on with the album and stuff. Besides, I never asked you to stop working on my account.” 

“I know that,” he says quietly. “I just wanted this date to be perfect for you.”

You smiled softly at his sincerity. You then leaned in and reached up to brush some errant strands that fell over his eye. “Joon, if I wanted ‘perfect’, I wouldn’t be doing this with you.”

His breath caught for a moment before his mouth curved into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He leaned in to plant a kiss on your lips.

It started off as a soft, melding of your mouths, which quickly turned into hunger. He cupped your face while you curled your hand around his nape to pull him closer. It was almost second nature. 

He kissed you deeply, tonguing your mouth in that same leisurely, spine-tingling manner he did when he was between your legs. You once thought he could make you orgasm with his kiss–if you stayed at it long enough. Everything about him turned you on–from the way he looked and felt beneath in your hands to the way he would watch and touch you. He was always greedy for you and you were the same way towards him.

But you abruptly wrench yourself away, leaving him bereft. He tries to pull you back in but you pressed your hand to his chest to stop him.

“As much as I want to,” you chuckled. “I don’t think we should.”

Nodding gently, he backs away. “Are you sure that 5-date rule is non-negotiable?”

You threw your head back in laughter. “You proposed the 5-date rule–not me!”

His mouth falls open at your accusation. “Only because you initially wanted 10,” he nearly shrieks. “It was a compromise!”

Your stomach contracted amidst your giggles. “That’s right…laugh at my pain,” Namjoon says sarcastically.

On your last conversation, you agreed to go out on 10 dates before having sex with him again. He reluctantly suggested a mid-point. Ever since you both started messing around, every interaction with him always ended up with your bodies tangled up in bed.

This was going to be a difficult challenge–not just for him but for you, as well. You loved touching him as much as he loved his hands all over you. Physical contact between you was virtually essential whenever you met. But since you’d asked him for more, you also needed to find out if there was something else to this relationship other than the physical and sexual aspect of it.

“I’m sorry, Joon,” you apologize after finally catching your breath. “But I just think that we really need to try and spend quality time together…without actively fucking,” you reiterate.

He sighed then raked his fingers through his hair. “I know, I know. I’ll try to keep things under control,” he huffed under his breath before taking a long slug of his whisky.

“Thank you,” you say with a sympathetic tone before smiling at him.

The rest of dinner goes smoothly. Unlike what you had initially feared, conversation between you flowed freely and naturally–even when sex was out of the equation. Neither of you missed a beat, laughing and joking about anecdotes about your friends and work.

The evening may have hit a hurdle but you both got over it quickly. It made this effort all the more promising for you.

******

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” He asks when his car pulls up to your building.

“While I would love to say ‘yes,’ I have to finish up some things at the office…which will probably go into the night since the end of the year is right around the corner,” you say with regret.

You then stretch the kinks in your neck. “Plus, I really need to get a workout in. I’ve been putting it off too long.”

“What time do you need to head to the office?”

“My team expects me to be there by 11.”

His eyebrows twitched as the gears in his head started to spin. “Can I propose something to you?”

You purse your lips hesitantly.

“Now, hear me out,” he gently offers. You stared at him for a few beats then eventually acquiesce.

“What if you come by my place? We can work out together in the morning at the gym in my building. I can get breakfast delivered, it will be completely chill. Two hours, tops! You can bring a change of clothes and shower back at my place. Then we can head out together.”

You were already apprehensive about being photographed at his place but showering there? Being in a state of undress while either of you are in the same space? Your 5-date rule would go up in flames in a heartbeat.

He assures you that he would behave himself–even suggesting that you lock the door so he wouldn’t attempt to join you.

“Still though, wouldn’t that be…risky?” The dorms were more private when you used to meet and hook up there back then. You’d only been to his new place three times. The second time you were there, a photographer was hiding in the bushes. The record company had to buy their photos in order for them not to be posted onto tabloids.

The last time you were there was before Namjoon and his bandmates left for their most recent tour that just wrapped up. At that point, you’d agreed not to meet there again whenever he was back in town for breaks.

“Security is much better now,” Namjoon explains. “The loading dock out back was redone and it’s more private than it was before. It’s incredibly difficult to get a photo or footage of whoever is coming in and out of the building unless they hang from the street lamp or tree.”

“Don’t underestimate the will of a very eager photographer,” you say sardonically.

He shook his head. “I promise, it’s secure.”

“What about my car?”

“I can have a driver pick you up from here and bring you to my place. They can drop you off at your office, too.” 

He seems to have an answer for all of your concerns, but you didn’t want to hog his driver’s time if he needed him. “Joon, I don’t–”

“It’s fine, really. When you’re done with your work, the driver will be at your disposal. I figured you’d be too tired to drive from downtown and back here.”

He had a point there. There were times when you wished your car would just drive itself especially on long days. “What about you? How will you get to work and back?”

“I’ll ride my bike,” he says simply. “So…what do you say?”

You roll your eyes. “Two hours and no longer than that, okay?”

He nodded emphatically. “I swear!”

You agreed and mouthed your thanks. Before stepping out of the car, you share a chaste kiss–a far cry from the tonsil hockey incident earlier this evening. You step out of the car and watch the black SUV pull away from the curb.

When you enter your apartment, your phone buzzes with a text. A smile crept on your face after reading it.

[Namjoon] 10:40PM: Car will pick you up at 8AM. One down, four to go! Sleep tight, beautiful. 😘

******

The company car was right on time the next morning. And just as he promised, the loading dock was practically fully enclosed. You felt more at ease after seeing it for yourself.

You entered the security code that Namjoon sent to you which activated the elevator’s keypad so you could push the button to ascend to his floor. That was another upgrade from the last time that you were here.

