#I genuinely don’t know why. It was a really quick thing and barely more than a doodle

[athymelyreply]

•

Semi vent post, more just confusion and speaking my thoughts, im fine with replies and stuff and if you can commiserate feel free to lmk if you want but also feel free to skip this post

[unclewaynemunson]

It takes a while before Eddie catches up to what’s happening. It’s subtle, really, an untold story in slightly averted gazes and barely-visible scowls. But he starts paying extra attention to it when he catches Steve resolutely facing the other way when they pass a storefront with a couple of mirrors in it. From that moment, it doesn’t take long before Eddie notices the pattern, the way Steve meticulously avoids basically every reflective surface like it’s becoming a second nature for him.

When he finally asks Steve about it, Eddie sees how his face drops, and he kind of wishes he hadn’t brought it up. It pains him to see Steve like that.

‘I just - I don’t really recognize myself, anymore,’ Steve says. ‘I know it’s really fucking superficial, but I used to be this hot dude, you know. The guy everyone wanted to be with. And now I’m just some guy, with glasses and hearing aids and a belly and a retreating hairline, and a gross scar around his neck.’

Eddie can actually feel his heart shrink in his chest. He hates this for Steve. He wants to make clear to his boyfriend exactly how beautiful he still is, not despite, but exactly because of all the things he just mentioned.

'Those things can still go together, you know,’ he says, playfully shoving his shoulder against Steve’s, pressing a quick kiss against the scar on his neck. ‘If you ask me, you’re still the hottest dude in all of Hawkins. You’ll always be.’

And slowly, a smile starts creeping over Steve’s face. ‘You sure about that?’

Eddie nods, not looking away. ‘Hundred percent.’

Since that day, Eddie starts keeping a stack of post-its and a pen in the bathroom. Every night before he goes to bed, he sticks a new note on the bathroom mirror: “I love the color of your eyes.” “I love your soft tummy.” “Your hearing aids make you look like a sexy cyborg.” “Did you know your nose looks biteable AF?” “Your moles are more beautiful than any constellation.” The stream of compliments is endless, but not once does Eddie have to make an effort to come up with something new.

And that’s how the mirror stops being Steve’s enemy. Because ever since the first note, it’s become his new favorite thing to look in the mirror, the very first thing he wants to do when he wakes up in the morning. The messages always manage to surprise him, tirelessly keep pointing out new things about him, always in the most Eddie-ish way possible: funny, sweet, unhinged, caring, horny, genuine... And always so full of love. The one thing he can always count on.

But one morning, a day after he and Eddie got into a heated fight with each other, Steve steps into the bathroom with dread clawing at his stomach. He knows the mirror will be empty. Eddie was so fucking angry at him last night.

Unexpectedly, he does spot a note, a purple post-it with Eddie’s handwriting on it. He feels the overwhelming urge to cover his eyes, because this time, there will be something mean on it, no doubt. Eddie will tear apart what used to be the best part of Steve’s day with one single sentence. He steps closer, swallows, gets ready to face the music.

“I’m still mad at you but godDAMN why do you look so fucking HOT when you’re shouting at me that’s fucking unfair.”

Steve stares at the note for a full five minutes before taking it off the mirror and adding it to his ever-growing post-it collection. He’s completely overwhelmed by the love Eddie showed him even while he was angry. By the certainty behind that simple gesture. The unwavering commitment in Eddie’s actions.

Steve wakes Eddie up with a kiss and a cup of coffee. They talk it out, like they always do, and he buys a ring for Eddie the next day.

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part two.

Friday evenings are typically spent in the comfort of your flat. Normally, you’re half paying attention to reruns of whatever shitty reality TV happens to be on and half scrolling through social media to keep up with the ever-fluctuating trends of content as per your job requirements, all the while eating your body’s weight in takeaway. It’s not the dream, but it’s certainly a dream.

Tonight, you plan on amending things to include going through the pictures of Bali’s stunning beaches that Lando’s been spamming you with throughout the day, but beyond that, you have no intentions of deviating further from your norm.

You’re actually really looking forward to it. Though you’d rather cut off your own hand than admit it to his face and give him new ammunitions to tease you with, you miss Lando during the winter breaks. So much of your year is spent having him nearby━ a near-constant presence buzzing with the inability to slow down let alone stop━ and when he isn’t around, the silence seems louder. There’s no one else who manages to annoy you the way he does, and it’s just not the same without him.

To make matters worse, between your new job, Lando’s travels, and the scheduling conflicts that have arisen in turn, you haven’t had a chance to catch up with him beyond a few back-and-forth messages about his current escapades. So you really, genuinely, truly are looking forward to it.

Garrett Ward throws a wrench into things.

You have mixed opinions of Garrett. He can be very sweet, and he’s gone out of his way to make you feel incredibly welcome in your first week with the Manchester City team. He makes good conversation and seems genuinely interested in what it is you’re doing, often asking questions about your equipment and process, which is a nice change of pace from most other clients you’ve worked with in the past who rarely give two shits about anything beyond the final product. But his reputation is… concerning.

Garrett Ward is infamous in English tabloids for being a notorious womanizer.

There are several articles that come to mind, but the most damning of which is from 2019, before his trade to Manchester City, detailing with very incriminating photos how he’d been seen entering a club with two women and then leaving just a few hours later with a completely different pair. You don’t want to assume he’s the same man now as he was back then, nearly a full five years ago, but you’ve been working in the sports industry long enough to know that athletes can have anyone and if they want then they will have anyone━ there is no shortage of temptation.

And you are not arrogant enough to assume you would be the outlier.

Which makes his interest in you feel less like friendly curiosity and more like something you need to be wary of.

It’s also why━ as you make the trek through the Etihad Campus car park━ you feel dread begin to pool in your stomach as you answer your ringing phone. “Hi, Garrett.”

“Y/N!” He exclaims excitedly, sounding like he hadn’t just seen you barely ten minutes ago in the weight room. “I meant to catch you before you left, but you were outta there so fast I wasn’t able to.”

And there’s probably a reason for that, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. “Yeah, I usually try to be pretty quick about it.”

There’s an awkward pause left open as if he expects you to say more, and when you don’t he clears his throat. “Erm, well, I was actually just calling to see if, perhaps, you would like to grab dinner with me this evening.”

You don’t. At all. It’s one of the last things you would like to do. There are plenty of other hellish things you would willingly rather subject yourself to before sitting down and sharing a private meal with this man━ jumping into the Thames is one of them, and letting Lando drive you around on the autobahn in his Spider is another. Both could very easily result in death, permanent disfigurement, or any other number of horrible outcomes, but neither includes Garrett.

Your hesitating silence must be an answer enough for him, because he chuckles again and adds on quickly, “No strings attached, I promise. It’ll just be two friends getting dinner.”

All you want to do is get cozy on your couch in your pajamas with a kebab from the place down the street and watch pretty people deal with their pretty people problems on TV. You don’t think that’s too much to ask for, but apparently, some higher power does.

“I suppose that’d be alright then,” you agree tentatively, speeding through the stages of grief as you mourn the initial plans of your Friday evening━ the easy, simple, comfortable plans. “Shoot me a message with the time and place and I’ll meet you there.”

“Awesome!” Garrett cheers. “See you later then.”

The peaceful silence that awaits you after you hang up feels like it’s mocking you. Too bad you can’t flip off silence.

“Look, the truth is, City is looking at trading me at the end of the season if I can’t clean my act up.” Garrett’s voice is quiet as he admits the reality of his future to you, but it breaks the silence of the world around you like a gunshot. “And not just loaning me out━” he adds, a twinge of something akin to anger noting his tone, “━but fully trading me. They’re saying that my image makes things too hard for them and the only way they’ll consider re-signing me is if I can either keep my name out of the tabloids or try to clean myself up.”

In Garrett’s defense, he technically did hold true to his promise of just two friends getting dinner. Things were actually going quite well, too. The restaurant was a little more high profile than you would’ve expected for a casual meal, but that can easily be passed off as the luxurious lifestyle and expensive tastes of a pro athlete who can certainly afford it. Expenses of your meal aside, he’d been good company, asking after the ways of working in Formula One and then finding similarities in his football career that made it easy to chat about the struggles and stressors of professional sports.

But you can recognize that this is where it’s all beginning to go downhill.

He’s announced it completely out of the blue as you’re walking back to the garage where you’ve both parked your cars. On top of that, his pace slows and you’re forced to slow down as well to match it until you both eventually come to a halt in the middle of the pavement.

You feel for him, in all honesty. You understand the difficulties of contract negotiations and how easily they can fall apart. The fragility of Formula One contracts is its own special brand of tricky and you’ve seen many friends move on to other teams in the blink of an eye just as they’ve begun to settle down and make their mark where they are. You can’t say for certainty that you understand the mechanics of football contracts to the same degree, but you can imagine they have their own fragile fine print.

But the chill of a January night in Manchester is brutal, and you’ll be the first to admit that your outfit does not protect against it. You don’t really want to be having this conversation in general, because you’ve known Garrett for all of a week which makes you acquaintances at best, but you especially don’t want to be having it now, out here in the cold when all you want to do━ all you’ve wanted to do since this afternoon━ is curl up in something warm and comfortable and pretend the world outside your flat doesn’t exist for a few days.

“I’m not sure what this has to do with me if I’m being honest, Garrett.”

He shrugs. “I just thought you might be able to help.”

You shove your hands in your pockets in a desperate attempt to keep your fingers from going more numb than they already are and shake your head at him. “I don’t know how exactly you think I can help you with that. I’m a photographer, not a PR officer.”

“My agent thinks it would be a good idea if I showed the media that I could hold down a steady relationship. Prove to them that I’ve changed my ways, and have matured.” He shrugs again, nonchalant despite being the one to bring this up in the first place.

“Have you?”

He makes a face, something between a flirty smirk and a suggestive wink, “Well, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Garrett.”

“Look,” he crosses his arms and levels you with a look that fills you simultaneously with more rage and annoyance than a single person has ever made you feel before. “It would just be for a couple of months, and then we could stage an amicable breakup and that would be that! It just has to be long enough to show everyone that I’m not the same as I used to be.”

You give him a look right back, hoping it conveys how appalled you are by his audacity. “Okay, but why me of all people? Christ knows you probably have a list of women in your contacts who would jump at the chance to pretend to date you for a few months.”

His face pinches up in disgust. “Yeah, but they’re all former hookups, and I mean, they’re kinda psycho about me to be fair. If I tried to end things, they’d probably go to the tabloids themselves and smear my name with the worst things they could come up with.” He shrugs again, and you’re starting to find that you hate it when he does so. “I need someone willing to just play along for the time being and who will be discreet when things are over.”

“And you think I’m that person?” You scoff. “You’ve known me for a week!”

Your voice echoes and it reminds you once again that you’re having this conversation in the middle of a random street in Manchester. It’s cold and dark, and you’ve been attempting to bite back your frustration since the moment Garrett called you. You’ve been as nice as you possibly can be for this man, shy of bending over backward to worship the very ground he walks on, and you’re so close to your limit that you think if he shrugs one more fucking time━

He shrugs. “Well, yeah, but you know how this industry works. So I know you can be trusted.”

You take a deep breath to try and retain what’s left of your quickly slipping composure, before you say, “Garrett, this goes beyond unprofessional. I could potentially get into a lot of trouble for this. You’re technically my co-worker, if not my client by proxy. It’s not a good look for me to be getting with the athletes I work with, considering my entire career is based on working with athletes.”

He makes a befuddled face as if asking what that has to do with anything. It occurs to you that he’s probably never had to worry about the ethics of hooking up with someone when most of the women who are interested in him would do everything in their power to spend a night by his side whether it’s morally just━ or legal, for that matter━ or not.

