#❛ ✧ ┊ only your smile kills the dark in me. my edits.

[clarafell]

🎂 ok but this emoji makes me think… now i wonder what fruit robin is in the cake song

AESTHETIC TIME :  Accepting!

@wolfvirago

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Childs play (Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader [ex-Childhood best friend turned Fwb AU]) Part 1

Hiiiii! I’m so freaking excited for y’all to read this I’m literally shaking! This will only be 1 part. (Edit: I’ve changed my mind it will get a second part but it won’t be put right away) Shout out to @chickenshit03 for beta reading the one shot. Absolute sweetheart 🫶🏼. Not proofread, enjoy!!

(Y/N)-Your name.

NSFW!! SMUT!! MDNI!! Cursing, light choking during the deed , protecting PinV, Miguel being a big meanie near the end, Comfort/Hurt, lmk if I can’t think of anymore

Word count: 4.6k

Part 2

Masterlist

—

Knock knock…

“Hello, I’m sorry if I’m intruding but I wanted to introduce myself, me and my family just moved in next door and I wanted to introduce ourselves.” Your mother said as she stood at her neighbors door, you hid timidly behind her leg as she spoke to a Hispanic woman with curly dark hair. Your eyes wandered around her living room, or at least as much as you could catch from your spot. Not paying any mind to the conversation they were having when your eyes spotted a young boy around your age, about five or so walking past with a few legos in hand.

Your shyness was quickly overtaken with curiosity as you went to pull on your mother’s hand, she must have been watching you stare at the brunette, because before you could even turn up to ask her if you could go play, she was already shooing you in the direction of him as her and the other lady went to go talk over coffee in the kitchen.

He didn’t glance up at you as you sat down in front of his spot on the living room floor, being too preoccupied on the Star Wars set he was working on.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“My name’s (Y/N).”

“Cool.”

“What’s your name?”

“Miguel.”

You paused, shifting to sit down better before speaking again.

“Can I help? I love legos.”

He stayed quiet, and for a second you think he’ll say no, until he shrugged and moved the instruction book so you both could read it, making your lips come up in a smile.

“Sure.”

—

“You can teach me to play street fighter a million times and I will never understand it.” You huffed as you dropped the controller on your lap and leaned back on the couch, the tv in his living room sounded out a “finish her” as Miguel’s character killed yours, you couldn’t even be bothered to remember the names, peeved off that’d he beat you for the upteenth time, him not even having the courtesy to let you win one round.

“I’m not gonna be sorry for you being bad.” He retorted in a teasing tone, sticking out his tongue at you, and blew a raspberry. Your arms quickly crossover your chest as you puff your cheeks out with a pout.

“You’re so mean to me Miguel, I hate you.” You mumbled the half-lie to the other ten year old, looking away as you felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment, you didn’t even notice his movements until you felt him grab for your hand, turning your head to realize he was now standing in front of your spot on the couch.

“You don’t hate me, I’m your best friend.” He states, making you nod your head in confirmation after a beat, “Good. Because you’re my best friend too.” You smiled.

“Can we play something else then?”

“Nope.”

“Ughhh.”

—

“(Y/N), it’s your turn to spin the bottle.” Mj’s voice snapped you out of your head, suddenly aware of all the other fourteen years olds turning to stare at you. Was it a bit embarrassing you were about to lose your first kiss in a game of spin the bottle?

Half-dried nail-polished fingers gently grabbed the base of the empty Coke bottle, praying to god no one saw the way your hand trembled slightly, as you gave it a good twist. As your eyes tracked the blur of clear glass, you got your lower lip, silently hoping it was someone who you wouldn’t fluster up in embarrassment when you had to tell them who was your first kiss in the four walls of the lunch room. Like Kyle, or Ben or-

“Oooo- you got Miguel!” One of the other girls giggled as your eyes shot up to where the tip was pointing and surely, there he sat in front of you. Miguel was good…yeah, great even! You trusted him, he was your best friend since you were practically in dippers…So with a fine silent look of confirmation, you crossed the circle, closing your eyes as your lips connected for the first time.

Is it normal for your heart to skip a beat during a kiss? God how red is my face right now? Have I been holding it for too long? I wonder if he’s enjoying it, he hasn’t pulled away so that’s a good sign right? I should probably stop now. It's been like four seconds.

You finally pull away, sitting down on your knees as you bring a hand up to wipe some excess saliva away from the cover of your mouth. The sound of the next person going to spin the bottle muffles out around you as you focus on the weird flutter in your stomach.

—

“SLOW DOWN MIG-YOU’RE DRIVING LIKE A MANIAC!” You yelled as your left hand flew to grab at your seat belt, right hand gripping the overhead handle so hard your knuckles were turning white, pushing yourself as much as you could into the passenger seat at you could while he just let out an eye roll and chuckle as you were being dramatic (you weren’t).

“I’m not taking driving advice from someone who doesn’t have their license yet.”

“You got your license yesterday! I don’t turn sixteen for another four months!”

“Don’t care, you could ever shut up or take the bus.”

You couldn’t respond right away because another scream came from your throat as he turned a corner.

“If I die in this stupid car, I’m going to haunt the shit out of you O’Hara!”

“I’m not gonna let you die, stop being dramatic.” He scoffed, finally pulling up to the school parking lot, finally slowing down as he looked for a place to park. His arm comes around the back of your car seat as he goes to backwards park in an empty spot. “See I didn’t let you die.”

“I’m actually traumatized…” You muttered, eyes still wide as you kept still in your seat. Miguel let out a huff and he goes to take your seatbelt off once the car was shut off.

“If I buy you some subway during lunch will you stop complaining?”

“…yes.”

—

“Maybe I could just take a gap year-or-or go to the community college nearby, just until I can transfer, then I can try for Columbia again?” You kept fumbling your words, looking at the rejection letter in your hands. If you tried to focus on it enough, you’d be able to hear the paper shaking lightly in your hands. Glossy eyes trying to rapidly blink away tears before they fell on the paper. Miguel quickly shook his head as he placed his coffee cup down on the table of the cafe you two would frequent.

“No. Not happening, I’ll just reject my application and we can go to Stanford together in California.” He told you, making you copy his actions as you placed the paper down next to your other University letters.

“Are you crazy? That’s your dream school! I am not letting you do that for me. I’d never forgive myself for that.” You admitted, looking at him in those familiar brown eyes, praying to god yours weren’t growing bloodshot from the emotional moment between you both. Miguel letting out a heavy sigh, his hand going to run through his pushed back brown locks as he looked down at his letters again. The silence that grew over you two was almost suffocating, a thing it never felt like around him. It made your heart ache, trying to keep back a whine and some tears as you closed your eyes and took in a shaky breath before opening them again and finally breaking the silence between you both. “I mean…FaceTime is a thing right?” Miguel raised a brow at your sentence, before it clicked in his mind what you were implying. Quickly shaking his head, his hand coming up to stop you.

“No. No. I can’t even go a week without seeing you, I’ve lived next door to you for thirteen years and you expect me to be okay with us being two thousand miles away from each other!?” You glanced around you when Miguel raised his voice slightly, luckily other than you and the owner the place was practically barren.

“Mig, we’ll figure it out! We’ll call and text, FaceTime, and I’ll come back for breaks! And besides, you don’t strike me as a type to enjoy California.” You attempted to lighten the mood, thankfully being met with an amused grunt and his lip twitching up slightly.

“Fine… just, promise we aren’t going to end up like all those friends who stop talking because we’re going to separate college’s alright?”

Your smile grew. “I promise.”

—

Ring…

Ring…

Rin- “Hey it’s Miguel,” your ears perked up, quickly scrambling up from your position on your bunk bed, where you were laying on your stomach, “I can’t come to the phone right now, leave me a message.” Beep.

“Hey Miguel… just wanted to see how you were, I finished my exams for the semester, and I’m going back to Neuva York tomorrow. I wanted to see if you’d want to hang out during the break, let me know… bye…” You mumbled before you hung up the call, tossing your phone on the other side of your bed. Running your hands through your head, letting out a heavy sigh. Closing your eyes to keep any forming tears of frustration from spilling out.

You and Miguel weren’t as close as you’d like to be anymore. How did a few months apart completely unwind the tight knit threat that had kept you both close for years? It had started out well, you did good at keeping your side of the promise and he did as well. Texting every hour, FaceTiming him every weekend, calling every night while you both studied, it almost felt like nothing had changed.

Then, classes became harder, you’d both start to develop new friends, new routines. The text became less frequent, now lagging to every few days, FaceTime sessions were now non-existent and your daily calls now became monthly, never lasting more than half an hour. You hated how you two were growing apart, and it hurt to see that Miguel didn’t seem to care. You didn’t have to see him in person to notice his new friend group was starting to change his personality. He was starting to seem more stoic, dry, it almost seemed like he was constantly agitated or something of the sort when you finally would get a hold of him. Still… despite the gradual change he seemed to be going through you still had hope that deep down he was still the same old Miguel you had grown to love and cherish. And that spark of hope only grew when you heard the faint buzz of your phone from the foot of your bed, quickly grabbing it to read a new message.

Text me when you get in tomorrow.

—

This was not what you had in mind.

Somehow Miguel had convinced you to go to some random bar that didn’t ID with him and his college buddies. “I’ll be fun” he said, “you’ll love them” he said. Now here you were forced to listen to some snobby trust fund kid bitch and moan about how he had to inherit his father’s company and blah blah blah. You weren’t even paying attention anyways, his words were going into one ear and flying out the other, opting to sip on your mixed drink to help keep you from banging your head into the bar counter. Tonight had simply e been the worst. Not to mention Miguel had been acting… different.

Maybe he just wasn’t good with distance, but it still struck you as odd how the second you were both finally in close proximity it was almost as if nothing had happened, like your friendship with each other wasnt badly strained for weeks on end. It didn’t stop there though, no no no. Because now that you were with him in front of his new friends and all dolled up he had been more… touchy, and not in a way he had been before.

A hand on your thigh, an arm around your waist, a finger idly twisting and twirling your hair. It was so… intimate… like he wanted them to think there was something there that was more than just a childhood friend. You couldn’t say that you hated it, it was just unexpected.

“Hey… let’s get out of here?” Miguel’s whisper snapped you out from your thoughts. The way his voice murmured lowly against your shoulder as he all but rubbed against it like a cat making your cheeks flare up and a shiver ran down your back. Quickly ignoring the feeling of the spike in your heart rate and the wetness growing in your panties, nodding as you go to stand up, not wanting to be in the over cramped bar any longer and just waiting to head back to Miguel’s place since you were staying there for a week. Feeling like your knees were going to give out from underneath you when he slid his large hand from between your shoulder blades and upwards to squeeze your right shoulder.

Not sure if your hazy mind was from the alcohol or from his actions anymore. Not sure if things would go back to how they were before you’d left when he went to leave sloppy wet kisses on your neck as soon as his apartment door was closed and locked. Not sure if you could look at him the same way after he made you see stars from the comfort of his sheets. Still you couldn’t stop. It felt too good, he felt too good.

“Fuck- felt so fucking good…” He hissed as he pulled out from between your legs, taking a moment to let himself to catch his breath before rolling the condom off and tossing it in the trash can. You didn’t respond, still out of it from the aftermath of experiencing nirvana in the form of drunk sex. Letting out a sigh as you turned to your side and closed your eyes as drowsiness starts to seep into your bones. Feeling the other side of the bed dip before a strong arm came around to hug your waist.

“…Miguel?”

“Yeah?”

“This… was a one time thing right?”

A pause, a heavy sigh before you felt his soft lips kiss the nape of your neck.

“… of course.”

—

A flash of light shined through the darkness of your studio apartment. You didn’t even need to check the notification screen in order to know who it was. Only one person would text you at two in the morning.

Come over?

If you told your high school self that the only time you ever saw Miguel was in the deeps of night while you were tangled in his sheets, she would have thought you were lying. The most fucked up part was that it was starting to affect you mentally, how your best friend had turned into a booty call because of one night from a drunk fuck seven years ago, it was painfully obvious you’d never get to the point where you’d be able to go back to the way you both once were. You couldn’t help but cling to the last broken bits he was willing to give you though. So every time he calls or texts you at random hours of the night since you’ve moved back to Nueva York, you’d show up at his doorstep like you are now.

“I know it’s late, I'm sorry, these Master exams are kicking my ass.” He apologized while letting you in after a few seconds. Closing and locking the front door before gently pushing you against it, his lips already finding their usual spot against the crook of your neck. Calloused hands began to slip underneath the baggy material of your hoodie, his large fingers gently grazing the exposed skin, you’ve learned to stop wearing shirts to these sessions a long time ago. “Need to blow off some steam…”

“Miguel…”The way you’d breathe out his name always made him feel like he had died and gone to heaven, your hands wandering upwards against the black fabric of his tank top. His lips separated from the blossoming red and purple mark they left in their wake so he can pull your jacket off before stripping off his own shirt. Your arms quickly wrap around his neck, any guilt that had been lingering in your mind quickly melted away when his hands ran down to your hips underneath your waistband, thumb fidgeting with the thin fabric of your panties. “Need you-“

“Need you too Cariño.” He muttered before going to place a gentle peck against the edge of your lips, you couldn’t help but let out a small whimper at the movement. You’ve noticed he never kisses you directly on your lips, always on the edge, on your neck or cheek. You would have felt your heart ache if the feeling of your core throbbing when his hand dragged your bottoms down to squeeze your ass wasn’t more overwhelming, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Half of the time you two didn’t even make it to the bedroom, finding a spot on the hallway wall or against the kitchen counter. This was one of those times, he stumbled over to the couch, too distracted on leaving hickies all over your chest and dipping his fingers into your wet cunt. You let out a gasp when you landed on the brown leather rather harshly, making the couch move a few inches from its original spot due to the weight of both of your bodies hastily climbing on top of it. He made quick work to strip the rest of your clothes from both of your bodies once he made sure you hadn’t accidentally hit your head. Quickly slipping a condom before lining himself up.

“Fuuuuck-fuck…” He groaned, as he pushed the tip of his cock between your folds. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream from the deliciously painful stretch that he always provides. Giving you a second to adjust to his length and girth before pulling out and slamming his hips against yours, each thrust making your silent whimpers and whines turn into pornographic moans and incoherent babblings. “Love filling you up. You love this cock don’t you?” He taunts, it was so cruel the way the words fell from his mouth but you loved it nonetheless. Nodding rapidly as you gushed around him for the first time tonight.

“Nah uh… need to heard you say it. Use your words.” He smirks, enjoying the plop plop sound that started to quietly reverberate off the walls of his living room. Glancing down momentarily to watch a thin layer of cum that was forming a ring around the base of his cock. “Tell me how much you love it.” He urged.

“Fuck-fuck… love it so much.” You moaned, overstimulated from your orgasm, squirming underneath him just the way he liked. He couldn’t help the way his ego swells at the way you feel apart for him.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you.” He cooed as he propped your leg over his shoulder to get a better angle, his sweet words always messed with your foggy mind. “Such a sweet little thing, all for me.”

“Don’t-don’t say that Mig.” You whined, head turning to the side, as your hand dropped from his chest to drop off the couch. His right hand quickly leaves your hip and runs up to your neck, keeping his grip light as he props your head back to face him with his index finger.

“Aww poor baby, can’t handle when I talk all sweet to her, huh?” He let out an airy half chuckle. Despite the honey-like toned he’d use, the underlying taunt was always present. “Let me make it up to you baby.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he thrust deeper into your core, making your hips subconsciously jump up to meet his.

“Mig-Miguel, I’m so-so close.” You whimpered and whined, clenching around his length, his hips stuttering slightly as you felt the heat building in your lower belly start to grow with each thrust.

“Cum with me baby… Cum all over this cock.” He groaned.

“Fuck-Fuck.” With one final thrust, you finally came undone around him, his name falling from your lips over and over like a mantra. Miguel followed suit, stopping his thrust while fully inside your cunt, letting out a deep groan as he came.

“Shit… You okay?” He asked once he was able to collect himself enough, climbing off top of you before rolling the used condom off his softing member, picking up his forgotten boxers and placing them back on.

“Mhm…” You nodded, trying to stabilize yourself on shaky arms and legs. Miguel seemed to have noticed, picking up your clothes from the floor and making his way over to hand them to you.

“Let me get you some water.” He said before retreating to his kitchen. The only sound in the air now was the faint noises of him rustling around his cabinets, and the quiet shuffling of clothes. Hating the feeling of putting your legging and hoodie back on due to the thin layer of sweat still on your skin. Once you were decent enough Miguel came back with a glass of water and handed it to you. Mumbling a “thank you” before taking a sip. Miguel cleared his throat as he sat down on the other edge of the couch, eyes cast down, hands rubbing anxiously together, finally deciding to break the steadily growing awkward silence. “Look, (Y/N), I wanted to talk to you about something… something kinda important.”

You raised a brow, noticing the sudden change in his behavior, taking another quick sip before placing the half empty glass on his coffee table. “What’s up?”

He released a heavy sigh as he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, still not making eye contact as he continued. “I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just put it out there…” He finally brought his gaze up to meet yours, “We need to stop seeing each other.”

Huh?

“I’m sorry what?” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop, your face quickly filling up with confusion and a bit of disbelief as you stood up. Miguel follows your actions as he puts his hands up in defense, but you continue before he could try explaining. “You can’t just fuck me on your couch then tell me afterwards we need to stop. You know how much of an asshole you sound?”

“I know, I know it makes me sound like an asshole.” He tried to reason with you, going to finally put on his shorts and tank top that were still on the floor. Not feeling like being half-naked during this conversation. “Look, there’s this girl I’ve been seeing and it’s getting pretty serious-“

“A girl you’ve been seeing?” You repeated in disbelief. “You can’t be for real.”

“Well, we never agreed to be exclusive. It’s not like we were going to start dating or anything.”

Ouch.

You had to turn away so they didn’t see the tears building in the corner of your eyes, but even with your face hidden your body language gave you away.

“I know we weren’t exclusive but fuck Miguel.” You shake your head, going to make your way to the door. “I’ve known you since we were five and you’re just gonna throw me away like some old toy?!”

“Hey-no. That’s not-that’s not what I mean, you know that.” He takes a step forward, grabbing your arm before you could get too far. “We can’t sleep together anymore, but we can still be friends.” You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, finally gathering yourself enough to pull your arm away and face him again, not caring if he saw the tears cascading down your cheeks. He’s made you cry one too many times, it’s about time he saw what he did to you. “We can still be friends! You’re still my best friend (Y/N)!” He couldn’t help but let his voice come out in more of a panic, a bit more rushed. You quickly shook your head.

“No. No, we aren’t best friends anymore Miguel, we haven’t been in a long, long time. I know that, you know that. So don’t pretend like we are just because your afraid of losing your emotional support fuck buddy.” You finally head toward the door and towards your car in the driveway, not turning to face him as you hear him call your name. “Don’t call me, don’t text me. If you're as serious about this girl as you say you are, you’d do the right thing and block me. Because I’m so tired of waiting around and pretending like one day you’ll wake up and realize I’m in love with you.”

You froze once the words came out, hand still on the car door handle as you came to the realization you finally admitted the secret you’ve been holding for the past ten years. Your free hand going to cover your mouth as you finally turn to look at Miguel, the look of shock from the confession was evident. You shook your head as you attempted to back track.

“Wait, Miguel I didn’t mean to tell you that-it just happened-“

“… You should leave.” His voice suddenly became stoic, his face hardening so it was hard to read his emotions. “This is just helping my case. Leave.” The tears flowed harder down your face as he slammed the front door shut. Leaving you to sob into the emptiness of the night as you finally let all the pain from the last seven years catch up to you.

You weren’t surprised to see your text bubbles turn green the next morning.

—

“I really think this one is it.”

“Me too!”

“He’ll love you in that dress.”

“Aww I can already see the waterworks.”

All you could do was smile, your hands repeatedly smooth non-existent wrinkles as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you looked like a real life princess. After what felt like hours you finally found the wedding dress. You couldn’t be happier.

“Alright Miss future Osborn.” Your maid of honor squealed, finally getting your attention, “You need to get out of that dress, you need to meet up Harry to look over the venue.”

You sighed, as you turned back to admire the white wedding dress one more time. “You’re right, I don’t wanna keep him waiting just cause I can’t stop staring at myself.” You giggled, before heaving to the back.

You and Harry have been dating for four years now, and he had proposed last month during your anniversary. You couldn’t be happier, he treats you like a queen, better than any other Man you’ve ever been in romantic contact with.

Once you had finally finished changing out of your regular clothes, you grabbed your phone out of your purse. Sending a quick text telling him that you found a dress, before doing a quick check on insta, wanting to look at the engagement pictures you posted on your page last week. But the soft smile on your face quickly dropped, like your heart did to your stomach when you checked your activity page.

Miguel.Ohara.99 and 4 others liked your post.

Miguel.Ohara.99 started following you.

1 message request from Miguel.Ohara.99

Fuck.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @scaryplanetdestroyer @miguels-aranita @beezusvreeland @raginghomo62 @miguelbaby @thedevax @vera4luv @alialucille

[ma1dita]

when the curtains close

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.3k

summary: (post-tlt) The one where you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Pollux, Annabeth, Percy, and Mr. D find out the biggest difference between you and Luke.) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: yeah to me this fic sounds and feels like that tiktok of the girl humming to her microwave. split povs: pollux, annabeth, your depictions of the titular battle of the labyrinth at CHB, some blood/gore, death & grief. the usual. you forced me to by lizzy mcalpine. references to cat on a hot tin roof by tennessee williams if you squint

(posted 5/14/24, semi edited—def coming back to this)

—

The first time Pollux has a panic attack, time seems to stop and the world keeps moving on without him.

He’s reminded of a time when you rambled on about how anxiety takes possession of the senses like a moment frozen in a snapshot meant for you to identify. In the memory, you had your feet kicked up on the dash flipping through a DSM-5 while he and Castor took turns speeding up and down Farm Road (totally normal older sister behavior from you, and when a cop pulled you over, the three of you narrowly escaped a ticket by talking in riddles and godly smoke that smelled like grapes). Pollux still remembers the sound of laughter in the car blending like three different chords to an archaic melody (or squawking crows in the strawberry fields)— the bond between you three laid out before time knew limits and was always meant to be.

It’s still his favorite song. You’re their favorite (and only) sister, they love to joke. These are facts that will never change.

“You two have each other, and well, I’ve got this,” you had said, the Zippo flicking open and closed against your thumb in the blossoming darkness of the car. Pink and purple rays of waning light blanketed the old hatchback as it steadily made its way back towards Half-Blood Hill, comfortable silence shared in the way only siblings can stand to be quiet—when there are no words needed to get a point across. But you’ve always set yourself apart from the pack, not needing anyone like how they need each other.

Not since Luke left, at least. The growing distance between you three since your untimely resignation from camp was proof enough. Pollux’s eyes met Castor’s in the rearview mirror as they both noticed your sad smile. His brother’s voice broke through the silence then, having always been the one blunt enough to say what was on his mind, “You’ve got us too if you let us see you more often.” Your fidgeting stops.

“It’s not you two, it’s just hard to be back here sometimes. I see things for what they used to be instead of how they really are now. Now it’s just… it has to be all business.”

Pollux cracked a smile, “S’what you get for growing up. Soon we’ll just be annoying voices in your head like you are to us.” Shutting your textbook, you turned to look at them from the passenger seat, eyes that match theirs darting between their blond heads, “All of us have to grow up eventually. Except maybe you two— I prefer you in my nightmares like the kids from The Shining. Whenever you get sick of Dad, come see me. Gods know that camp deserves a break from the two of you too.” Your knuckles knocked against both of their heads affectionately as he put the car in park, “My built-in bodyguards, huh? Always looking out for me.”

All words and meaning escape Pollux now as he stands in the greenery of the North Woods with battle gear ill-fitted to his large frame. It’s the first siege he’s ever taken part in, the first time he’s had to use battle strategies outside of Capture the Flag and the first time he’s slashed his way through monsters and demigods with the intent to try and kill or be killed. Sword and Shield could have never prepared any of them for this—as his eyes meet Castor’s and then yours with all of you thinking the same thing, the three of you join the sea of iridescent orange through mind-numbing black moving like a sharp three-pronged sword.

This type of stuff isn’t typical for him, he thinks. He and Castor are used to being comedic relief— being the source of laughs and juice boxes for pesky little campers instead of facing the real world outside the boundaries of the Mist. Perhaps your father babied them to make up for the time he lost with you, but there’s a moment where he wonders how being kept soft will keep him alive in a world as harsh as this one.

Childlike innocence is ripped away from them in the bubble they’ve inhabited until this moment. Home is now a warzone and like lambs set up for slaughter, the twins both turn to look at you as a shuddering gasp leaves your mouth at the carnage in your surroundings, monster blood and fallen friends and enemies at your feet. Breaking away from formation to take a deep breath, he looks at the sky and wonders where your father is, but smoke and soot fill his lungs and he coughs desperately for a breath of fresh air.

Pollux thinks he must have stopped breathing before Castor took his last breath. It wasn’t supposed to be a competition, but sometimes life was just funny like that.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Just like you told him.