Shortly after you push his buzzer, you hear his front door click open. He comes down to the hallway, already dressed in workout clothes to greet you with a quick kiss.

“Did you find everything okay?”

“Yeah. You weren’t exaggerating about the new security measures,” you say after he pushes the door shut.

“We have a lot of high-profile residents so–the property managers stepped it up. It was a good move on their part. Besides, with the rent that we pay every month? Shit…should be worth the upgrades.”

“Are you ready to go?” You ask, clutching your water bottle and gym bag.

“Yeah–I just need to put my shoes on then we can head to the 5th floor, where the gym is.” He adds that you can leave your bag that contains your change of clothes and that his assistant would come by with breakfast all set up while you went about your workout.

******

Since you hadn’t been to the gym in a while, you weren’t planning on a high-intensity workout. You mainly wanted to be able to stretch out your muscles while getting a good sweat session in. Admittedly, part of that stemmed from frustration brought on by this temporary celibate period but you had to stay focused if you wanted things to work with him.

“What…the…hell…are you wearing?” He nearly punctuates every word in a low, husky tone.

You hadn’t noticed him standing right behind you after you hung your oversized zip-up hoodie on one of the hooks conveniently placed by the treadmill.

“Gym clothes?” You answer as if the issue wasn’t obvious to you.

He took another look at your sports bra. “There’s no way! That is a poor excuse for a top. You look naked!”

You laughed, not understanding what the big deal was. The top showed off a little more cleavage but it was the keyhole cutouts that sat strategically over the swell of your breasts and the criss-cross straps in the back that had him agitated. “You’re overreacting,” you say dismissively.

“And these pants? What the–”

You groan and roll your eyes. The matching high-waisted leggings had strategic stitching that hugged your curves in all the right places.

Ignoring him, you step onto the treadmill, your feet resting on the sides of the machine while you key in your settings on the screen. “Let’s just warm up, okay?” You say before sticking your wireless earbuds in and blasting your workout playlist. You set your phone into a secure slot then step onto the treadmill, starting with a brisk walk.

He poked his tongue against his cheek in annoyance. Scowling, he punches his settings into the machine next to you. Seconds later, he pulls his shirt off and tosses it haphazardly on the bench behind him before stepping onto the treadmill.

The view of his bare chest distracts you causing you to nearly miss a step, but you hold onto the railing and quickly recover. He gave a victorious smirk and began to increase his speed setting. You mirror him after hitting your stride and break into a jog as well.

Guess you weren’t the only one working out certain frustrations.

After twenty minutes you slowed to a stop, finally risking a glance at Namjoon, who was still running fluidly. He was watching the news on the mounted screen, but flashed a smile while you wiped the sweat off your face. Feeling parched, you took a swig from your water bottle and moved to the other machines, picking one that gave you a clear view of him.

Ten minutes later, he moved to the chest fly machine, making sure to keep you in his line of sight. You’d occasionally brush against each other when switching positions within the facility. You watched him work out quickly and efficiently. Thank goodness you had the gym all to yourselves this morning because you just kept ogling at him. He looked so…primal and it didn’t help that you also knew exactly what was underneath those shorts. 

Shaking your thoughts away, you moved to pick up a yoga ball to do some crunches before you end your workout.

When you finish, you sit up and idly rock your hips while sitting on the yoga ball to cool down. Distantly, you hear the doors open while your playlist switches tracks.

The newcomer smiled as he approached. You see him linger a bit even after you acknowledge him so you pause your music and pull out one of your earbuds.

“Hi,” he greeted you, with a winning smile that showcased perfect white teeth. “Never seen you around here. Did you just move in?”

“No,” you reply. “I’m just visiting.”

He gives a small nod. “I’m Seokmin, by the way.” He extended his hand, and you shook it after giving your name.

Upon hearing his name, you knew he was familiar except you were a bit behind on your celebrity gossip so you couldn’t quite place him at the moment.

“So,” he began, “Are you here with company?” 

“Uhm…” You scanned the room and Namjoon was nowhere to be found. You assumed he might have gone to use the gym bathrooms.

Without missing a beat, Seokmin continues to chat you up. “You know, they recently opened up a smoothie bar down at the lobby in case you wanted to check that out. There’s a separate code for that but I can give you mine, if you want?” He winked.

Just then, Namjoon appeared by Seokmin’s shoulder. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, coming around and behind you to slide his arms around your waist possessively. “I’ve already given my girlfriend permission to have full access to the amenities here.”

The word girlfriend reverberated in your ears. Though you were still working to establish your relationship, it still didn’t stop you from thinking that the distinction had a nice ring to it. 

“H-hey, Namjoon,” Seokmin straightened and took a step back, then bowed. “I’m sorry, I had no idea she was with you.”

“‘S’alright. It's not like that's ever stopped you before, huh.” He says in jest, while smacking Seokmin in the arm in a bro-manner. Namjoon had a big smile on his face but you could practically hear the anger threatening to burst out of him.

“But we like to keep things private, so I trust you’ll be discreet about this? You know, a little quid pro quo?” Namjoon gave him a knowing look and an outstretched hand.

Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in you and realization sinks in. Seokmin was a K-drama actor who was recently on the tabloids for cheating on his pregnant fiancee. Jia and Lani could not stop blabbing about it.

As they shook hands, you give Namjoon's arm a gentle squeeze in an effort to calm him. “C'mon, Joon, he was just being welcoming,” you say.

“Yeah, he’s very welcoming indeed,” he says with a hint of sarcasm. He absently hands you your sweater and water bottle.

His hair was soaked with sweat and his bare chest was slicked with it as well. He looked like a god. And you’d never known that a sweaty man could smell this good. Your dirty thoughts are interrupted when he slips his shirt back on and turns his attention to you.