“That doesn’t seem to stop you from being all cozy with that Nor-whatever guy,” he grumbles.

“What?”

“That driver,” he repeats. “You post him all over your socials, like, all the time.”

You tear your hands from your pockets and throw them up in the air, “Because that’s my job?!” The stupidity of the man before you is genuinely baffling. He’s been asking about your job all week long but the way he’s talking now makes it seem like he didn’t catch onto the fact that your entire career is centered around media and the creation of content made with the explicit intention of being shared.

“I am quite literally paid to take and post pictures of him per my contract with McLaren,” you continue. “And even if I wasn’t, he’s my best friend?! I’ve been working and traveling and spending the majority of my time with Lando since 2019 so of course I’m going to be close with him. Do you not post your mates every once in a while?”

“Yeah, but it’s different. All my mates are guys, so nobody thinks I’m dating any of them when I do it.”

You scoff in disbelief. “I cannot believe this right now. You know, for a moment, I briefly considered helping you. But you’re actually exactly the type of prick the tabloids say you are.”

He takes an intimidating step closer, and his voice drops an octave lower. “I would reconsider if I was you.” You’re not short, but Garrett isn’t either. He’s one of the tallest players on the Manchester City team, and the way you feel now with him staring you down makes you wonder if this is what it feels like to be his opponent on the pitch.

It’s fucking terrifying.

But you’re fucking livid, too.

Your jaw clenches and you bite out sharply, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he starts, “is that if you don’t help me, maybe I slip a word about something or other to my boss who slips a word to his boss who is, also, your boss, and suddenly, whoops!” He gives you a cocky smirk, so sure of himself that it makes you feel like your blood is literally boiling. “He’s not your boss anymore. In fact, nobody is your boss anymore, because your ‘slip in conduct’ was very inappropriate and made several players uncomfortable, which doesn’t look very good when trying to get jobs elsewhere in the industry.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Well,” he fucking shrugs. “When you say it like that, yeah. I guess I am.”

You cross your arms, your hands clenched into fists so tightly that you can feel your nails digging painfully into the flesh of your palms. “You’re a real bastard, you know.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that, love.”

If only it were legal to kill a man━ Garrett Ward would be six feet under and picking worms from between his teeth.

You weigh your options, though. You’re not sure how much weight his word actually carries. For all you know, he could tell his boss, they could bring you in to discuss things, and then you could explain it all from your point of view. Garrett is a notorious flirt and you doubt it’s the first time he’s tried to pursue someone who isn’t interested in him. You doubt it happens very often, but it has to have happened at some point. Not to mention, his reputation regarding women is bad enough that Manchester City is already giving him an ultimatum, so you probably have a chance, and the worst-case scenario is that you amicably part ways with the team and that’s that.

But realistically there is a worse worst-case scenario, and it’s pretty damn close to what Garrett is threatening. Losing this side gig wouldn’t really be too much trouble. It would put a dent in your savings, and you’d have to be a bit better about how you ration out your groceries and other necessities around the flat, but losing your job at McLaren? Being blacklisted from the industry entirely? That’s life-destroying. You would lose everything━ all the blood, sweat, and tears you shed to get where you are would be for nothing.

All because of a prick in sky blue.

“Fine,” you utter from between gritted teeth. “I’ll help you. But I won’t post you on my account. I won’t bring you home to my parents. I won’t go round to your flat and I certainly will not have you round to mind. You get one kiss to make it official to the paps, and then nothing more.” You take your own threatening step toward him, and a vindictive part inside you shines with malicious glee when he shifts ever so slightly backward. “If you try anything else, I will run to the papers and drag you through the mud worse than any of your little psycho groupies ever could.”

He scoffs, “You’d ruin your career.”

“But I’d tear you down with me,” you reply.

He takes a moment to think, staring into your eyes and weighing how serious you are. Whatever he sees staring back at him must be convincing enough because he sniffs, nods, and smirks.

“Deal.” He leans down, “I think I’ll be taking that kiss now. Make sure to really sell it, yeah?”

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre

━━ a/n: i feel like i say this every time, but i am seriously blown away by how well the first part of this was received! like, seriously, thank you so much for the kind words everyone said about it! hopefully this second part lives up to the hype of the first, it's a little denser, but the events are important to establish for the rest of the story so it needed to happen!

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Your dad’s best friend doesn’t like your attitude.

prompts. | Andy Barber + Dad’s best friend + “I just want to take care of you.” + Daddy kink, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!dad’s best friend!Andy Barber x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, age gap, delusion, Daddy kink, bratty/rude reader (inwardly, mostly), manhandling, andy holds the reader down, allusions to spanking, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

A familiar voice calls your name, and you wonder what he could possibly want this time around. It’s Andy, your father’s best friend.

You sigh as you get up from your bed, an oversized sweater falling down to cover your upper thighs. You make your way downstairs and spot the older man at the bottom of the steps, blocking your way. He smiles when he sees you, and you forcibly return it.

Hatred isn’t the word you’d use to describe how you feel about Andy. Discomfort is far more accurate. You’re baffled at how he’s managed to insert himself into your life, even when your father isn’t present. He has a key and always seems to drop by over every little thing. Sometimes, his reasonings are genuinely absurd. 

You suspect it’s the loneliness of the divorce and subsequent moving away that did it. You feel bad for Andy at times, but the dark looks he gives you make those feelings dissipate, replacing them with both fear and arousal. 

“You busy?” he asks, a slight smirk on his face. It reads as a midlife crisis, or perhaps you’re just being too harsh. You prefer being on your lonesome, anyway. “Uh, no, not really. Why?” you ask, stopping at the last step. He’s wearing a green button-up, and his hair is slightly tousled.

When you watch him more intently, you notice his eyes are blown out. Lust or happiness? The former seems more likely than the latter. Your thoughts make you shiver, and he furrows his brows.

“Cold?” he jokes, but you simply hum. “I can’t see why,” Andy husks, smiling up at you. He refers to your outfit, which you realize isn’t the most appropriate thing to wear in front of him.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me,” he tells you, and you nod your head. If you say no, he’ll surely tell your father somehow, and you can’t afford your allowance getting cut. Not until you find a decent-paying job, anyway. 

“Oh, uh, what movie did you have in mind?” you ask him, leaning on the railing. “I’m fine with anything, really,” he admits, shrugging as he stands up straight. 

“Alright, I’ll be back in a few. Maybe you can make some popcorn, get some candy?” you offer, turning just a bit so you can head back to your room.

“Where are you going?” Andy asks, crossing his arms. He’s got a serious look on his face, one you’ve never really seen before. “To my room, so I can change,” you say, a bit confused. There’s an awkward laugh laced in your words, but nothing appears to amuse the ex-lawyer. 

“Why would you do that?” he questions, and you furrow your brows. “I don’t have any pants on, and, like you said, it’s a bit cold. I’ll be quick,” you promise. Although you swear you have complete control over your body, you don’t move. It’s like you’re waiting for his approval. 

“I think your outfit is perfect, actually. Come on,” your father’s friend urges, and you scoff. “I won’t take long, Andy, I swear,” you continue, knowing the man has a bit of a temper. 

“I doubt you won’t, but I don’t see why you need to change. It’s perfect for what I wanna do to you,” Andy growls, grabbing your hand. You yelp as he drags you to the couch with ease, throwing you onto the cushions. His words make your stomach drop.

You barely have any time to run off. The older man is on you quickly, holding you down to the seat. Your sweater has now risen up, giving him a perfect view of your panty-clad ass. 

“C’mon, Daddy hates it when you’re being a brat. I know you can be good,” Andy grunts, straddling your thighs. “Get off of me!” you demand through gritted teeth, but your attempt is futile. 

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. Daddy’s got you. I just want to take care of you,” he whispers, left hand keeping your upper body pressed into the sofa. “But I can’t do that if you’re a bad girl, right?” Andy continues.

You feel his large, rough hand pull down your underwear, your soft flesh rippling from his harsh movements. “That’s fine. Daddy will just have to spank the attitude out of his little girl.”

[kayleighwinchester]

Praise

(( Another Jensen-a-Thon drabble for @artyandink's lovely event! This one is separate from the previous two - more coming for those later! This is based loosely off of real events - no, Graay, I still haven't forgiven you for not telling me I did a good job healing Trial of the Crusader that night. ))

You're a grown adult.

You're a grown adult, and a damn good hunter. You shouldn't need validation to remind you of that. You don't need validation. 

At least, you don't think you do.

It had started off innocently enough. You’d hunted with the Winchesters for years - practically every job they took, unless Dean royally pissed you off, which happened, at most, once or twice a year – and after every job, without fail, Dean would loop you in a one-armed hug, pull you close to his side, and press a kiss to your temple, offering a quick, but utterly genuine, ‘good job’ – or, if he was feeling particularly proud (or particularly frisky), ‘good girl’. It didn’t matter how well the job actually went - hell, he’d said it a few times when everything had gone completely off the rails. He'd said it when you were all bruised and bloody and hurting and half-dead and nothing felt okay, much less good.

When it came down to it, though, you don’t need his praise to know that you were doing your job well.

It wasn’t on purpose, you knew that much. That last job - a nest of vamps down in Tucson - had gone entirely sideways, and you were sure that giving you any sort of praise was the farthest thing from Dean's mind. Sam had almost died, you were pretty sure Dean had at least three or four broken ribs… Still, you didn't feel right, getting into the car in the silence that followed, broken only by occasional grumbles, groans, and hisses of pain.

You couldn't place why, exactly, the silence bothered you, but it was grating on your nerves, making you feel more irritable than you could remember being in a long time. Even Sam could feel the tension in the car building on the way back to the motel, and it wasn’t long before Dean picked up on it as well. The eldest Winchester cleared his throat, glancing your way. “Wanna go get a few drinks once we get cleaned up? I could really use a beer.” He offered, eyes darting from you to Sam, as if begging his brother to back him up. You offered a shrug in response. “Or we could stop at that diner ‘cross the street from the motel. Got a sign sayin’ they make their pie fresh every day.” He tried again, simply earning himself another shrug from you, and a confused glance from Sam.

It finally made sense when Sam spoke up – clearly trying to smooth things over, trying to put you in a better mood, offering, “You did a great job back there, Y/N.” It worked, at least a little – you could at least force yourself to smile at him, even if it didn’t feel entirely genuine. 

Dean’s eyes cut to you, and as he caught your smile, the gears started turning – you saw several expressions cross his face in quick succession: confusion; realization; annoyance; exasperation. “That's what this is about?” He demanded. “You're throwin' a whole fit ‘cause I didn't tell you that you did good today?”

“I’m not throwing a fit.” You offered halfheartedly.

You weren’t expecting Dean to pull the car over on the gravel shoulder, casting Sam a stare – the younger Winchester stared back for a moment, before Dean raised his eyebrows. “Backseat.” He ordered, pointing. Sam looked baffled – and you were sure you did as well.

Dean was barely fighting a smile, even despite his clear exhaustion. “C’mon, Sweetheart.” He waved toward the front seat, motioning for you to switch with Sam. You hesitated a moment, looking to Sam – he still looked just as confused as you were – before you obediently left the backseat, trading places with Sam. Dean was already leaning forward to pull his box of cassettes up onto the seat between you. 

You settled into the passenger seat, your backpack between your feet, taking in the amused grin that lit up Dean’s face, growing with every passing moment, looking out of place among the blood, dirt, and bruises there.

He glanced up at you, taking in the confusion still painted onto your face. “Since ‘m apparently breakin’ rules,” He drawled out, his stare a bit more pointed at the words – it had never been a rule, and you all knew it – “what’s one more, huh?” There, shoved between two cassettes - Metallica and Mötley Crüe – was the iPod adapter Sam had bought (the one you were quite sure Dean had thrown out the window the moment he’d seen it). “Just try not to make my ears bleed too bad, huh?” 