Castor was always the more manic one while Pollux knew how to endure. Children of Dionysus are forced to befriend insanity before it makes an enemy out of them—twisting the ugly into what’s real and creating something beautiful out of the deranged. You’ve shown the boys how you detach from emotion by recognizing the details—separating fact and fiction, a methodical process only describable by the blood that runs through your veins. Pollux doesn’t know where to start—everything happens so fast but it plays out in front of him like someone put the pieces together to a stop-motion animation.

He sees Castor’s sword fall to the ground when he gets slashed on the forearm and sees him get clubbed over the head with a metal weapon he’s only seen bad renditions forged for theater practices and hanging on the walls of the armory. Castor falls first to his knees, and then into the dirt with a thud. He never knew there could be that much blood coming out of a person, much less a mirror image of himself. Pollux sees your face come into his line of vision, deep maroon splatters on your face glittering with hints of ichor and then you’re moving because he can’t. The enemy is coming back for him now, and for a moment he wonders if Castor will be mad if he lets him. He sees you turn in an instant, swinging your sword down on the neck of the aggressor, a teenager not much older than he and his brother are—were. It’s funny how his brain immediately makes the switch to past tense, and how he can’t stop thinking about how he’ll now and forever be older than his twin. Pollux then sees you catch the body of the boy you just killed as life seeps out of him slower than it did for Castor.

It doesn’t make him feel any better, though.

His knees hit the ground next to his twin, touching the sludge of dirt soft like quicksand and moist with what he hopes is not blood, but Pollux is not quite sure of what else there is to hope for. His fist is wrapped around Castor’s shirtsleeve, touching faded orange and sweat as he holds on for dear life. Maybe if he tries hard enough his soul will still be intertwined with his. Your hand touches his shoulder, five fingers reaching out to brush the back of his neck and the feeling of your skin helps him refocus a bit, even if you’re saying something he can’t make out. Then the metal of your Zippo lighter feels cool to the touch within his palm and he knows what he needs to do.

The battle isn’t over, but for the three of you, everything stops here. There is no going forward without your brother. You were never meant to be children of war.

Pollux hears the sound of his heartbeat thundering through his ears, blood rushing through his veins and can’t help but notice the silence amid the chaos. There are no words fit for this—and even if there were, Castor and you were always the more talkative ones. He hears the spark of the purple flame between his fingers, blowing the smoke over him and his brother’s body, and their father’s powers blanket them like how you used to tuck them into bed, warm and safe. This is what your family is—unconventional and unending even in different realms of existence. And then Grover’s scream of panic echoes through the air and everyone hears that. Hysteria ensues as monsters and demigods alike run amok, and Pollux realizes he’s stopped shaking. In his father’s domain, he will always find comfort.

You stand above him now directing campers calmly with a free hand—a brewing storm crackling underneath your skin that he now understands. Hidden by the illusion of smoke, Pollux’s tired bones rest alongside his brother’s dead ones— together as they always were meant to be.

The three of you together, his little family—that is a fact he hoped would never change.

The smell of grapes envelops him as he leans his forehead against your muddy leg… when did the battle end? It almost masks the scent of death that rips through the air as your hand brushes through his sandy hair. Pollux stinks of sweat and you stifle a laugh as you see him smell his armpit. You three were always the same type of fucked up. He doesn’t look down at Castor laid across his lap but knows he would’ve found it funny too. Ignorance of reality even for a moment serves as a comfort. Purple meets purple as he looks up at you with a smile that doesn’t fit his face anymore and he croaks, “Wonder what dad would say about our first battle…”

Glory was never meant to be this bittersweet—it tastes like blood in his mouth until he wipes it away from his cheek and realizes it’s Castor’s. In a way, it’s his too, everything about him and within him is exactly the same down to the star stuff the fates wove them from.

“I’ll be the one to tell him. You take care of Castor,” you answer, as if there’s anything else he would want to do and then he realizes you’re crying— and he’s seeing all of the pieces put together in front of him in this photograph in his mind.

Pollux blinks slowly.

Suddenly the image he has of you is more defined— there is new meaning to the sadness you could never shake off all these years, and he is too young to lose his greatest love, which makes him realize then that so were you.

How long does this have to go on? he wonders, grabbing onto your hand with an eagerness only comparable to the feeling he got when you and Luke whisked him and Castor away from Florida all those years ago. This punishment of living while half of his soul does not—what is he supposed to do next? This was supposed to be the safe place. There is nowhere left to run. His thumb rubs circles into the back of your shaking blood-soaked hand, a secret within the smoke.

Pollux thinks there will always be a part of him frozen in time now, a memory of this day hung up in his mind like a portrait as he holds Castor’s cold hand in his warm one.

—

Annabeth finds you in the middle of the strawberry fields before the sun sets. She knows you won’t be sleeping tonight, not if you can fight it— not when there’s so much to do. You’ve long grown out of your ripped-up and tie-dyed camp shirts, and the one slung on your frame is newly pressed and starchy from the storage room of the Big House, still stiff against your freshly washed skin. When she’s close enough to touch you, you’ve been scrubbed clean of today.

She doesn’t have to be a daughter of Athena to know that you know that she’s there even if you can’t see her, but for once she feels like she has to hide. For once, Annabeth Chase doesn’t know what to say. How can she explain the feeling of guilt that coils around her brain like barbed wire—how can she even begin to apologize for the thing wearing her brother’s skin, knowing that it killed yours? For once, her hubris is crushed by the sinking feeling of humiliation.

“Was your first quest all you thought it would be, Annie?”

As she takes her navy cap off, silver braided strands around her face wave in the wind as a reminder of what Luke put her through. Though as she looks at you now with your berry-stained fingers plucking at stems one by one instead of using your powers, she thinks that your mind is elsewhere—anywhere but here, where everything is a painful reminder of your five years as a camper.

Five years with Luke.

Mourning him isn’t a new feeling for either of you, even though he comes in and out of your lives like a poltergeist you want to bash across the head, just always out of reach. But he’s a constant, even when he’s not here and he’s what binds you two together as you huddle hidden away from the rest of camp.

“He did this for you.”

It’s not a question, more so a fact out of Annie’s mouth when you finally meet her eyes and sigh, “Luke’s always had a way going about things. The most stubborn man to ever live.” You toss another strawberry into the crate at your feet. No one’s working right now, trying to tend to the injured and the dead. Everyone’s doing their best to chase away the nightmares that are bound to come, and she knows you’ll be making rounds with her on the night shift to ease everyone’s anxieties. But there’s a thought so strong it makes her head hurt, bursting at the seams until she can’t stop with her last-ditch effort to fix her found family.

“Maybe if we find him, we can save—”

“He’s been out of time for a while now, Annabeth. We both knew that,” you say, voice firm and unwavering. You’ve never sounded so monotone before, and it hits her as her mouth falls agape, “You’re giving up on him? Why…why would you give up on him?” Anger courses through her veins like fire and she’s mad that she’s at the center of this prophecy, of Hermes’s anger for his doomed son who will love you until the ends of the earth.

And what of her?

What of the hope she has in happy endings, how is it that you’re so damn calm? Annabeth kicks at the crate, strawberries rolling out in different directions and your jaw tightens as you let her be petulant, let her scream and yell until her inner child can catch up with the reality of the world around you.

“How could you?”

Your name echoes as she repeats it, grabbing at your shoulders and she’s as desperate as the truth that shakes her when you cup her face in your hands and wipe her tears.

“You’ve carried the weight of the world Annabeth– you know what it feels like to let it go. It’s time to let him go. There’s nothing I can do or say to fix this.”

Then it hits her that you knew of his fate and yet this was still the outcome. There was nothing else to do but watch him be puppeteered by a Titan and have to fight evil while it wears his face.

“He came to you after he saw me, didn’t he? Why didn’t you tell me? Why don’t you love him anymore?”

Because it wouldn’t have changed a thing, your eyes say. Instead, you grimace as you say, “Wouldn’t that be funny if it were true?” You lean down and pick up the fallen berries, some bruised and covered in dirt, and then you look at her again with teary eyes.

“Some prophecy huh? To lose a love to worse than death. What could we have done besides love him until the end?”

“He’s still in there. I know you know that too. Don’t talk about him like he’s not,” Annabeth insists, and a sad smile settles upon your face. It’s as gentle as the kiss of the breeze on your cheeks.

“I lost a brother today, Annie.”

“Me too.”

—

The funny thing about planning funerals is that with all the fuss it takes to organize one, you still find extra time on your hands. Barely getting any sleep and dragging yourself out of your dad’s bed, Pollux snores loudly next to you after hours of working on Castor’s shroud. Sleep wasn’t expected for either of you, but being unconscious was the only way of giving your brains a reprieve. The both of you have been busy doubling down on the preparations, even if it means Mr. D won’t be back in time while he’s out rallying gods for war.

The faster Castor’s earthly body is reconnected with his soul, the easier his trip will be into the Underworld, Nico says, and it’s funny how comforting the little emo pipsqueak can be when it comes to matters of death.

Perhaps this is the solace you bring to others with things you’re able to control—keeping camp afloat is something you were always good at, and helping every traumatized child that comes up to you for a juice box or a lullaby eases the guilt that follows you. Walking around Camp Half-Blood for more than a weekend made you feel like a judge, jury, and executioner. Though most of the campers from almost five years ago have either aged out, defected, or died—the ones that remain still look at you like you’re trouble.

Perhaps you always will be.

You even found yourself with the time to pray to Hermes last night for your brother’s safe passage into the afterlife, though if he’s angry at Annabeth, he must hate you for letting Luke go. Dinner didn’t seem appetizing enough anyway, so your whole plate was tossed into the hearth. You hope he likes chicken and rice.

But if a god can’t fight fate, what did he expect you to do?

The Iris Message to your dad last night was difficult, to say the least. Pollux’s hands shook as he continued to paint grape vines onto the silk cloth and the both of you didn’t say anything when your father started to cry. He out of all of the gods knows what it’s like to be tested to the limits—to endure pain and it’s a gift you and your brother are grateful for in times like these. Watching the god display the human emotion that either of you couldn’t as freely made it more real though.

There was also the interesting predicament of Chris Rodriguez being locked up in the basement of the Big House. Replacing screaming fits with serenity was almost second nature, and your gentle hands were what got Clarisse to truly respect you again for the first time in years. You could hear her sneak downstairs and talk to him while he slept (and the look in her eyes when you’d greet her with a cup of coffee made it known to you that she finally understands what it means to love someone who’s lost—two demigod daughters filled with a lot of rage and hurt were more alike than they think).

So the morning of your little brother’s funeral, you found yourself on the shoreline of Canoe Lake, setting your Redbull against the post of the dock and looking out onto the water.

You needed to do something with your hands. In the past few days, if your fingers were not occupied by pen and paper, a guitar, supply crates, or anything else that was helpful to others and all the more distracting for you, it’s been so easy to pick at any little thing. Perhaps it was your subconscious trying to reflect the damage on the inside, but today, your nail polish was chipped beyond belief. A small price to pay to not lose it without a signature boyish smile to ease your worries and amber eyes that could help you escape from the routine.

Running camp was always easier back then with your runaway boy and his scarred cheek.

How pathetic.

Crouched over in the sand, you plucked stones and filled your pockets with them. They knocked against each other — weighing your pockets down as you walked closer to the dock. Swinging your feet off the side and chucking them into the water, you could barely achieve a ripple.

It’s so quiet that you end up wondering if the rocks in your pockets would weigh you down to the bottom of the lake. It must be nice down there, to exist away from everything.

Bubbles surface slowly in front of you, then Percy’s head bobs in the water as he squints at you through sunlight.

“You chucked a rock at my head!”

A smile tugs at your lips, almost indiscernible but definitely there, “I was trying to skip them. Didn’t know you were doing water tricks in there, kid.” His grin gleams like freshwater pearls, pulling himself up onto the dock as his hand clasps yours. Shaking his sopping hair, Percy’s gangly frame sits next to yours like a wet bag of sand—all wrinkly and misshapen and sprinkling you with lakewater.

“Maybe next time don’t pick rocks the size of your fist. How many have you got in there? Your aim is scarily accurate,” he laughs and you huff and shake your head when his hand sticks into your pocket and takes out a few smooth ones to roll around in his hand. You mirror him, watching him skip a few stones into the water that reach a good distance before sinking into the depths of the lake.

There’s something sad about feeling comfortable to trauma dump on the teenage son of Poseidon, but with the way he grabs your arm at your third unsuccessful toss of a rock, you can’t do anything else but sigh.

“Why didn’t any of you call me, Percy?”

He was waiting for this question—it’s been banging around in his head since the beginning of Annabeth’s quest, and perhaps her talk with you yesterday didn’t go as expected so once again he’s left with the difficult part.

Things happen to turn out pretty difficult for him a lot, he's noticed.

Many things could have been made easier in the past few weeks: Ariadne being your stepmother and her blessing to you would’ve made the Labyrinth easier to navigate, and having another demigod to fight alongside him instead of a mortal girl would’ve been a plus too. But he looks at you with ocean eyes and a smaller smile that reminds you of how he looked at you when you dropped him off in Montauk the summer you met him and quit your head counselor job.

“You’ve already made a lot of difficult decisions. We weren’t sure if…”

The rotten wood beneath you creaks under your shifting weight as you turn to him, tucking your legs underneath your bottom.

“Didn’t think I could handle it?”

He shakes his head, “The opposite, actually. Annabeth has this notion that you’re the only one that can save him. You know, back on my first quest I met Luke’s dad and he told me something…”

You swallow instead of answering. There’s no way Percy is giving you Hermes’s advice right now. Somehow this feels like karmic retribution after years of spiting that asshole, and what he tells you next is more of a sign that it must be true.

“He said, ‘Do you know what that feels like? To be so close to someone you love knowing neither of you has any choice but to keep hurting each other?’ I didn’t get it then, but I do now.”

“With Luke and his mom?” you ask, picking at the remaining slivers of varnish on your thumbnail.

“With you and Luke. I didn’t call you, because… why would I want to see you hurt after everything?” Percy says this like it’s something he would do for everyone.

Perhaps it is, but the knot that forms in your throat feels as heavy as the boulder you almost sunk into his skull. He’s tall enough to lean your head against now, and you don’t mind the water spots that will form along the side of your funeral outfit. The shape of him it leaves will remind you of the little brother you gained through so much loss.

“Plus he has a new girlfriend. Absolute horse of a girl,” he jokes. It slips over your head but you still giggle, “I could’ve taken her.”

“I know, that was Grover’s worry. You’re prettier anyway…” Percy pauses, and then clears his throat, “You’ve always taken care of this place, y’know? Even after….I just think someone ought to take care of you.”

Your shoulder bumps against his as you finally skip a rock. It only bounces across the water twice and you think Percy might have had something to do with it, but you’re not bothered by the help this time around.

—

You wake up in the dark of night to see your dad looming in the doorway to his office. With drool and a post-it stuck to your cheek, he comes over to ruffle your hair in amicable silence.

“Hard at work or hardly working?” he chuckles, leaning over your shoulder to scan over the paperwork sorted into piles for him to sign from his absence.

“Hm. You wish,” you scoff, leaning against your arm as you look at him. He’s not in his usual eyesore of attire, wearing a clean-pressed suit with his hair slightly slicked back.

“You look good. The meeting went okay?”

“Grover will be. The Council of Cloven Elders? Not so much. Neither are the gods ready to take sides. Putting out little fires everywhere as we speak.”

The wheels of the office chair roll as you swing your feet, and if you both listen closely enough you can hear Pollux snoring upstairs. Chiron loved the earplugs you gave him.

Your father’s face smooths out a bit at the sight of you and the sound of his son’s breathing upstairs and he asks, “Are you? Good?”

A shrug slides off your shoulders, “How does one be good in a world like this one?”

A startling scream echoes off the walls of the Big House, rattling the floorboards from below as your father grimaces.

The work is never done for you two.

“Don’t look at me like that. It was worse when he first came here.”

“Don’t doubt it,” he mumbles, brushing lint off your shirt before he notices you’re donning neon orange. “Didn’t do laundry, princess?”

“Pollux and I haven’t gone back to our cabin since... I can wake him up if you—”

Mr. D shakes his head and goes to toss his body onto the couch against the window, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Dad? Do you think Chris is a bad person?”

A beat passes and you think he may have fallen asleep, but then his voice sounds like gravel scraping up his throat.

“I don’t think anyone can be bad, kid. I think it is more often that people get lost. What Rodriguez needs is someone to take hold of him gently, and hand his life back to him—you…Clarisse… that’s what we’re giving him.”

Now you’re silent, staring at the dust on his name placard at the edge of the desk.

“Do you think otherwise?”

He calls your name again, and you look up like you’re about to lie to him but don’t have the energy to.

“Princess, do you think you’re a bad person?”

He stands up and walks around to your side of the desk, sitting on the edge so you have to look at him.

“I killed someone. During the battle. Didn’t even think twice about it, slashed his neck as soon as Castor went down and…” you sniff. “I kill monsters, not children, Dad. How does that make me any different?”

The last time blood was on your hands like this it was Luke’s in the Garden of Hesperides. All these years later you ended up being right— the only person you vowed to get bloody for is Luke Castellan, and now in a twisted turn of fate, you’ve bloodied your hands because of him.

“Because you did it for your brother. There are no other explanations needed.”

He sees the exhaustion in your eyes, the drop in your shoulders, but your dad also sees the strength in your bones that spans generations and he knows you and Pollux are strong because you are both his.

“Humans believe in life everlasting—glory, as some call it, but they’re too focused on achieving it on earth instead of enjoying what life has to offer,” he scoffs, “Everyone has the guts to die, but no one has the guts to truly live. How sad.”

“His name was Rowan. Son of Hecate. I taught him how to whistle the summer I left. This is all my fault, Dad,” you say shakily as he comes near and pulls you into his side. He shushes you but you relent.

“Luke’s killing all these people to fulfill a promise he made for me. I’m just fucking disgusted with myself for being the cause of it all. What good life can I deserve when wherever I go I leave a trail of blood?”

Love and addiction must be so alike; to know that to be sober you can’t indulge in the vice ever again—not only does it hurt you, but others around you. But through the years you’ve always kept the taste of his name in your mouth, the feeling of his skin under your fingertips, and the knowledge of why he’s destroying the world so he can make you a better one. Insanity stems from fighting for so long that you embrace the pain; feeling something so intensely that when it consumes you you’re able to walk out the other side and wear it as armor.

Not everyone is hardwired to persevere. There are moments like a night like these where it would be easy to give up. Instead, you pour two glasses of whiskey you’ve conjured and hand one to your dad. You both sip on your drinks slowly, embracing the crawling feeling of the burn.

“Liquor is one way out and death is another,” your dad sighs blissfully. He almost looks rejuvenated by the alcohol he knows he’ll hear about from Zeus later, but perhaps the death of his son is a good enough pardon.

“For some of us, we don’t have to think about the answer.”

Mr. D grabs a pen off the desk and starts signing papers to do something with his hands, and then you speak again, “I think I’d rather die than for people I love,” and your dad’s attention whips to your blank face staring at the moon outside the window. “Instead of killing for them. I’ve never been a good soldier, Dad.”

Mr. D looks at you thoughtfully and wonders where all the time has gone that you sit there in front of him with more knowledge than him at your mortal age before saying, “You’re my daughter. You’re a fighter. Death is for chumps anyway.”

He lifts you by the arm to try to usher you up the stairs but you stay in his office chair swatting his hands away.

“Got work to do, you and I. Not getting rid of me until it’s done.”

“When are you going home?” he asks, pulling up a chair next to yours.

“I am home.”

You don’t look up from the papers you were filing, stubbornness leaking through your voice.

“If there is a war coming, I want to be home as much as I can. I’m finishing my last semester and I’ll be here before and after classes. You can’t stop me, dad.”

And he knows that too.

There is no such thing as leaving Camp Half-Blood for you.

Never for too long. Your love for it is scattered everywhere campers can see.

—

In all these years, you never believed I loved you. And I did. I did so much. I did love you. I even loved your hate and your hardness. - Tennessee Williams

[netherfeildren]

At the Restaurant

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this, and his eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

-OR-

the Christmas situationship AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Modern AU; Christmas fic; Angst; Fluff; Miscommunication; Emotionally unavailable idiots; But also idiots in love; Toxic relaationships; Situationship; There is nothing well adjusted about any of this pls don’t come into this house if that’s what you’re looking for; Trigger warning for man with an avoidant attachment style; Condolences to all my fellow victims of The Situationship; Size Difference; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Oral Sex (F!Receiving); Frankly some pretty pathetic behavior; Girl stand UP; Fuckboy Din; Plan B and Delusion as a form of birth control; Pull and pray baby pull and pray; Possessive Behavior; Jealousy; Insecurity; Trigger warning for Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift references

A/N: Hello and welcome to my contribution to the holiday fic pool! This is not at all what I was planning as my holiday piece, but I woke up a few mornings ago and was just completely taken hold by this. Much love and thanks and gratitude and all the kisses in the world to my friend @f0rlornmyths for all the help on the idea and brainstorming and for the gorgeous edits she made for this little story. Mai baby, this is all for you, and I know it's not the Christmas gift I promised you, but I swear, one day that too will get written.

I’m wishing you all the happiest and most relaxing of holiday seasons. I think of you all constantly and wish you all the best always, and I hope you’re taking care of yourselves during this time ❣️🎄✨

Word Count: 8.2K

Read on AO3

He gets this sparkle in his eyes when the bar’s extra busy, cheeks flushed and curls damp with sweat and this shine that speaks; that tells of all the things he does that make a woman belong to him whenever he’s giving her his singular attention. Eyes that laugh and crinkle at the edges with happiness. Eyes that tell you how much he does or does not want you at that specific moment. And he’ll laugh and blind the room into seduction under the Christmas lights, and then he’ll turn, suddenly remembering you’re here for him, and look at you all serious-like, while you sip on your tequila soda, with two limes always because he knows that’s how you like it, and it’ll be a serious, cool look for just a second before it blooms into the best smile anyone’s surely ever had in all history, and you love him. 

It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this. You’ve never practiced restraint of this kind either. A restraint that suffocates and kills and could probably be taken as a form of self harm were you in a righter, more clear mind, but it’s the only thing you have left against him. Din. A control over yourself that falsely feeds you the illusion of power. You never call him. Never. Any interaction, any late night fuck, any time he comes over and comes inside you, it’s always, always because he calls you, he looks for you. You never beg, not with words at least, and you never text first and you never ask him if you can see him, and it’s the only way you tell yourself you maintain even a semblance of control. And at night, when you’re alone and it’s dark and you’ve only got the cat for some sad company, or you’re crying in bed because he hasn’t called, and you know he’s not at work and he’s obviously not at home, so he’s somewhere you don’t want him to be, that false sense of control that says you’re never the one reaching out, it’s always him coming around so surely that must mean something… it’s all you have at the end of it. 

He’s not your boyfriend. He never has been. And there’s always been that excuse you use to soothe yourself with of, well, we’ve never really talked about it, and he’s not really my boyfriend, so it doesn’t really matter. Does it? Doesn’t it? You’re sure you don’t know anymore. And you tell yourself, lie to yourself, comfort yourself, whatever it is your tired heart needs in that moment, because it truly is so tired, the push and pull is the most exhausting game in the world, that if he’s coming to you it’s because Din’s choosing you. Even if just for a night, even if just for now, even if tomorrow he’ll be with someone else, he chose you for tonight, and so surely that must mean something. It’s the worst thing you do to yourself, but it feels so good in the moment. You just can’t help yourself. 

“Another one?” He calls over his shoulder with a smile.

 You’d had a little bit of a… well, you don’t really know what to call it. A falling out, perhaps, because the two of you never have fights. You never fight, you never discuss the things the two of you should discuss, like feelings or anger or resentment or boundaries and wants and needs. Nothing. Nothing that indicates anything that might define what it is the two of you’ve been doing for two years with each other now. Fights are something couples do, and you two are not a couple. But up until three days ago, you’d not heard from him for two weeks. Two weeks of nothing, of hearing from your friends that they’d seen him out with his friends and other girls who you know probably mean nothing, even less than you do, but still. It’d made you insane. A little bit irrational, and so when you and your friends had gone out over the weekend, picked up a group of guys at the new bar you’d chosen for the night, since Din’s bar was off limits at the moment, and brought them back to your apartment at your roommate, Bo’s, insistence, well, you’d thought you’d give him a taste of his own medicine. After a slightly tipsy, teary eyed rant, explaining to your new friend for the night, a one Toro Calican, who had a very nice smile and very pretty eyes and not at all bad arms, all about your terrible situation with this man who you were not really in a relationship with, but who you have sex with, and only with him, regularly, unprotected, enthusiastically, but who is still not your boyfriend and not even anything close, he’d arranged himself very nice and cozy-looking in your bed with your twinkly lights sparkling in the background and your pink pig stuffy which Din loved to make fun of you for, and you’d taken a very tasteful, in your opinion, picture of him for your Instagram story. Again, a taste of his own medicine. 

Din had been at your front door forty five minutes later, angry. Angrier than you’d ever seen him before, and not at all trying to hide it. Pushing past you and into your apartment all tall and broad and wearing your favorite dark blue hoodie he knows you love, curls mused as if he’d been pulling his fingers through them in agitation. There’d been a sneaky, smarmy little devil inside of you doing a happy dance at that moment, and his eyes when he’d turned to glare at you after giving poor, Toro – casual, entirely unbothered, Toro with his big smile stretched across his handsome face as he’d looped an arm over Bo’s shoulders where he’d been sitting beside her on the couch – a look that said Din had half a mind to take him outside and wipe the floor with him. But your new friend had laughed him off, taking Din’s terribly cocky onceover, the sort he liked to set people down with, in stride. All arrogance and the sort of self assuredness only a man who knew what he was made of and how to take care of himself could possess. He was too hot for his, or your, own good. 