His hands stroking down your arms, he says, “Ready to go, baby?” He didn’t wait for you to answer but you felt his lips on the crown of your head. “Catch you later, man,” he says curtly.

You smile politely and wave goodbye as you walk away. “Nice meeting you!”

Seokmin gave a tight smile. “It was great to meet you too.”

Namjoon muttered after you stepped into the elevator. “Fucking asshat. He wouldn’t stop staring at your tits.”

You lifted a shoulder noncommittally. “What can I say? They’re nice tits.”

He made a low growling noise. You stifle a grin to hide your amusement. That was payback for his little striptease earlier.

But he takes you completely by surprise when he slaps your bottom hard, leaving behind a stinging sensation through your pants. “Next time, I’m bringing an extra shirt to cover you up.”

“Since when has the way that I dress been your business?” You quipped as you got off his floor and entered his unit.

He caught your wrist while you both lingered in the hallway. “Since I made a promise to make you a priority,” he answered.

You blinked profusely in surprise.

“Look, I know I haven’t done the whole relationship-thing in a long time and I’m a little rusty at it. But I meant it when I said I’d work my ass off to keep you,” he says firmly. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d see that I’m trying my best here.”

A pang of guilt hits you and you turn apologetic. “You’re right. I’m sorry. And yes, for the record, I see and appreciate the effort you’re putting in,” you acknowledge.

“I don’t want anybody else so…you’ll have to forgive me if I start getting territorial.”

You returned his gaze. “Joon, I would never,” you say apologetically, referring to your little exchange at the gym with Seokmin.

“I know you wouldn’t,” he answered. “I just know him a little too well, unfortunately.”

He was well-aware of Seokmin’s messy behavior. Even so, Namjoon typically kept his head down. Seokmin was a big boy and it wasn’t like Namjoon to stick his nose in other people’s business. He only hoped that his neighbors afforded him the same courtesy.

Jerking his head sideways, he beckons you towards the kitchen and his face visibly relaxes. “C’mon, there’s a large triple mocha that’s got your name on it,” he smiled.

******

“So this counts as date number two, right?” He asks while he sipped on his iced Americano.

You scrunch your eyebrows after biting into a pastry and disagree. “What? All we did was work out! That hardly counts as a date,” you scoffed, downing the rest of your coffee.

“And now we’re sitting here, having breakfast and a conversation!”

You let out a disappointed sigh, “But a gym date, though?”

He laughed. “I thought that the whole point was for us to spend time together without actively fucking?” He arched a questioning eyebrow at you. He gestures at the breakfast spread that his assistant set up, “Wouldn’t you think that this counts as quality time?”

You pucker your lips, thinking for a few beats. Jia and her boyfriend considered sitting on the couch and watching their favorite show together ‘quality time.’

Sure, this may not have been like a date-date like last night but he was making a conscious effort to move things around in his schedule so he could spend time with you.

You thought back to the old days when you’d hang out in his dorm, sitting side-by-side on his bed while you read books. At that point, he only had a little over 12 hours before he and his band moved onto the next city for another show.

“You’re right,” you agreed. “Date number two then.”

He gave a small pump of his fist in triumph. “I’m glad you said that because you’ll probably hate me after I tell you this.”

“What is it?” In the back of your mind, you had a feeling that he probably needed to fulfill a company schedule locally or he had to jet off somewhere.

“After today, I have a packed schedule. I’m under a deadline to finish this album so we can get it mastered by the end of the month. Meaning,” he sighed heavily, his face faltering, “I won’t be able to see you again… for the next two weeks, at least.”

Hearing that made your heart sink but you had to be realistic. You didn’t want Namjoon to put you ahead of his career. All you asked for was to have a place in his life. Not just as a booty call or a fuck-buddy, but for him to be actually committed to you. Part of that was him being more open to you about his schedule, when he previously was evasive about it.

“I appreciate you telling me,” you replied. “Then we’ll just make plans whenever you’re done.”

“Y-you’re not mad?” He says tentatively.

“No,” you smiled. “I’d be pissed if you ghosted me for two weeks without telling me! I just want you to communicate.”

He nodded, “From now on, you’ll always know where I’m at. And…if for some reason I can’t get that message to you myself, I’ll make sure that someone in my staff tells you.”

Your heart soars, making you get up from your seat to sit on his lap–much to his delight.

Could you love this man more than you already did?

You curled your arms around his neck and captured his mouth in yours. “Thank you,” you say to him.

“No need to thank me. I want to do this.” He pinches your chin gently. 

You sit in silence, just gazing at each other. The longer you stare at him, the more you seriously consider tossing out your 5-date agreement and letting him take you on his couch right this second. You wished that you didn’t have to go to the office today and that he didn’t need to go into the studio.

His thumb brushed over your lips and touched his forehead to yours. Inhaling sharply, he says, “Alright, I think I need a shower,” before gently sliding you off him. He had a pained expression on his face.

“Again?” Before you sat in his kitchen, you took turns in his shower. You trusted him enough that you didn’t need to lock the bathroom door. In turn, he stayed true to his word and gave you your privacy.

He rose from his chair. “I know. But I need a cold shower before we head out.” It was only then that you noticed him cupping his crotch. 

“Oh my god,” your hand flies to your mouth. “I’m so sorry…” You say as he tries his best to cover up his hardon.

“It’s fine. I’ll be done in 10,” he waves you off. You shout out more apologies while he waddles awkwardly to his bathroom.

The next two weeks would be difficult but you thought it might be a good break, considering being in the same room always cranked up the tension between you two.

The good thing was that Namjoon was being more open about how he felt. And while you were ready to scream out the L-word to him, you decided to save it until you felt absolutely sure that neither of you were going to drop the ball. You were making good strides by taking it slow and things were far better than they used to be. For now, you could rest on those thoughts and count the days until date number three.