As you dug through your backpack for your iPod, Dean leaned down, his face close to yours, his lips against your ear, his voice low enough that Sam wouldn’t hear.

“‘N when we get back to the motel, I’ll tell Sammy to take a hike, ‘n I’ll tell you what a good girl you are as many times as you want.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

Eddie had heard plenty of stories about Steve losing fights.

He had the concussions to prove it.

But what Eddie saw with his own two eyes was far more impressive than whatever version of Steve had let Jonathan Byers and Billy Hargrove win.

He’d seen how quick he was to defend the kids, defend Nancy and Robin, even defend Eddie when he barely knew him. He’d thrown himself head first into the mix, nail bat in hand or not.

So when Eddie asked about it, Steve shrugged it off.

“Everyone loses fights.”

Sure, everyone does. But he’s seen Steve win against literal alternate dimension monsters.

No way a human teenage boy or two could be harder to beat.

But he let it go. If Steve insisted on it being a couple of genuine losses, so be it.

But Eddie doesn’t let things go. Especially not when it comes to Steve.

“I guess I just don’t understand how you lost to Jonathan. I mean had he ever even been in a fight before?”

“No. But neither had I.”

“But you should’ve won that fight with no effort. No offense to Jonathan, but he’s scrawny and doesn’t even punch right.”

“I don’t know. Why are you so hung up on this?”

Well, because this wasn’t simple. Eddie could tell Steve was hiding something, he just didn’t know what.

“I guess because no one else ever asked you.”

Steve stared at him, probably trying to figure out how to avoid answering.

“No one seems to ever ask you about you.”

Steve looked down at the floor.

“They don’t need to.”

“You deserve to have people care. So I’m gonna care for now and then I’m gonna have a chat with your idiot kids about relational reciprocity.”

“What?”

“They have to show they care about you as much as you care about them. That’s kind of the deal with friendship.”

“Oh.”

Oh? Did Steve genuinely not know that?

Jesus Christ.

“So?”

“I think I just wasn’t good at fighting.”

“Nah. That’s not it.”

Eddie could see Steve thinking.

When he finally spoke, he wasn’t making eye contact. Eddie reached his hand out towards his face, cupping his chin and lifting his face so he had to look at him.

“Try again, Stevie.”

Steve took in a shaky breath.

“I wasn’t good at fighting for me.”

Eddie nodded. “Why’s that?”

“Just didn’t seem like I deserved to win. I deserved the hits I got.”

“Why?”

“Because I was awful. I said shitty things or did shitty things. Or with Billy, I knew I had to let him take it out on me and I guess I thought I deserved it. I dunno.”

“Mm.”

He released Steve’s chin, watching as his head dropped back down and he seemed to curl in on himself.

Eddie couldn’t allow that to happen.

So he pulled Steve into his lap, smirking to himself just a little when he let out a yelp of surprise at the manhandling.

“So all this time, you’ve put your body and mind and future on the line for everyone else without a second thought, but when you had to protect yourself and only yourself, it’s not worth the effort? Am I understanding correctly?”

Steve didn’t respond, but then again, Eddie hadn’t really expected him to. He was too busy hiding his face in Eddie’s chest.

“That’s what I thought. So who taught you that you’re not worth fighting for? Who told you that anything you’ve done wrong should be considered a debt owed to whoever wanted to raise their fists? Who made you believe that your mistakes could only be absolved if you let them get punched out of you?”

Steve was crying; He could feel the cold wetness seeping through his shirt.

“You tell me who it was and I’ll make sure they know how it feels to lose a fight.”

“Just me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

He let Steve sit with the words for a few minutes before speaking again.

“You did some not great things as a teenager, as many teenagers tend to do. Have you seen the way Mike talks to people? He’s a shithead. But do you think he deserves to get concussed from a punch to the temple?”

Steve shook his head.

“Dustin gets an attitude anytime we don’t immediately bend to his will and calls us names all the time. Do you think he deserves to get a plate smashed over his head?”

“Of course not.”

Steve’s voice was quiet.

“You have more than made up for any mistakes you may have made in the past, even without the punches being thrown at you. If I have to tell you that you deserve to be treated with kindness and respect every day, then I fucking will. Hear me?”

“Hear you.”

Steve was staring at Eddie, tears still silently and rapidly falling down his cheeks.

Eddie wiped them away and gave him a small smile.

“You have no idea how special you are. But that’s gonna change.”

“Okay.”

Eddie placed a kiss on his forehead before he wrangled him against his chest again, moving his legs so he could relax completely.

“Just relax, okay? I got you. You’re worth protecting.” Eddie sighed softly. “You’re worth everything.”

[mikanotes]

lost in translation ft. eunhyuk x gn!reader 4.4k words

genre: angst comfort, ‘enemies’ to possibly lovers warnings: deaths, injuries, blood, mentions of kissing and also suicide (?), smoking, cursing, canon divergence idr half of s1, guns, slightly suggestive at the end author’s note: this was requested! i kinda strayed off the original request sorry TT it got a bit angstier than it should’ve but oh well! have this i missed him

summary: The development of your feelings for Lee Eunhyuk in the middle of an apocalypse, and struggles of leadership.

Green Home Apartment is not a place you would ever allow to crumble.

From the very first hours of the outbreak, people saw a leading figure in you. A seemingly natural instinct to guide people and keep them as safe as possible. Someone strict, just firm enough to keep panicking residents in line and gentle enough to reassure other equally terrified people.

The perfect leader, really. It wasn’t exactly the role you would have wanted had you imagined yourself in this situation prior, but you felt you didn’t really have a say in the matter. You were just a college student, and within a few hours, at least ten people in your apartment building had voiced out their agreement on you being the perfect captain for a broken and sinking ship.

So when this guy with a blue flannel gave off the same impression as you apparently did— enough to convince people he would be a good leader, too— you were mildly relieved. Part of you felt like it was a good thing someone else would take the reins for this whole thing. It was too much pressure for you. But another part didn’t feel at ease. After all, you didn’t know this guy. People trusted him for a reason— He did seem mature, headstrong, and determined. Good with instructions and quick-witted. But you didn’t know if that would be enough to let the people here, or you, at least, survive this.

If you were to survive this in a group, you would need to have some kind of authority when it came to making decisions. Surviving alone was fine, but being stuck with so many people meant certain chaos, attempts at democracy leading to stupid decisions, and your life being stacked between at least twenty others with barely a word to say when they would all eventually be led to sure death. You’d damn near experienced it already, and that was more than enough for you.

So you didn’t step away when Lee Eunhyuk, as you eventually learned his name to be, took the place of a leader. And thankfully, it seemed the residents hadn’t expected you to. So weeks ago, you and Eunhyuk were appointed as leaders of Green Home during the monster apocalypse.

“Going there would be suicide.”

“So you suggest we stay here and wait to die? Do you genuinely think the people in the next room over will be fine with that?”

Leaders who get along perfectly.

“I suggest you use your head a little. There’s resources in much more accessible spaces than this. The store at the side, for example?”

“I’m not sending anyone there.” Eunhyuk states blankly, in his usual emotionless fashion. You narrow your eyes and bite back a scoff.

“Right, I almost forgot it’s about sending out people with you. You’re a coward, you know that?” you say, and he glances at you from the side.

“And you’re just as selfish.” he says, turning to face you properly, “Let’s not pretend you’re any better than I am because you act courageous. You’re terrified.”

“And you’re mistaken. Why don’t you go out there and get to the storage room yourself?”

Eunhyuk’s tongue presses into his cheek and his fingers tightens into a fist. He presses his hand to the table and tilts his head a little, nodding slightly. “We both know without a leading figure this group is done for.” he says, tone much calmer than you’d anticipated. The restraint he has over his anger only serves as fuel to your own. You bite the flesh of your lip.

“Am I not a leading figure?”

“You are, but are you a good one?” he asks. There. There it is, the hint of anger. That cutting edge to his tone. It’s nearly imperceptible but it makes you want to bring out all of it.

“Do you believe I’m not?”

You step closer. He looks down to your feet then back up to meet your gaze. “You’re dodging the question.”

“It’s a weird question to ask.”

You’re close enough to punch him, now, if need be. You won’t. But it’s a good thing to note.

“I don’t think it is, all things considered.”

“Uh,” a meek voice comes from behind you. You turn towards the door to see a man from the group stand with a bottle in hand, moving around uncomfortably, “The others are arguing about rations… You should come.”

You take this as the perfect opportunity to clear your head and not to let your irritation get the better of you. You hum absentmindedly and walk past him to get to the store where you expect everyone to be, leaving the man and a scowling Eunhyuk behind.

“Is- Is something wr—”

“Everything’s fine.”

Everything is wrong.

It’s been less than a day since your argument with Eunhyuk when a new problem enters your life. A guy that looks about your age, that you remember walking past when he moved in, who fell from nine floors high in the stairway. He’s lying on the floor with blood all over and around him. Everyone is scrambling to take a look and Seo Yikyung has to be the one to hold them back, because you and Eunhyuk are too busy checking the supposedly dead man’s pulse for the third time.

“He’s breathing.” you sigh, pulling away your trembling hand from his face again. This is insanity.

“It’s impossible…”

“Get a grip.” you shove Eunhyuk’s shoulder, “Impossible isn’t in our vocabulary right now. Weird as this may be, we can’t just leave him here, so start thinking or I’ll make the decisions.”

He’s shaken out of his thoughts, alright, but now he seems another kind of confused that you can’t bring yourself to try deciphering. He calls your name but you don’t respond.

You don’t exactly look down, but you start to kneel to reach towards the body on the floor. You need to carry him somewhere else, where no one will see how bad it is. There’s kids here and the adults aren’t reliable. You can’t let this cause more trouble.

Your gaze is looking anywhere else but at the corpse— Person. Alive. You almost grab him when Eunhyuk stops you with a hand on your shoulder, effectively causing you to flinch.

“It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

He hoists the limp body up on his back with some effort and holds him tightly so he doesn’t fall. “Tell them to go elsewhere. It’ll only cause issues for them to see more than needed.” he tells you, nodding towards the hallway. The blood that gets on his clothes and the state of the one he carries unsettles you a little, but you nod and hurry outside.

“Go to the daycare.” you say, voice hoarse. Everyone’s chattering does nothing to help you calm down. You’re not sure if they didn’t hear you or if they simply don’t care. “I said go! Right now!” you exclaim, much louder. 

The talking silences and everyone reluctantly heads to that place, though clearly still trying to get a glimpse of the situation. You breathe out sharply and stare down at the floor. Your reflection meets you halfway on the tiles, showing you just how little control you currently have on the emotions you usually hide so well. You’ve seen people get killed too many times since this all started but this is was one too many. 

You can’t even tell if the stranger’s fall was accidental, if it was suicide, if… You can’t think.

Eunhyuk passes by you and you barely notice. Or rather, you force yourself not to notice.

So much blood.

The sun sets and rises again. Tension does as well.

“We can’t keep on using him.” you say upon stepping into the security office. Eunhyuk is leaning against the desk, eyes trained on the several CCTV screens when you come in, and he seems like he’s about to leave the moment you start talking. You close the door and he gives up. He seems to know there’s no point in trying to leave, now.

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb. We both know you’re not.”

“High compliments coming from you.”

You sigh and step further into the room. “I’m not in the mood to argue, Lee Eunhyuk. Cha Hyunsu, he… He doesn’t deserve to be treated this way. You know it, too.”

Eunhyuk is silent. You see his thumb tapping against the desk rhythmically, like he’s thinking hard about something.