And when he’d turned and pushed you into your bedroom, a little tipsy, a lot desperate and pleased and wet, because yes, finally you were getting exactly what you wanted, exactly as you’d asked for it, and he’d flipped your skirt up and ripped your panties down and buried his face in your cunt from behind, all: this pussy’s mine, what the fuck was another dude doing in your bedroom? You’d been nothing but pleased giggles and hiccupy little moans as you’d come on his tongue just as he’d demanded of you. 

It was wrong. The two of you were wrong and maybe even bad for each other, but also, and this was only your own personal, fanciful discernment, addicted. A mutual addiction. The way he fucked you, hard and deep and possessive, like you belonged to him. Tugging you up by the hips and pulling you back onto his hard cock, the wet slap of your pussy dripping for him so that it surely echoed through the thin door of your shitty little apartment for the man who’d threatened what Din saw as rightfully his could hear exactly what was happening in here. You should have cared more about this ridiculous display of a pissing contest. You should have been bothered by it. You absolutely were not. And when he’d gone harder than stone, shoved deeper than you could comfortably take him so that you were coming around his cock one last time from the stretch and sting of it, and he’d filled you to leaking without even asking, you’d not even blinked at it, had been nothing but contented sighs.

It was all wrong, wrong, wrong.

Even worse, you’d never been on birth control. It made you sick, tired, moody, and the two of you worked around it… sometimes… kind of. Condoms when you remembered, usually ripped off mid fuck, pulling out… also sometimes. Never very responsible or dedicated to the practice of safe sex and level headedness, more focused on how fucking good it always felt when he was inside of you like this all bare and wet and hot and his. And if he fucked other girls, well, you tried not to think about that. Got tested, told yourself you were the only one he didn’t use protection with because you were special when they were not. And if there was, that last horribly misguided whisper that said, well, if he’s taking this risk with you, then obviously that means something too, right? Then so be it.

Again, like you’d said, bad for each other. 

But he always gave you so many reasons to be stupid, delusional, like the way he’d kissed you before he’d gone the morning after, while you were still sleepy and warm and a little sweaty from where you’d been pressed together so close through the night, wet and sticky between your legs from his come. He’d wrapped his arms around you and pressed you so, so close to his chest, nipples bare and tight against hard muscle and wispy hair. The musky sleep smell of him as he’d started at your shoulder, mouth slow and damp, kissed and nibbled his way up your collarbone, your throat, your jaw, settled at your ear to taste that soft place behind, pressed his tongue there to feel the echo of your pulse moving through your whole body, the flutter of his long lashes against your skin because he’s just that close. Your toes had curled and spasmed, little and cold, bracing against his hairy shins and big feet, hard cock nestled between the warmth of your thighs. And he always makes the best sounds, you know, deep and rumbly and all man. Familiar sounds that you’re able to replay again and again in your mind afterwards when he’s gone, sounds that make it easy for you to pretend he’s yours because you know them so well, and you want to keep him so bad it makes your stomach hurt. Gotta go get the kid, he’d said, by way of explanation for why he wasn’t pushing up into your come soaked cunt and having you one more time again, but he’d stayed and kissed you. And when he’d finally found his way to your mouth, sipping on you, tasting behind your teeth, along the wet of your tongue, that was all that really mattered anyway. 

Sometimes, he kisses you like he loves you, and it makes you hate him. 

He hadn’t called in the three days since then, but he’d been kind enough to DoorDash you a Plan B and a bag of your favorite Dove dark chocolate bites, and you want to hate him and maybe even run him over with you car, you really do, but then tonight, out of nowhere while you’d been at home telling yourself you weren’t going to cry, tired and sweaty from lying under your duvet for too long, fingers slippery between cunt and cotton, too many unsatisfying orgasms and a tear worthy film already chosen as your excuse for later, he’d sent a: come to the bar tonight, baby, I want to see you. And well, he’d come looking for you, right? He’d texted first. So really, this was all him wanting you and choosing you.

You need help, electroshock therapy, a lobotomy, anything. But you’d gotten your butt up and dressed, begged Bo to come out with you, and now here the two of you sit, good friend that she is, waiting for him to finally come over and say more than three stringed together words to you. Shaved, lotioned, perfumed, pathetic little ass sitting at the end of his bar in a too sticky, too uncomfortable stool waiting for him. Always waiting for him.

You shake your head no at him and his proffered next round. No you don’t want another fucking drink. What you want is his attention. 

And the worst part is, probably the worst, for there are so many bad parts to this, is that you don’t truly think he’s a terrible person, Din. He’s just so… he’s just– you don’t know. Sad, busy, exhausted, selfish, overwhelmed, so many things. But not bad, not actually a bad person. You’re sure of it. And it might look so differently from the outside, like you’re nothing, like he uses you, and sure, in ways, he does. You’re not so stupid or naive to not see this for what it is, because if there is one thing that is crystal clear here, it’s that you’ve always known what this is and what it is not. But you also see him. You also know him, as hard as he’s tried to keep you at arms length, to not let you see, to not let you in, you’ve weaseled your way inside anyways, or, better said, and something you don’t let yourself dwell on too much for the things it makes your stupid brain and heart feel, he has never been very good at not letting you see him. Because despite all the truths of how this thing between the two of you is, or is not, there is also something, as small as it may be, that is real here. 

So no, Din is not bad, or not all bad. And it’s easy to call them excuses, but you’re not so sure that’s the only thing they are, the ways in which you justify his behavior or yours. Because there is also context to him, and his life, and the things that drag his attention away from you when you so desperately need and want it, why you know he won’t commit to one single thing because he knows how easily lost a good thing can be. 

You take a pull from your straw, paper, and it’s already coming apart in wet flakes on your tongue because this dumb bar he works at pretends to be swanky, and paper straws are obviously a signifier that it’s not the cheap, shitty dump it actually is. Mean, but you’re in a bad mood tonight. Peli, the owner, had him string up multicolored lights and decorations everywhere for the holiday season, and it sort of looks like Santa threw up in here, but it’s also nice. Cozy or comfortable or welcoming, something happy and cheerful about the crowd surrounded by the sparkle of the holiday and loose from the heavily poured liquor. Or maybe it’s just that you know he put up the decorations. That he’d been good and patient and helpful as the older woman, eccentric and curly haired and a little stern and potty mouthed as she is, but always kind to him, had directed him as she pleased. Giving orders so that the bar could look as lovely and warm and cheerful as it does now. He always looks at her with such care and warmth, and you alway see it, as much as he tries to hide it. 

He’d added a splash of sweet grenadine and a maraschino cherry into your drink tonight, and called it your slutty Shirley Temple, said you looked like you needed something sweet followed by one of those cocky little winks he thinks make him look hot, they do, but you tell him only make him look like an asshole. All of which you know is only his way of telling you, without actually telling you, that he’s going to be shoving his cock down your throat later tonight. Something sweet… yeah, sure. There’s nothing sweet about him. 

He always tells you so many things neither of you want the other to know with his eyes. The stupid things, the silly things, the real things, it doesn’t really matter. He can’t ever help it. 

The first time he’d told you about his parents, you’d thought: this is it, this is something real. The come down had been a singular type of devastating you don't think you’d recovered from to this day. They’d died in a home invasion, a robbery gone terribly, terribly wrong, when he’d been two months shy of eighteen; left him with too much responsibility and too much grief for a boy of seventeen to bear, to ever be able to grow into without growing a little bit skewed in the process. When he’d introduced you to his little brother, the first time, you’d been better prepared, better in control of yourself and your expectations. But still, still you’d let a small, small part of you let it mean something. Grogu, Greg, but they used to watch this cartoon together about this man, a warrior, a space cowboy of sorts, who finds a little green baby, more frog looking than baby looking, called Grogu and takes him in as his own, bringing him along on all his adventures through the big, wide galaxy. They’d always joked that Greg looked like the frog baby, and so, Grogu. 

The first time he’d asked you to come over, you’d forced yourself to not throw up as you’d seen the text come in, had to force away thoughts of this has to mean something, please, please, let this mean something more. And the kid had been asleep already anyways when he’d smuggled you inside, quick and quiet, locking the door to his bedroom behind you, messy and lived in and Din, Din, Din everywhere, pressed you into his rumpled mattress, and fucked you til you’d cried and bit your tongue until you’d tasted blood to keep in all the things you had inside to tell him. And in the morning, when he’d made you a cup of coffee and oh, isn’t he nice for that? The kid had stumbled out of his bedroom, dinosaur pj’s and sleep rumpled curls the same warm mahogany shade as his older brother’s turned pseudo father, and he’d had his waffles while you’d sat there between the two of them as Din’d clucked around making lunches, sipping from your mug trying as best you could to be a good girl and not whip around and scream at the man that this has to mean something more, please. 

The kid had eyed you skeptically, as if you’d had two heads, little fuzzy brow cocked high up towards his curl covered hairline while he chomped loudly on his waffles. More syrup than bread, but who were you to judge? 

“Are you Din’s girlfriend?”

And rather than drop dead on the spot or bear the devastation of hearing the refusal come out of his older brother’s mouth, the second you’d seen Din’s own eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, mouth falling open to probably tell him no, absolutely not, she’s nothing even close to being my girlfriend, you’d said as easy as you could manage, “No, we’re just friends.” Even added in a fake, tepid smile as you’d said the words. And now, as time’s passed since then, when you think back on the memory, you tell yourself that you’d imagined the frown and scowl that’d pulled Din’s face down into something that looked a little like annoyance or anger or confusion. He’d never done anything to make you think you were anything otherwise, and so what good did it do to dwell on the maybe false memory of his look of disappointment at your words? None at all, surely. 

But you’re pretty sure you’re the only girl that’s ever been let into their space like that.

He’s at the other end of the bar now, engrossed in a conversation with someone who’s too sparkly and too pretty and too blonde to be anything but trouble for you. His tall, deceptively lanky form that you know beneath the dark baggy, long sleeved tee he’s wearing is strong and muscled and warm as a furnace, curved over the lip of the bar to lean further towards her. They’ve been talking for about five minutes now, yes, you’ve been counting, and your heart is doing that horrible thing it does where it hurts so bad it feels like it’s ripping in half all on its own. You want to look away, especially as you watch the long, gorgeous form of his hand, big, strong hands that you know exactly what they feel like wrapped around your throat, clutching your breasts, lift slowly towards the glowing Christmas lights necklace the girl’s got hanging around her neck, the cheery red and green lights nestled deep in her cleavage. He plucks at the necklace, giving it a little tug and says something to her that has her throwing her head back, and she sparkles, she really does, with those sort of laughs that tinkle like bells or something equally fucking ridiculous.

“We should just go, babe,” Bo says from beside you, glaring down at him so intensely you’re shocked he hasn’t keeled over dead at this point. 

“Just a little bit longer, Bo, please.” 

“God, I can’t watch this shit anymore.” She pushes up and out of her stool with a roll of her eyes, but passes a loving hand down the back of your hair as she goes. “I’m gonna go try and pick up that red head sitting in the back. She’s been eyeing me all night,” she smirks at you. 

“You cannot date another ginger. That is too much ginger for one household.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re in love with the devil, I can do whatever I want. And I can’t watch him anymore, I don’t have the stomach for it.”

You try and protest as she walks away from you, tell her that you’re not in love with him, that he’s not the devil, that you don’t have the stomach for it either, but she’s gone before you can muster your lies. When you turn back towards the bar he’s abandoned his Christmas lights blonde and is pouring drinks for a group of frat guys, checking I.D.s and making easy, charming conversation. He’s strange in that way, quiet and reserved by nature, which you know now because you know him, but he puts on a face in here, in Peli’s bar in front of the customers and the pretty girls and the people expecting him to perform for them, making nice and pleasant. It’s just one more thing that feeds your delusion, the fact that you see his smile for what it is, the too handsome, too shiny version you know isn’t the real one. 

You know that despite the fact that Bo loves you, she also thinks you’re a little sad, a lot weak, when it comes to him. Maybe even, and you know she’d never say this because she’s a good and loving friend, but maybe even a little pathetic or desperate. And maybe you are, or definitely, you don’t really care about the details of it at this point, but maybe there’s also something about him that’s slightly desperate too. Desperate for love or attention or companionship. Maybe that’s why he always feels the need to search for it in so many different places. Maybe he wants it so bad he’s scared of it. Or maybe he’s just easy. Maybe he’s just a whore. 

You don’t know if the why’s of it all really matter anymore. 

He serves the group their shots and beers, all of them clinking their glasses together loudly, hooting and wishing each other a Merry Christmas, and you want to snap that it’s not Christmas yet, it’s still the twenty third, it’s a special day that should be remembered, but you turn away. Try to swallow the heat in your face and throat, take deep breaths. Bo’s right, the two of you should go, but when you turn to search for her, she’s deep in conversation with the red head, gorgeous, strong and tall and just her type. Their two heads huddled closely together beneath the red lights that turn their hair both brighter shades of auburn. And you know you can’t interrupt. At least one of you should have a good night tonight. But when you turn back around, ready to join the frat bros in on their shots, he’s there. 

You swivel in your stool, catching yourself on the lip of the bar, digging your nails into the wood grain until it hurts, staring at him in silence. 

“What?” he asks with that slightly provoking smile he forces on you when he knows you’re bothered and refuse to open your stubborn mouth and just speak up. 

“Nothing.” Stubborn, sullen. Terrible.

He hums, laughter dancing in his eyes that pisses you off. He knows you’re bothered, knows you won’t say anything about it either. “Want another?”

“Sure.” You might as well get drunk if you’re going to have to watch him be a jackass all night long. 

He starts to move about, gathering the things for your cocktail. “You like the grenadine I added?”

“Yeah, it’s good.”

He looks at you with a half smile and a cocked brow as he measures the shot. He never makes your drinks as heavy handed as the others, says you’re a bad drunk. Whatever. “Yeah? You like the Christmas decorations?”

“They’re nice.” He hums again at your sullen tone. And you want to be nicer, happier, peppier, whatever it is that would be enough to make this all right and better between the two of you, inside of you, but you just can’t. You can’t force yourself into a shape that’s okay with being without him, and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it’s something you’re capable of. 

He adds your two limes and tops the drink off with a Santa printed mini umbrella Peli had gotten an order of in bulk, pushing the glass into your hand. He braces his hands against the bar edge, watching you as you bring the drink up to taste, peering over the edge to keep your eyes on him. The lights twinkle over head, washing him in a glow of greens and reds and warmth, and his eyes do that terrible sparkle you hate in return. 

Sometimes you think he likes it when you’re pissy. Turns him on or something which sickly, stupidly, in turn, riles you up, knowing he’s turned on by your anger. 

You take a long pull of the fizzy, mildly sweet drink, licking your lips of the tang and bubbles when you pull it away, and watch as his eyes go a little hazy, glassed over as he watches the wet of your tongue peek out to lick up the drops of sweet liquor. You watch a swallow pass through the strong column of his throat, and his gaze is still on your mouth when he cocks his head at you. “C’mere,” he murmurs, eyes shifting to take in the crowd, the customers and the status of their drinks before he’s tugging at your hand over the bar, drawing you out of your seat and along the length of it from the other side. 

“To where?” You whisper at him, nerves of excitement, of want, fluttering in your belly and throat all fizzy and sweet. He tips his chin at the cracked open door of the stock room, the warm glow from within peering out, and then back again once over at the crowd before you’re at the end of the bar, and he’s tugging you inside after him. You tip your chin over your shoulder just before he kicks the door shut behind you, taking in Peli’s knowing look and the laughing shake of her head, and then it’s just the two of you. Hungry and hurried as he’s pulling you into himself, big hands immediately cupping your ass to tug you up into him with a cracked groan. “Want to fucking kiss you so bad,” he licks into your mouth, tasting like the coffee he drinks too much of and the cinnamon gum you know he’s always chewing. 

“Din–” and you’re about to protest, say that everyone’ll have seen the two of you come in here, Peli, the blonde Christmas light girl, that the whole bar is going to think he brought you in here for a quick fuck, but you and he both know you don’t really care if anyone thinks that. That probably, if you’re really honest, you’d be glad for everyone to think you’re his that way. So you kiss him back. Arms looping around his neck to hang off of him, fingers twining in the thick curls at the nape of his neck, the hair there so silky smooth, cool at the ends but warm and damp at the roots. And this is what you were talking about, when he kisses you like he loves you which makes you hate him. All tongue and teeth and desperation. His mouth sliding against yours, spit slick and heat heavy. Big hands kneading at your ass, clutching at the short skirt of your dress, pulling it up so he can shove his palm between the nylon of your tights and your warm skin and cup you over the wet mound of your cunt. 

“Fucking warm and soft for me, baby.” He kisses his way down your neck, licking at your cleavage, tugging at your ear. “You smell so good,” and he squeezes you against himself, dragging his palm back and forth over your pussy as best as the constricting tights let him. “I can’t wait to fuck you later.”

“Me either, Din,” you say because there’s nothing else to say besides, I love you. Please, love me back. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back into a little arc hooked over his arm, something frenzied and a little sloppy about the way he kisses you like he wants you so much he can’t control himself. And when the two of you stumble out a few minutes later, hair tousled and flushed with heat, the shine of your lipgloss transferred onto his own lips and those sparkly eyes of his cranked up to blinding so that the whole bar can see what it is the two of you have been up to in the stock room, there’s nothing but sweet, fizzy pleasure suffusing your belly. Even if it isn’t real, everyone else thinks it is, maybe for tonight that can be enough. 

-

“The tree’s really cute,” you say as he helps you out of your coat, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck, round and round until he lets it slither from his hand onto the messy floor of his bedroom. 

“Yeah, well, G wanted a real one so… my ass went out and got him a real one.” 

You reach up to card your fingers through the floppy curls falling over his forehead, pushing them back to twist in your fingers and pull his head down towards yours. “Good brother,” you murmur against his mouth. You want to ask him if he remembers what tonight is; wanted to ask him all night but kept your mouth shut for fear of that utterly vacant look in his eyes when he’d have no idea what you were talking about. 

He settles into your kiss, knees bent to come down to your level, sighing deep and long as he licks at you slowly, sucks on your bottom lips, a gentle nip. “Looked so pretty for me tonight,” he says, and he’s such a good kisser, and all you can say is a breathless thank you, trying to swallow the immediate lump in your throat back down because the only other thing to say would be you’re right, it’s all for you, or I hate it when you say these things to me, I hate it when you’re nice to me and then turn around and act like I’m a stranger, like I’ve never meant anything to you at all. You press up higher, insistent, on your tiptoes, trying to get closer, more of him. He runs his hands up the length of your spine, one arm banding around your waist, the other coming up to twist in your hair, tugging your head back sharply and pulling your mouth from his. 

“What do you want, sweet girl?”

And what a cruel, terrible question. You, is what you should say. Ruin the moment or the false magic, glass shattered on the white cloth. And so, “Fuck me,” is all you say instead because that’s all this is anyway. He peers down at you, fathomless look on his face, no more bright sparkle in his eyes, something more like an ember. You think you like this look better, it’s more for you, and there's something satisfying about that. 

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

He pulls your clothes from you slowly, and he can be so tender sometimes, slow and precise in the things he does, the way he moves. Sometimes he fucks you hard and fast and sloppy. But not always. Other times he does it in a way that is much, much worse. Slow and deep and intentional. He lays you out across his messy bed and spreads you open for himself. Starts at your feet, kissing the soles and the creases and marks over the arches and around your ankles from your tights and boots. Up the slope of your calf, teeth dragging sharply, a little too hard over the muscle. He kisses the backs of your knees, a place only he has ever thought to kiss, and you won’t cry, but you’d like to. His tongue along the soft of your thighs, stubble chafing and tickling, and when he finally gets to your cunt, soaking wet, glossy with your slick for him, his tongue drags up your slit slow and teasing one second, deep, fucking inside of you the next. He makes you come on his face twice before he even thinks of being nice and letting up. Sucking on your clit, taking each soft lip gentle, gentle between the edge of his teeth and tugging so soft you almost don’t feel it. He licks and licks and slurps up your wet, and you know he enjoys this because of his own sounds. When he rips his t-shirt over his head because he’s steaming with sweat and want, the zip of his jeans ringing so that he can get his fist around his cock and jack himself while he licks up the splash of your second orgasm. 

He kisses you everywhere when he’s had his fill, twists and turns you this way and that, groping and kneading and taking every inch of you in so that no spot of skin is left uninspected or untasted. Pulls you up and under his arm so he can peer down at you from behind, lemme look at that little asshole now, he says all nasty the way he gets sometimes, and spreads your cheeks apart. You brace yourself against the column of his throat and hold on to the bulge of his bicep and try and breathe through your mouth and pray for control and temperance and the will to not spill all your truths to him. Difficult, when he manhandles you like this, when he pets and licks and kisses you all over and tells you how pretty all your holes are for him. 

His cock is so hard when he finally settles on his knees between your spread thighs, on your back again so that you can see his pulse in the tiny, subtle beat of his erection as it stands up, curving towards his flat belly. No condom, and you want to say thank you for letting you feel him like this. 

He pushes your knees wide and grips his cock, twisting his fist around the sticky glossed head, flushed red almost purple. You love it when he’s this hard, when you know it’s all for you, when you know you’re the only one in this moment that can fix it for him. 

“Get it wet for me,” he nods his head at your slick cunt, parted and bared to him just like he likes. You dip your fingers into the well of wetness, play in it, watch the shiny string of slick stretch between your pussy and fingers, and no one makes you as wet or as desperate as he does, and like he can read your mind he tells you, no one makes me as hard as you do, and you do not tell him that that isn’t something you want to hear, that that isn’t something that makes you feel good. The reminder that there are others. 

You wrap your slippery fingers around his cock, coating him in yourself and when you pull him towards you, notching him at the mouth of your cunt, and finally – finally, I’ve been waiting for this all night, and you can’t even tell who says it – it’s so fucking good that all the rest of it is worth it for this singular feeling right here. 

He pushes in, in, in, heavy balls pressed against the wet curve of your bottom, and you’re so soaked it’s slid down between your ass, marked his sheets with you, swings his hips back all smooth and wet and shoves back inside. His mouth is at your tits, folded over you, caging you in, biting and sucking on bare, tight nipples he tells you belong to him, cunt he fucks hard and deep he tells you also belongs to him.

He pulls an ankle up over his shoulder, changes the angle and drills into you hard and fast, other knee hooked over his elbow so you’re pressed and folded and presented to him just how he likes and needs, and he makes you say his name over and over, tells you exactly how he wants you to come on his cock just for him. His pelvis bumps your clit on every push forward, too thick cock wedged inside your cunt so that you’re stretched around him and no matter how many times you do this, it always hurts just a little. Like everything else the two of you do together. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans. “You take it so fucking good. Don’t come yet– don’t come. With me– wait for me. I want it together.” And you do cry at that, when he changes the angle once more and shoves in hard against your g-spot, the fat tip of his cock punching against it over and over so that there’s heat pooling at the base of your spine, stars flashing behind your closed lids, your breasts going hot and heavy and tight, stomach clenching with the effort to stave off your orgasm and do as he asks. He breathes into your mouth, and it’s all hot and damp skin and your sweaty limbs sliding against each other, open mouth to open mouth. 

“Now,” he says, pulls you onto him deeper with a tight grip on your ass, long fingers wrapped over the curve so that he can feel the wet, stretched place where he takes you, makes you his. “Take the whole fucking thing,” he whispers against your lips, and as your cunt goes tight as a knot, painful in that way that only he can make it, that’s so good, that way that always keeps you coming back for more, you finally start to cry real tears. Not just from his cock but from the whole of him, from everything he does to you. Your heart beats fast, fast, fast, and you count the days in the month til your period, the little game you like to play with yourself when the two of you are bad like this, and then decide you don’t really give a fuck as he starts to fill you with the heat of his come.

He stays inside of you for too long after the last throb of his cock. Rubbing his lips all over your neck and shoulders and tits, tasting you and giving you too much time to memorize the pattern and cadence of his breathing. And when he pulls out and pulls back to look at the slick, puffy sight of your cunt full of his come, he bends to lick you clean like he always does. Gives you one more orgasm, the last nail in the coffin or your heart. 

Sated and spent, you glance at the clock, and it’s officially Christmas Eve. You know he goes all out for Grogu, milk and cookies for Santa, stockings and gifts, the works. He is an exceptionally good brother, all a child could need in a father figure, and there had never really been any chance of you doing anything else besides loving him. 

When you pull the gift from your bag, heart in your throat and halfway to regret but more resolve than you’ve ever had in his presence, you tell yourself that if this brings on the end of everything, that you’ll find a way to be okay with it. If you’ve gone too far, done too much, you’ll accept it, count your losses, and what great losses they’ll surely be, but you’ll move on as best you can. 

You’d picked some pretty, baby blue paper with little red robins on it, a soft gold ribbon tied around the package. The sight of it makes you want to cry. You’d tried so hard, you really had. 