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[swanimagines]

Bastard and the Blood Princess

Chapter 9

Read it on AO3 | Read it on Wattpad

“This fabric itches,” you complained, shifting your body. “And the cloak, what do they use to make it so heavy? It feels like I’m giving someone a piggyback ride.”

Kaz didn’t look at you, smoothing out the fabric of his own uniform. “You’ll get used to it.”

You looked over to Kaz, seeing him shifting his weight to one side and frowned. “Your leg, it will give us away. Guards don’t–”

Kaz shot you a brief glare. “I’ll be fine.”

You scoffed. “Fine.”

The homeless man Kaz had brought from the local back alley slightly reeked of alcohol as he bounced in place restlessly. “So, I just run towards the gates, screaming I want to see the Sun Summoner and I’ll let you two catch me?”

Kaz brought his cane in front of him, looking at the man. “Exactly.”

“And… my payment, enough to spend a few nights at an inn and it covers some meals for me?”

Kaz nodded. “As long as you won’t buy the most expensive meals on the menu.”

The man nodded, looking around and chewing his lip. “The guards will detain me, but… they won’t take me to see their Shadow Summoner leader, do they? Kirigan?”

“Unlikely.”

The man breathed out and held his chest for a moment. “Good, good. So, will they let me go after giving me a talk?”

Kaz pursed his lips, his eyes wandering over the man’s form once. “I believe so.”

The man nodded quickly again, before looking over to the palace in the distance. “I’m not much of an actor, but for a warm bed and free meals, I will put on my best effort.”

Kaz raised his eyebrows with a scowl. “You’d better.”

The man averted his eyes from Kaz, and gave you a brief look. “I’ll get you both in. It’s a promise.”

You nodded at the man, and met eyes with Kaz briefly. He sighed, nodding towards your horses that were now by the bond, grazing grass while their saddles and reins were over the fence. “Horses will be left here. We won’t need them anymore, someone will come and take them sooner or later.”

“No doubt about that,” you mumbled, glancing at the small village next to you. Then, you rolled your shoulders and nodded towards the gates. “Shall we go now?”

Kaz was silent for a moment and then began walking. This time you had anticipated him doing that though, and quickly caught up to him.

“Wait!” the second man shouted after you and you heard him stumbling as he caught up as well.

You walked in silence for a while, all the way til you were almost at the gates, and Kaz snuck up behind a rock with you and the other man. He looked over at your distraction and nodded, and the man hesitated for a few seconds before sprinting into action, making you and Kaz sprinting after him.

“Sun Summoner! I need to see her!” he screamed, stumbling and diving under one of the carriages. You dove after him, pulling him out and letting other guards take him from you before standing to the side.

The man looked over to Kaz who had emerged from behind the carriage and one of the guards sighed, saying something about having to throw yet another fanatic to jail for a few hours to think what’s appropriate behaviour.

You met eyes with Kaz briefly before he threw his cape to the side and started making his way through the gates, blending in perfectly with the other guards. You felt like you weren’t as skillful in blending in, but you tried to imitate the way the other guards walked to seem like a strong and professional guard who was always vigilant with watching out for any commotions.

You marched through the halls side by side with Kaz, until you found the circus wagons, the performers in the work of setting up the stage. You saw Jesper and Inej standing beside one wagon, and Inej nudged Jesper once she saw you.

“Oh, good. You haven’t killed each other,” Jesper mumbled, and then turned to Kaz. “How was the trip? Everything good? Can we trust her?”

Kaz glanced at the wagon and nodded towards it. “Get inside.”

You all stuffed yourself in, making sure no one sees - two guards getting into a circus wagon with two circus performers might have come off as odd, and through that, suspicious. You knew you were taking a risk. But as you closed the door and the musky air inside the carriage settled in, you felt like you were safe for now.

You all were quiet for a moment, Jesper laying wary looks on you. “Can we actually trust her?”

Kaz looked down for a moment, he had taken his cane out from wherever he had hidden it and leaned on it now. “For now. She stole these uniforms. But she did have a weapon with her when we had to stay the night at an inn.”

Jesper’s eyes widened, looking over at you before shifting his eyes to Kaz again. “You… slept in the same room with her while she had a weapon on her?”

You shook your head, popping in. “I gave it to him. I… stole it from the healer, I was afraid of the Fold, I wanted to have something to protect myself. I was supposed to–”

“Here’s the plan,” Kaz interrupted you, giving you a glare. “I’ll try to find an ambush point. During the dinner event, we’ll attack. Rollins will come with me, I wouldn’t have enough time to find the secret door so I’m relying on her help on this.”

Jesper scoffed. “Her help? Really?”

Inej frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want one of us coming with you?”

Kaz shook his head. “She won’t try anything.”

You bowed your head down, trying to appear submissive despite a strong urge to defend yourself brewed inside you. You didn’t want to kill Kaz, you needed to–

Your heart then made a jump and you swallowed.

You didn’t want to kill Kaz.

What do you mean you don’t want to kill Kaz?

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the thought out. Of course you wanted and needed to kill him. That’s what you came here to do. 

You must be tired. Delusional. Maybe Kaz slipped something into your drink. Or inside the uniform, making you more obedient.

But something in him reminded you of something long buried. A silk dress with golden embroidery. A fancy toy set your father bought you–

You were startled awake from your thoughts by a rough jab to your ankle, making you let out a small yelp and you looked up to see Kaz scowling at you.

“Let’s go.”

—

You walked through the hallways in total silence, your steps echoing through the walls as you occasionally passed some Grisha and real guards. Kaz seemed to know just where to go as if he had been here before - it was like the blueprint had been imprinted into his brain, that’s how confidently he walked through the many corridors.

But then suddenly, he stopped, clutching his leg. You stopped too, glancing towards where you came from and looked at him. “Should I continue alone?”