“Lee Eunhyuk.”

“I heard you.”

“Then say something!” you scream.

Eunhyuk turns to look at you. You take a breath. It’s unlike you to let your anger turn to yelling but you feel hopeless. Cha Hyunsu is just a boy your age trapped in circumstances he never asked for, and forced to do the worst part of the work around Green House. Eunhyuk never wanted to send anyone upstairs, yet he decided to send Hyunsu there. Because he’s a monster? Because he survived a several floors high fall? Because he was doomed to live in-between two kinds of evil, neither of which truly accepts him?

It just feels like it hits you harder today that this world will continue to be this cruel. And you two are not making it any better.

“This is the best way.” Eunhyuk says, unfazed. “The group needs to survive. You said it yourself. Cha Hyunsu’s the best bet we have at getting this result.”

“We saw him die, Eunhyuk.”

“He’s alive. You know that.”

“This is unfair.”

“The world is unfair.”

You look elsewhere, annoyed. Eunhyuk calls your name in the same tone he always does. “Your sympathy is useless.”

“What kind of leaders are we if rid of any compassion?”

“… The kind needed to survive.” he says quietly, gaze cast downwards. “Jisu asked for band-aids. Could you bring them to her for me?”

Anything’s a good enough distraction from whatever spiral you feel yourself falling into.

“Sure.”

Days pass. Your anger subsides.

“But didn’t you say it was okay to go there?”

“No, I didn’t.” Eunhyuk crosses his arms, “Who told you that?”

A name is mentioned in reply.

You sneeze.

“Aye, did you catch a cold?” Eunyu scoffs, laughing smoke at the face you seem to be making. “That’s bad. Catching a cold during an apocalypse? Seriously.”

You and the girl are sitting on the fire escape stairs, on the floor closest to the main hall. She has a habit of disappearing to go smoke, or whatever else she does, and you don’t want her getting killed. She didn’t seem to mind you coming to check up on her the first time, and now you have a habit of disappearing to hang out with her.

“I’m fine.” you click your tongue, “Anyways, you shouldn’t be smoking out there. If your brother was here he’d be pissed.”

“Who cares? Let’s not act like he ever shows it.”

You roll your eyes a little and chuckle. “Sure.” you hum, “Still. What’s the point in smoking? During an apocalypse, too? That’s bad.”

She flips you off and you return the gesture, earning a laugh in return. You don’t talk to many people in this place. Your age differs from nearly everyone. Eunyu’s a bit younger, so you’re mostly watching over her. Then there’s Hyunsu, but there’s a nearly visible wall between him and everyone. You can’t blame him for putting distance between you two especially. As far as he’s concerned, you’re also responsible for the errand-running he’s been told to do.

There’s Yikyung, but you’ve struggled to get close since you told her to shove off when she had Eunhyuk pinned to a wall. You’re not sure why you did that, even now. She’d be better company than him, maybe. And you understand her reasons.

Then there’s Eunhyuk.

“Serious talk, listen up.” Eunhyu huffs, “What relationship do you entertain with my brother?” she mimics a serious sounding voice that’s so unlike her. It makes you scoff in amusement.

“He’s a…” You trail off. What is he? A friend? An acquaintance? Whatever could be considered a coworker, at the moment? A fellow leader? “Uh, a person.”

Eunyu gives you this look that is so clearly judgemental that you consider jumping off the railing promptly.

“Yeah, no shit. Good to know he’s not turning.” she scoffs, “I know you hate him. Spit it out.”

“I don’t recall ever feeling that way.” you lie with an obviously fake smile. Eunyu threatens to throw her lighter at you. “He’s fine, alright? We just work together, I guess.”

“He likes you.”

“Hm?”

“He doesn’t hate you, I mean. You’re not stupid, so you noticed, right?” she says before bringing the cigarette to her lips again. You’re confused and it must show because she sighs in annoyance. “Clearly, I’d say the real leader is you out of you two. Aren’t most decisions yours?”

“They’re ours. Mostly his. Trust me, my opinion isn’t as valued as you might believe.”

Her expression suddenly sours and she curses under her breath. “And I think you’re wrong. Anyways, I’ll leave you with the jerk.” she coughs, pushing herself off of the stairs, “Bye.”

You hum curiously as you watch her leave before turning around. Lee Eunhyuk. Of course.

The first thing he does is shove your shoulder.

“What the hell?” you scoff, scrambling up to your feet before you can lose your balance. It’s such an unexpected move from him that you can’t help the words that slip past your lips. “What’s your deal?”

“Returning the gesture. What’s yours?”

“Huh?”

“The gate to the store alley. I said it should stay closed.” he says, “So why are three people on their way back from there telling me I allowed it?”

“Because I allowed it.” you say casually. “It had medicine, water, and some canned foods. Besides, we needed fresh air.”

He stays silent for at least half a minute before he steps closer to you. Close enough for your hands to touch if your arms were to move an inch. “It’s not safe. I said so enough, didn’t I?”

“Have you ever cared about safety?”

“I have—”

“About the people’s, about the half-monsters’s, about yours?”

Your name sounds tense when he says it.

“About mine?”

“Do you ever stop talking?” he grits his teeth. His eye twitches. You wouldn’t have noticed it had you been further away. No, you… you would have. You know his every feature and emotions too well by now. You would realize the most unnoticeable of changes from him. Any of them.

He’s angry.

There.

“Does that piss you off? That I talk so much?” you say, “Is it a problem because you never do? Does hearing someone so much get on your nerves? Should I leave the leading you? Are your decisions supreme? Am I too talkative? Is that it? Is that it?”

He kisses— He almost kisses you. He stops short of pressing his lips against yours, short of holding your collar and bringing it up to meet his chest, short of everything you only now realized would’ve been so good to have.

For fuck’s sake. “You’re holding back.”

“There’s no point in causing unnecessary fights.”

“You’re a coward.”

“You—”

You tilt your head, like you want him to finish his sentence. You do. He’s realized this much.

He takes a breath to calm down and steps back, much to your dismay.

“I know why you used to be so self-centered.”

“That’s…” you trail off, before laughing in disbelief. “What?”

“You almost got killed at the alley to the store, the one you just allowed to be opened. First day of the apocalypse. I remember it. You looked terrified. Then you put your survival above anyone else’s.” he says, “And yet now, you keep on trying to go. That’s something I don’t understand.”

You swallow, images of that monster nearly killing you with its claws, and dragging away a bloodied, dismembered corpse when it failed to find you. The feeling of someone pulling you back into the shadow so you wouldn’t get noticed, and the chaos that ensued in the main hall so quickly that you never got to see who it was.

… Wait?

“That was you.”

“It doesn’t matter who it was. You changed.” he cuts off any questions you might have, “You used to be selfish. People falsely believed you were a good leader just because you seemed strong. But you didn’t care about anyone’s lives except yours.”

“… So what? What changed?” you ask quietly, “Did you fall for it, too? Because I’m still the same, as far as I’m concerned.”

“You don’t get it.”

“I do—“

“The you I first talked to in the security room would’ve never went out of their way to make sure some high-schooler is doing fine. They wouldn’t have been this upset over a random half-monster running errands. You would have been unbothered. And that store you seem so obsessed with would’ve been emptied of the basics before anyone could get them. But it was full, wasn’t it? The store was untouched.”

You’re not sure what to say. Where is he going with this?

“Fine.” you settle with that. “Let’s say that, somehow, you’re right. Then should we talk about you? That you changed, too?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“You never talk this much. Why are you so obsessed with this?”

“… I just wanted you to know.” he says, but it sounds like he’s withholding another response. “It didn’t feel right for me not to tell you I knew about what happened after all this time. Also I need you to come back now. People are gonna crowd the store too much for it to be left without any rules.”

You look away. Decide. Look back at him. “Fine.”

Lives come and go. The obvious is ignored.

A lot of guns were pointed at a lot of people’s heads today. You’re unsure why the image of Eunhyuk stuck to the floor with a gun pointed to his forehead is stuck in your mind so much. It keeps rewinding— Reminding you that you were both helpless there, that you got lucky he even survived it all.

There’s so much blood everywhere.

Someone says your full name, with a tone much too casual to match what seemed to be politeness and with such ease that it can only be one person. He grabs your arms and tries to catch your gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Are you crazy?” you whisper, looking at him. He looks like a mess. “You almost got killed, Eunhyuk.”

“So did you. Don’t downplay it.” he argues. You expect his grip to loosen now that he’s seen you’re alright enough to talk but it only seems to tighten, “We have a few minutes to get it together before we have to go back to the usual. So be honest for once.”

Being honest…

You look at him, and your eyes are burning. “Fuck, Eunhyuk, I don’t know why I’m this scared.” you cough out, hands tensing at your sides.

He carries something gentler in his gaze, something you’re unfamiliar with. His hand drops to your wrist and he squeezes it. “Breathe.” he says, and you try, but it’s like you’re struggling to get the air in and out of your lungs. It’s burning, too. Why?… You’re panicking. That’s why. Your breaths come out short and that uneasiness who loves to get in the way of your thoughts is back. You can’t do anything, right now— you wouldn’t be able to get anyone to survive, let alone yourself.

Eunhyuk’s hand grabs your hastily and he brings it to his chest. “Slow down. Just breathe. That’s all that matters, right now.”

“Are you breathing?”

“I am. I need both of us to be. So listen to me.”

“Yeah.”

And just like a doctor would, he guides you to something calmer. Your gazes are locked the whole time. He insisted. Don’t look anywhere else, he said, just me. He helps you remember how to breathe again, helps you remember how to think, and helps you remember you have a lot to do immediately.

“We need to go.” you say, back to the closest thing to normal you could manage. “Hyunsu’s gone. Did anyone get shot? You should—”

“You should go grab the medkits. The ones in the nursery. Bring them here. I’ll take care of it.”

You don’t argue. “Okay.

Ah!” — But you nearly lose your footing. You hear Eunhyuk breathe out something that almost sounds like a laugh and turn around to glare.

“You’ll be lightheaded for a bit. Be careful.”

“Oh, yeah, okay.” you scoff. You hear Eunyu yell something along the lines of ‘It’ll be fine, so stop looking and get to work—‘ but you’re too far away to catch all of it.

The skies darken before the light comes back again. Things are eerily quiet.

When leadership becomes worthless, it’s hard to keep a proper sense of identity. Everyone has seen you and Eunhyuk as their leaders for a long while now. But since Jung Uimyeong’s arrival and the clear impact he’s had on the group’s dearest Cha Hyunsu, the atmosphere has suffered a drastic change. It feels tense for everyone but the newfound duo. It’s suffocating.

But instincts remain the same. Survival is key, and that means gathering information is, as well. You need to get what Uimyeong’s plan is before it escalates, but you know he would have no interest in talking to you.

So Hyunsu, it is.

“You don’t trust me.”

“But I do! I’ve always trusted you, Hyunsu.”

The latter keeps on walking and you have to jog to catch up. This is ridiculous, how could he allow a stranger to change him so much? Did he convince him the people here were the real enemy? You wouldn’t be surprised. Still…

“Just stop and have an actual conversation with me.” you scoff.

He does just that, stops in his tracks, and you nearly run into him. He turns around slowly to look at you. Hyunsu’s expression is usually devoid of emotion but now it’s just cold. “I don’t want to talk to you. Everything you say’s a lie. You don’t trust anyone here. I’ll say good luck to the people who still think you’re a good leader.”

“Isn’t that too much?” Eunhyuk. “Especially since you know it’s not true. Or were you influenced by that guy so easily?”

Hyunsu glances at him, then back at you, before directing his glare to Eunhyuk again. “Find someone else to run your errands. I’m tired of it.”