He’s quiet when you put it into his hands, staring down at it like it’ll reach out and bite his head off if he blinks even once. Swallowing several times before he says, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. It’s– it’s for the both of you, kind of.” Him and his little brother.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“No– that’s okay. I know. You didn’t have to.” Your voice comes out all breathless and full of nerves. You should’ve put your clothes on before you did this, made for a quicker, easier get away if necessary. 

He pulls the wrapping apart slowly, gently untying your ribbon, long fingers carefully picking at the little pieces of tape at each end so that he doesn’t tear the paper and disturb the robins. 

“Where did you get this?” He says when he’s finally unwrapped it, his voice telling you instantly that you’ve made a terrible mistake. 

“It– it was in your drawer. I–”

“You went through my stuff?” He says, eyes snapping up to yours, finally looking away from the photograph you’d copied and framed for him. A picture of him and Grogu and his parents. Grogu, a baby, Din, a boy of maybe eight, gap toothed, cheesy grin and messy curls between his smiling parents. They looked, very much, like a deliriously happy family, and you’d thought it such a shame it was stuffed in his sock drawer when you’d found it, left to be forgotten. You’d only wanted to do something nice for him. 

“N–no. I mean… not intentionally. I was looking for my extra clothes – the ones you told me to leave here – and I–” your lashes flutter, overwhelmed. He suddenly looks so angry. “I saw it in your drawer. I didn’t mean– I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, I–” You don’t know what to say. All of your falsely held control in tatters at your feet and tears in your eyes as you take in the horrible look on his face. Shocked, angry, hurt, but his gaze leaves the photograph again, shifts back to your face at the crack in your voice. 

He presses forward, as if to reach for you, realizing you’re about to cry. “It’s fine.” I’m sorry, Din, you murmur again. “It’s just–” He shakes his head, a frustrated noise in his throat, his voice all graveled and cracked like yours. He seems so much like a boy in this moment. A child confronted by a past he was too young to lose when he did, forced into the shape of a man too soon. “You know that this–we–” He motions between the two of you.

“Yes. I do,” you cut him off quickly. Assuming what he’s going to cut down here between the two of you before he gets the words out. He doesn’t need to say it, not out loud. He doesn’t need to be that cruel. The strength it takes the both of you to bite your tongues in that moment, as you take each other in, swells to a near painful pressure, and there is something so sick here between the two of you. His eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him. 

“Thank you,” he finally says quietly, and you can’t answer, looking away out at the dark night through his murky paneled window. It looks like it’s about to snow, all the ingredients for a perfect Christmas at play. The room is so warm and his bed is so comfortable, and you feel so full of fragile and soft things inside. “You’re going to see your family tomorrow?” He still has the picture frame in his hands, fingers smoothing methodically over the edges, thumb swiping gently over the happy faces inside. 

You clear your throat, “Yeah, tonight. I’m going to my parents house, spending the night there.” And it’s on the tip of your tongue to invite the both of them to come too. You know your parents would love to have them, you would love to have them there, him, but the words stick in your throat with the fear of his rejection, and the two of you fizzle awkwardly into a heavy silence. 

You look out at the window again, too much of a coward to look into those bright eyes, but you can feel his gaze on you, singing the side of your face, and suddenly you feel him scoot over towards you. Deep sigh, dragging the duvet with him, wrapped around his bare shoulders all messy hair and flushed cheeks still steaming from your sex. No one should look like he does. No one. It’s the most unfair thing that’s ever happened to you in your whole life. He grips you around the bend of your bare knee, pulls you halfway into his lap, and your eyes are still fixated out on the night, the dark much safer than anything that lives inside this room.

“You remember when we met?” He says. The tears are back. “It was tonight.” Two years ago.

You tip your chin at the window. “At the restaurant…”

“...Down on eighty seventh street. Two years ago.”

“Yes.” You finally look at him. “I remember,” you whisper. Your mouth feels so dry, your heart so flinty.  

“The place had all those string lights put up, and we sat at that table outside in the back behind that group having their Christmas work party. You remember?” Of course you do. You only can't believe he remembers. He’d been wearing an olive green half zip sweater, and he’d smelled of laundry detergent and whiskey and cinnamon gum when he’d kissed you for the first time. 

“I had the best old fashioned I’ve ever had at that place. We should go back. And it was so cold, you remember? You never stopped shivering.”

“Yes, Din. I remember.”

“That was a good night.”

“Sure it was,” and it comes out with a bite you can’t help, for so many reasons you can and cannot explain. 

He gives one of those non committal hums he loves to provoke you with, that little glint back in his eyes. “Sure it was? What?”

“Nothing.”

“Is there something you wanna talk about?” The white elephant in the room, come to ruin everything, shatter all the glass, disturb the dust in your hair and break your heart. 

He tips your head back by your chin, two fingers holding you there, never letting you go. You shake your head at him caught up in his grasp like that. “No. I don’t want to talk about anything.”

And he gives you the strangest look, and for one second you wonder suddenly if that look you’ve always taken as provoking is not so much teasing, but more pleading, more knowing. “No…” he says, chews on his thoughts, strong, scruffy jaw with the heart shaped patch moving side to side. “I know you don’t,” and leans forward to press one single soft, chaste kiss to your open mouth. “You know what you are?” He says then, and the look is now entirely unknowable, confusing. 

Your eyes flick back to the window. “What?” Back to him again, breathless. 

“You’re my girl.” And out of the corner of your eye, you can see that there, finally, is the Christmas snow.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DOWN IN THE DUST ] (Preview)

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WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MNDI ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/VIOLEMNCE ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ AGE GAP ] + [ COWBOY AU ]

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Cowboy Alastor teaches you how to shoot, and every time you hit the target, he gives you a kiss and soft praise.

“Good one, darlin’”

“Keep your arm out and straight, sugar.”

“Mhm, just like that, square your shoulders and eyes forward, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, glancing up at him, smiling softly as he tips his head in approval. “Shoot, darlin’,” he commands, and your eyes lower from his, settling on the target as he instructed, and your finger pressing on the trigger of his gun right in time with his command.

“Bang!”

The first man who'd dared to put his hands on you fell to his knees, coughing up blood as the life left his eyes, and Alastor erupted into maniacal laughter while his body dropped to the dusty ground. “Good shot, sweetheart,” he boasts, grinding wide, leaning down just enough to nuzzle his nose against your cheek, “Give me some sugar,” he coos lowly, eyes narrowing as you peer at him innocently, blushing wildly as his lips met yours. “Mhmmm,” he hums, an oddly giddy sound despite the dark situation, but you're instead used to his strange amusement.

He was a bounty hunter, after all, a lethal one at that, and recently, you'd become an investment of sorts to him.

You knew him long enough to know that killing was his favorite pastime, and killing bastards who thought it was a grand idea to threaten and harass you was an even better form of entertainment for him.

The men he'd rounded up in front of you fit the second criteria perfectly.

Alastor pulled back from the kiss, tipping his hat up as you looked back at the last two men standing a yard away. He insisted they face you head-on, that they see the satisfied look in your bright eyes as you picked them off one by one. Though you usually held yourself modestly in the presence of others, that facade came tumbling down in the thralls of Alastor’s encouragement. “Sorry for your loss, gentlemen, but I think it's only right you give my little lady a fair shot, seeing as you all ganged up on her without warnin’.” He chuckled as they let out muffled cries through their makeshift gags, hands tied behind their backs, and guns lying at their feet. You almost felt bad for them, but what little guilt you harbored washed away as Alastor tapped your backside with one hand while the other lifted your gun toward another victim.

“You think you can hit em’ right between the eyes, chere?”

You hummed, smiling with a playful glint in your eye while zeroing in on the man before you.

“I think I can manage it, cher. You've taught me well enough.”

Alastor chuckled, stepping back with a proud grin, pulling out a cigarette to light in his mouth, “That's my girl. Take them straight to hell..”

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A little sneak peak. ❤️ Tell me what you think!

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I watch this edit at LEAST 5 times a day for sanity purposes (I'm actually going insane tbh) ❤️ credit to creator

[fire-lizard-ro]

Smol snippet because the angst hit me all of a sudden.

CW: mentions of death, mental fucking breakdown djxkd-, grief, angst, Sunday is sad :’’’’)), 2.0-2.1 spoilers.

(Disclaimer with a 2.2 trailer/livestream spoiler: I’m aware that she isn’t actually dead, but this is made in mind with Sunday who doesn’t know that.)

No mentioned gender for reader.

Writing under the cut (SFW):

“My baby, my baby. You’re my baby say it to me.”

Cradled in your arms he cannot even cry. He feels empty and lost. Sunday… what use is the name Sunday if there is no Robin to call after him? He failed her. Her, the one who shone so brightly in his life.

He can remember every birthday, every scrape, every “good morning” and “good night”. He can remember every “I love you”. Thinking about these memories, holding that light cone with a moment in time held so dear trapped within it’s frame- It fills the emptiness with something.

Sunday tightens his grip on you, fingers twisting in the back of your shirt as a silent sob wracks his body.

Anguish.

That is the name of the emotion that colors his empty insides with dark and dreary hues of blues and blacks; his heart with the color of life as it bleeds in her absence.

You pet the back of his head, holding him back just as tightly as he finally allows himself to fall apart in only the company of solitude and you. The seraph finally allows his wings to rest. The figurehead finally takes off the perfect mask.

“Why did it have to be her?” He can’t understand how this happened. How could his lovely, perfect sister be gone?

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, Sunday,” is all you can say. But that much is enough. He lets his tears wet your shoulder as he hides away from the reality of her death and the world. He’s grateful you’re here at least. In the back of his mind that’s fracturing and breaking to pieces, he wonders what he’d do if he didn’t even have you to hold him together. Would he fall apart? Lose himself entirely?

A dash of gratitude and love colors his bleakness in a splash of warm pinks and oranges- Like the sunset he watched with you in the dreamscape not too long ago.

She was everything before he met you. Being the older brother, she was like his first child. He can remember looking at her tiny, chubby face when she was still too young to talk, and thinking- “This is my baby sister.” He was supposed to take care of her- protect her.

Thinking of how someone killed her in cold blood and made those starlight eyes close forever… Deep reds formed.

Anger.

He would force the criminal into the light and bring about retribution for their evil.

“Will you help me?”

He asked, eyes almost manic and wings spread; looking almost like an angry, vengeful fallen angel in that moment.

You took his hand and he smiled, leaning down to kiss the hand that accepted his.

“Thank you, my love.”

I wanted to include how every older sibling’s first child is their baby sibling, lololol. And just. I can’t imagine how much grief he had to have been going through. OTL

I might edit this or add to it later this was just a blurb I wrote in like five minutes-

[stylesharrys]

A House Isn't a Home Without You [Dadrry]

They’re both still in love and a traumatic experience is what brings them back together.

A/N: hey angels, this is a rewrite of a very old fic from an old fandom, all edited and made into a Harry fic for you guys :) this also is a bit of a touchy and sensitive fic, so please read the warnings above and I completely understand if it’s not something you can read – take care of yourselves!!

Warnings: mentions and themes of stillbirth/miscarriage, please do not read if those things are triggering to you <3

WC: 3.4k

//

Harry pulls up in his driveway—his old driveway. Gracie blabbers to herself in the backseat, chubby hands clapping together as she gurgles a little laugh. Harry watches her through the rearview mirror with a smile before turning to Leo, who sits in the passenger's seat.

Gracie is the spitting image of Y/N—no questions asked. The only thing she got from Harry was his curls. Leo? Harry’s double. He has Y/N’s eyes, sure, but he is his father's son.

“Alright, let's go see Mum!” Harry exclaims in the most excited tone he can, but it pains him so fucking much to know he’ll have to face her again. He thought it’d get easier over time, but it never does.

“Mumma,” Gracie squeaks from the backseat and Harry smiles at her sweetly. “Yeah, baby. Go see Mumma.” Gracie kicks her little legs and claps her hands. Though she is a complete Daddy’s girl, she’s a sucker for her Mum.

“Are you still coming to my game on Wednesday?” Leo asks his Dad, the seven-year-old eager to show Harry how much he’s been practising for the baseball game this week.

Harry nods and ruffles the boy's hair. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, bud. Now, get your stuff while I get Gracie out of the car.” He kills the engine and unlocks the door, getting Gracie out of her seat and holding her on his hip.

She giggles and peppers sloppy kisses to Harry’s cheek, little fingers playing with his dark curls and he helps his son get their overnight bags out of the trunk.

Leo races for the front door and bolts through it, making his presence known. Harry shortly follows, taking deep breaths. It’s been seven months and it’s still so fucking hard. It shouldn’t be this hard.

“Hi, baby!” Y/N calls out, racing for her little boy and scooping him up in her arms. Leo wraps his arms around his mothers neck before she lowers him back to the ground and ruffles his brown locks.

“Hope you’ve been good for Dad.” She sas, hesitantly looking at Harry who still looks just as nervous as she does.

Gracie kicks up a fuss at the lack of attention she’s receiving from Y/N, and she takes her from Harry’s arms, cuddling her into her chest and she coos.

Harry swallows back his nerves or whatever the fuck it is that’s threatening to spew out of him. “She was walking around with her little walker and tripped. She bruised her knee a little but she’s okay,” Harry tells her.

You hum and kiss the eleven-month-olds head, setting her down on the floor and she rushes off, crawling for her toys that she didn’t take with her to Harry’s.

“Leo’s got that game on Wednesday at the school,” Y/N reminds him, but Harry waves his hand with a little smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be there, don’t worry.” He assures her and she nods her head, swaying back and forth on the balls of her feet.

Harry drinks her in for a moment. Y/N’s only wearing a burgundy sweater and black jeans but God, does she look good. Harry struggles to not compliment her, to not kiss her or hug her. And it’s so fucking hard.

So, instead, he asks something that will hurt him even more. “So how was your date?”

Y/N freezes, spluttering that she doesn’t know what he’s talking about but Harry laughs. “Leo told me. Said he heard you on the phone.” He explains.

She nods and takes a deep breath. “Uh, it was okay.” She shrugs, leading him to the kitchen where she grabs two bottles of water from the fridge.

Harry sits at the island opposite Y/N as she leans against the counter. “Just okay?” He raises his brow. Y/N sighs and shakes her head, staring at her feet.

“Harry, we don’t have to do this.” She sighs, trying to divert the conversation to something else, but Harry isn’t having it.

“Yes, we do. We were friends before we got together. Friends before we had kids. Friends before we got engaged. We were always friends first. I’m not losing that, too.”

Y/N stays quiet, tears pooling in her eyes and she shakes her head. “This is hard for me, too.” She whispers, to which Harry scoffs and shakes his head.

“Is it? ‘Cause you seem to be handling it just fine! Going out on these dates and moving on, while I’m stuck tryna figure out where the fuck we went wrong.”

“Harry, stop.”

“No, Y/N.”

“Harry!” Y/N raises her voice, eyeing the two young children behind him and he turns, heart sinking when he sees the horror on his baby's faces.

“Leo, why don’t you take your sister in the garden while I talk to Dad,” Y/N sighs, nodding to the backdoor, and slowly, he guides his sister outside and they sit on the grass, playing peekaboo.

It’s silent between them both and her heart is breaking. “I’m sorry.” Harry rasps, keeping his distance and she turns to look at him.

“You know where it all went wrong, Harry. And I’m trying so hard to get over what happened, to get over you.” Y/N whimpers, tears staining her cheeks and all Harry can do is stare at her stomach. The same stomach that carried Leo, the stomach that carried Gracie and Skyla.

“I miss her, too, you know.” He argues, defensive walls back up again and Y/N turns to him with a shaking chest.

“I never said you didn’t.” She cries, wiping the tears from under her eyes and Harry just wants to hold her, just wants to take it all back and be with her.

“I uh, I better get going,” he whispers, offering a soft smile and Y/N nods, keeping her eyes locked on the floor she’s standing on.

Harry shoves his hands in his pockets, wandering out to the garden and calling for one more hug from his babies.

Y/N watches as they both pounce on him, attacking him with kisses and cuddles and his sweet laughter can be heard from where she’s standing.

He walks away and blows a kiss goodbye to his little girl, Leo too busy playing with the football, but Gracie looks like she’s about to burst into tears. She always hated saying goodbye to her Dad, even though she’d still see him the next day.

//

It’s 7 pm and Harry’s sitting on the couch in his new condo, eyes trailing over the lyrical mess in front of him but nothing’s really working. He’s already had to extend the album release by five months.

He’s been shit out of luck with work recently, and his team are constantly asking him when he’ll be ready to start something new. He tries, of course, he does. He doesn’t want to be in this state of limbo for too long, scared he’ll lose himself in it and the thought of that is fucking terrifying.

Ben sits next to him, laid back on the couch and scrolling through his phone with a beer in his hand, randomly showing Harry stupid memes on Instagram.

Harry’s about to start a live stream when Y/N’s face pops up on his screen and she’s calling him. He knows he should’ve changed her contact photo by now, that it shouldn’t be her massive grin as she holds up her hand and points to what once was her engagement ring.

Y/N’s contact picture shouldn’t be the memory he has of her when she said she’d marry him. He clears his throat and accepts the call, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Harry, I’m so sorry but you need to come and get the kids.” Harry stands from the couch in worry, brows furrowed as he searches for his car keys.

“Okay, is everything okay? What’s going on?” Ben stares at him in worry, eyes wide.

“You just really need to come and get them, please.”

And the line went dead. Harry panics, completely frantic as he races out of his apartment. He shoots past the elevator, knowing he’ll be quicker if he jumps down the stairs.

He tries to stay calm when he drives, Ben trying to ask what’s going on but all Harry can do is tell him what he knows. That he needs to get the kids right now.

He manages to get to Y/N’s house in record time, jumping out of the car and Gracie and Leo are on the front porch, the door half open and Harry rushes toward them.

“What’s going on?” He asks his son, can see the horror on his face and then he hears Y/N shouting at someone and a shattering of glass.

“I woke up to Mummy yelling at someone to get out and I don’t know what’s happening.” Leo hiccups.

Ben wanders over to the kids, scooping Gracie up which she doesn’t mind one bit, she always did like Ben. He takes them to the car, Harry telling him to watch them and to call the police.

He pushes through the half-open door and follows the sound of Y/N’s voice. She’s yelling, red in the face, and a blond man stands opposite her, angry and not giving a shit that he’s ruining her night and home.

“Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing.” Harry squares up to him, shoving him into the wall and the blond grunts, struggling to shove Harry back.

Harry’s bigger than he is, a bit leaner and a lot stronger. “Oh, so he’s the dude that’s stopping me from getting into your pants.”

With that, Harry throws a fist into his face, his head bouncing back onto the wall and Harry pulls away from him, scurrying over to Y/N and taking her hands in his.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Harry panics, noticing the bruises that are already beginning to form all up her arms.

There’s glass all over the floor, a kitchen stool thrown across the room and Gracie’s toys have been poured out from the boxes and launched across the room.

Y/N panics, tugging on his shirt when she notices James and his sickening grin. Harry turns around, arms out to block Y/N from his sight and all she wants is to hold her babies and tell them that it’s okay.

“Get out James. Just fuck off. I told you, I’m not fucking interested!” She cries out from behind Harry, now standing beside him but behind his arm.

James laughs and takes a step forward. Harry’s trying to push Y/N behind him but she won’t have any of it.

“You scared my kids. My fucking kids! Now get the fuck out of my house before I fucking kill you.” She threatens him, her maternal instincts clouding everything else.

James looks past Y/N and to Harry, skin paling at the hard look he holds. He knows Harry’s about to break his nose if he doesn’t leave, so he scoffs at them both and walks toward the front door.

“No wonder he fucking left you. You’re a worthless piece of shit.” He spits, but Harry is quick to wipe the smirk off his face by delivering another blow to his nose.

Y/N lets out a shriek of shock, flinching at the crunch of Harry’s fist connecting with James’ face, a sickening sound she wants to get out of her head.

“Say something about her one more time and see what fucking happens.” Harry spits back, sick to his sHarryach that someone can say something like that to someone so fucking wonderful.

Just as James is about to run off, a police car skids its way outside the house and stops. Three police officers come bursting out, Harry shouting that James is the guy they called about. It’s mere moments for the officers to take a look around and see what’s happening, and a split second later, they’re putting the cuffs on James.

Harry’s attention is pulled away from the scene at the sound of Y/N’s exhausted sobs, his heart breaking as she collapses into his chest the second he puts his arms around her.

“You’re okay, honey. You’re okay.” Harry whispers, cooing her the best he can but she pulsl away in panic.

“The kids! Where are the-“

“In the car with Ben. They’re okay, I promise.” Harry reassures her, stroking the hair from her face and kissing her forehead.

They both watch as James is being escorted from the house, his head down like he wouldn’t dare breathe another word to either of them.

“Ma’am we’re going to need a statement before we can do anything else.”

Y/N nods, breaking away from Harry. She explains that James showed up at her door and asked if he could talk. Explained how he made a move and tried to pin her to the wall, got angry and smashed up her daughter's toys.

“Were the kids at home when this happened?” The officer asks, a solemn expression on her face and Y/N nods, sniffling into the sleeve of her jumper.

“Yeah, I called Harry straight away to come and get the kids when I realised he wasn’t going to leave.” Y/N confirms, and somehow through the midst of her explanation, her hand had reached for Harry’s and their fingers became intertwined.

“And where are the children now?”

Harry steps in, “Ben, their uncle… he came with me, he’s got them in the car outside.”

It’s another twenty minutes before they take James away in the squad car and leave the premises. Y/N is left with a trashed kitchen, swollen eyes and an aching heart. She can’t bear to look at the mess for much longer.

“You’re not staying here. Pack a bag, you and the kids can stay at the condo with me tonight.” Harry tells Y/N and for once, she doesn't argue.

He follows her upstairs, breathing hitching when he sees the bedroom, the bedroom he hasn’t seen for seven months. The bedroom he made love to her in, the bedroom he’d wake up in every morning.

And nothing’s changed. She still keeps the picture of them both at her sister's wedding on her nightstand. She still keeps the furniture the same. And when they go into her closet to pull out some clothes, Harry still sees one of his shirts tucked into the back, a shirt he knows she loved to wear to bed.

Y/N throws a pair of clothes and underwear into the bag, along with a phone charger and some makeup. Harry watches her from the doorframe he leans on, scared to walk into the room after the fight they both had the last time he was in there.

But then she freezes and breaks into sobs and Harry doesn’t care anymore. He pushes himself forward and holds her close to his chest as she apologises profusely, to which he tells her to stop because none of this is her fault.

He grabs Y/N’s bag and leads her downstairs, helping her to lock the doors and leading her out onto the drive. She can see that the kids are asleep in the backseat, Ben sitting between them with their little heads resting on his shoulders.

She opens the door to the passenger's side and climbs in, turning around to look at her babies and old friend.

“Hi, Benny,” she whispers, a small smile on her lips and he smiles softly back at her, understanding that she’s been through hell tonight.

“Thank you,” she whispers once again, and he shakes his head, tells her there’s nothing to thank him for and that he’ll do anything for his niece and nephew.

When Harry gets in the car, he drives off right away, not wanting to look at that house for another second. Ben watches as Harry changes the gear stick and Y/N takes her chance to rest her hand on his.

It’s like the stars are aligning when their fingers intertwine for a second time and she gives him a little squeeze. Ben bites back his little smile and takes a deep breath, know’s he doesn’t have to worry for Harry anymore, that everything is going to work itself out.

Harry drops Ben off first, bids him a good night, thanks him, and tells him he’ll text him in the morning. After that, it's just his family in the car... family.

By the time Harry pulls up at the condo, it’s almost 10pm and Y/N just wants to sleep, but she knows that won't be coming anytime soon. She follows Harry up the stairs and to his apartment, Gracie sleeping in her arms and Leo in Harry’s.

His condo is nice, homely, actually. Gracies toys are sprawled out everywhere and she even has her own highchair. Y/N follows him down to their bedrooms, in complete awe of how Harry has them decorated. He made a home for himself and the kids in just seven months. A home she’s not a part of.

Y/N kisses the children goodnight and follows Harry into his kitchen. No words are spoken as she takes a seat at the kitchen island and he puts the kettle on, pottering around and making her a peanut butter sandwich. Funny how he still remembers her comfort food.

“I’m so sorry,” she croaks out, disgusted with herself that she let something like this happen. Harry shakes his head and grabs her hands, kissing her cold knuckles.

“You have nothing to apologise for. Just tell me what happened, darling.”

And she does. She tells him that she’s not ready to move on because she’s still so fucking in love with him. She tells him that she cries herself to sleep every night and that nothing smells like him anymore and it hurts.

It hurts to have lost her child, and it hurts to have lost him. All Harry can do is listen and cry with her, just hold her and make her feel safe.

“It was meant to be us five, but we lost her and then I lost you.” Y/N sobs, heart shattering at the thought of their daughter—the daughter they never got to meet. The sister Leo never got to protect. The twin Gracie never got to grow with. The daughter Y/N and Harry never got to fucking hear the cries of.

“I miss her so fucking much.” Harry sobs, clutching onto Y/N like she’s his lifeline, and she is, her and the kids. Y/N holds him like he holds her and for once, she feels okay. Not a lot, but a little.

“And you have the house and the kids all the time, but I feel so alone,” Harry admits and he knows he shouldn't hold it against Y/N, and he doesn't, but she has Gracie and Leo every day and he just feels so lonely.