Kaz huffed. “No.”

“But your leg–”

“I’ll manage.”

You shrugged. “If you say so.”

Then, he straightened up and clenched his jaw, forcing himself to walk normally again. And after a few steps, you arrived in front of a wall, and Kaz started tracing along the wallpaper with his hands.

“Look for a switch,” he mumbled. “We need to get inside.”

You nodded and started feeling around. There was definitely a seam of a door, maybe there was a trick to click the door open somehow.

But then, footsteps echoed along the wall and you both spun around. Kaz tried pushing the wall one last time, and you slipped inside a small closet across from the wall.

“Come on!” you hissed to him, he hesitated for a moment but then sucked in a breath and joined you.

The closet was small, barely fitting you both. Your bodies were pressed together tightly, and Kaz’s eyes were tightly screwed shut, and he took in sharp breaths. You had no idea what was happening to him so suddenly, but you looked through the small crack from the door and saw a Grisha moving her hands across the wallpaper, and you heard something moving inside the wall. And then, a guard pushed the door open.

“We need a Durast to get that door open,” you whispered to Kaz. “Do you know anyone who’s a Durast by any chance?” 

He didn’t answer, but had composed himself enough to peek through the crack himself too.  He silently watched as two Grishas talked, two keftas meant for the Sun Summoner hanging next to them. A couple of minutes passed, and then the secret door was closed and Kaz almost threw himself out from the closet.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, but Kaz just shot you a glare and started walking away, leaving you confused once again.

—

Your walk back to the wagon was completely silent again, but this time your silence was loaded with tension. Something just crackled in the air around you and you didn’t even want to test it. To jab it, afraid it would blow on you.

Had you done something wrong? Had you missed a command Kaz gave you? And what had happened in that closet? Kaz had acted like he was… afraid of you? As if he was just waiting for you to bite his face off. Which most certainly didn’t make sense.

You sat in that wagon once again, half-listening to Kaz going through the final plan with Arken, Inej and Jesper. At the same time, that little voice in your head bullied you again, telling you that time was running out and you were stalling on purpose. Your father’s angry face flashed in front of you, how he would react if he learned you had failed in your mission. His most valued, ruthless and feared gang member would fail. No one would expect it. Your father might even think you’re switching sides.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to snap yourself out of it, stopping the train of thought of what could and would happen if you started to slip. Thinking about it just made you feel worse, like you were actually believing you wouldn’t be able to do it when the time comes. That you had grown to care for them. For Kaz, Dirtyhands from all people the world had to offer. Something in him just… pulled you in. Intrigued you. Maybe you could even find something in common, to bond with him over it.

And something in him was oddly familiar. Comforting, reminded of you of… something you couldn’t quite place your finger on, and the feeling just grew stronger when you tried to push it away.

It didn’t make sense. You had trained for this. You had planned this. But now, that little voice whispered, you were no longer sure if you actually wanted to go through with it…

You let out a breath, and steeled yourself to open your eyes again and return to the moment.

Kaz was rolling the blueprint closed, sharing orders and you heard it all as an echo, still fighting with your thoughts. You weren’t really sure what was happening.

Then, it suddenly hit you.

The golden ponies, your silk dress, warmth of the fireplace. You had worked through the previous day to set this house to look like you lived there, and that actress from Ketterdam’s Theatre pretended to be your father’s wife, while another actress pretended to be your mum. It was a weird day, but nice in a way. To be hugged warmly by a woman, have her brush your hair, and help you to dress. It was a feeling you had never known, and thought you’d never feel as your parents never cared about you.

Then, a knock on the door, and suddenly everyone got into their positions. The smell of hutspot filled the air, your father went to open the door.

After a moment, your father smiled at you, gesturing towards you as two boys stepped in. “This is my maid’s daughter, my daughter Saskia is at school at the moment. Your brother could play with her while we get to business?” 

The older boy nodded and gestured to the younger one to go to you. You smiled at him, telling him your fake name your father had told you. The boy smiled back, sitting down across from you.

“I’m Kaz.”

You froze, staring at Kaz with wide eyes - realising he was the first child you helped your father to pluck. And the one you had foolishly befriended. You had asked after him for weeks, but your father kept telling you that you shouldn’t have let yourself get attached to a pigeon you were plucking, and eventually you quit asking.

How hadn’t you recognised him before? How hasn’t he recognised you? Or maybe he did recognise you. Maybe he was leading you to a trap. The thing that had happened between him and your father, it was something you also had participated in. You were also guilty of it.

His brother. Where was his brother? Was he also a gang member? Or did… did your father sell him to slavers? No, he wouldn’t do that… or would he?

He never killed those people he conned, so Kaz’s brother was likely alive. They were destroying your father’s empire together, chipping it away slowly to pay back for what he did to them.

What you did to them. He had basically grown to be your best friend, and after all this time… it felt just as bad to know you had betrayed him, even when you thought you had gotten over it.

Kaz noticed your stare and cocked an eyebrow. “Go on.”

You blinked, and then abruptly shook your head, flinching back. “N-no, I have nothing to add.”

Jesper cocked his head. “You look like you just stepped into a snake pit.”

They all stared at you, and you forced yourself to get it together. “Sun is setting soon. We need to get this moving before the Sun Summoner is returning to her quarters.”

They were quiet for a moment longer, before Kaz nodded. “She’s right. I will get more uniforms. Arken, Inej, you will meet me at the stairwell I showed you.”

They nodded, and you glanced at Kaz - suddenly everything made sense, and everything felt a hundred times more difficult. Your plans went to waste the moment you connected the dots, the flashbacks… and now you were only left thinking how on earth would you get yourself out of the situation. And if the situation would actually turn itself into you switching sides… having to set yourself against your father, because he would leave you with no choice if you came back home and told him you can’t kill Kaz because you remembered who he was.