“That’s not—”

“Leave him be.” Eunhyuk says as Hyunsu walks away. You sigh and rub your temples. This isn’t good. “There’s no point in trying to reason with him now.”

“So what, we don’t do anything? Leave things as they are?”

“We do.”

You sigh and turn around to let your head drop on his shoulder. Eunhyuk brings his hand to the back of your head and leaves it there. You’re not sure how or why this change happened between the two of you after the shootout, but neither of you mention it. It might be for the best.

“I’m tired.” you mumble.

“You should get some rest.” he says quietly, “There isn’t much to take care of, right now. You should be able to sleep for a bit.”

“How long is a bit?”

“Until I wake you, approximately.”

“… Fine by me.”

The sun sets—

“Wake up.”

“Hmm…?” you force yourself to open your eyes and look up. God, the world’s blurry. “What?”

“Switch. I need to rest for a bit.”

You nod lazily and sit up on the bed, making space for him to sit. He settles at your side and turns to look at you. “Look here.” he says (demands) with a hand on your jaw. You turn and feel like he’s scrutinizing your face. “Any injuries?”

“Not anything new, no.” you say, “You?”

“The same.” he sighs, dropping his hand. It’s your turn to touch his face. You hold the side of it in your hand and let your thumb graze the skin under his eye. His glasses are good to hide his eyes, you think. But you’re always close enough to see them. After the shooting, you remember something, despite the state you were in.

“You cried.” you say. He hums inquisitively at that. “When those guys barged in and stuff. When you came back after going with them, you looked like you’d been crying.”

“Not really. I was just upset.”

“Because?”

“Is there not enough reasons to be upset in this place?” he deadpans, and scoffs silently when you give him a look. “I couldn’t save Ms. An. I watched her get shot.”

You have half a mind to hold back from squeezing his head to death. “And you didn’t think it worth mentioning? That’s bad, Eunhyuk.”

“I’ve… Seen worse.”

“That’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

You look at him with wide eyes. “Take it back.”

“Or else?” he asks. Oh. Oh. He’s teasing you. What the hell? This is new. Your hand drops to grab his collar. You get deja-vu. Something similar happened before. He looks down at your hand then back up at you.

“You really want to find out, do you?”

There’s something in the air. Something you would’ve usually described as tension, but it almost feels comfortable. You know Eunhyuk well yet you can’t tell what’ll happen next. You could guess, though. Each word and touch means more now than it used to.

(Maybe they always meant something, maybe you just chose to ignore it.) 

He stares at you for a few seconds then tilts his head to the side, expression unreadable. “I do.”

Your fingers tighten around his collar and he smiles. His hand comes up to wrap around your wrist, slowly pulling it away from him. “Hey…?”

“But I don’t think I’ll find out about anything. You’re a liar, after all. And a coward, just like me.” he says, all whilst gently pushing you to lay on the mattress. He does it so naturally it takes you a moment to realize. He hovers over you with your wrist still in hand. “Is that fine with you?”

“You insulting me or you pinning me down?”

“You decide.” he sighs, pressing your wrist down gently next to your head, “Would I be wrong to assume you don’t really mind either of those?”

You decide to shut him up instead. He takes it well.

“You taste a bit bloody.”

“Deal with it.”

[costinblazetwice]

Early Mornings With Nayeon

Male Reader X Nayeon

Genre: Smut

Words: 5K

There are times when you can just feel someone is looking at you. It’s hard to explain, but you just know. Like your senses are trying to nudge you that something is up.

Well, that’s exactly what happened to you first thing upon waking up. As soon as your eyes saw the ceiling above you had this feeling like you were being watched.

You turn to your side to the only other person in the room with you, and lo and behold her almond colored eyes are directed right at you, eyebrows raised by your sudden movement.

“Ah, Nayeon. You scared me,” you groan groggily, raspiness in your voice pronounced as you lightly flick your girlfriend on the forehead who chuckles in response.

“I should be the one saying that,” she replies, her own voice slightly raspy, a sign that it hasn’t been too long since she’s been awake either.

You lift yourself up so your upper back rests on the bed frame, looking over at the window to see the sun shining through and bathing your cream tinged white bed with its light.

“Why were you looking at me anyway?” You finally ask, curious as to why your girlfriend’s gaze was fixed so strongly on you while you slept.

“I don’t know. You just looked hot.”

Nayeon has a matter of fact way of speaking sometimes. But she’s always honest which is how you know she’s telling the truth.

She crawls herself on top of you, her cleavage noticeable from her light blue top and her bare things rubbing against yours from a lack of covering thanks to her shorts. It helps that you’re in just your boxers as well.

Nayeon places a quick peck on your lips, pulling away swiftly with a giant smile on her face. She comes in again, landing a quick peck again before pulling away almost as if to tease you, Nayeon being a bundle of joy that she is.

You can’t help but feel your heart tug at her cuteness, taking your hand and pushing a part of her behind her ear, happy to see this sight just minutes upon waking.

“You’re so adorable. Really, nothing better than waking up next to you” You say, full of appreciation as you lightly pinch the pale cheeks of Nayeon that are slowly growing more red.

As you say that you see the expression on her face change. Nayeon’s face is adorned with a gentle smile, her lips curved ever so slightly, creating an aura of warmth that emanates from her eyes, which are softened with a subtle glow, reflecting a genuine and inviting demeanor.

She leans in for a kiss, this time more slow and relaxed, not in the mood for teasing but to show you how touched she is by your words.

“Keep talking like that and I might have to kiss ya someplace else.”

“Oh, and where might that be?”

She rests her forehead on yours, a light smile at your response as she plants a quick kiss on your forehead before lifting herself up off of your waist, turning herself around and ever so slowly pulling down her shorts, revealing her bare ass.

You groan as she gives herself a light slap on her ass, the way it shakes in the aftermath causing your own erection to build in your boxers.

“Like what ya see?” She teases as she turns around, not letting you cherish the view of her bare cunt for long as she sits down in between your spread legs, her hands grabbing the waistbands of your boxers and tugging at them.

You lift your butt up slightly allowing her to bring them down your legs before pulling them off and throwing them to the side of the bed where her shorts sit.

Nayeon’s facial expression turns gleeful when she takes in the sight of your cock, slightly erect but not fully, growing slowly in size after being exposed to the open air.

This was something new, you thought to yourself. You and Nayeon have never engaged in morning sex because you two would rather have it when you were washed up than immediately upon waking.

But as Nayeon slowly jerks your now hard cock in her small hands this early in the day you can’t help but wonder why you haven’t done this before. She brings herself down, placing a quick lick your cock, the taste of your skin being slightly more salty due to the buildup of sweat through the night, Nayeon’s subtle click of the tongue being a giveaway as she evaluated the taste.

Nayeon swirls her tongue at the head of your cock, sensation so overwhelming that your body trembles while laying down, spasms shaking the bed. Her cheeks are hollow as her warm mouth heats up your shaft, Nayeon moving at an easy and relaxed pace with her head bobbing up and down slowly, pulling away just to spit harshly on your cock and use it to lather your length.

She makes eye contact with you and smiles, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly and her eyes unwavering in their contact with yours as she once more envelops your cock, saliva slowly running down her chin as you gently grab Nayeon’s head and pull her down deeper. “Take the whole thing, don’t stop,” you grunted, the heat of her mouth warming your length, her wet tongue moving freely around your girth.

You hear her gag on your cock, the sound so erotic and filthy that you keep her there, bucking your hips into her mouth as your cock hits the back of her throat, only letting go when she gives a tap to your thigh signaling that she needed to breathe.

You remove your hands as she springs up with long strands of her drool joined to your cock. She wipes her mouth of her saliva and takes that same hand to again use as lube, your entire length covered in Nayeon’s morning spit. She was teary eyed, taking shallow breaths with her cheeks a rosy pink tinge.

“Does that feel good?” She asks teasingly, knowing the answer from the way your hips buck while you let out harsh groans. You just nod your head, twitching your cock in her hand for further confirmation as she smiles her loving bunny smile with her prominent teeth flashing, coming in to land a peck on your cock for your honesty.

“So honest, baby you’re so cute when you’re desperate.”

She wipes up your tip again before she places her hand on your shaft and slides it up and down, coating it in a thick layer of her saliva.

You bite your lip and sigh out through your nose as your head falls back to the pillow, enjoying her handjob as her fist slides up and down. She doesn’t waste any time to get you riled up, quickly pumping her hand up and down your shaft.

“Such a hungry cock so early in the morning, huh babe? I bet you were expecting this since last night.”

She continues to pump her hand up and down as your tip rubs against her palm, smearing her spit.

“Such a big cock. It looks so good with my spit, Daddy,” she utters in a sensual demeanor, referring to you with that nickname when you know she’s really feeling herself.

She moves her head down, her eyes locked with yours. Her other hand moves to your abdomen, slowly running across it, caressing you gently as she pumps your cock with her spit, aiding her fist in creating a friction that causes a pleasurable heat to run along your shaft.

Her hand stops at the head of your dick, her thumb rubbing your slit as she strokes your shaft, feeling the veins pulse under her grip. She begins to work her hand faster, jerking you off rapidly.

You can only groan in response, hands tightly gripping the bedsheets as Nayeon uses her tiny mouth to bring you a large amount of pleasure.

She brings her head closer to your balls, her tongue moving across your sack and licking up the saliva that had gathered there. She wraps her lips around one of your balls, gently sucking on it, letting her tongue run over your sensitive skin. She moves to the other one and repeats the same process, sucking on it and massaging your sack with her lips and tongue.

Your cock twitches in her hand and she quickly places her lips on your shaft, working her way up until she reaches the head.

“We’re just getting started daddy. This is a morning you’ll never forget.”

Nayeon opens her mouth wide, taking the tip into her mouth. She swirls her tongue around your crown before sucking on it, her cheeks hollowing as her mouth slides down your shaft, slowly taking more of you into her mouth.

You feel the warmth of Nayeon’s mouth envelope your cock and you let out a long moan as she starts to bob her head up and down, working her mouth up and down your length as her hand continues to pump, moving in sync with her movements.

You begin to huff, abdomen rising and falling rapidly as the pleasure grows, her warm mouth keeping your cock heated as her drool drips down your shaft and falls on your pelvis.

“Baby, I’m gonna-“ you’re unable to moan out the remainder of your sentence as you roughly push Nayeon down onto your cock, the sound of her gags making the force of your orgasm that much stronger, feeling your cock twitch in her mouth over her tongue as you release.

“That mouth… fuck your incredible,” a low groan escapes you, your heartbeat thundering but gradually subsiding as you reclaim your breath, removing your hands from atop Nayeon’s head as she lifts her head up, hair a disheveled mess and teary eyed. You observe as her hand, covering her mouth, moves away, holding traces of your recently splattered cum. Within it, your essence lingers, and you witness her take a substantial swallow, regaining composure.

Her eyebrows furrow, nose wrinkles, and lips pucker involuntarily as the bitter taste takes hold. Her eyes squint, reflecting a momentary struggle against the unpleasant sensation coursing through her taste buds.

“Woah, love, did you just?” You ask in awe as you sit up, impressed with the erotic actions.

Nayeon loves pleasing you and loves being pleased in return. She’ll gag on your cock regardless of how difficult it is for her tiny mouth to hold your member. She’s willing to do it all, but you know how your girlfriend has somewhat of a princess complex, wanting you to swallow her liquids while you tell her what she tastes like, but on the other hand she finds the taste of semen too strong, the smell too putrid on her nose to swallow without getting gag reflexes.

But today, early in the morning you watch as she overcomes this as she snaps her tongue, brows furrowed as her eyes are slightly teary.