“A house isn’t a home without you, Harry.” She whimpers, forehead resting against his and he tucks a strand of hair out of her face. “I miss you, Y/N. I miss everything.” Harry sniffles, holding her close.

“Come home. Please, come home.”

He stares at her for a moment, praying to God that this isn’t a dream, and when she presses her lips against his, he knows it’s not. It’s been seven months since he tasted those lips, but God does he remember how sweet they are.

He kisses her back, hands holding the sides of her face and she swears she never wants to forget how good it feels to be in his arms again, to be where she belongs.

“I love you,” she mumbles against his lips, gently tugging on his curls and Harry can’t help but laugh the most joyous laugh ever. “I love you, too, baby. So fucking much.” He whimpers.

Y/N rests her forehead on his and takes a shaky breath. “Then come home. Come home to us.” She pleads, and she knows it’s the right thing to do, she knows it’s written in the stars, her and him.

When they lost Skyla, their whole lives changed, and Harry couldn’t take it. They grew distant with each other until they were just strangers with children, and he left. It didn’t matter that they loved each other beyond words, they were both foolish and hurt.

And now, here she is, realising her mistake and begging for the love of her life to come back home to her, to be a family with her and Gracie and Leo. And no one needs to ask Harry twice. So, he nods his head and smiles wide.

“Okay.”

//

thank u so much for reading! feedback is very much appreciated and if you have anything pieces you'd like for me to write or any ideas, let me know!!

[mitsuyeaah]

ONE-SIDED HATRED

AKASHI ‘SANZU’ HARUCHIYO x f! reader

“i wanna touch on you. you see me in my room. wish you were here right now, i wanna get freaky on camera.”

cw: youtube star!sanzu, camboy!sanzu, college au, slight enemies to lovers (reader dislikes haru), pining, nsfw (mdni), smut, masturbation (f & m), sex toys, fingering, unprotected rough sex, cum eating, swearing, pet names (baby, princess), slight degradation

word count: 9.5k

a/n: i present to you, akashi haruchiyo <3 also sorry, i had to edit out senju on the header :”(

You stared daggers at his face, biting your tongue to hold back any sharp insults that threatened to come out. If looks could kill, Haruchiyo Akashi would be dead by now. Your blood boiled just by looking at him, the way he threw his head back against the red cushions of the booth—laughing obnoxiously loud, the way his eyes shut as if the joke he had heard was the funniest in the world. It took all your willpower not to roll your eyes at the man, god, he was so fucking cocky.

You hated how he thinks he’s all that just because he’s famous on YouTube, or whatever streaming platform it was, like you cared.

“Careful with that glare, you might accidentally stab him with it.” Keisuke pulled you out of your trance. Your head whipped toward the man next to you, a smug smile forming upon his lips, a glint of playfulness evident in his dark honey eyes. You rolled your eyes at him, “Good. He annoys the fuck out of me.” You didn’t know when this feeling of annoyance for Haruchiyo started but all you knew was that you two were definitely not on the same wavelength.

Not one bit.

Ever since meeting Haruchiyo, you never really got along with him under any circumstances. His first impression was fine, you could give him that but as you got to know him and through Mikey and Keisuke, the more you could not stand the man.

Mikey, Keisuke, and Haruchiyo were three peas in a pod, their personalities didn’t stray too much from one another but there was just something about Haruchiyo that you couldn’t stand, it also didn’t help how frustrated you became because you didn’t know what the reason was. There was really no one to blame for this certain thing you were feeling, that’s why it was much easier to project anger onto Haruchiyo.

Plus, it wasn’t like he was all innocent. As a matter of fact, he added fuel to the fire. He would constantly make jokes about you that you didn’t quite find funny, or sometimes he just won’t leave you alone. Haruchiyo would ask you endless questions ranging from one end of the spectrum all the way to the other end, to which you would always answer ‘it’s none of your business’ because it wasn’t, you weren’t close to him, unlike with Mikey and Keisuke.

If anything, the two of you would only exchange by bantering, and they weren’t friendly ones. There wasn’t a day where you two didn’t fire insults at each other, and every time, either Keisuke or Mikey would jump in before it got out of control.

In all honesty, it looked like you were the only one really worked up during these exchanges because Haruchiyo would always smirk at you, if you knew any better, you’d think he was enjoying this. He probably did, he probably liked you seeing all riled up because of him and you hated it because it made you even angrier.

At this point, you didn’t even know why you came along to these hangouts fully knowing that the pink haired asshole would turn up too, you guessed it’s because Mikey would always beg you to come and you could never say no to him.

“Alright, I think I’m going to head back. I have a shit ton of assignments to do.” You groaned, stretching as you stood up from the booth, bidding your friends goodbye. Of course, before you could fully turn and walk away, Haruchiyo just had to say something, “Geez, you’re always in your dorm all day. No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend.” He chuckled before taking a sip of his cold beverage—a strawberry smoothie, black painted nails contrasting against the pinkness of the drink.

You closed your eyes for a few seconds, the feeling of anger bubbling up from your stomach as your hands curled into fists by your side. You let out a deep sigh and opened your eyes, directly looking at the turquoise eyed man—who had the same old smug expression plastered over his stupid face, “You know what? Yeah, you’re right and what about it? I don’t see your lame ass with a girlfriend either.” You raised a brow, challenging him.

As expected, he gave you a saccharine smile, “Baby, you don’t know how many women would drop on their knees for me.” You poked your tongue against the inside of your cheek at the pet name, Haruchiyo always called you ‘baby’ despite the countless times you told him not to. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you calmly replied, “First, I am not your baby and second, you might have hundreds and thousands of subscribers but you’re still bitchless.” You shrugged before completely walking away, not bothering to hear his reply.

“I have millions! Get it right!” He called after you and you could only roll your eyes at him.

You knew Haruchiyo had millions of subscribers, you just wanted to play with him because you knew he wasn’t going to let it slide. 

As a matter of fact, as much as you’d like to deny it, the content he puts out on YouTube wasn't too bad— although, you’ve convinced yourself that it's because Senju—his little sister—carries the whole channel by herself and Haruchiyo is just there.

Their content ranges from Vlogs to other sponsored videos just like other content creators, and from time to time, they upload their solo videos on the shared channel—Senju mainly posts about beauty and fashion whereas Haruchiyo would mostly post videos of him playing games requested by their subscribers. Despite their difference in personalities, they made their channel work and were able to garner different subscribers.

You’ve watched several solo videos that Senju posted and often gushed to her about it via message. The two of you were close and sometimes she would even include you and her other friends in one of her ‘daily Vlogs’. She was very sweet and kind, unlike his older brother that you couldn’t stand.

Later that night, you were too engulfed in your assignments that the loud sound of your phone vibrating against the desk almost made you jump out of your seat. It was already one o’clock in the morning and the only person who would possibly be texting you at this hour was Mikey. That man’s sleeping schedule was all over the place—to which he would blame his choice of degree, engineering.

You mindlessly patted around your desk for the device while reading a passage for the pre-lecture readings, your eyes never leaving the paragraph. After several attempts to reach for your phone, you finally found it and brought the screen closer to your face, eyes scanning for the recent notification.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t from Manjiro.

It was from Haruchiyo, ‘i wasn’t talking about women from my youtube subscribers btw.’

Your brows knitted at the text, what the hell did he even mean by that? Your eyes scanned the sentence once, twice, thrice but you were still lost. Huffing, you set your phone face down and decided to leave his message unopened and unreplied, you weren’t going to waste your time and energy on something you couldn’t understand, especially if it came from one Haruchiyo Akashi.

Since it was already getting late, you decided it was best to wrap up your assignment and head over to bed but you weren’t exactly going to sleep yet. No, the night had just begun. You’ve had a very stressful week full of due dates and new assignments that you barely had time to take care of yourself, and therefore needed to release all the pent up stress and emotions that accumulated throughout the week.

You knew just the perfect way to find a release.

Grabbing your laptop off the desk, you set the device on the mattress of your bed and typed the url of a certain website on a keyboard. You’ve never really told anyone about this but you’ve grown fond of a certain someone in this particular streaming website, someone who helped you with your deepest sexual fantasies and he was damn good at doing it.

You place your middle finger on the trackpad, smoothly gliding it around to navigate the cursor through the website and clicking on the profile you’ve been subscribed to for quite a while now. You knew your friends would probably tease you for getting off to some man behind the lens—especially Haruchiyo who liked to make fun of your single ass but you didn’t care, it’s not like they were going to find out.

God forbid them from finding out, especially that insufferable rosy haired idiot that took a liking to annoying the fuck out of you for days on end.

If Haruchiyo somewhat got a hold of this information, he would never live it down—it was a fact. You’d have to live with the fact that he’s able to torment you for months, trailing behind you and letting you know about your dirty little secret.

Oh, you’d scour the world just to find his dirty little secret.

SANZU. You clicked on the profile, the name in white capitalised letters that beckoned you. Begging to be explored and seen.

You didn’t know who this man was but fuck, he was hot. The sounds that leave his lips as he pleasures himself in many different ways practically had you drenched and clenching around your fingers. In some videos, he’d be edging himself; he would be sitting on his queen-sized bed, all exposed and covered in a sheen of sweat as his hand desperately pumped up and down his hard cock. Loud whines leaving his chest as his hips bucked up with need, his free hand gripping the soft sheets under him, turning his knuckles white.

The way his abdomen would contract and limbs stiffening as he topples over the edge was definitely a sight to see. He’d let out these delicious loud moans laced with endless profanities as his hand clenched around his dick. Thick cum spurting out of his pink tip, making a wonderful white sticky mess on his stomach and thighs as he trembles ever so slightly.

The angle of the camera gave all his subscribers a perfect view of his torso, thighs, and everything in between. Of course, he kept his face out of view for such reasons but it somewhat made his videos even sexier, the way his head was cut from the frame left his viewers wanting more. His cock was the prettiest you’ve ever seen—a deep shade of pink, he wasn’t too thick but his length made up for it; his dick had a slight curve to the left and an evident vein that ran on the underside of it. God, the things you’d do just to run your tongue along that line.

Mysterious yet sexy, that was how many perceived this man—Sanzu.

You relaxed against the headboard, legs spread out, fluffy pillows supporting your lower back as you clicked on his most recent upload. 10 minutes ago. It read on the blurb at the bottom of the thumbnail, it wasn’t a long video as indicated on the timestamp but you were grateful, nonetheless.

‘Missing her’ hours. The title read.

He was in the same environment just like in his other videos, in his room and on the bed. His body was illuminated by some kind of bright light from behind the camera, allowing a stark contrast of his naked body against the dim background. This time he had a new toy with him—a fleshlight. A glob of spit landed on his hard cock, one hand flying down to spread the slimy liquid all over his dick—also using the pre-cum from his pink tip. His free hand grabbed the flashlight resting on the bed and brought it close to his cock.

SANZU grabbed the base of his dick and slowly pushed the fleshlight down his tip that was still leaking pre-cum; the man let out a breathy moan as the head of his length disappeared within the toy, his back slightly arching and exposed chest pushing upwards at the familiar pleasure. Your mouth parted at this—shallow breaths slipped past your lips, your keen eyes fixed on the way he teased himself by just thrusting his tip in and out, hips desperately bucking up for more.

You could feel the familiar sensation grow on your pussy, tingles spreading throughout your wet folds the further the video progressed. Tired of rubbing your thighs together and clenching on nothing, you slipped a hand past your joggers and massaged your folds through the thin fabric of your panties—a wet spot beginning to spread and soak the fabric.

The man on the video lets out a loud desperate moan as he pushes the fleshlight all the way, bottoming out; you could tell he threw his head back with the way his neck became taut. “Mhm…fuck! You’re so tight for me, huh?” He grunted, an evident strain in his tone. He stayed like that for a while, dick fully sheathed inside the sex toy as he shamelessly let out desperate pants, trying not to cum on the spot. Your mouth watered at the way his balls deliciously pressed against the base of the toy, so large and full.

Fuck, he was so aroused; your fingers pushed the soiled fabric aside and massaged your clit, legs slightly jerking at the intense pleasure jolting through your body, “Ah…! Yes, all for you…” you whispered in a breathy tone, head resting on the wall behind you while keeping your eyes on the bright screen of your laptop—mouth slightly parted, letting out shallow pants.

A small whimper leaves your lips as you push two fingers inside, free hand gripping your blanket at the sensation of your gummy walls stretching around your digits.

Another glob of spit lands on the base of his cock, and he pulls the fleshlight from his dick, earning a loud squelching noise at the way the toy firmly encases around his length. This time, he actually starts moving the fleshlight up and down, both hands firmly encased around the toy as he desperately rubs it against his dick. “Ngh—haah! Yeah? You like tha—ah! You like that? Mmph! You like it when I fuck you hard?” He moans.

His back arches at the pleasure, the bright light behind his camera shining the thin layer of sweat on his exposed chest. Loud and repeated wet squelching sounds along with his desperate pants emitted from your laptop which went straight down to your wet cunt. The crown of your head rubbed against the wall as you tilted your chin up, a moan forcibly making its way out—pleasure engulfing your whole body.

“Mhm—ah! Yes! I love it when you fuck me hard!” You responded to the video before letting out a long high pitched moan.

Your fingers thrusted in and out of your sopping cunt, making the same noises as the video did; you brought your free hand up to your face and bit on the sleeve of your hoodie, moaning against it as you clenched your eyes shut. You had no roommate to possibly hear your moans but you couldn’t trust the dormitory walls enough that the neighbouring rooms wouldn’t be able to hear you. You could feel yourself cumming soon—your hand and wrist were slowly getting tired from the fast repetitive movements but you couldn’t stop now, not when you were so near that you couldn’t feel your legs anymore—toes curling and feet digging deeper into the mattress.

Strands of hair were now sticking to your neck and forehead as a light layer of sweat covered your whole body, the room suddenly felt a couple of degrees hotter but you couldn’t care less. All you could focus on at the moment was the pace of your hand and the loud erotic moans coming from your laptop. “Aah—fuck! Why don’t you cum around this dick like the good girl you are? Huh?—ah shit!” He grunted, moans becoming shorter and high pitched which suggested he was close.

Something about him talking dirty to an inanimate object made you clench harder around your fingers; if he was already spewing that much filth to an object, imagine what he would be like with a person. Oh, the things you’d do just to hear him whisper nasty things in your ear as he pounds into you.

“Come on… let’s hear those—haah! Let’s hear those pretty sounds.” As if he was talking to you, you removed your arm from your face, a string of loud high pitched moans immediately rolling out your mouth, like it was begging to be let out.

The man in the video quickly changed positions, he was on his hands and knees—legs opened wide as he held the sex toy against the bed, desperately thrusting into it like it was the real thing. His bed squeaked with every sharp thrust of his hips, back hunched over the mattress; you could see the way every muscle in his body popped along with his movements, god, it was so fucking hot.

It also didn’t help with the way he looked so desperate, rutting into the little sex toy like his life depended on it and the string of profanities that came out of his dirty mouth. Your eyes fixed on where his cock quickly thrusted in and out of the fleshlight, imagining that it was you who he hungrily fucked into.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m cumming! Cum with me, baby—ngh!” Short frequent whines that were in tune with his sharp thrusts left his lips. That was all it took for you to reach your orgasm, the familiar feeling at the pit of your stomach suddenly bursts up through your spine and down to your legs—your whole body becoming rigid as you came around your fingers, back arching and lips forming an ‘o’ shape but no sound came out.

You tried your best to keep your eyes open and stare at the man on the screen, he had his cock fully sheathed inside the toy, pulling out only by a small amount and quickly thrusting back in to ride out his orgasm. His body became taut with pleasure, his free hand gripping the sheets under him as his thick cum spilled out from the fleshlight—this time the squelching sounds were much louder from the big load he had produced. “Mhm—aah! Fuck yeah… take all of it, princess.” He panted out, hips still thrusting into the sex toy.

Closing your eyes, you let out desperate pants, suddenly you were hyper aware of your surroundings—the way your hair stuck to your neck and forehead, the sudden humidity of the room, the gross feeling of your clothes rubbing against your sweaty body, and the way your soiled panties clung to you.

You let out a groan because the urge to take a bath was stronger than ever, and you also had to change your sheets since you felt icky. It was almost quarter to two in the morning but you didn’t mind taking a hot bath and doing some laundry at this hour, even if it meant sacrificing some of your sleep.

“Why didn’t you answer my text last night?” You looked up from your steaming noodles and gave Haruchiyo a blank stare, you could already feel annoyance bubbling up from your stomach—his aquamarine gaze already on you, a mysterious glint. “I could care less about your text. Plus, why’d you even text me in the first place?” It was now Haruchiyo’s turn to shrug and you swore there was a slight tint of pink that dusted his cheeks but you paid no mind to it, it was probably because of the hot food that occupied the table.

“You guys were texting last night? That’s new.” Mikey—who sat across you—darted his eyes between you and Haruchiyo, brows shooting up his forehead before exchanging a look with the man who sat next to you—Keisuke. “No, we weren’t. He texted me and I didn’t respond.” You rolled your eyes and got back to eating. You knew that look they shared between them, they always did that and you knew it was probably just to tease you because you didn’t get along with Haruchiyo.

Haruchiyo let out an exaggerated sigh and leaned back against his seat, placing his hands behind his head, “You know, I was up all night waiting for your text. I’m hurt.” God, you wanted to smack that look off his face. Before you could retort, last night’s events ran through your mind, your cheeks warmed at your late night activities which caused you to struggle to think of a response.

You blinked, ears turning red and not knowing what to say to him—remembering how the man’s hips desperately rutted against the fleshlight, soft whimpers that left his lips like music to your ears, the way his legs trembled as he came inside the toy. He was so hot. You rubbed your legs at the thought of him, hands slightly balling into fists.

That man had you wrapped around his finger—like many other women subscribed to him. The worst part was, you didn’t even know him and he was already doing all kinds of things to you without laying a single hand on your body.

Fuck, if you saw him in person, you would be fucking him on sight.

The rosy-haired man tilted his head to the side, a sly grin making its way on his face, “What? Cat got your tongue?” Being brought back from your trance, you slightly shook your head and rolled your eyes at Haruchiyo—he didn’t miss the way your face turned a tad bit crimson. Cute. You glared at him, all the lust in your system suddenly being drained away and replaced with annoyance, god, you’d trade Haruchiyo for that man anyday.

As usual, you bit your tongue from saying anything that would escalate the conversation and ignored him instead but your face gave away your mood—your brows tightly knitted together, lips turning into a scowl and eyes turning dark with a glare.

You just couldn’t stand him.

Haruchiyo acted like you two were close, he acted like you were okay with him making fun of you, he acted like you were friends with him. He was completely insufferable. Every time you see him, your jaw tightens and annoyance bubbles up from within your stomach, hands automatically clenching into fists.

His presence annoyed you. It made you want to pull all your hair out.

“What were you even doing last night?” Keisuke asked Haruchiyo, changing the topic, he sensed the change in your demeanour. You couldn’t really rant to Mikey about your pent up anger over Haruchiyo, so Keisuke got the other end of it—unfortunately but at least he’s nice enough to listen to all your rants, no matter how childish they get.

Keisuke loves you and Haruchiyo both and he doesn’t take any sides because he thinks it’s just petty. A big misunderstanding between the two of you, and he’s told you that; he wasn’t afraid to let you know that maybe you were just misunderstanding Haruchiyo.

Give him a chance. He said one time. Whatever that meant.

And you really did try your best, you tried to be open about a possible friendship with Haruchiyo but every single time, he’d make you remember why you didn’t want one. You always found yourself making snarky comments instead of friendly ones; you were both at different ends of the spectrum, far away from one another.

Maybe it was because you two just didn’t click—completely different personalities. Or maybe you just couldn’t understand your emotions that well, you were never one to perceive emotions and feelings easily, which is why you’ve become completely oblivious to people that had shown an interest in you in the past.

All these complex feelings inside you would just come out as a big mess and all you could really project was annoyance and anger—something that wasn’t pleasant. After all, these were the feelings you were most acquainted with.

Human emotions in a nutshell.

Haruchiyo snorted, you could still feel his turquoise gaze on you while you ate, “Oh, y’know, just…stuff.” he leaned over the table and grabbed his phone, mindlessly typing away with a smug smile on his face. “Anyway, I have to go. Senju and I are preparing for another content, you guys should definitely anticipate it!” He jumped up from his seat, bidding goodbye to all of you before going.

It was already late in the afternoon and you decided to spend it by lazing around your dorm and being practically glued to your bed but it was fine, it was the weekend anyway. You were currently online shopping, browsing over clothes that you knew you didn’t need or accessories that weren’t necessary but it was nice to look at them. You had several tabs open on your laptop and you noticed one tab blinking with a notification, it was last night’s tab.

You mentally face palmed yourself for being so careless and not closing the tab. It wasn’t like anyone was going to go through your laptop but Mikey would sometimes borrow yours for a short period of time when his one would be acting up. Thanking the heavens for Mikey not borrowing yours today, you clicked on the tab and saw that SANZU had posted a status.

‘Will be going live in a few! Stay tuned for something spicy ;)’

You quickly sat up from your bed, laptop slowly sliding off your stomach. Wow, I’m being treated today, aren’t I? You thought. Thanking the universe once again for treating you nicely today, you set your laptop in front of you and clicked on the link provided on his status.

The video was still black which indicated the livestream was yet to start, so you patiently sat there and waited for it to start. You’ve watched some of his livestreams in the past and it did not disappoint. He would do what his subscribers asked him to do—edging? Not a problem. A sex toy? He’d pull out his stash. Dirty talking? He’d open his mouth in an instant.

It was a pretty sight to see. A submissive man who’d do practically anything.

Some would even send him money—lots of it—to moan out their name as he pleasures himself but you were more the quiet type of watcher who just enjoyed the view. Plus, you didn’t even have that much money to spend for some man to moan out your name, as tempting as it sounded.

You did comment from time to time, though, as embarrassing as it sounds, you would always call him a ‘good boy’—a pet name he had grown to love. But that was about it, your mind blanked whenever you tried to come up with something for him to do.

After a couple of minutes later, the black screen finally disappeared and showed him in his usual set up—he was clothed but he didn’t wear a shirt underneath his leather jacket. What a tease. Though, it complimented his fair skin really well, making his abdomen stand out more for his viewers.

God, black looked so good on him…but you would’ve looked better on him if you were being honest.

Before you could settle and make yourself comfortable on the mattress, a switch turned on in your head which caused you to study the leather jacket a little harder. It looked familiar. Too familiar for your liking.

You tuned out everything that he was saying to his live viewers and furrowed your brows, eyes squinting and body leaning closer to the LCD screen—you didn’t know why but your heart started to race, you felt like you were about to discover something forbidden, something you didn’t like.

That leather jacket was the same one Haruchiyo was wearing earlier today at the brunch.

“No way…” you whispered to yourself, hand resting on your chin as your eyes widened. Different thoughts raced through your mind but you tried to counter each one of them—surely they just happened to have the same jacket, right? Leather jackets are popular at the moment, of course. You convinced yourself that. Plus, Haruchiyo literally said he was going to prepare for a video with Senju, so he can’t be doing this livestream.

A sudden realisation hit you, you could just call Senju and she’d probably say that his older brother was with her! You were probably just over analysing all of this because of a stupid jacket. Just because the man you’ve been getting off to had the same jacket as Haruchiyo doesn’t exactly mean they could be the same person.

There was a slim chance.

Haruchiyo has worn that leather jacket several times in their videos, even thanking the retail brand that gave it to him as a gift. Who knows? Maybe SANZU was a fan of the Akashi siblings and probably got the same jacket as Haruchiyo because he found it nice.

Grabbing your phone, you scrolled down your contacts and called the youngest Akashi sibling, wasting no time. It rang for a couple of seconds before Senju picked up,

“Hey! What’s up?” “Hey! I hope I didn’t interrupt or anything, are you busy at the moment?” You gnawed at your bottom lip, nerves becoming uneasy at the thought of Haruchiyo possibly being SANZU. The loud background noise on the other side of the call indicated that Senju was outside and you got a sinking feeling that you weren’t going to like where this was going.

Your stomach sank at the next few words that came from her lips, “Not really! I’m at Harajuku right now, just shopping for some clothes. The usual.” She giggled into the phone, normally, you would’ve reciprocated her giggle and joked about not taking you with her but you didn’t. You sat on your bed looking at the screen of your laptop—that still showed SANZU—unmoving and unsure of what to do next.

Haruchiyo said he was going to prepare for a video with Senju but she was clearly out at the moment and didn’t say anything about releasing new content for their channel.

“T-that’s exciting! Are you alone?” You tried to sound enthusiastic but couldn’t bring yourself to be. Maybe Haruchiyo was with her all along, she usually had company while shopping anyway—someone to carry bags full of clothes and accessories for her. Yeah, that’s right. He was probably with her.

Senju sighed, “Ah, no, I had to go alone today. Haru said he was busy with something. I don’t really know what since he didn’t specify.” That was all it took for you to mentally punch yourself, maybe the universe wasn’t on your side today. Just the thought of you getting off to SANZU’s videos who could possibly be Haruchiyo all along was embarrassing. Completely embarrassing.

You exchanged a few more words with her before bidding goodbye which left you sitting in your bed in silence, eyes glued on SANZU—who had already discarded his leather jacket. You watched him. Suddenly his voice started sounding familiar, just like Haruchiyo but you kept denying it. You couldn’t accept the fact that maybe he was SANZU.