Right now, you could only go along with Kaz's plan and snatch the Sun Summoner. 

Next steps from that, you didn’t know yet.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows fanfic #six of crows x reader #six of crows #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone #grishaverse fanfic #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse #reader insert #batbp #the bastard and the blood princess

[ibijau]

AO3 is down, I’m depressed, it’s too hot, so let me offer you distraction in the form of lxc having transmigrated into his favourite novel only to make everything worse /o/

[edit] AO3 is back so this got posted there too

It could only be a quick visit, since Lan Xichen had so much to take care of these days. Really, back home, this visit could have been replaced with a few texts, or maybe a phone call for a touch of warmth… But there were no phones in this world of course, and letters were just too cumbersome for a problem like this one. So Lan Xichen had flown to the Unclean Realm… And at least he could fly and reach his destination in just a few days. A sword wasn't as efficient as a plane, but it beat walking or riding a horse by a good margin. 

When he landed at the gate of the Unclean Realm, Lan Xichen felt his heartbeat accelerate a little, as always whenever he got to visit a location he particularly loved. Even after so long, he just couldn't get used to it. Sometimes even the Cloud Recesses still had that effect, but much less frequently, since its look was a very classic one, resembling a number of historical places he’d visited back home. Compared to the Unclean Realm's imposing coldness, to Carp Tower's gold and abundance… 

"Xichen, you arrived early!" Nie Mingjue barked, coming to the gate to greet his sworn brother.

Lan Xichen smiled. "You made it sound urgent, how could I not hurry?" 

"I just said Huaisang is looking sad," Nie Mingjue protested.

"And isn't that the greatest of emergencies for both of us?" Lan Xichen replied.

Nie Mingjue scoffed at that, but he did not directly contradict his old friend, which was as good as agreeing. Not that Lan Xichen needed it confirmed. Between his own observations in this world, and how many times he had read the original work, he knew well that Mingjue's little brother was his top priority at all times, even if he sometimes showed it in a manner difficult to understand.

It had been more obvious in the original story, of course. But Nie Mingjue’s PTSD hadn’t been so bad in the novel, not with Meng Yao to help him through the worst of it. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with that boy,” Nie Mingjue explained as they walked together toward the garden where Nie Huaisang would hide whenever he was upset. “He’s constantly moping around, or reading treatises on morality. If it were someone else, I would suspect he’s killed someone and struggles with guilt.”

Lan Xichen chuckled politely.

“I do realise how it sounds,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “I know it can’t be that, he doesn’t have the spine for it. But there’s still something wrong with him, and he won’t tell me what. So I figured… he’s always been more comfortable confiding in you, so maybe you can get the truth out of him.”

“I’ll do my best,” Lan Xichen promised, and while Nie Mingjue stopped at the gate of that garden, he walked in.

It was a pretty little place, this garden. There weren’t many flowers, because the soil of the Unclean Realm wasn’t right for it, but bushes and rocks had been arranged with exquisite taste. In the novel, this place had been described as the only thing toward which Nie Huaisang had ever put any effort. It had become the secret heart of the Unclean Realm, the location where many heart-to-heart conversations would take place between Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao.

But on that bright morning, only Nie Huaisang was there, sitting on a bench with a book that looked more serious than the light poetry or the elaborate porn he usually favoured.

When he heard footsteps on the path, Nie Huaisang startled and quickly closed that book, even trying to hide it behind his back. But once he recognised Lan Xichen he relaxed and merely put the volume down on the bench as he stood to greet his guest. Nie Huaisang seemed in a good enough mood, better certainly than what Nie Mingjue had hinted at, so Lan Xichen wasn’t too worried for the young man as they chatted a little. And yet when Lan Xichen explained he was there at Nie Mingjue’s request, that his sworn brother was worried for his little brother, Nie Huaisang’s attitude quickly changed. His smile vanished, and his head hung low, like a child caught doing something naughty.

“It’s just that I’ve been thinking about Wei Wuxian a lot since he died,” Nie Huaisang confessed at last, and Lan Xichen immediately tensed.

He never liked to talk about Wei Wuxian these days.

Back in the original version of the story, Wei Wuxian had been a black hearted villain, the too ambitious son of a servant, whose hubris had caused him to turn against the cultivation world in his endless quest for power and revenge. He’d been described as impossibly clever but equally cruel and arrogant, ready to use the worst methods to rise above others, turning against the sect that had taken him in, unleashing undead horrors upon innocents in an effort to conquer the world. 

Lan Xichen had found him despicable from start to finish.

He hadn’t been prepared, when Wei Wuxian had arrived at the Cloud Recesses, around the time Lan Xichen had transmigrated there.

Wei Wuxian had just been a fun kid. A bit cocky, sure, as any boy of fifteen could be, but really, really funny too. Lan Xichen had nearly broken character a dozen times when hearing his uncle complain against this most unruly student. Not only that but Lan Wangji, who in the novel had appeared to hate Wei Wuxian at first sight, was discovered by Lan Xichen to be more like a toddler with an angry crush.

And Lan Xichen, newly arrived into that world, filled with sympathy for a boy who couldn’t have been further from a murderous necromancer, had wanted to help Wei Wuxian.

Sometimes, he wondered if that was where everything had gone wrong.

But no, it wasn’t possible. All he’d done was subtly encourage Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to see they could be great friends, and it hadn’t even worked anyway. Surely the changes to the plot had to have come from something else.

"I just can't understand how Wei-xiong became like this," Nie Huaisang sighed. "He wasn't… He really was a good person before, you know. He was! What happened makes no sense, and I keep wondering if maybe… If I had been a better friend… If I’d tried to still be his friend after he left the Cloud Recesses… If I’d invited him and Jiang-xiong here after the lectures, if I’d reached out more after the war…"

Lan Xichen pinched his lips. 