“Uh, that’s so strong.” She wipes at her mouth several times while you smile in response, complimenting your girlfriend for a job well done.

“I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet, so I figured I might as well try it since I’ll just brush it off later,” she remarked casually as she grabs the water bottle on the coffee table, taking a mouthful before placing it back. The lingering bitterness is now a thing of the past as she crawls over to you. In an instant, her eyes transition from bunny-like innocence to a lustful gaze, and she reaches out, taking hold of your hand and bringing it to her dripping cunt.

“You got to cum, now it’s my turn,” she says with a smile, bringing a peck to your forehead as you rub her cunt, your cock still soft from the mind blowing orgasm you just experienced but your heart rate increases, knowing it’s only a matter of a minute or so before it’s up railing again.

You push her gently down and hover over her, Nayeon pinned beneath your arms as she giggles, finding great eroticism in being helpless beneath you when you get riled up, her cheeks slowly blushing pink, the milky colored complexion of her body matching the shade of your clear colored bed covers.

The sunlight from the windows peaks through and covers her body in its brightness, a contrast to the rest of the room which was dim without any light penetrating in.

“Make me a mess, Y/N. Please~”

While In admiration of the alluring beauty of your girlfriend you bring your lips roughly to hers, your cock beginning to swell in excitement as it rubs against Nayeon’s bare cunt.

You bite her bottom lip lightly, causing her to let out a breathy whimper as you use that opportunity to introduce your tongue, crashing against hers as your tongues dance in the moment, your cock still rubbing against her slit forcing her to continue to open her mouth to moan in pleasure as you dominate her.

You know how much your girlfriend relishes in the art of making out. She loves to stick her tongue out randomly throughout the day, craving some sort of sensation that she can hold on to, moisten with her tongue. There are many lazy days where she’ll sit on your lap, legs wrapped around your waist as you two clash tongues on the sofa.

“Babe, could you please…” Nayeon whimpers, pushing at your chest slightly so your mouths are no longer connected. Her bottom lip is lightly swollen and the red of the swell more prominent than the natural tinge of her lips.

Tears well up in the corners of her eyes, as her lower lip trembles slightly. Her eyebrows knit together, forming a pleading arch, and her gaze fixates with a vulnerable intensity, conveying an urgent plea.

“…Down there… I need you.” She whispers out, taking pauses in between her words, her cheeks red as your girlfriend in heat wants you to touch her most delicate area.

Her palm rests on her cunt as you groan in response, placing a kiss on her lips before planting one on her collarbone, belly, and finally reach the area where her hand sits.

Slender and gracefully curved, her milky white fingers showcase meticulously manicured nails, their almond-like shape colored a bright pink.

“Just so you know, I haven’t gotten the chance to wash down there yet…” your girlfriend mentions with a gentle smile playing on her lips while her cheeks carry a subtle blush, hinting at her sincere shyness. In her excitement she had suddenly forgotten the fact that you were about to go down on her most raw, most vulnerable pussy thanks to the early morning.

“Come on Nabongs, I just want to taste you. I love how you taste, smell, or whatever, regardless,” you soothed, gently removing her hand which hurriedly covers her face, a whimper escaping her lips.

Getting tongue fucked is one of Nayeon’s most favorite activities. Just in general. On days where there’s no penetration she could just have you tongue fuck her. Reminds you of times when she arrives frantically home, whines escaping her lips as she pulls her bottoms down imploring you to to devour her excited cunt.

She’s not dominating generally, but she has no problem asking you to lap at her pussy all day.

So to see her now so timid when it came to the engagement of her favorite activity was a change of pace for yourself. Usually her hands would serve as a guide, navigating you forcefully to her heat. But that was when her precious area was bathed, or at least bathed earlier in the day if you partake in eating her out at a later time.

As she withdrew her hand, lightly covering her face with fingers spread sparsely apart, she observed your reaction, revealing her bare private area where the heat, swollen with arousal, becomes unmistakably clear.

Enclosed by the outer lips, the inner lips rest within, resembling a delicate petal tucked inside a blooming flower. The outer skin envelops the inner lips, giving a full, puffy appearance and keeping the private area discreetly concealed.

Drawn in by her puffy outer lips, you bring your hands closer, gently parting the folds revealing her inner lips, reminiscent of rose petals awaiting bloom.

The morning scent of her cunt breathes a much more tangy, bittersweetness to it, akin to the ripe aroma of grapefruit, where each breath carries the zest of citrus mingled with the familiar warmth of a musky embrace.

It’s a strong yet enjoyably erotic scent. Nayeon’s scent is typically tangy as it is now but slightly less so, hints of body wash lingering in her areas from her baths. She puts effort into being clean and sanitary, and if anything you’re very thankful for the scent that Nayeon exudes in her nether areas on those days, making your job easier when your face is smothered in her cunt.

Even now as you inhale the aroma of her pussy, the zesty, citrusy scent being erotic and uniquely hers, a mix of her natural musk included, you can’t help but place small pecks on her inner thighs, excitement erecting quickly but you wanting to savor this moment, every sweet second of this worth burning within your memories forever.

As you do you observe her pussy clench, partly from the sudden sensation and partly from the excitement, her visual sign to you that she is in heat.

“Oh~, so good,” Nayeon whispers breathlessly, loosening on the embarrassment from knowing your face is so close to her fragrant lips, the profuse ecstasy tingling within her from the stirring of your tongue.

Enveloped beneath the fullness of her outer lips, the clitoris remains like a mystery, patiently awaiting the tender revelation as the lips gracefully part, unveiling the nerve-rich structure, the small bud responsible for so much of the pleasure your girlfriend receives in this position.

With your face now directly in front of her clit, the scent is slightly more concentrated, natural musk and sweat from her inner regions playing at the nose as you let your tongue flick at the clit lightly, causing Nayeon’s legs to tremble that are now wrapped around your head.

Your tongue flattened, you start at the very bottom of her cunt with your fingers spreading her lips, going in a very slow, controlled manner with light pressure as your tongue moves in straight line until you reach her clit. Once there you repeat your actions, agonizingly slow through the process as Nayeon lets out small whimpers in response.

“Baby, I need you to go faster~” she coos as you chuckle to yourself, deliberate in your actions, riling up Nayeon so her body slowly adapts to the sensation, preparing itself for greater and greater pleasure.

You lap on her cunt once more, tasting her essence is akin to savoring dark chocolate—bitter, yet in a delightfully pleasing way; an exquisite blend of richness and intensity that leaves an indulgent mark on the palate.

Once satisfied you decide to progress the intensity, wetting your lips with your moist tongue and forming an “O” with your mouth and immediately attaching yourself to Nayeon’s tiny clit, sucking on it in the process.

You hear a sharp gasp, and you feel the bed slightly vibrate beneath you.

Your lips are practically wrapped around the entirety of her clit, and you move them in a sucking motion, giving a much needed simulation to her most sensitive area.

You then decide to switch up the movements, lapping at her clit with your tongue in a quick motion, as if you were attempting to get the last drop of honey from the bottom of a jar.

Your eyes are trained on her face, noting every change in expression; how her brows furrow when you lick the underside of her clit, how she bites her lip when you suckle on the sensitive nub, how her eyes squeeze shut when you gently scrape your teeth against her.

Her legs that are around you neck shudder, whimpers of your name escaping her lips as you begin pumping your fingers in her hole, pace slow as you relish in the sensation of her dripping cunt on your fingers and the way she pulls you in, each rhythmic thrust dancing in harmony with the clenching of her pussy.

"Babe," You hear her whisper, a hand gripping tightly on your hair. "Keep doing that— keep— ah!" She throws her head back when you curl your fingers inside of her, the sound of her wetness getting louder with each pump and slide.

"Nayeon," You groan out, the throbbing between your own legs beginning to feel painful. "I need to be inside of you."

She nods frantically, pushing your head away and bringing her legs down from your shoulders.

“Let me do the work baby. You’ve been so good today.”

You pick yourself up and lay back down in the same position as when Nayeon went down on you, head resting on the pillow with your back laying on the bed.

Nayeon stands atop of you, plump pussy with its concealing slit hovering above your stiff cock, waiting for her to mount you. And she then lowers herself slowly, knees out to hold the rest of her body upright as her cunt hovers inches above your cock.

With feet settled into the bed on either side of your waist, her hand fumbles with positioning your cock at her swollen slit, clumsily rubbing the head on her concealed lips that are thoroughly doused in her arousal, causing inadvertent whimpers to gradually escape her mouth.

Her brows knit in concentration with her mouth agape, Nayeon is eventually able to find the correct positioning as a jolt of bliss flows through your body when the head of your cock is engulfed in the warmness of her heat.

“Ah baby~, so damn good,” Nayeon coos, her eyes closed in rapacious ecstasy, cheeks flushed pink and a grin spread on her face as the gradual crescendo of pleasure that was building has now created a masterpiece that overwhelms her senses.

She leisurely lowers herself on your cock, the cold touch of her hands resting on your abs, each second tantalizing as it takes every modicum of self control in order to not shoot your hips straight up in pure ecstasy.

She reaches the base of your cock, cunt sitting snugly on your pelvis, your cock entirely engulfed in the gratifying warmth of the insides of your girlfriend. The inner walls of Nayeon harshly clench on your shaft, as if it was holding on with the complete reservoir of inner strength, eager to wrap you in the tender embrace of its heat.

“It’s time to dance like a bunny, my love,” you groan, a sheen of sweat from your girlfriend’s hands graces your abdomen, a symphony of excitement and pleasure intertwining, leaving her teetering on the brink of anticipation.

“Babe, what was it you called me last time I did this?”

“Oh, I think that was… I’m pretty sure fuck-bunny.”

The moment those words slip from your lips, her gaze transforms, eyes deepening in intensity. Her radiant smile morphs into a seductive smirk, accentuated by the subtle bite of her lower lip, leaving an air of alluring anticipation hanging between you.

The light reaching from the window casts a gleam over parts of Nayeon’s body, her petite breasts with her hard nipples projecting out, the pink summit seductively shining under the rays of the sunlight.

They come closer to your face, as if to tease you with their presence until they’re pushed away, your girlfriends face moving closer instead to the side of your cheek, Nayeon’s face next to yours as you feel her smooth cheeks on yours, warm breath hitting your ears as she whispers.

“I’ll show you, how much of a fuck-bunny I am just for you.”

Nayeon began joyously bouncing up and down your hardened erection, her movements exuding a contagious energy as if each leap held a burst of excitement, rubbing off on you as you begin groaning loudly, Nayeon’s name escaping your lips as her slippery walls touch the nerves of your cock explicitly.

Your length nestled snugly within the tightness of her cunt, creating a sensation of pressure and fullness, as if every contour of its form was intimately embraced. Her cunt was speaking with every clench when she’d hop up and down on your cock, begging you to remain in her rigid embrace.

“How’s that baby, fucking you good?”

“You’re so good Nayeon~, such a tight cunt.”

“No baby, you’ve gotta call me by my name.”

“Fuck.. such a good fuck-bunny.”

As you call her by her beloved nickname you feel her cunt contract on your cock as she leans down so her breasts rest on your chest, knees now touching the bed and her nipples rubbing on your skin as your hands harshly grab onto her asscheeks, spreading them as your cock sits snugly in her cunt.

Her mouth meets yours, saliva pooling between you, forgetting the morning reality where neither of you has indulged in breakfast or brushed your teeth. It’s a moment driven solely by raw, primal desire in the early hours.

She moans into the kiss as you wrap your arms around her slender back, raising your hips to thrust your cock in her. With each thrust the sound of slapping flesh is heard as she moans your name into your mouth, her tongue wrapping around yours in a wet tango as her juices leak on your groin.