There was only one way to truly find out.

You scrolled up to find Haruchiyo’s contact, thumb hovering over your screen as you decided whether or not to go through with this. What if you just let your imagination run wild instead? Let yourself wonder if it was Haruchiyo or not. Why did you even have to know in the first place?—

Oh. That’s right.

An idea popped into your head. Maybe you have found his dirty little secret, maybe you could use this as leverage over him.

A small smile crept upon your lips as you dialled his contact, maybe this wasn’t as bad as it seemed. As your phone rang, your eyes darted over to the livestream, waiting for Haruchiyo’s phone to ring.

And it did.

You didn’t know whether to be happy about this because you finally had some kind of leverage over him or be embarrassed about the fact that you’ve been getting off to his videos. Haruchiyo’s videos. The same person who pissed you off without fail.

You watched as he abruptly stopped what he was doing and reached for his phone behind the camera, black painted nails encasing around the little device. “Sorry, guys. I’ll have to answer this real quick.” He quickly slipped out of the frame and out of his room, you presumed since you heard the door open and close.

Fuck. So he was SANZU.

“Hmm? What’s got you callin’ me, baby?” He used the same tone in his videos, the one that had you soaked with your own slick, the one that had you rubbing your thighs together. You closed your eyes, trying not to let his voice affect you in any way—normally, you would’ve rolled your eyes at him and the pet name but you didn’t.

The pet name felt different. It brought a shudder down your back.

You huffed, “Are you busy?” As much as you’d hate to invite him over to your dorm, you wanted to let him know about your recent discovery, maybe with this, you could finally get him to stop with his silly antics and desperate attempts at trying to annoy the fuck out of you.

You didn’t have to see his face to know that Haruchiyo was smiling from ear to ear, “Oh? And what’s got your pretty head curious about me?” You clenched your fists, there he goes with that tone again. You were hating every bit of this phone call because you didn’t want to admit how much his voice affected you—how your cunt tingled ever so slightly at it.

“Can you… can you come over? I have something for you.” A small smirk formed on your lips as you pushed down the lust that was slowly engulfing your whole body. If only Haruchiyo knew what was coming for him. “You? Inviting me over? What’s gotten into you, baby? Thought ya hated me. Hmm, but I’ll be there in an hour and a half… just have some things to take care of.” You nodded even though Haruchiyo couldn’t see and quickly ended the call, not being able to take any more of his voice.

It made you feel things.

Your eyes darted back to your laptop as you saw him walk back into the frame, apologising to his subscribers before returning to his activities. Sighing, you closed your laptop so you could gather your thoughts, you didn’t even feel like watching the livestream anymore because of this information.

The fact that you’ve been getting off to Haruchiyo practically fisting himself was embarrassing, you wanted the ground to just swallow you whole. No one knew about it, yes, but you couldn’t bear the thought of THE Haruchiyo Akashi being able to make you that wet without laying a single finger on you.

It was embarrassing and wrong. You thirsted over someone you didn’t like, someone that had your blood boiling within seconds of being in his presence. Now you weren’t going to look at him the same anymore.

But underneath all that, something deep inside you was joyful that the person you’ve been thirsting for a long time was right under your nose. Haruchiyo was the man you’ve been fantasising about while you were alone in your room—the man who you wanted so bad to fuck you, to have his hands on you and his cock in you.

Waiting for Haruchiyo had you pacing back and forth, time was agonisingly slow and you were somewhat nervous, you didn’t know why but you were.

The time finally came when you heard knocks at your door, you practically lunged off your bed and to the entrance of your dorm which revealed Haruchiyo. You stared up at him, his long rosy hair loosely secured in a low ponytail—which some were sticking to his forehead from sweating, cheeks dusted pink like he had just ran a marathon and the same leather jacket around his shoulders.

“D’ya finally realise your undying love for me, or what?” He chuckled, a smirk plastered on his lips as you stood aside to let the man in.

It was weird.

It was weird to have him inside your dorm fully knowing what he’d been up to just a few hours ago. You couldn’t shake the vivid images burned into your mind, the images of him fisting his cock and the way he fucked the fleshlight last night. If you could punch yourself right now, you would definitely do it.

“No… but what I did find was…” you trailed off and took your phone out, hastily searching for his profile on the website. Haruchiyo raised a pink brow, confusion written all over his pretty face as he watched you tapping on your phone. “This.” You clicked on his profile and shoved your phone to his face, it was your turn to smirk, you couldn’t wait to see him begging not to tell anyone.

Maybe you would tell him to get on his knees and beg—

He was smirking. Why was he smirking? No, no, no, this isn’t supposed to be like this! He’s supposed to be shocked and confused, not smirking. Your smirk fell off your face as Haruchiyo’s eyes darted from the phone and over to you, no trace of shock evident on his features. Not even one. He was clearly unfazed by this.

“Tell me baby, do you watch them?” He was using that tone again. His smirk turned into a saccharine smile as he took a step closer, to which you responded by stepping back and amidst all this, you held each other’s gaze. Not one dared to break eye contact. “I-i…” you mentally facepalmed for stuttering and not finding the right words to respond with.

He tilted his head, raising a brow, “Hmm? I asked you a question.”

You sucked in a sharp breath. Fuck, he was supposed to be at your mercy, not the other way around. Now, he’s got you wrapped around his finger like SANZU did, well, after all, they are the same man.

Closing your eyes, you nodded. Heat spread from your cheeks and up to your ears as embarrassment slowly engulfed your whole body. This was not the outcome you wanted. “Look at my eyes while I’m talking to you.” He stated firmly which caused you to immediately open your eyes and meet his aquamarine gaze once again, something about the way he used his voice made you want to obey him.

You looked into his eyes, studying the intricate turquoise patterns on it—the deep shade of blue that outlined his irises, a slightly different intensity of the colour that you haven’t noticed until now.

Haruchiyo pushed strands of hair behind your ears before resting his palm on your cheek, thumb lightly ghosting over your bottom lip; he looked at your lips like it was his prized possession, like it held more value than his life.

“I really want to kiss you right now…” he whispered, eyes trailing upwards to meet your own. Your breath hitched at the way his touch burned into your skin—the good kind. You blinked up at him, heart pounding against your chest, “What’s stopping you, Haru?” Your voice came out light and airy. 

You didn’t know why you were acting this way. No, you did know why you were acting this way—it’s because Haruchiyo got you all wrapped around his finger, and you let him do it. The urge to fully submit to him and your feelings was slowly making itself known, it was an urge that you had deep down when you first discovered SANZU, and now that he’s here in flesh, there is no stopping you.

All the times you’ve fantasised about him, all the times you’ve thought about having his cock buried inside you, all the times you’ve wanted to be pinned down by him were slowly coming to you, and you didn’t know if you were able to keep up with it—with him.

Haruchiyo cursed under his breath at the nickname. Haru—the nickname he hears on a daily basis either from his friends and siblings. So why did his insides do a somersault when you said it? Why did his knees weaken a little at the name he hears every single day of the week? Fuck, it rolled off your tongue like it was made just for you, and only you.

He gave your bottom lip one last swipe with his thumb before leaning down and placing his lips on yours. Oh fuck, your lips were soft. Haruchiyo was gentle—there was a slight hesitation with the way his lips moved against yours, afraid yet desperate for the way your lips felt against his own, like he was testing the waters. After all, it was the very first kiss you two shared together and he wanted it to be perfect.

Haruchiyo swore he could see sparks fly as the kiss deepened, his knees buckled at the feeling of your soft, pillowy lips against his—his mind was spinning, he’d been waiting for this day ever since he laid eyes on you and oh, how worth it the wait was. His hand on your cheek tightened ever so slightly as he pushed head face closer to yours, he wanted more.

Suddenly, everything felt hot—burning. Your body felt like it was on fire with the way he kissed you with such passion; your hands found its way to the collar of his leather jacket, fingers clenching around the thick fabric, you couldn’t keep up with the way his lips moved with hunger. Groaning against his lips, you slightly pushed him away to catch your breath—swollen pink lips parted as your chest heaved up and down, trying to take as much air in as possible.

He leaned his forehead on yours as he panted, hot breaths mixing with each other’s as you two stood there in silence, trying to process what just happened. “I’ve been waiting for this ever since I met you… fuck, you drive me crazy, you know that?”

You bit your lip at his confession, butterflies forming in your stomach and knees almost buckling at it, “Just shut up and kiss me.” Cupping his face, you sealed the space between the two of you. This time, the kiss was rough, desperate, hungry, and Haruchiyo didn’t hesitate to match the movement of your lips.

You groaned as he bit and tugged at your bottom lip, hands flying up to his rosy hair and gripping the strands like your dear life depended on it. Amongst the messy kisses, the two of you found your way into your bedroom after messily stumbling through your dorm, hands flying up to the wall for support.

Haruchiyo broke the kiss and held your gaze, turquoise eyes hooded and filled with pure lust, “Are you sure you want this?” His index finger and thumb rested on your chin as he waited for your answer. You groaned, “Fuck, Haru, you don’t know how much I’ve fantasised about this… about you.” Haruchiyo sucked in a sharp breath, muttering a low curse before instructing you to strip everything down and sit on the floor to face your body length mirror.

Like the obedient girl you were, you did what he’d told you. Haruchiyo joined you a few seconds later, leather jacket and shirt discarded which left his dark jeans hanging around his thin waist.

He sat behind you, naked chest flushed against your back. Your cheeks heated at the way his eyes trailed every single dip of your body, the way his stare lingered on your chest before trailing down to your wet cunt, earning a small smile from him.

He placed his hands under your knees and spread your legs open, your wet cunt now fully exposed; Haruchiyo tangled his legs with yours, placing his feet at the inside, next to your own so you wouldn’t be able to shut your legs close once he started.

You watched yourself through the mirror, all exposed and at his mercy—his body looming over your figure, almost engulfing you with how broad he was.

“Tell me…” he started off, slender hands rubbing up and down your sides, causing goosebumps to form under his light and feathery touches, “…what do you think about when you watch my videos, hm?” He leans over you, lips dangerously close to your ear.

You let out a whine, resting your head on his shoulder as he starts massaging your breasts with his hands. Alternating between his index finger and thumb pinching at your nipples and squeezing your mounds; you swallowed thickly as you watched your breasts being fondled by Haruchiyo.

“Mhm—ah! I think about—fuck! I think about how good your cock would feel inside me…” you bit your lip at the tingling sensation on your chest, face turning crimson red as his hands worked on you. “Hmm? Naughty girl, aren’t we? Tell me more…” He bit the shell of your ear before placing wet kisses along your jaw and down your neck, earning another whine from you.

His hands snaked its way to your front, stopping at the inside of your thighs and sensually rubbing it. Fuck, he was so close yet so far to where you needed him the most. “Ngh—haah! Shit, Haru! I think of myself as the fleshlight you were—ah! You were fucking last night… Fuck, I wish I was the one you were fucking last night. Could give it to you so much—mhm! So much better than that measly sex toy.”

Haruchiyo pressed his fingers on your wet folds, earning a loud groan from you as he started rubbing them up and down, spreading the wet slick produced by your cunt, “Is that so? Well then, I’ll just have to test it out for myself, huh?” His fingers alternated between rubbing up and down your folds and massaging them in a circle—his ministrations caused you to produce more slick, and you watched as it rolled down onto the floor.

You let out a loud moan as one hand spread out your folds and the other inserted two slender fingers into your cunt. It was just what you expected, his fingers reached way deeper than yours did and it made your toes curl. You bit your lip at the sight in front of you, your legs tangled with one another while Haruchiyo had two fingers stuffed into your wet cunt.

Loud squelches broke the silence as he started mercilessly thrusting his fingers in and out, your juices coating his hands as it trailed down to his wrist, “Aah! Yes… right there, Haru!” You let out a high pitched moan, followed by a string of profanities as you threw your head back against his shoulder; your legs instinctively tried to close around his fingers but Haruchiyo had his legs tangled with yours, so the only option was to sit there and take it—all of it.

Your back arched at the sensation, chest protruding forward which caused Haruchiyo to grab one breast with his free hand and roughly massage it, cupping and tugging at the fat until it was swollen.

“Look at yourself while I’m fucking you with my fingers like this. Look at how you’re falling apart with just two fingers.” His free hand travelled up to your neck, firmly taking hold of it and forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror—to look at how fucked out you were, the way you hair stuck to your sweaty skin, the way your swollen lips parted for moans to escape, the way your face contorted with pleasure, the way your sopping cunt gladly took him in with every thrust of his fingers.

You bit your lip at the sight of you, all fucked out for Haruchiyo; nothing but a whimpering mess from his two fingers. The familiar bubbling in your stomach was slowly making its way up, you were so close.

Your hands flew up to his hand that held your neck in place as he started rubbing his palm against your clit, high pitched whines leaving your parted lips as you cried out his name. “Yeah? You close f’me, baby? Why don’t you be a good girl and cum around my fingers?” He whispered against your ear, goosebumps forming as his hot breath ghosted around your skin.

“Aah! I’m cumming, Haru!” Moaning loudly, your hands gripped his arms like a vice as you came around his fingers, legs trying to close around his hand and muscles becoming taut as pleasure engulfed your whole body. “Yeah, that’s it, princess. Good girl.” He moaned with you, trailing hot kisses down the side of your neck.

In the midst of it all, Haruchiyo whispered praises against your ear as he rubbed your clit to ride out your orgasm, causing your hands to fly down to his own and stop him from moving any more as you were becoming overstimulated.

You watched him as he pulled out his fingers from your cunt and brought it to his mouth, tongue licking a long stripe from his wrist, all the way to the tip of his fingers before inserting them into his mouth, all while holding eye contact with you through the mirror. You bit your lip as Haruchiyo moaned around his fingers, loud wet noises coming from his mouth while he sucked and licked his digits.

He let them go with a loud pop and smirked at you, “Get on the bed for me, baby.”

Haruchiyo helped you stand up from the floor, your legs wobbling a bit as the two of you made your way to your bed. Your head made contact with the pillows as you made yourself comfortable, Haruchiyo trailed after you, crawling up the bed and stopping just at the apex of your legs.

“Are you ready for me, baby?” You frantically nodded your head, your bottom lip trapped against your teeth. Your heart raced with anticipation, fuck, you’ve been waiting for this for such a long time, you couldn’t believe it was finally going to happen. 

He slipped out of his pants and underwear, cock springing free from its tight confines. You stared up at his hard cock in awe—it was so much longer in person. You also noticed the vein that ran on the underside of his cock, the one that you vowed to trace with your tongue, maybe next time.

Haruchiyo spread his pre-cum along his shaft, giving his hard cock a few pumps before hooking his hands on the back of your knees and pressing them against your chest so that your wet cunt was on full display, all for him. You whined as he teased the blunt tip of his cock up and down your wet folds, “Impatient, are we?” He chuckled before slowly pushing the tip in.

He hissed at the way you tightly hugged the head of his cock, one hand resting on your bent knee, trying to push down the feeling of wanting to cum right then and there, “Fuck! I always knew this pussy was going to be so tight for me.” Haruchiyo groaned as he pushed his cock further into you, eyes almost rolling back at how your tight, hot cunt sucked him in.

You bit your lip at the way his cock felt inside you, you felt so full and yet he wasn’t even all the way in, “Mhm! Haruuu, you feel so good..” Haruchiyo could only let out a breathy laugh at that, still trying his best not to cum—he grabbed the base of his cock, squeezing hard until the urge to cum slowly dissipated.

With this, he fully thrust himself into your sopping cunt, loudly moaning at how you clenched around him. He stayed sheathed inside you for a few seconds, hands resting on either of your knees and trying to catch his breath—his eyes were glued shut because he knew if he were to open them right this very moment, the urge to cum would come back in an instant.

You wiggled your hips impatiently and whined, trying to chase some kind of friction, “Haru, please move. I can take you.” Haruchiyo cursed under his breath, “Baby, don’t say things you don’t mean. You’ll be begging for mercy later.” He chuckled, before pulling out and slamming back in, earning a loud moan from you.

Your hands flew to the pillows underneath your head as Haruchiyo began thrusting at a fast pace, wet noises and skin slapping could be heart—he hooked his hands behind your knees and pressed them further into your chest, using it as leverage to thrust deeper into you.

He smirked at your state, you were nothing but a moaning mess, all fucked out for his cock that you badly craved. “Haah! Where’s all the snarky remarks now, huh? Shit! You say you don’t like me but look at you, such a slut for my dick—ngh!” You couldn’t even reply to any of his comments, not while he was dicking you down this good—the only things slipping past your lips were your desperate attempts of moaning Haruchiyo’s name out.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Haru! Fuck..” your hands clenched around the pillows beneath your head as he thrusted harder which caused his heavy balls to violently slap against your ass, his low ponytail swinging with every thrust.

“That’s right, let everyone know who’s making you feel this good! Mhm, you are definitely much better than that measly fleshlight.” Haruchiyo threw his head back, letting out a deep groan coming from his chest. He would always fantasise about how tight you would feel around him, and you definitely didn’t disappoint.

With the way his blunt tip was repeatedly abusing your cervix, you could feel another orgasm creeping, “Fuck! I’m almost there—aah!” You shut your eyes closed and clenched around him one last time before cumming around his cock as the coil in your stomach finally snapped.

You let out a loud cry of his name, face contorting with pleasure and legs shaking against your chest as you creamed his cock, “Ah, yeah, that’s it baby…” He groaned, trying his best to thrust in and out with how tight you were clenching around him. Fuck, you looked so hot.

“Sit up f’me baby… take my cum.” You did as you were told, the ache between your legs still shooting sharp pleasure up your spine as Haruchiyo quickly pulled out and started desperately fisting his cock. He moaned at the sight of you, mouth open and ready to take his cum—that was enough for him to completely let go and let pleasure take over him.

Haruchiyo threw his head back, a loud shameless whine escaping his lips, hips rutting against his fist as he came—hot cum spurting all over your face and chest. He rubbed his cock up and down, milking out every last drop as he aimed for your open mouth.

“Good girl…” he panted, one hand resting on your cheek as you swallowed his cum.

The two of you laid down next to each other, staring up at the ceiling while trying to catch your breaths, “…Did you really mean what you said earlier? How you’ve been waiting to kiss me since we first met?” You croaked, turning your head over to the rosy haired man. He snorted, “Yes, I thought it was obvious?” He met your gaze, a small smile making its way to his lips.

Your brows knitted together, “No? I literally hated your guts.”

Haruchiyo sat up at this information, shock evident on his pretty face, “Wait. You hated me for real?” You nodded. He let out an obnoxious laugh, the one you’ve always hated but this time there wasn’t any hint of annoyance in your body, “I thought that was your way of flirting! That’s why I added fuel to the fire, god, I didn’t know you actually hated me.” He buried his face in his hands, embarrassment slowly swallowing him.

Now, you understood why Keisuke said it was just a whole misunderstanding between the two of you. It was a one-sided hatred.

“Oh my goodness, I don’t even know if you like me back— God, I’m such an idiot!” He mumbled against his palms, ears visibly turning red.

“I don’t… hate you. And I never said anything about not liking you back… it’s just that I really have a hard time understanding my emotions, so I resort to projecting anger at the wrong people.” You sat up, now feeling bad for him as you replayed the past with him—all the meaningless arguing.

Haruchiyo removed his hands from his face, “Is this your way of finally confessing your undying love for me?” Normally, you would’ve rolled your eyes with annoyance but this time, you did so with playfulness.

Everything suddenly dissipated, the pent up annoyance and anger, this time, you were actually willing to understand your emotions, for the sake of your future friendships—for the sake of Haruchiyo, because for him, you were willing to face your uncharted emotions and feelings.

And all those daggers and glares that you’ve been giving him for the past few months were suddenly replaced with Cupid’s arrow and heart eyes.

Maybe Haruchiyo Akashi wasn’t too bad at all.

© mitsuyeaah

[cxlamarisalxmi]

Some Sunny Day

[Platonic Drabble]

c/w: angst, depictions of trauma and injury, character death, no gendered terms used to describe reader

a/n: I couldn’t help it, the part two of the Spider-Venom reader is in the works and is being written and edited consistently and progressively, but this was inspired by me feeling in the shits about my trauma so.. here we are lol

—

[Unedited]

We’ll meet again

You hadn’t given much thought to how you would die, not ever really considering the thousands of possibilities that would result in the loss of your life. Never really finding the consideration of those pathways important enough to think about long enough.

Don’t know where, don’t know when

Perhaps you should have— maybe this wouldn’t be happening otherwise. That’s a lie, because death is inevitable.. it was coming for you one way or another. Perhaps it wasn’t you trying to trick yourself into believing you could avoid it— but prepare yourself for it instead. Had you considered all possibilities of death then maybe you could’ve prepared yourself for the painful one you had come to face.

But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day

It did not announce itself, did not trumpet it’s arrival. It had been silent, quiet in the darkness as it coiled itself around your throat pulling you off your feet. By the time you had seen it coming.. it had already set it’s teeth.

Keep smiling through

You didn’t wish for anyone to be sad for you, it was a good life you had lived. Sure, it didn’t start out too great but it had been decent.. and then it had turned for the better when you had found them.

Just like you always do

You didn’t want anyone to force their lives to a screeching halt for your sake, that wasn’t fair.. and you knew that regardless of what you had thought— they would celebrate your life everyday from here on out. Now settled in the acceptance of grief, the stage that had come after a long and painful endurance through denial, anger, bargaining and depression.

‘Till the blue sky drives the dark clouds far away

They had felt such a dark and heavy cloud hanging over them since your death, and they had grown accustomed to it. Not bothering to address the way all of them were feeling about losing you. Suppress it down and ignore the searing ache in their chests —they believe— being the best way to overcome it and grow forward.

But you knew that was utter bullshit and you had wished they knew that too. Ignoring it will only make it worse, because ignorance allows the pain to linger. And if it lingers long enough it will fester and grow into a raging inferno that will swallow them whole.

Only in acceptance could they move forward, only in accepting that you were gone could they move on. Grow past it and become stronger together. And you believed they could, they just had to let themselves do it in their own time— at their own pace.

And eventually, that dense and weighted cloud overhanging them would be driven away.

So will you please say hello

You were Miguel O’hara’s eldest. And you had been with him through everything, after the loss of your younger sister the two of you couldn’t overcome the grief that had overwhelmed you both. And in the wake of that dimension’s destruction— there had been a wedge driven in between you and him.

Your relationship, previously stronger than any trial or tribulation life had thrown your way, had shattered to pieces. And you had attempted to at least pick up the shambles and put your bond back together.. but you had met a wall every time. A wall your father had built around himself to protect his broken heart and vulnerable soul from ever being touched again.

He hadn’t made an effort.. so you figured you shouldn’t either, and just accepted the turn of his back on top of the ache you felt at the loss of your younger sibling. The weight of guilt at killing all those innocent people had become the icing on this shit cake.

To the folks that I know

It was hard for you to grow past what had happened, because you were doing it on your own. In the wake of it all, it was you and only you trying to mend yourself back together. What hurt the most was that you had depended on your father to be there for you.. you had expected that this would only make your relationship stronger. Not tear it apart.

And it was naive of you to think such a thing, childish and ignorant of you to dispose of your initial thoughts that he would react this way. Because maybe if you had you’d have been far more prepared to take the bullet that his neglectful response had fired at you.

In the end of it all —the final steps you had taken to improve yourself— you had developed a fierce sense of independence. Nobody has your back better than you. And that was the unfortunate and heartbreaking truth that you had faced head on, it was a hard pill to swallow but it was necessary for you to move forward.

You garbled a cough, the gob of blood previously sitting in your throat jacked up to spill down your chin.

You grunted as the pressure in your chest grew exponentially, the rebar pierced through your chest causing an uncomfortable sensation to sit heavy beneath your ribs.

Tell them I won’t be long

The young teenagers who have come to adopt you as their elder sibling will be heartbroken. You knew that well, and you hoped that you father had picked up on the subtlety in your message to not reveal you were dying.

They wouldn’t take it well, and you knew they would follow your father to this dimension. The last thing you wanted was for them to experience more loss than they needed at their age. You couldn’t help that though, this was going to court one way or the other. What you could control was them being there in your final moments.. you had thought that maybe it’d go down easier if your father just told them you had gone peacefully.

They’ll be happy to know

It certainly would’ve been easier for them than seeing you impaled through the chest and coughing up the blood that had begun to slowly fill your lungs.

They’d at least have some semblance of peace within the grief and pain they’d feel that you didn’t go in pain. Regardless of the fact that this was easily the worst experience you have ever had the misfortune of dealing with. But they didn’t need to know that nor did they need to see you like this.

That as you saw me go, you saw me singing this song

When your father had finally arrived he had rushed to you immediately, his mask peeling away as he approached and dropped to his knees at your side.

“No, no no no, not again. Please no.”

“Dad…”

“Shhh,” he encouraged softly, “don’t talk. Save your strength, I’m going to get you out of here.”

“It’s too late.”

He didn’t listen to the way you quietly murmured those words, their execution breathed on a plane of exhausted agony. Your heart’s rhythm slowly fading from it’s previous thunderous beat in your ears. Slowing as it gradually eased itself into a state of utter still and silence, not having enough strength to continue to keep you alive.

Miguel wouldn’t let this happen again, he refused. As he thought of the best way he could move you he thought back to when you both had come back from the dimension that had unraveled. How he had shut you out, built barbed barriers thick and tall— and left you on the outside of them.