It was the wrong time for this conversation. This exact dialogue… Nie Huaisang should have been wondering this before Wei Wuxian died, when the world had been thrown into terrible chaos by him. 

Not only was the timing wrong, but it wasn't a conversation he should have had with Lan Xichen of all people. Something so personal should only have been shared with Nie Huaisang's dearest friend, the person he trusted the most to understand such complex feelings, the one who should have been guiding him for years. 

Sadly, Nie Huaisang had been robbed of that guidance. Due to Lan Xichen's impact on the story, Meng Yao had joined the Jin sect years earlier than he should have, inadvertently creating a rift between him and Nie Mingjue, the details of which Lan Xichen was only partly aware of, since it did not follow the original plot.

It was a tragedy on several levels. First and foremost because the friendship between Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue had been the heart of the story, the driving force behind most of its action. Through the unbreakable bond of their friendship, Nie Mingjue had been able to better govern his own sect and have time to further improve his cultivation, while in return his complete support of Meng Yao had helped the other man overcome every obstacle on his path that his sharp mind couldn’t already defeat. Even when they disagreed on something, they had always found ways to work together, either through compromises or through convincing the other that a certain choice would be detrimental. Lan Xichen had cried his heart out when Nie Mingjue had been killed by Wei Wuxian, when Meng Yao, nearly overcome with grief, had used the pain of that loss as a rallying cry against the greatest villain the world had ever known, eventually defeating Wei Wuxian and cementing his place as a noble hero.

Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao were close friends, confidants, perfect matches, the sort of relationship that could only exist in stories.

Lan Xichen had been thrilled to realise he’d transmigrated into someone lucky enough to be called friends by them, even though he had no illusion that he could ever be to either of them what they would be to each other. He’d always taken this character to be a bit of a third wheel, actually. The original Lan Xichen was someone who merely tagged along and helped support this epic bromance when the plot required it.

And yet, through mistakes on his part, Lan Xichen had torn those two apart. He was still a little confused about what he’d done wrong, truth be told. But certain things had happened that should not have happened, and he’d ended up meeting Meng Yao much earlier than he should have, even contracting a life debt toward him, eventually leading to Meng Yao joining the Jin sect nearly half a decade earlier than he should have. It had created a deep divide between Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue.

It also meant that Nie Huaisang hadn’t had much of a chance to truly become close to the person he ought to have loved above anyone except his own brother.

And love really was barely a strong enough word for it, Lan Xichen thought. Reading the original story, he’d always thought there was a certain attraction between Nie Huaisang and Meng Yao, even if by the epilogue they’d both married women. Lan Xichen would not admit to it even under torture, but he’d definitely written fanfiction about these two, and even drawn some fanart here and there. His skill hadn’t been very great, but he’d put all his heart into it, feeling truly passionate about the idea that his two favourite characters might love each other as much as he loved them. To know that he might have ruined any chance of his favourite couple coming together… truly, there were no words for how much it depressed him.

The most depressing part, though, was that as a result, both Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang kept having with him conversations they should have had with each other… like the present one about Wei Wuxian.

“Huaisang, you cannot blame yourself for the choices of others,” Lan Xichen said, hoping his tone was as comforting as Meng Yao’s would have been. “The things that Wei Wuxian has done… Can anyone really explain things like that?”

“Yes,” Nie Huaisang replied, startling Lan Xichen. 

That wasn’t how the conversation went, as far as he remembered. But of course when the conversation happened in the story, Wei Wuxian had just killed Nie Mingjue, and threatened to slaughter every sect over some invented insults against himself. 

“He wasn’t that bad,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “And these people, those Wens… If he had a debt to them, then it was right to help them, no? Debts are meant to be repaid. We wouldn't have won the war without Wei-xiong, and if they saved him…"

"We don't know that he was saved by them," Lan Xichen prudently objected, because the original work never did specify the nature of that debt, only hinting that it was linked to Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation. "But I can't say you're wrong either. It sounds like a complicated situation he was in, and I'm not sure what he could have done to keep his reputation and repay his debt at the same time. But that's how life is. Sometimes, no matter what you do, you can't be right. You can only choose in what manner you will be wrong."

Nie Huaisang grimaced at that answer, clearly displeased that Lan Xichen wouldn't commit one way or the other. Before long though, that frown of his turned into the sort of brilliant, mischievous grin that nothing in the original work had prepared Lan Xichen for. It always sent his heart racing a little, which he'd rationalised as being due to Nie Huaisang’s immense cuteness. 

"I guess I see what you mean, a little," Nie Huaisang said. "Thank you for taking the time to listen to me. Nobody else ever does." 

"I'm sure others too are happy to talk to you. Certainly A-Yao…"

Nie Huaisang shook his head, pouting once more. 

"San-ge never has time for me," he lamented, "and when he does, he doesn't really listen. You’re the only one I can talk to like this, and the only one that says anything worth listening to. Er-ge, your way of thinking is really different from everyone, you know?”

“I’m not sure what you mean," Lan Xichen replied, a little startled by that comment. He'd always done his best to act and speak the exact way the original character would have, and nobody else had ever accused him of behaving oddly until that moment. 

“I’m not sure either," Nie Huaisang said, still pouting. "Maybe I mean the way you always think well of everyone? But it’s more than that. It’s like your entire way of thinking is completely different. That’s why I can talk to you about Wei-xiong. Everyone else always just said he was too proud for a servant’s son, as if that explains everything, but you've never held that against him.”

“I’m not the only one… Jiang-zongzhu too… and your brother doesn’t look at people’s birth to determine their worth either.”