You move one of your hands to her hair, grabbing a handful as she moans into your mouth while you pull at her hair, her eyes rolling back into her head as she bites her lip, a red tint remaining after her teeth let go of her lip.

“So good, daddy. Fuck me like fuck-rabbit, please~”

The sight is so erotic that you can barely stand it. Her flushed cheeks, her mouth open releasing soft moans, the curve of her spine accentuated as she arches her back and thrusts her breasts out, her pink nipples bouncing with her body as she gets fucked.

You bring your lips to her breasts, placing small kisses on them softly as she runs her hands through your hair, grabbing onto you tightly as she tilts her head back, a soft, low moan escapes from her lips.

Nayeon had always been so expressive, her face constantly conveying her feelings and her body following suit as she moaned, groaned, and cried out during sex.

Your hands reach down to her plum ass cheeks that are jiggling in melody with your swift thrusting, grabbing onto her just to harshly smack them as her body shudders, both ends of pleasure and pain coursing through her now red tinged ass.

“Fuck Y/N, I’m about to cum.”

You feel the twitching of her cunt, signaling the sign that her orgasm was approaching. At the same time the tip of your cock began to tingle, your orgasm approaching as well.

The touch of her stomach rises and falls with each heavy breath, creating a rhythmic, warm sensation against your own, as if a shared heartbeat pulses through the connection.

“Baby, faster. Let me cum,” she begs, her eyes wide and pleading, her lower lip trembles with urgency, its edges slightly swollen and tinged with a hint of red. Cheeks, now flushed, bear witness to the depth of her desperation, and every feature on her face conveys an earnest plea.

“I want to cum with you, Nayeon, my favorite fuck-bunny.”

“You’re only fuck-bunny,” she reminds you with a whimper, attempting to chuckle at the cute back and forth but the pleasure of her approaching orgasm preventing her from doing so.

Her body shudders as she lets out a high pitched moan, her cunt clamping down on your cock as her legs rapidly shake, moans of your name filling the air.

You continue to thrust into her, prolonging her orgasm as she lets out a series of whimpers, your hands reaching around to grab her breasts and grope them, kneading them roughly.

You groan out her name as you pull her down, your cock resting snugly within her heat as you cum. Your cock twitches as you shoot your seed into her, painting her insides white with your cum.

Nayeon’s body slumps on top of yours, feeling every ounce of sweat from her naked body mingle with yours, proof of the early morning passion that played out between you two. Your breathings are almost in sync, each exhale and inhale in near perfect balance as you place several kisses on her shoulder, an act of love following the act of passion.

Nayeon lifts her hips up, your cock slowly slipping out before being released from the tight embrace of your girlfriends cunt. She sits next to you, legs spread with her cunt pointed in your direction as she watches the cum slowly roll out of her hole.

“This was your second load and it’s still this big,” she murmurs, using a tissue to wipe her cunt clean of your fluid.

You turn to face her, watching her delicate pale fingers and the way they hold the tissue, delicately wiping at her swollen cunt, your cum dripping out of her slowly and trailing down into her ass before she quickly catches it.

“By the way Nabongs, what do you want for dinner?”

She looks at you with mischievous smile.

“I already had my breakfast. It was kinda… salty,” she responds, licking her lips with a smile as takes her fingers and pinches some of the cum that was dripping from her cunt, stretching it with her finger and thumb in front of you, causing a chuckle to escape your lips.

“And what about you babe?”

“Me? Well… I already ate too, funnily enough.”

You think back to the taste of her early morning cunt, the way you devoured her with your tongue and how the flavor stuck to your mouth.

“It was… kinda bitter. Like dark chocolate. Kinda salty in a way and smelled a bit like ripe grapefruit.”

“…Did you enjoy it?” Your girlfriend asks, an eyebrow raised with a small smile.

“Yeah, of course. Best breakfast brunch ever.”

[darylscarollolz]

LOST TIME

Carl Grimes x Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings:

Summary: Carls been avoiding his “best friend” for days. It’s time for a confrontation.

Word count: 781

Carl had been avoiding me for days, I could tell. I think everyone could tell. It seemed like one day we were perfectly fine and the next he could barely even look me in the eyes. I racked my brain for anything I could have done to maybe upset him or put him off but nothing could come to mind. And I mean nothing.

Carl and I had been close friends for as long as I can remember. Ever since the beginning of the apocalypse we were close. And as time went on we only got closer. At least; until last week. The two of us had been hanging out watching the sunset, talking. Like usual. There was nothing different about this day than any other day. We talked about everything under the moon, family, friends, love, everything. And the next day, bam, he just started avoiding me. Carl refused to even make eye contact.

That’s how I found myself in the situation I’m in now. Anxiously waiting for Rick to grab Carl for me. It had gotten to the point where I needed to talk to him. For my own sanity.

He was reluctant to come down, It was easy to tell by the time it took Rick to coax him down. when he was, however, standing infront of me his gaze was at our feet.

“Hey..” was all he could muster.

“Hey..” I swallowed hard, trying to think of the best way to bring the topic up without upsetting him (in case I had done anything wrong). “Can we talk for a moment.. just us? It’ll be quick.” Again Carl seemed reluctant but in the end nodded. Following me as I walked to a more secluded area for the two of us to talk.

“What do you wanna talk about?” Carls voice was weak, nervous almost.

“You have no idea?” It was a genuine question on my end. “None at all?”

“I might…”

“Should you start or should I?” His lack of an answer told me that I was going to be the one to have to start. “It feels like you’ve been avoiding me.. for the last few days.” I even gave him a moment to say something, but he didn’t. “And I’m sorry if I upset you somehow, if there was anything I did but-“ I was cut off, partially by surprise of him shaking his head. A soft “no” falling past his lips.

“No?” I questioned, an eye brow raised in confusion

“You didn’t upset me..” his eyes never left the ground beneath him, staring at his boots. “I just…” a sigh slipped past his lips as he forced himself to look up. Our eyes meeting for the first time all week.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you..”

“That doesn’t answer why, though. I don’t know what I did to make you want to avoid me.”

“It’s nothing you did… I just..” there was another deep sigh as he shut his eyes and gathered himself “I’ve been getting scared..”

“Of me?” I almost laughed.

“No not of you… well yes of you.. it’s complicated”

“Well could you try to explain?” I could feel my own annoyance peaking as he was trying to avoid the topic, not as a whole, more trying to avoid the center of the topic

“Look… y/n… I really like you and being your friend is the best thing that’s ever happened to me but..” he paused for a moment, as if formulating his words “recently I’ve realized that maybe that appreciation I have for you is less friendly than I thought..” he stopped again, searching for a reaction. When he didn’t get one, he continued. “I realized I was starting to feel more romantic feelings for you…” the next words came out like it was him just spitting it all out “and I know you don’t feel the same and that kind of scares me but I don’t want to force you into anything because I really do like you and-“

“Carl.” With a firm tone I cut him off. I could see the fear across his eyes as he swallowed. Looking from my eyes down to his feet. “I like you too” he looked almost as if he would double over, his breath catching in his throat

“What…”

“I like you” i repeated, laughing softly at his shocked state

“Say it again.. please”

“Jesus Carl, I like you” I took a step closer, gently taking his hand in mine “I wish you’d just told me instead of avoiding me..”

“Yeah…” he nodded, his eyes trailing from our linked hands up to my eyes “can we make up for the lost time?”

————————————————————————

Yay first fic done! I’m hoping and praying it’s alright. I haven’t written stuff in awhile and I’m always looking to improve. I wanted my first post to be fluffy so here we go :)

[inkykeiji]

I feel like Sunday would enjoy leaving marks on your body and then admiring his work, tracing the bruises left on your body. He would normally put them in places only for his eyes, but from time to to time he would leave a hickey on your neck or another visible place, only covered by a piece of clothing that equally shows his claim over you, like a choker etc, just in case you feel like removing it, there will still be prove of who you belong to underneath.

oooh honestly i think sunday really enjoys marking, too!!! i genuinely think sunday has this like...sadistic side to him, but it’s so covert you almost need to know exactly how to decode him to see into what it truly is.

i could also see sunday leaving marks in spots that are just barely hidden. he gets a thrill at the thought of someone catching a quick glimpse—nothing more than a second-long instant; a rapid flash of mangled purple braceletting your wrists, or a fast peep of snapped capillaries crushed to a deep navy blotting your collarbone—and thinking about it for hours afterward, questioning what they saw, if they saw what they truly think they saw, and if yes, why you’re so battered and bruised.

i love love love the idea of sunday admiring his work afterwards, and i think he purposefully takes his sweet, slow time with aftercare to do just that. a standard cleaning procedure that should be quick and painless takes him a laughable amount of time, a tender finger tracing the edges of the contusion after it’s been cleaned, only to have to clean it again. the process is meticulous, as most things with sunday typically are, and ridiculously precise, and by the end you’ve growing fidgety and restless, muscles beginning to ache from sitting still for so long. but he always makes you wait until he’s finished, eyes alight with stars of reverence as he tends to each wound, and he always seals them with a kiss—each and every one, no matter what.

and don’t even get me started on how this whole process is so long and so tedious and so insanely overblown that it does more harm than good to the wounds, because that’s part of sunday’s plan, too. in fact, that’s the bit he loves the most.

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 37

Eminem x Female Reader Fanfiction

Synopsis : Em starts therapy. Reader is organizing Jamal and Talia's wedding. A track gets leaked., causing Jamal to be angry at Em.

MARSHALL’S POV

Marshall was rather nervous when he sat in the chair in his therapist’s office. In the past decade, he had made a point to avoid therapy as much as he could, only committing to the bare minimum. Technically, he was seeing a therapist but, from the very beginning of their session, he had made it clear that he did not really want to go over his whole life story, over-analyzing his relationship with his mother or whatever therapists were usually interested in. So, for more than fifteen years, the sessions focused solely on his addiction management and potential triggers. Anything that was not related, he deemed irrelevant and, at some point, his therapist gave up on trying to get him to talk about his childhood or going in depth on his feelings. And so far, it had worked out pretty well for him. He was sober for more than sixteen years now and, if it were not for fear of losing the woman he loved, he would gladly stick to the usual agenda. But it was Y/N, and the thought of losing her over something as stupid as his trauma was making him sick to his stomach, so when she asked if he would consider therapy, he reluctantly accepted. As painful as a two hour session talking about the neglect he experienced in his youth seemed, he knew It wouldn’t compare to the pain of having the woman he loved leaving him. And even if if didn’t come to that, he didn’t want to hurt her, in any way, shape of form. He had fucked up big time and he knew it. 

When he called his therapist’s office to request an emergency session, he was greeted with urgency and the secretary immediately put him through with Dr Hanson, who immediately asked if there was a relapse. And why wouldn’t she ? When a patient’s been refractory for years, there can only be so many reasons why they’d be so eager to have a session. He said he hadn’t relapsed, just « relationship stuff » he needed to figure out and it was enough for the therapist to open her practice earlier on a Monday morning after Thanksgiving. Dr Hanson had been trying to get him to open up for years but he had always refused, considering his music to be his best form of therapy. When he walked in and sat in the chair, he was greeted with a smile. 

Good morning Marshall, Dr Hanson said. 

‘Morning, Doc. Thanks for the quick appointment, he replied with genuine gratefulness. 

Well it’s not every day that one of your oldest patient decides to open up out of the blue, is it ? She grinned. 

Well, it took fifteen years but you finally get what you wanted, he shrugged. 

So, Marshall, what brings you in today ? She asked. 

He took a second to respond. He knew what brought him in but filling her in with so many details about his personal life felt foreign. He had a great working relationship with Dr Hanson, but it had always been on a need to know basis. Now, though, he knew the whole thing would need dissecting. He hummed and chose his words carefully. 