At the remembrance an abrupt ripple of regret shucked down his back, it made the blood in his veins turn bitterly cold. It was regret that was soon joined by grief that settled in his heart, heavy as lead sinking through his chest at the prospect that you would not make it.

And he suddenly felt knots tighten themselves up in the gaping in his stomach, because he didn’t even know what the right thing to do was. He couldn’t accept this, he couldn’t.. not again. But you were in pain, certainly worse than anything you’ve ever experienced. Not only that, but you were certain it was far too late for you.

He knew if he pulled you off that thick rebar pipe you would immediately bleed to death, if he left you on there you would die of a broken heart. Literally— the rebar had punctured through your heart and lung. Now both metaphorically and physically torn apart.

“It’s too late dad.”

“Please—”

You reached up to him, cupping his cheek as he laid his hand against your own. You lifted your opposite hand to hold his wrist as he brushed his gloved thumb over your bloodied and bruised cheek.

“Please no, not like this.. please there’s too much.. too much I have to do to show you I love you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to shut you out mi amor I’m sorry—”

You did to him the same thing he had done to you seconds prior and interrupted by brushing your gloved thumb over his angular cheekbone. You felt the familiar sting in your eyes and burn in your nose as you watched him. His eyes broken and devastated, the windows into his soul wide open as his defenses crumbled. His brows taut together and a hurt frown tugging his lips down.

“It’s okay,” you promised giving him the only smile you could manage. Soft and small— but full of all the love a young child has for their father. “It’s going to be okay.”

Miguel couldn’t contain the pain he was feeling a moment longer, and his ache had erupted in the form of the rivulets of tears gliding down his cheeks. And he listened intently to them as they spoke, holding them in his arms as best he could with the rebar through their chest. Still holding their face and leaning down to press their foreheads together, he internally wept at the way theirs felt colder.

“We’ll meet again,” you promised smiling up at him as he held you in his arms and kept your foreheads together. “I don’t know where, and I don’t know when.” You felt the way your heart continued to slow, the pressure on your chest increasing dramatically as exhaustion began. “But I know we’ll meet again—”

Finally the injuries had grown to be far too much, and you had only wished you had told him how much you truly loved him no matter what. How much you had understood his feelings and how you had already forgiven him for the toxic way he had decided to cope. Breathing felt like too much work, needing extensive energy that you no longer had.

Your heart gave up first, and the very last thing you saw before the black that had been seeping in from the edges consumed you entirely— was your father looking you in the eyes with the love you had craved from him since the loss of your sister. Your lungs followed after, and Miguel only sobbed harder at the way your chest rose, then fell, rose once again.. and fell.

He felt sick and angry at himself for the way things had gone, the regret he’d felt since the destruction of that universe was abruptly more pronounced in his chest. And he wept over your body, long since gone cold, as he completed the promise you had made to him. Whispered against the skin of your cheek —cold to the touch— and lost of all color and vibrant life held within.

“Some sunny day.”

—

a/n: when this was being written I was listening to life eternal by ghost and it just encouraged me to put as much ouchies in this as I possibly could so I killed ya!

[clarafell]

Trick or Treat!  🎃 ／人◕ ‿‿ ◕人＼

ASK BOX TRICK-OR-TREAT :  Accepting!!! 🎃

↳ @wolfvirago

It's nothing special, but— Look!

A spooky Robin dash icon!

Will you find more treats down below? Or maybe some tricks?

／人◕ ‿‿ ◕人＼

Here are some more goodies!

[astarionancuntnin]

Die For You (Chapter 2)

summary: following your encounter in that dark alley, you're faced with your old love. will you have the strength to stand up to him?

rating: T

word count: 2.5k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: kidnapping, reader is shackled for a while, starvation (both imposed by captor and self-imposed), manipulation.

a/n: a shorter chapter and no funny business this time around cause we gotta focus on the development of their relationship while reader is in captivity. also! look out for the additional a/n at the end of the chapter! im undecided on where i want to take this so i want all of your opinions !!

EDIT: added a partial scene at the end of the chapter and modified some of the early dialogue to add foreshadowing

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I fell in love with someone

I don’t know

Anymore, anymore

Sometimes I wonder if you

Think of me

Anymore, anymore

-

You can't make much of what happened after he appeared. You were too shocked by the presence of your past lover to acknowledge whoever cast sleep on you, knocking you unconscious at your most vulnerable moment. Cowards. When you awaken, you’re shackled, hanging to a wall in a dark cell. You pull against the restraints to no avail; you were securely locked in.

Your struggling must’ve made too much noise, as not long afterwards, the door opens wide, revealing Astarion, alone. He was standing proud in lavish clothing, different from the ones you had seen him in at the party a few days ago, but just as proper. As much as these last few months had been awful to you, it seemed like they had been the best in his last 200 years of existence. He approaches you slowly, head held high and arms crossed in his back.

“How’s your head, my dear?”

Hearing his voice again for the first time in months triggers a wave of emotions within you. Hurt, hatred, longing… lust. You shake them away as best as you can before questioning him.

“Why did you bring me here, Astarion?”

“I simply wanted to talk,” he says, his tone annoyingly playful.

“Was the kidnapping and shackles really necessary?” You slightly pull against them again to make your point; you can barely move in this condition.

“Can you blame me? Seeing how you ignored me so easily all night, and the fury in which you provoked my servants, I doubted you were going to follow me here willingly.”

You close your eyes and sigh, dropping your head, discouraged.

“Plus,” he adds, “I couldn’t take the chance to have you run out on me. I let you go once, it’s not a mistake I’ll be doing again.”

“Really? Now, after all these months, you want me back?” You chuckle, somehow finding a way to laugh at the situation you’re in as you raise your head back to meet his gaze. “I notice that your inability to move on wasn’t part of the many things that changed after your ascension.” 

He smiles back, amused by your wits. “I told you, I only changed for the best. Besides, I know you've been missing me just as much.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, trying to conceal your reality. “You couldn’t be further from the truth.” “Am I? Were you not alone and miserable for all these months, flinging yourself at any stranger willing to spend the night with you? Or did my spawns lie to me?”

“Wait… How do you know that? Have you been spying on me?!” You exclaim in disbelief.

“Well, someone had to make sure you weren't off to get yourself killed in some stupid way.” 

You scoff, offended at this image he had of you. “I can handle my own, thank you.”

“And yet, my servants had no problems cornering you in a dark alley.” 

You open your mouth as you're about to answer back when you find yourself at a loss for words. He got you there, the prick. He notices your silence and sighs before commenting on your state.

“I’m sure you’re mad at me right now, and I wouldn’t blame you for it. But know that I’m doing this for your own good.”

“My own good? If you wanted to help me, you would disappear from my life, let me go and give me a chance to move on.” You feel like crying, and yet, the irony of the situation makes you laugh some more. “You have everything you’ve ever dreamed of and yet, you still couldn’t find someone new to replace me.” He laughs lightly. “I’ve only ever wanted you, my treasure. And now,” he walks towards you with a languid pace, his hand reaching for your chin, lifting it to meet his gaze, “You're finally where you belong, where you should have always been in the first place.”

You snap your head out of his grasp. “Shackled at your feet?” You spit out.

He forcefully brings back your gaze on him, his nails grazing your cheeks, making you hiss. “By my side.” He looks at your bared teeth, smiling. “You will make a deadly consort, that I'm sure of.” Your eyes widen as you understand the implication, and your voice rises as the fear starts to set in. “NEVER.” 

He tilts your head aside and leans in the crook of your exposed neck, his breath hot against your skin. “You don't have to. I can just take what's rightfully mine,” he whispers and that last word sends a chill down your spine. You struggle in his grasp, trying to pull your neck away as you shout. “Don’t you DARE!”

He chuckles to himself. “Oh, don't you worry, I won’t bite unless you ask, very, very nicely.” He releases your face coldly but doesn’t move away from you. “But where are my manners? I almost forgot; I meant to invite you to eat.”

“I would rather starve,” you declare, leaning into that last word.

He sighs, seemingly growing tired of your attitude. “Fine, do as you wish,” he says, walking away from you. 

He leaves and you’re left on your own for Gods know how long. You spend those first hours trying to free yourself still and eventually give up when you start to feel the bruises on your wrists. You drift in and out of consciousness, fatigue affecting you more with every hour that passes. Without any source of light, it’s nearly impossible for you to tell how much time had gone by since the night you were captured. But, judging by the growling of your stomach, at least a full day had gone by, maybe even two. Your arms and legs were starting to give out on you as well, when the door before you opened to a spawn you didn't recognize. 

“Lord Ancunín invites you to dinner,” he says, composed.

“You can tell him to fuck off.” Your words don’t have the intended effect as they’re told with a shaky voice. In truth, you would kill for just a piece of bread right about now, but you would let yourself die before you complied to Astarion.

“I'm afraid that's not an option.”

Two more spawns appear behind him, and you instantly understand where this is going; this wasn't a request, it was an order. You're unshackled, although the spawns’ grips were so strong, you didn’t notice a difference, and were guided out of your cell. You reach an immense dining room, where Astarion has been waiting for you, a gold cup already to his lips. Knowing him, you suppose it’s either blood or fine wine, not that you care either way. You sink into the chair positioned at your end of the table, eyeing the food before you suspiciously. 

“You don’t seriously think I would poison you, do you?” He exclaims. “Oh no, quite the opposite; I only want what’s best for my precious pet.”

You scoff, briefly eyeing Astarion who is sitting opposite you before turning your attention to the contents between the two of you. You would lie to yourself if you said you weren't starving. The food laid out on the table looked delicious. The table was filled with different plates of food, each one looking better than the previous, making your stomach growl in appetite. You could practically drool all over the place, but you didn’t want to give Astarion the satisfaction of seeing you cave in. Not yet, not so soon. You wouldn’t let him get the best of you. 

Astarion quickly understands your intentions, with you staring right back at him, and he sighs, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be wise to let yourself starve, pet. You wouldn’t want to waste all this delicious food, would you? Don’t be shy, at least take a bite.”

You're tempted, but against your better judgement, you ignore the mouth-watering meal, crossing your arms in defiance. He rolls his eyes, matching your attitude.

“As you wish.”

He snaps his fingers and the two spawns that brought you here move towards you, reaching for your arms. You stand up abruptly, pulling away from them and swiftly grabbing a knife from the table, standing in a defensive stance. Astarion speaks up, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Trust me, you do not want to pick a fight here. My lovely assistants only want to bring you back to your cell for the night.”

“I know the way.”

“I insist.”

Your fatigue and hunger get the best of you; you simply don’t have the energy to fight. 

“Fine.” You drop the knife on the floor in defeat; even if you managed to land a blow, you had nowhere to run off to, and they would probably catch up to you anyway.

“That’s my girl.”

You hate the effect he still has on you. He knows just what to say to get to you.

You shoot him a deadly glare and feel your breathing quickening as your heart races with anger and your nails dig through your palms. He smiles pretentiously at you, and you’re overcome with thoughts of jumping onto him and punching his stupid face, making him regret everything he’s done to you these last few days. If it wasn’t for the awful twist in your gut, you might have. You shut your eyes closed as you look away, frowning, before you start walking away and the two vampire spawns accompany you to your cell, where you let yourself slouch over the rock wall. At least, they didn't restrain you again.

Once again alone with your thoughts, your mind drifts to your companions. Specifically Shadowheart; would she still be waiting for you? Would she be looking for you? You wish you had a way to contact her, let her know you need help. Your thoughts are interrupted by a stabbing feeling in your gut, again. Maybe you should’ve taken a bite, just a small one, just to keep you going… No, this was a game to him, you needed to hold on. The pain is good, you try to convince yourself, it’s a reminder that I’m alive, mortal, and I’ll fight to keep it that way as long as I can. 

Another wretched tenday passes and you avoid the food still. Every day follows the same routine: you’re woken up, Astarion’s spawns bring you to the large dining room where you’ll refuse to eat anything, until he gets bored of your attitude and you’ll be brought back to your cell, three times a day. You sense how Astarion is getting annoyed at you, and it strengthens your resolve. However, you hate to admit it, but you’re becoming weaker and weaker. You spend most of the passing days asleep, unable to think straight through your hunger, and too exhausted to do anything else. 

Finally, you cave in.

As you're brought to the dining room for dinner, your gaze falls upon your favourite meal, presented before you. For the first time in days, your façade breaks down, you have eyes for nothing else other than the meal in front of you. Had this been given to you on the first day, you would’ve gladly turned it down, but you didn’t have that kind of resolve anymore. Astarion snaps you out of your reverie by speaking up, and you raise your eyes to meet his.

“You had asked me what my favourite meal was and I couldn’t remember.” His tone is gentle. “It had been so long that everything tasted like garbage. Even wine tasted like pure vinegar. It frustrated me. That’s when you told me about yours: Baldurian Mash. You described it in such great detail, I could almost taste it myself.” He pauses, and you look up to meet his gaze. “I wanted to give you what I couldn't have. A chance to remember.” You can’t stop the tears from swelling up. You’re famished, completely drained, and mentally spent; this was the last straw. You grab the gold-plated utensil with a shaky hand and dig into the plate, shoving that first bite in your mouth. It’s even better than you remember it. You chew on that first bite longer than necessary, relishing the taste of the meal. It’s comforting, filling, it tastes like home; it’s everything you’ve wanted and more. You are so hungry that you end up ravishing the rest of it, barely taking the time to savour it properly past that first mouthful. Your belly growls, this time content with the food you finally gave it. After so many days resting on an empty stomach, you can't afford to eat anything else. You smile unconsciously as you lay back in your chair, satisfied with your meal, before getting up to leave, following the usual routine.

You stop in your tracks near the door and slightly turn around towards the ascendant, pausing before the words escape your lips.

“Thank you.”

As you walk away, you miss the devilish grin forming on his lips, as you curse yourself for granting him the satisfaction of your words.

You know the way to your cell by heart now; you would probably be able to reach it with your eyes closed. You walk in front of the spawns, your mind wandering to your evening, to him. He remembered that little detail about you that felt so insignificant back then, and he sounded so sincere. What if he cared all along? Had you been wrong about him all along? Did you miss out on the signs, too blinded by your guilt? Deep down, was he still your Astarion? The same questions keep repeating themselves over and over until one of the spawns speaks up, snapping you out of your own world.

“Excuse me, my lady?”

Lady? The mention of the title stops you in your tracks and you turn around to face them, a question mark visible on your face.

“Lord Ancunín requested that you be moved to this room from now on.”

The spawn walks towards a door you had never noticed previously and opens it, welcoming you in. You look at the other spawn who nods at you before you walk towards the room. Inside you find a large bed, draped in luxurious blue and gold silk sheets, a lit fireplace creating a warm light all around, and a large window, covered by black curtains. The room alone is almost as large as the one you shared with your companions back at the Elfsong. The walls were filled with books that you couldn’t make out exactly, and a cosy blue velvet chair sat between the fireplace and the window. You’re still taking everything in when one of the spawns speaks up.

“Please let us know if you are in need of anything. Have a good night, my lady.”

You barely notice them as they both leave, closing the door behind them, too enraptured by the sight of your new room. You're confused. Could this be a trap? Was he watching you from somewhere like he had been all those previous months? You look around quickly but can't make out much, as the fatigue from your first meal in days settles in. The bed in the middle of your room looks so comfortable after spending days sleeping against the cold rock ground. You reach for it and as you lay down, you feel yourself drift to sleep almost instantly.

-

Familiar faces that look like you

They tend to

Mess with my head just like it's deja vu

It's always

Right when I think I’m getting over you

That it feels

Like I have salt inside an open wound

A/N²: POLL TIME

i already have another chapter written which wont be affected by this poll. BUT for the chapters that will follow, i need a direction since its going to change how i approach the writing (dialogues and important actions are going to be different based on the outcome)

i do have an idea for each option, i just need to know whats the vibe cause i cant decide myself (bisexual moment)

[aajjks]

Scream, Baby. (m)

synopsis. He had a lot of victims but unfortunately, you became the victim of his love.

pairing: yan!ghostface!jungkook x fem!reader.

warnings: YANDERE, extreme themes, horror, mentions of bl*od, killi*gs, m*rders, d-ad bodies, self h-rm, obsession, unstable behaviour, possessiveness, unhealthy way of “loving”, manipulation, triggering themes.

part of @taetaecherub’s fear festival! ^^ please check out the other fics as well, all of them are a treat!!! 😭🙏

note. HAPPY HALLOWEEN GUYS. the collab finally comes to an end 💔 I had so much fun with all of the girls and the fics???? Oh my gosh. I had the chance to work with so many amazing writers. thanks neon for hosting the collab. I Hope you all will love this, leave feedback please? ENJOY.

wc. roughly around 3k

*not edited*

taglist. [will be added later]

Spending his time with you was his favourite part of the day, Jungkook adored you so much, you were his favourite, his favourite person, You were his only best friend.

“Jungkook! Not again, seriously?!” You whined, your voice like honey to him, Jungkook turned his head to look at you sitting on the couch right beside him.

He smiled. “What Y/N?” He knew but he just loved to hear your voice, so much.

He watched you as you rolled your eyes at him, Jungkook couldn’t help but smile.

You were just so cute.

“Another horror movie?! Gosh! JK, I seriously don’t get your obsession with them!” Jungkook clicked his tongue, looking at you with a lazy gaze.

“You know I love them almost as much as I love you, sweetheart.” He winked, flirty tone dripping from his lips.

You suck your teeth in. “Ehh you’re so bad at flirting,” laughing, you grab the remote from his hands.

Catching him off guard.

“But first… I want to watch the news.” It was Jungkook’s turn to roll his eyes, not at you though, never you.

Just at the upcoming situation.

Jungkook sighed, watching you change channels after channels until you come across your favourite one.

Fuck.

“One body has been found at the downtown Derryviles alley, the victim has been unable to be identified due to the disfigured face.” The news reporters voice echoed in Jungkook’s ears, his eyes glued on the T.V screen.

He remembered that so clearly. How could he not? He never forgot.

“This is the 34th victim killed with the same pattern. An unknown knife type used to stab the victim 17 times in the gut and disfiguring of the face.”

You gasped.

“JUNGKOOK?!” The man almost jumped from the couch at your loud voice. He turned his head towards your direction.

Your E/C eyes filled with fear and shock, you look at him like he’s the one who’s done this.

He is the one.

“W-What Y/N?!” Jungkook stuttered, avoiding your eyes. It was like you could see right through him, it was like you could see all of the things he’d done that night.

“I-It happened near the café…kook.” Your tone was wavy, Jungkook’s eyes softened, you were scared.

You were scared of him.

“I-I can’t believe this…. Th-This psycho killer is absolutely nuts!” You bite your lip, if your expression wasn’t so lovely, he would feel a little insulted.

You wouldn’t understand him even if he told you.

“O-Oh my god…. W-What if that killer kills me next!!?”

“ARE YOU STUPID?!” Jungkook cut you off. He grabbed your body and shook your shoulders, his eyes were wide.

How could you even think that?

Jungkook stared deeply into your eyes, his gaze filled with a dark glint, he chewed on his lower lip. You noticed a change in his demeanour.

He was being weird.

“I’ll always protect you! N-Nothing will ever harm you- I-I won’t let it! Don’t worry!” He sighed deeply.

“Are you okay, kook?”

He blinked, “I-I just don’t want you to be scared, Y/N.” Jungkook smiled, his shoulders relaxed, you noticed. 

He was always a weirdo, you loved him for that. But his reaction was quite actually weird. But then again, it was your friend, jungkook.

“And didn’t you notice? Most of his victims are men anyways…. If anything? You need to protect me!” 

“literally shut the fuck up!” you both giggled together as the news anchors voice faded under the loud sound of your laughter, you punched him playfully and his giggles only became louder.

“UGH STOOOP!” You cried as he tickled you. “I-I UGH NEED T-TO TELL YOU SOMETHING PLEASE!” You giggled from the sensation.

“What?” He breathed heavily, his eyes crinkled from his expression. “Did you know a creep tried to hit on me at the coffee house?”

Jungkook stopped laughing.

“But y’know that coworker of mine? y’know the one I think hates my guts? Come on! You know his name is Yoongi!? He saved me and shooed the creep away….” You stretched your arms, getting up to sit on the couch.

You felt your friends gaze on you. “Ahhh don’t worry kook, Yoongi is pretty good at intimidating people…. He can be pretty scary…”

No response.

“Also shit!!! I have to meet up with Do-il! Come on let’s finish the movie so you won’t whine about how I don’t give you time anymore.”

“Y/N?” After what felt like eternity, Jungkook finally spoke, you hummed, opening Netflix to put on Jungkook’s favourite movie.

“We’ve literally watched this so- You love me more right?”

You halted your movements, the atmosphere of the room took a turn, Jungkook wasn’t kidding around, he sounded so serious,

Scared even.

“Of course kook, you’re my number 1.”

He’s my boyfriend, and you’re my best friend.

“Can’t you stay with me… tonight?”

“No I can’t, kook.”

Jungkook’s brain itched. He couldn’t see you with that loser any longer. That prick had to die.

Jeon Jungkook, your best friend hated your boyfriend, Do-il.

He was an insecure man, deeply so, he was naturally territorial of you, he didn’t like sharing his anything with anyone but you.

You.

You were always the exception. You never could truly understand your friend, why was he so attached to you? Maybe it could be because of his childhood?

You didn’t fully know it but you knew that Jungkook had some trauma because of it, as you finally walked out of Jungkook’s apartment, the cold breeze almost left you breathless.

It’s cold.

Unlike Jungkook’s apartment, you wondered as you walked. Today was awfully cold, and now you were going to meet your boyfriend at a random coffee place.

And tomorrow was Halloween. That was the only good thing awaiting you. You loved the season so much.

Your phone vibrated, taking your attention, you quickly took it out of the pocket of your coat and saw your aunts name flashing brightly.

Pressing on the green option, you pressed the phone into your ears.

“Aunt Hae-Soo!” There was some sniffling noises when you spoke into the phone, the sound continued and you were starting to get concerned. “Are you okay???”

“Y-Y/N! Dae and Han haven’t come home since almost a week! I-I even filed a police complaint b-but I’m so worried!” The woman on the other line cried as you walked to a quite spot,

Your heartbeat immediately dropped as you heard her.

they couldn’t-

“Aunt!! Please calm down….. I’ll try to call Dae… he always picks up…. Please don’t cry…” you almost cooed with a heavy heart.

How could this not be a big deal when there was a literal psycho serial killer on the loose?

“Please I-I am so worried, Y/N are you safe?!” Your aunt lived in another town, you didn’t want to worry her more.

Maybe she had seen the news.

But you were safe right?

“Y-Yes absolutely! Aunt Hae-Soo don’t worry… I’ll call dae but you please please take care of yourself!” You looked around to see some people on the road walking.

It was almost 7 pm.

“Okay dear but please let me know and you also stay safe… I saw the news about your town… oh Jesus…. What is wrong with this world.” Your aunt exclaimed.

You let out a laugh at her sentence.

“Don’t worry!”

The line finally went dead and you quickly made your way to the cafe.

Jungkook was almost losing control.

He couldn’t bear to look at the ugly asshole any longer, even behind the mask, it made his eyes itch just to look at his covered unconscious face.

His basement was dark, eerily so. Park Do-il was a shady man after all. Do-il didn’t deserve you, his best friend.

You deserved someone who worshipped you. Not an unfaithful ugly piece of shit guy.

Jungkook worshipped you. He loved you so much. He was so much better than this guy who lived in a shitty apartment with a creepy basement.

You deserved so much better than him.

“What does she even see in you?” Jungkook scoffed, talking to your unconscious boyfriend. He sucked in his breath,

Jealousy was burning inside him like an erupting volcano.

“first of all, you are ugly, you don’t like scary movies and…. You are an unfaithful asshole to my Y/N!”

He took out the familiar knife.

His beloved after you.

The buck 120 shined so brightly every time Jungkook used it. The silver was so beautiful, pointy.

It went into the guts of people so smoothly. He cherished it so much.

“Ahhh finally I can kill you and have my Y/N all to myself.” Jungkook giggled, “you can’t even protect her, unlike me. You know what I did to that bastard who tried to harass my girl?” Jungkook glanced at the knife, lowering it to do-il’s abdomen.

Twisting it so deeply inside his gut that it made a cringey noise.

Seeing the way the knife pierced directly into his skin made jungkook feel so excited, it was the first time he was killing one of his victims without his mask.

“I twisted the knife so deeply into his heart almost like this. that fucking asshole screamed so loud, gosh!” Jungkook continued.

He bit his lip as he pulled the knife out and in, repeatedly. so fast that the blood slashed on his face.

Jungkook hated messing around but right now? This was almost orgasmic. He was thinking about you.

Ways to console you, his plan was almost complete. You were going to be his forever.

“I’d love to ruin your fucking face but then my Y/N would get suspicious…. She’s so smart… my precious girl….” Jungkook cooed to the unmoving body.

“Fuck yes! You are finally dead.” Jungkook checked his wrist and sighed in delight.

“I never wanted to give you a quick death but to have Y/N… I had to.”

“Now I’ll just have to wait for her to reach your apartment.” He kissed the knife, the blood stained his lips.

“As she should be, by now.” Jungkook aimed the knife towards his arm. “Now to make my plan successful, I’ll have to stab myself.” He swiped the dangerously pointy knife across his right arm.