“Da-ge says he doesn’t,” Nie Huaisang corrected with a dubious pout, “but then he just finds his own reason to dislike the same people as everyone else. Like how he criticises San-ge all the time, and then says it has nothing to do with his mother.”

“I rather think Da-ge finds A-Yao’s father to be his more shameful parent.”

“No, that’s just what you think,” Nie Huaisang replied with an amused smirk. “Da-ge doesn’t like Jin-zongzhu, sure, but he still recognises him as a sect leader and gives him the respect due to one. But you don’t like him at all, and really have to force yourself to act like you respect him, I know that.”

Lan Xichen’s cheeks heated up, ashamed that his disdain had been noticed.

But really, Jin Guangshan had been despicable as a character back when he’d read the novel, and now he was infinitely worse as a person who Lan Xichen regularly had to speak to. In the modern world, Jin Guangshan would have been cancelled a hundred times already. There would be hashtags demanding he step down from power. There would be memes.

So, so many memes.

Sometimes Lan Xichen thought of very clever ones, and lamented that he couldn’t share them with anyone.

“Have I been so obvious?” Lan Xichen asked, worried he might create more deviation from the plot if his dislike was revealed.

Chuckling slightly, Nie Huaisang shook his head.

“Not really. You are fooling everyone else. You’re very good at fooling others, you know. It’s really hard to know what you’re thinking… worse than San-ge, and he’s pretty good at it already.”

“And yet you can guess his thoughts anyway, can’t you?” Lan Xichen asked, smiling fondly.

“Usually, if I’m interested enough,” Nie Huaisang replied, shrugging again. “But he’s always involved in boring stuff, so I really don’t care what’s on his mind. I think it’d be more fun if I could know what you’re thinking.”

Without meaning to, Lan Xichen shivered. 

He told himself it was only a reaction to yet more proof that his favourite ship had been ruined by himself. It might also have been because while reading the original story, he’d always had the faint impression that Nie Huaisang was far more clever and observant than the narration really gave him credit for. It had always been a controversial opinion, and Lan Xichen had even encountered some backlash sometimes when he’d dared to share his idea online, no matter how many quotes he used to prove his point.

Nie Huaisang was just a comic relief, they’d point out. He was a fool and an idiot, they’d say. It was already bad enough Lan Xichen drew him to be so handsome when the novel never described his looks as more than ok (and yet he was handsome, much more so than any of the others cultivators Lan Xichen had met since transmigrating), but to claim he was clever was so wrong, a complete disregard for the novel’s text.

So if Lan Xichen’s heart was suddenly beating so fast, it was only because Nie Huaisang’s attitude confirmed his interpretation of him.

“Er-ge, won’t you share your thoughts with me?” Nie Huaisang asked with a smile that might have been seductive if it had been targeted at Meng Yao.

“I fear you’d be very disappointed if you could read my mind,” Lan Xichen replied, fighting to stay in character. “My thoughts are very mundane.”

Nie Huaisang cocked his head to the side, like a curious bird.

“I think that’s not quite true,” he said with a pout. “I think it would be very interesting. I think Er-ge should share more with me, since I’m always sharing with him. I really, really want to understand you, after all.”

“Huaisang…” Lan Xichen started saying, only to stop himself, perplexed to hear how strangled his voice sounded. The real Lan Xichen would never have lost his cool, even when faced with a too playful boy. 

Nie Huaisang grinned proudly, as if he’d pulled off a great trick.

“Someday, I’ll understand you,” he claimed. “You’re the only one that still eludes me. Everyone else I’ve figured out, more or less.”

“I did not know you were so obsessed with understanding people,” Lan Xichen mumbled. “Is there a reason why?”

“It’s all Da-ge’s fault,” Nie Huaisang said, his voice losing any flirty tone he’d had to turn whiny instead, something Lan Xichen was far more comfortable with. “He’s always dragging me to conferences these days, and makes me help with taking care of the sect… watching people and trying to figure out how they think is the only fun I get to have! I hardly even get to paint or go birdwatching lately, it’s the worst, it’s just the worst, I’m so miserable!”

Relieved that the conversation was once more what it ought to be between them, Lan Xichen allowed Nie Huaisang to complain as much as he wanted, listening to everything patiently. Sometimes Nie Huaisang said something mean about someone, and Lan Xichen would gently scold him for being unkind. Much more frequently Nie Huaisang would say something unkind and hilarious, and Lan Xichen had to bite his cheeks not to burst out laughing, because his character was too gentle and bland to enjoy that level of pettiness.

After a while, Lan Xichen had to point out that it would soon be time for dinner, and they should go join everyone. Nie Huaisang agreed without enthusiasm, as if he’d have preferred the two of them stayed alone to chat. 

“Er-ge, you won’t tell Da-ge about what we talked about, will you?” Nie Huaisang shyly asked as they left the garden. “He just despises Wei Wuxian so much for choosing to betray his sect and to stand with some Wens… He wouldn’t understand why I care about how it all came to that.”

“If I keep the secret, you’ll have to make an effort to act more cheerful,” Lan Xichen replied. “Your brother is really worried about you. He just wants you to be happy, you know.”

Nie Huaisang promised he would try, and smiled brightly as he said so, looking exactly like the charming, harmless young man he was written to be.

Seeing him like this, Lan Xichen couldn’t refrain from smiling as well. He’d made some mistakes in the past, but it didn’t matter anymore. With Wei Wuxian dead, nothing bad could ever happen to any of them now. Peace had returned to the cultivation world, and Lan Xichen was free to act as he pleased.

Maybe he’d even try to make Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao reconcile. 

It couldn’t be too late to fix the plot, right?

#jau writes #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan xichen #nie huaisang #transmigrator lxc #xisang #if you squint a bit #I have been obsessed with this idea for ages tbh