“It doesn’t hurt that much, surprisingly.” He shrugged, repeating the same thing right across his abdomen, making sure to look convincing for you to believe his,

Bullshit story.

“Baby…. You will finally be mine…”

You felt like crying.

Being stood up for the sixth time by your boyfriend was embarrassing to say the least, there was a serial killer on the loose, your cousins were lost and It’s Halloween eve and you are crying while standing at your joke of a boyfriends door.

“Open the door, do-il!” You softly knock on the door, trying to control your emotions. Your heart broke, how could he do this to you?!

You knocked again and again.

Until it opened. A hand came out of the door and pulled you in before you could even say anything.

“Do-il you ass! What are you doing!?” You cried as the hand pushed you into his home.

The light bulb made it easier for you to see the man standing so close to you and you gasped.

“J-Jungkook?!?” You almost screamed but the guy hushed you. You looked up and down to take notice of his appearance and a shriek left you.

“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO YOU??! A-AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN DO-IL’S APARTMENT?!?”

You were so confused now, what the fuck was wrong with today?? “Y-Y/N hush! Come on. I-I have to show you something!”

Jungkook took you towards the staircase to your boyfriends basement, this was beyond freaky, “where the hell is Do-il?” The man didn’t leave your hand. You looked at Jungkook’s dirty clothes, dirt everywhere. His arm was bleeding furiously.

Just what the hell had happened here?

“Jungkook you’re bleeding!” This was concerning, your heartbeat was dropping as jungkook and you entered the basement.

His hand left yours as you stood in the dark until jungkook turned on the light switch.

The light was bright on your eyes, you blinked twice.

“What the hell.” You cursed as you tried to open them. Your eyes were sensitive, as your vision cleared.

And your knees started to shake, the view infront of you made your world crumble.

“W-Who’s that…” you saw a body in a black cloak, the face was barely covered by a weird face on the mask.

“Go ahead, and see for yourself.” Jungkook didn’t look at you but his gaze was set ahead on the body.

“Go Y/N.” Jungkook urged you on, taking your hand in his once again, your feet taking you near the body.

There was blood oozing out of it.

“J-Jungkook…” you stuttered with fear, the bile in your throat was rising, “this is the serial killer.”

“Park Do-il aka the psycho killer who killed so many people.”

Your brain registered his words, but your body paralysed with shock, goosebumps on your skin rose.

“I got a text about two hours ago… with an unregistered number with this address and a question from a horror movie quiz.”

You listened and listened, your lips sealed, this was crazy, this couldn’t be true.

“I came here because I knew this was your boyfriends house… but as soon as I entered? He attacked me.”

Jungkook stole a glance at you, you were petrified, the colour from your face disappeared.

He felt bad.

“B-But hes t-the one that’s d-dead!”

Jungkook chewed on his inner cheek to stop his frustration from building up, you were so annoyingly smart.

He loved you for that.

“Exactly. He attacked me- he was acting crazy he was going on about how he thought you were cheating on him with me- h-he wanted to kill me and you!”

Jungkook made sure to conceal his tone into one of fear. “H-He even confessed to killing that guy you told me a about! He’s crazy Y/N,

It was all his plan… he was going to kill you- I-I had to protect you.” Jungkook was a good actor. The tears came out so easily as he hiccuped.

“H-How could not have known that he was behind all of this?!” Jungkook grabbed your busy, his hands on your shoulders.

His heart hammered so loudly. “I-I c-can’t believe this…. D-Do-il was the killer all along?”

Jungkook wanted to kiss the tears away from your eyes, his plan was almost successful. “Y-Yes! Even I was shocked! I had to kill him before he could kill you Y/N!”

“Don’t scream, baby… it’s okay… I got you. I love you Y/N… I’m sorry I had to kill him.” Jungkook pulled you in for a hug.

Breathing so deeply into your embrace.

“I-I…. thank God you’re safe, kook.” You wrapped your arms around him. “Let’s g-go from here…”

“You did the right thing by killing this psycho bastard…He deserved to die.”

Yes, my 35th and final victim.

Your eyes traveled towards the silver bloodied knife, it was the same one from Jungkook’s apartment.

A buck 120.

[giyuu-is-lonely7]

Spice: Taehoon Seong x F!reader

A/N: I got lazy near the end and I apologise if he's OOC. Haven't edited yet.

Warnings: none, maybe implied sexual content near the end

“You’re so shit and handing spicy food” You laughed as you watched Taehoon down a glass of milk. His glare did nothing, if anything you cracked up even more. A pale milk moustache was evident on his equally pale skin. This boy really thought he could scare you with a glare after you watched him fail at eating the spicy ramen.

His arm came up to his mouth to wipe the milk mou off his face. You were seated at his families' dining table, a bowl of instant ramen in front of you with a pair of chopsticks sticking out from it. Taehoon had invited you over to watch a movie as it was a shit day with even shittier weather, you’d just finished editing his video when he called you over. This was not what you expected though, to be laughing at the guy who would kill someone for even looking at him funny.

“Shut Up.” 

You just couldn’t, if he couldn’t handle the spice why’d he even bother putting it in his ramen. He made his way back to the table with a glass of milk for himself, none for you, you noted. Taehoon was obviously getting ticked off now, so you did your best to calm down. It was quite the show, his once pale face becoming red suddenly out of nowhere. With a finale chuckle, you let a sigh of air pass through your mouth.

“Sorry, sorry.” The tears on the corner of your eyes begged to be released, but you quickly wiped them away so Taehoon wouldn’t know about them. His brows twitched with slight anger, he didn’t like to be laughed at.

“So is this the real reason why you don’t like spicy food? Cause you can’t handle it.” I wasn’t supposed to come out like that, but it was too late to turn back now. 

He was pissed, the eyebrow that twitched and the jaw that clenched were clear signs of it, though you feigned oblivious and continued to speak. “I always found it odd when you take me out to dinner and never order any spicy food. Theres nothing wrong with not having spicy, but if spicy was the only option you’d lower it down.” 

A hand slammed into the wooden table which made the ramen cup bounce in the air a little. This didn’t phase you in the slightest. Instead, you wanted to tease your boyfriend even more. 

“Awwe, did I make my boyfriend who can’t handle spice very well upset, oh whatever shall I do. How could I ever atone for my sins, I know I’ll buy you some ic-” 

Your sentence was cut off when a callused palm slapped over your mouth to restrain you from speaking. Dark brown eyes met your own as his pale skin had a pinkish hue blooming underneath it.

Holy shit!

You had just made your boyfriend blush. The same guy who didn’t even blush when he asked you out was now blushing up a storm over a small little tease.

“Don’t smile.” His voice was less like his normal tone, this one was flustered even. The corners of your mouth rose up even faster at his voice. Slowly your hands reached upwards to remove his from your mouth though it did little as his grip on your face was strong. 

Once again you tried to pull his hand off your face yet it was hopeless. A cocky smirk made its way up to Taehoon’s face, the blush on his face was long gone. The hand that was not latched onto your face was placed on the chair you were sitting on, his hand just mere centimetres away from your shoulder. He leaned forward and whispered in your ear.

“Beg”

This fucker, so you figured out his secret, and now he’s going to make you embarrass yourself because of it. As it, you had dignity to uphold. No way were you going to lick is hand, you had no doubt your boyfriend was clean, but he was still a boy, so that option was an easy pass.

The next option was to act as cute as possible. Make some cute looking eyes or throw some cute little poses, Hah! As if your cold-hearted boyfriend would bend to your will at that, plus being cute was not you at all.

Option three it was, with little to no force at all, you twisted your body around in the chair. Your back no longer had the support from before but you were completely free from his arm now. But you were now falling backwards. 

With a thud you landed on your back, only to be met with a slam from the front as well. A cough escaped your mouth as you opened your eyes. Only to be meat with light brown hair and a hand to the side of your head. Taehoon had landed right on top of you, his face was squished between your boobs. Well what a sight. He had lot his balance when you fell off the chair resulting in him falling, though how’d it end up like this? 

Taehoon shifted his head to look up at you, his brown bangs covered his eyes slightly, your eyebrow quirked up. 

“Comfy down there?” 

He scoffed before shuffling up a bit, you took this chance to take a hit at him.

“Who would have thought you’d have gotten so defensive over nothing, its cute.” A smile made its way up to your face before being replaced by a shit eating grin. “I feel bad though, do I still have to by my boyfriend thats bad at spice ice–” Once more was your sentence cut off, but this time differently.

His warm lips met yours as he stole the words from your mouth. Your eyes closed on instinct as his hand that was once holding your mouth hostage was now caressing your face, mainly cheek but who cares for the details. Having done this with him before, your mouth opened wide as his tongue slipped inside your mouth. Arms reached up to play with his brown hair, the locks were soft to the touch. One of his best features. 

Parting your mouth once more, your eyes opened and Taehoons tongue slipped out of your mouth as a trail of saliva followed his tongue out. With warmed cheeks you let go of your boyfriends hair and stare at him in the eyes as he did the same.

“Finally shut up.” He spoke as you rolled your eyes.

“Oh shut up jackass.” A reply came from your lips.

“I’m home” A cheerful voice spoke from the front door 

Eyes locked with each others, you communicated telepathically.

‘FUCK!’

[slimearchon]

Pretending to flirt in gamer chat with gamer boyfriend Xiao x GN reader

(Not edited)

You had your headset on, and you fiddled with the mic a bit, nervous about the prank you were about to pull.

You were sitting on your couch, Xiao in the corner of the living room at his gamer desk playing a PC game. You had always been more of a console person, a black controller in your hand since elementary school.

You rarely talking in-game both a mixture of too shy and the fact that you game to relive stress not to elevate it.

You joined a Minecraft server and put down a good bad and had your friend Aether join the world under a fake gamer tag. He was using a voice changer so Xiao didn’t catch on too quick.

It made his voice lower and cool toned, not his regular high pitched bright tone.

“Hey how’s it going? Wanna build with me?” You asked into the mic, tilting your head away from Xiao because a smile was inching its way on your face.

“Cool. Nice to meet you, Kade. What do you like doing more? Collecting materials or stacking the blocks? Cool, me know if you want to switch and I’ll start collecting too.”

This raised your boyfriend brow but other than that he didn’t look over or turn in his seat. You nodded your head to your self.

You planned to ease into this prank. You played for another thirty minutes, laughing at some of the jokes Aether attempted to make.

The third time you burst out laughing Xiao turned his head at you, you noticed his screen light up on a recently killed background.

He mouthed, “Who are you talking to?” He tilted his head, the lamp light making his real eyes sparkle in the otherwise dark room.

You made it like you muted your mic but kept Aether aware that your prank was working. “No one just a rando I met today. He has the best jokes.” You repeated some of the ones he has told to see Xiao’s reaction.

All the jokes were Minecraft related and the only reaction your boyfriend gave was a slight narrow of his eyes and deadpan stare. Clearly not liking the jokes.

“I’m about done with my game. You want me to join?” He asked, his eyes looking at the boxy male character that showered you in building building blocks.

Usually he was your collector and you were the decorator.

“No, it’s fine babe! Play your game.”

“Okay.” He nodded his head slightly and returned back to his PC.

The final nail in the coffin was when your house was complete. “All right looks like all we need are the beds and some chests to fill the space. Let’s go hunt some sheep.”

A few minutes past, “I’m changing the bed color do you want me to do your too? Yeah, I have yellow dye. Okay cool. Here you go let me drop it for you.”

Xiao tilted his chair away from the pc and and eyes you with a piercing glare on his face. He saw you drop the yellow bed and then the rando put it right next to yours and laid down.

You didn’t bat an eye, simply laying down right beside him as your screen dimmed some.

“Babe I think you have had enough Minecraft for tonight.” Xiao said, turning off the Tv and leading you to the room. “Come on, bedtime.”

You giggled a bit as you were led of the bed and snuggled down against Xiao. “Only I get to lay in bed with you.”

You didn’t have to see his face, his pout was prevalent in his voice.

“Is someone jealous? It’s just a game.” You reassured him, smiling into the dark room and his adorable expression.

“Yes, you should only lay beside me in bed, in real life and virtual reality.”

You yawned, “I’ll be sure to remember that. Wouldn’t want my cute boyfriend upset.”

You planned to tell him about Aether’s role in the prank but snuggling up to your warm and soft boyfriend drifted you off to sleep.

He wasn’t pleased to find out about the prank when Lumine spilled the beans while y’all were out getting coffee before college classes.

[daisysliv]

don’t you dare | eddie munson

word count: 1581

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you and eddie have a private moment before going into the final battle against vecna

warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death, light swearing, possible s4 spoilers

notes: vol 2 absolutely broke me so i spent all night writing this and i am insanely proud of it! this has got to be one of my favorite fics that i ever written so i hope you like it as well. as always, not edited so all my mistakes are my own 

library 

stranger things bookshelf

Resting your forehead against his, you gripped his hands tightly between the two of your bodies and lifted them to your lips. Your eyes were screwed shut, scared that if you opened them he would vanish and be replaced with darkness. Because that would mean everything was for nothing. It would mean that Vecna figured out the plan before you could even execute it. It would mean everyone you love dies and you couldn't imagine that; And you didn't want to. 

He released a puff of air, the smell of nicotine on his breath wafting into your nose causing it to scrunch up in disgust. You didn't mind that he smoked but you always demanded he brush his teeth, wash his hands, and spray cologne before going near you. Today, however, you didn't give a damn. 

The possibility of losing him during the battle is too high and you hated it because you couldn't imagine life without him. He’s been your best friend since you were both in your last year of Middle school, seven years he has been by your side, even when you left Hawkins after you graduated to go off to see parts of the world for a year while he stayed behind to redo his Senior year. But only within the last year did you two admit your feelings and start to date. 

“I'm scared.” You admitted, your voice cracking from the lump welling up in your throat. His hands gripped yours tighter as he nodded against your head, signaling that he’s listening. “What if it doesn't work? What if he figures it out and kills all of you? I can't- Eddie, I can't lose you too.” 

Sighing, he removed his left hand from your interlaced hands and held your face gently, the warmth of his skin sending chills down your spine. You nuzzled into the palm of his hand, a soft smile painting your face. His thumb traced over the skin under your eye, and with a similar voice crack to yours he spoke, “I'm not going anywhere, princess.” 

You could tell he was just as scared as you, if not more. The last few days haven't been easy on him and you wished none of it happened. You wished he didn't have to be dragged into this mess but here he was, terrified out of his mind and confused. You kept all this a secret from him for a reason. You didn't want to lose him like you lost your parents to the Mind Flayer last year. You couldn't go through that again. The Upside Down had taken enough from you. 

Opening your eyes, you meet his own, lined with unshed tears, big brown eyes. “You hear me? I'm not going anywhere.” He repeats, his eyes searching yours for something but you don't know what. 

Nodding, you release his hand from your grip and let your hands run through his long, and messy, dark brown curly hair. His eyes close in relief at your touch, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

Tongue darting out to wet your dry and chapped lips, you lifted your forehead off of his and drew your hands back into lap, his hand falling from your face to his knee. Staring at the man in front of you, you hope to whatever God there is that Eddie won't be taken away from you. 

“I love you. So much.” You wipe your eyes, the sleeves of your shirt absorbing the fallen tears that stained your cheek. You watch as Eddie’s face switches from terror and worry to shocked and his eyes wide with adoration. While you have been dating for nearly ten months, you have yet to say the three little words that mean so much to you. Saying those words has never been easy for you since your parents never said it to each other, or you much for that matter. It made saying it so much harder because you didn't want to be rejected or found weird for saying them.

When too much time passed between the two of you without a single word being uttered from Eddie, you feel your nerves skyrocket. He was taking too long to answer you and while you could see the love he held for you in his everyday actions towards you and his eyes, you were still scared of possible rejection. By this point, you could feel your heart beating against your ribs so fast you thought it would break through.

You part your lips with the intention to try and backtrack when his hands are cupping your cheeks between them, his cold rings soothing your warm skin.

He laughs softly, his eyes seeming brighter than they have ever been. He’s wanted nothing more than to hear those words from you for as long as he could remember. 

“You have no idea how long I have been waiting to hear those words.” His smile was wide, it reached his eyes and you could feel your heart soar. You don't think you've ever seen it so big in the last seven years. He pressed his lips to yours, the taste of cigarettes and the spearmint gum you gave him earlier, floods into your mouth. Giggling against his lips, you can't fight the smile spreading across your own making it difficult to kiss him back. His hands move from your face to your waist, holding your hips gently and pulling you onto his lap, disconnecting his lips from yours. “I love you more than you could imagine. My heart beats for you and you only.” He finally tells you. 

You hands tangle themselves in his hair and you lean in for another kiss when a sharp knock on the bedroom door breaks you two apart. Climbing off his lap, much to both of your dismay, you pull open the door and your heart drops to your feet when you realize it must be time to go. 

You wanted more time. 

“Nancy says you two have five minutes before we need to begin.” He informs you, a solemn look spreading across his features. You can only handle nodding before pushing the closed and leaning your forehead against it, wishing you had more than five minutes. 

You hear the bed frame creak and assume Eddie was adjusting the way he sat until you felt his long arms circle your waist from behind and pull you into his chest. Laying your head back against his chest, you closed your eyes and let your unshed tears fall freely. You hated to be vulnerable but in this moment, with such limited time with the man you loved, you couldn't help it. 

Eddie rested his chin on the crook of your neck, his breath fanning your cheek and you wrap your hands around his, holding him closer to you. 

“Don't you dare die on me tonight, Munson, or I swear to God–” You started off but he cut you off quickly. 

“Stop. I'm not going anywhere, baby.” He whispers into your neck, pressing a kiss just underneath your jaw on your pulse. The feeling of his lips there sent a chill down your back and you let out a quiet giggle. “I will meet you right back here in a couple of hours, I promise you.” 

“Good because I can't do this again. I can't lose someone I love to the Upside Down again. It hurts too much.” You turned his arms but can't bring yourself to look up at him. 

He removes an arm from around your waist to trap your chin between his thumb and pointer finger and lifts your head so you look at him. Eddie looks at you with so much love swirling in his eyes that normally would have you swooning but right now it just made your heart break in two. “Stop talkin’ like that, princess, please. I'm not going anywhere and neither are you. Just… hide from him for as long as you can while we do our jobs and save you.” 

“And Hawkins.” 

He chuckled. “Mainly you.” 

“I love you.” You whispered and stood up on your toes to press your lips against his. He responded immediately, his hand on your hip tightening while his other one held your cheek. Your lips moved together with a sense of urgency, speaking all the words you didn't have the time to say. 

Eddie pulled away first, rested his forehead against yours, and closed his eyes. You did the same. 

“It's time.” He murmured. “I wish I could come with you.” 

“Me too, but you're the only one that can play Master of Puppets. I’ll be with Lucas, Max, and Erica, they’ll keep me safe.” 

“They better or I'm kicking their asses.” Laughing, you slapped his chest. 

Seconds pass before reality sets in and you're forced to let each other go, your hands falling to your sides and the smiles fading from your faces. You turn and pull the door open to see Lucas raising his fist to knock. 

“Keep her safe and alive, you hear me Sinclair?” Eddie demands, pointing a finger at the boy. 

“Promise.” 

Turning back to look at your boyfriend, you press one last kiss on his lips. “If you see danger, don't be a hero. I’ll see you in a few hours,” You whispered and disappeared from the room with Lucas so everyone could finish getting ready to fight off Vecna. 

You hoped everyone made it out alive.

notes: if you would like to request something from the prompt list, you can find it here, just be sure to add the numbers, and if it’s angst or fluff! if you want to request something that is not on the list, go right ahead and send in the ask!

add yourself to my taglist!

PERMANENT TAGLIST ( if it's crossed out that means i couldn't tag you )

@prettylittlemoonlight @drayshadow @evanbuckbuckleyhowlett @wildestdreamcatcher @mushroomdemon9 @levylovegood @1-800-prostitutes @AllieAprilKnox @alexxavicry​

STRANGER THINGS TAGLIST

@hehehehannahthings @polarisfae @pinksloosh @mushroomdemon9 @bvmbshell @lilahloopsy @1-800-prostitutes @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek @AllieAprilKnox @angelbbygrl @wandamaximoffs-deadchild

EDDIE MUNSON TAGLIST

@polarisfae @wildestdreamcatcher @pinksloosh @spookyconsultingcriminal @mushroomdemon9 @bvmbshell @lilahloopsy @findleynovadachs111 @1-800-prostitutes @wandamaximoffs-deadchild

[unicornsannie]

Golden retriever -Jeong Yunho

Genre:Fluff,Smut

(Edited)

Warning: situationship,bulge kink,size kink

I thinks that's all( let me know if i missed anything cuz I'm rushing😭😭)

"Yunho, why aren't you afraid of Y/N? She's like a ghost and a mystery" Yunho chuckled when he heard his friend, Mingi whisper in his ear while hiding behind him

You saw Mingi looking at you making him realize that he was in danger" Yunho yunho yunho, I think she wants to kill me" Yunho saw you walking towards them.Yunho held you with his palm on your cheek making you bite him

"Don't do this to my friend, black cat .You know we are taller than you."You squinted and tried to hide your red face.Yunho noticed and grabbed your chin to force you to look at him"You want to go now" You nodded as Yunho squeezed your cheek hard

"I'll let you go. I'll see you at home later" You glared and walked away while stroking your chin."Yun, why don't you want to bring this up to her like you're a soft dom-" Yunho slapped Mingi's mouth making Mingi laugh at his actions

"Y/N will see me as a golden retriever with a soft heart and it's impossible if she-" Yunho was silent for a moment as he bit his lip as if he was thinking of something making his face turn red

Mingi gave a sarcastic smile and held Yunho's shoulder while whispering, "You want to fuck her with glasses on."Yunho could only see Mingi over his shoulder and scratched the back of the head

"C'mon Mingi, she's farsighted and must be but her problem is that I'm afraid this is her first time"Mingi nodded and looked at him straight ahead "Are you afraid she's a virgin? You've been with her for almost 3 years and you still don't want to try. Why chase and ask her"

Time skip

"Y/N, are you here?" He didn't hear any response from you until he heard your footsteps he saw you walking in his shirt with no bra and only underwear.Yunho's face turned red like a tomato making you smile

"Honey, are you okay if I borrow this shirt because I have no idea what to wear tonight if you don't mind"You walked towards the mattress and laid down until you felt something next to you to follow you then you turned around to see Yunho playing with the hem of your shirt

"Of course but can I ask something" you nodded and hummed while wiping your glasses "I've been wanting to say this for a long time but I'm afraid that-" Yunho was silent first then looking at you made you look at him back

"Want to start something new like sex?" You looked at him silently and nodded "But I want your opinion too because I want you to be comfortable too"

"With glasses on?" Yunho nodded until you could feel his hands going into your shirt""I want you to be comfortable with your glasses on and without the dizziness" Yunho had his hands travel down your stomach to your breasts making you moan

"Can I?" You nodded without hesitation and he opened your shirt and saw you exposed in your underwear.He brought his face between your breasts and started kissing

He started sucking on your nipples making you moan.He swirls his tongue all over your nipple making you arch your back .He detached his tongue from your nipple making you whine and you can feel the presence of being drenched in your heat

Yunho's hands flew to your panties and opened them revealing how wet you were for him"Look at you, Y/N. I'm already wet even though I'm just starting. I just need to make sure that you're really wet with my tongue there"

You smiled making Yunho's face already in your heat"You pervert"Yunho held your thigh while kissing him leaving a dark purple mark"But this pervert boyfriend will also eat you later" Without words coming out of your mouth he has already eaten you like you are his food that he craves

"argh-Yunho your tongue-"Yunho chuckled and picked himself up and saw you lying helpless on the mattress"That was too fast"You covered your face but Yunho held both of your hands

"I said, I just want to make sure it's wet and it proved you're really wet for me"Yunho took off his shirt and his boxers making you see his cock standing proudly watching him come out with precum

"I want you to be comfortable, just say it and I'll stop okay, black cat" You nodded.He started to insert his cock inside you making you close your eyes tightly.Yunho kissed you to comfort you as he slowly inserted himself

"Yunho, can you" you huffed and held his upper arm "go a little faster" Yunho smirked and sped up"For you, your orders are followed"You can see his cock coming in and out by looking at your belly bulge."Look Y/N, how perfect you are to me that I can see myself fucking you properly"

Yunho played with the bulge in your stomach making you whine and cry.You moaned making your glasses fog up with you breathing making Yunho even more horny

"Damn, Y/N. You look sexy with those glasses. I hope we stay like this" You continued to moan as you reached your high"You started to clench around him making him moan"Fuck Y/N, you can feel your grip around my cock"

"Ah-Yunho I want to-"Yunho cut you off with a deep kiss he made you release your orgasm.Yunho took out his cock and stroked himself until he cum on your stomach

You breathed as you saw Yunho lying next to you."You're...okay my cat" You nodded and hugged his sticky body"Feels great, thank you my golden retriever.I love you"

"Love you too my princess, desire must be fulfilled"

_______________

FIRST OF ALL IS....... I want to say thank you to my boyfriend who helped me brainstorm yesterday and none of this would exist without him😂If he has a tumblr account, maybe I'll tag him now🤗 but he knows I always love him .LIKE...Imagine this wouldn't be possible if he wasn't there for me😂👍