I, uh… Snapped at my partner, he explained. We managed to talk it out but she said something about unresolved trauma I shouldn’t take on her, so… Here I am. Trying to make things right. I don’t want it to happen again. 

Dr Hanson stayed silent for a split second and looked at him from behind her glasses. She brought her hand to her mouth, noted something on her notepad and smiled. 

Looks like Christmas came early, this year, she said with a smirk. Can you go over the events for me ? 

______

TWO WEEKS LATER 

Y/N’s POV 

The weeks following Thanksgiving were nothing short of heavenly. You were feeling at home in the house, you adopted the cutest cat, Talia and Jamal’s wedding was coming together and Marshall was more attentive than ever. You knew he went to see his therapist a couple times a week, though you didn’t pry and ask for much details about their sessions. However, from what you gathered, it seemed to work well for him. In his conversations with you, he seemed more analytical about his own feelings, even talking to you about how he felt about certain things. The two of you had always had good talks, but he was opening up more than ever. And on top of that, he was extremely vocal about how much he appreciated you, lavishing you with praises, telling you how thankful he was whenever you did the smallest thing for him. You had no idea who his therapist was but, if you could, you’d send them gifts. Seeing your boyfriend at peace with his feelings was satisfying, and it didn’t hurt that he was consciously trying to make it up to you. In his own words, he wanted to be « the man you deserve ». Every night, when he was coming home, you were excited to see him and share your progress on the wedding. You knew he didn’t really like all that stuff, but he was supportive of your endeavors. He was even the one who came up with an idea for the venue. One night, he took you on a drive to a lovely place, near the area where you lived. He pointed to a gorgeous house. Well, actually, it was more of a manor. It had an English vibes, rustic yet elegant. 

What do you think ? He asked. 

That’s gorgeous ! You said. It fits right within the wedding theme ! It looks just like the one on the mood board Talia made the other week ! 

I know, he grinned. I was driving in the area with Paul for an appointment the other day and I saw it was for sale. I called the real estate agency and they might be able to convince the seller to lease it for the event, if Talia and Jamal like it. 

They’re going to love it, you assured him. It’s exactly what they want for the ceremony. Cosy, small, intimate… Do you think we can plan a visit ?

Realtor’s inside, he said with a smile. That’s why I brought you here. 

You’re the best ! 

I know you’ve been working your ass off for the wedding and struggled to find a venue, so I thought I’d help, he shrugged.

You placed a kiss on your cheek and exited the car. The place was stunning, big enough and ticked all the boxes. You were under the spell of the house, that resembled the one you always dreamed of living in when you were a little girl. It had a big, beautiful flower garden in the back, ivy was climbing around the big widows and there was a beautiful fireplace. Marshall could tell you liked the place a bit too much and teased you. 

Don’t get too excited, it’s for Jamal and Talia’s wedding, not for us to move in, he chuckled. 

I know, you said with a smile. I like your house just fine, you know ? I just really like the vibe of this one. Besides, I know you could never live here. 

Why is that ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

You like your own house too much, you pointed out. Plus, this one is not located in an area that’s secure enough. 

It’s your house too, you know ? He said. You keep on saying it’s my house but… You live there too.

I know, you said. I’m starting to feel more and more at home. It just takes a minute.

You know, if there are any features you like in this house, we can also make some changes to our house. I want you to be happy, he commented. 

No need, you assured him. As long as I have you, I’m good. 

It was the truth. You were incredibly thankful for the house you lived in and you knew how attached Marshall was to this place. He’d been living there for so long, you didn’t want to intrude. Plus, as long as you had him, you knew you could feel at home everywhere, eventually. Besides, who would complain about living in a literal mansion ? No one. You did not give it a second thought but, the next day, Marshall surprised you by handing you the card of an interior designer. 

What’s that ? You asked. 

I’ve been thinking, he said. I saw how excited you were about the house we visited yesterday, how you kept saying you dreamt of living in that kind of place when you were younger… I want you to feel at home, here, I really do. And my therapist says I need to… How did she say it ? Make actual space for you. So, I was thinking that, if you want, you could redecorate a little ? 

Are you sure ? 

Babe, I’ve owned this place for almost two decades and a lot of the rooms could use a little update, he chuckled. I don’t really care about the whole home decor thing, honestly. I could go another twenty years without changing much. But this is your home and I want you to enjoy the space, not only feel content with it, you know what I’m saying ? If I recall, we agreed that you’d have your own room, like home office or whatever, when I asked you to move in. Why don’t you start here ? 

Could I make it a reading room ? You asked with excitement. With big bookshelves ? And a big chair ? 

Whatever you want, he said with a genuine smile. The interior designer will make your dreams happen. 

I love you ! Thank you thank you thank you ! 

You hugged him tightly and he whispered sweet words in your ear, like how grateful he was for you and your presence in his life, and how he wanted nothing but to make you happy. You were over the moon, impressed by his generosity and commitment to you. You were on cloud nine, imagining your very own reading room in which you could simply curl up with a good book and a blanket while sipping tea, living your introvert life to the fullest. 

In the following days, you took Talia to see the house Marshall had taken you to and she absolutely loved it. Thanks to your amazing boyfriend, they finally had a venue. The two of you also went dress shopping. Your best friend found the right dress very easily. To be fair, the two of you had spent enough time imagining the perfect wedding dress so she had a good idea of what she wanted. The whole thing was almost disappointing : the two of you had imagined that she would have to try on at least fifteen different dresses to find the right one, but it took only two. It was absolutely gorgeous and Talia looked regal in it. The dress was definitely over the top but it was more than fitting with her personality. The two of you had made a lengthy appointment with the store consultant and it seemed like your best friend had not had her fill of wedding dresses fittings, yet. 

How about you try one, Y/N ? She suggested. 

No way, you said. This is your day. You try another one. 

Any other dress would look pale in comparison, she said. I found the one. I feel it in my bones. Just… Indulge me, will you ? 

I’m not getting married, you reminded her. 

All the more reason, she pleaded. If you don’t try one now, you’ll never see yourself in a wedding dress ! Please ?! It’s my big day, you said it. And as my best friend, I think you should oblige me… 

You have a weird way of being a bridezilla, you commented. But sure, whatever… 

You didn’t really see the point. To you, it was weird. A lot of brides would have found it disrespectful if their friend decided to randomly try on wedding dresses on the day of their fitting but Talia was pushing for you to do it. Eventually, you caved in and obliged her. She immediately called the sales assistant, to whom you had to describe your ideal dress. It occurred to you that it was a good thing you weren’t getting married, because you were incredibly specific. You wanted a dress that was simple, elegant and understated, but not plain. You didn’t want it to be revealing but you didn’t want to look like a nun either. You thought it would be impossible to find but the woman came with three dresses for you to try on. As soon as you tried the first one, you felt like it was a costume you put on. It felt too much and wholly unnatural, though the dress was gorgeous. The second dress was nice but not « you » at all. You were practically begging to stop but Talia was having too much fun, claiming this was the moment you were always supposed to share so you happily indulged her by trying on the last dress. And, much to your surprise, magic happened. It was the ultimate dress, the one that you would have chosen, if you had been meant to get married. You were feeling like a princess and Talia even teared up a little. 

Why are you crying ? You asked. 

You-you’re just so beautiful, she said. That’s your forever dress. Right here. 

I’m not having a forever dress, remember ? You said with a small smile. Marshall…

…Is an idiot, that’s what he is, she said as she kept on crying. I can’t bear the idea of you doing all these nice things for my wedding and knowing I will never be your maid of honor and return the favor  because Em is too stubborn to give you what you deserve ! 

I should be the one crying about it, not you, you pointed out with a chuckle. I’m fine, I swear. He is amazing and I have all that I want. 

I’m pregnant and hormonal, that’s all, she said reassuringly. But you’re so beautiful. You should buy it ! 

Tay, this dress is way too expensive and… It’s not like I’m going to wear it around the house, right ? You giggled. 

Ok, but at least let me take pictures ? Because I want to remember the day I finally got to try on wedding dresses with my best friend ! She begged. 

Sure, you giggled. 

You didn’t mind wearing the dress a little longer. It was kind of fun. A voice in the back of your mind was telling you to savor the moment, because it was, indeed, your only chance to wear a wedding dress. You were incredibly thankful to have such a thoughtful best friend to give you this experience. 

Remind me to slap Em, she said. 

Why ? You giggled. 

Because he’s not only robbing you of your dream wedding, he is also robbing me of the greatest day as maid of honor ! 

I’m having just as much fun planning your wedding, you assured her. 

Quit it, she almost groaned. It’s not a pageant speech, you don’t have to play the Disney princess. And he’s not here to hear you, we can bitch about him ! 

I’ll admit I would have loved getting married, you said. Not right now, it’s too early, but knowing it could happen… 

You see, it’s good to hate a little, she grinned. 

But, I don’t know, I guess he has his own trauma, you shrugged. Two failed marriages with the same person must have been tough. I understand not wanting a third one. God, his therapist must have fun… 

You managed to send that man to therapy ? She asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Yeah, we had a little argument, you said. No big deal. But it sparked a conversation about therapy and he agreed to give it a try. 

Well, maybe he will work on his fear of commitment then, she pointed out. 

I don’t think it’s about commitment, you said earnestly. I think he’s very committed to me. He says so himself. 

I’ll circle back to what I said : Em is the most stupid man I have ever met. God, I always knew men were stupid but this one… 

You giggled. Talia was your ultimate ride or die and you knew that if you told her more about the argument you had with him, she would have his head. But to you, it was in the past and Marshall had been so amazing, so attentive and romantic lately that you didn’t feel like bringing it up. After you were done trying on dresses, you joined the guys at the studio. It was your first time going back since you moved back to the US and you were really excited. You found the guys talking in the lobby, happy to see you. 

Look who’s here, Porter said with a smile. Hi boss ! 

Are you really calling me boss ? You asked with a giggle. 

Well, Marshall is our boss and you’re his boss, so technically…

She’s not my boss, Marshall chuckled. 

Right, Royce chuckled. You can lie to yourself but not to us, man. 

I like the sound of that, Talia grinned. 

How was the wedding dress appointment ? Jamal asked. Did you find something ? 

I did ! Your best friend said with excitement. Y/N found her dream dress too ! 

Talia, you scolded with a laugh. 

What ?! Talia asked. It’s true. And you looked perfect in it ! Didn’t she, Em ? 

Marshall simply sighed at her and rolled his eyes with a smile. 

Don’t tell me you sent a pic ?! You asked her. 

What ? She replied innocently. Merely showing that man what he’s missing… 

You did look incredible, Marshall said as he kissed your temple. 

Sorry about her, you said apologetically. She’s the one who convinced me… 

Don’t you dare apologize, Talia said. Someone has to show him how stupid he’s being. 

Talia, please don’t start, Marshall groaned. 

Oh, I will start, she warned. I don’t understand how stubborn you’re being about this ! 

Jamal, please reason your wife to be, your boyfriend groaned. 

Man, Y/N is your boss and Talia is mine, Jamal chuckled. I’m not dumb enough to argue… 

I’m just saying Y/N’s finger could use a diamond on it, Talia argued with a smile. She’s worth it, isn’t she ? 

If that’s about the diamonds, she’s got nine other fingers, Marshall said with a smirk. And I fully intend on putting a ring on each and every one of them. Now, I appreciate the pictures of my girl looking absolutely stunning in a white dress, but you should worry about your own wedding, Talia. 

Men are dumb, Talia sighed. 

What the hell did we do ? Porter asked. He’s being dumb, leave the rest of us alone ! 

Don’t start either, your boyfriend warned him. 

You giggled and let your head roll on your boyfriend’s shoulder, enjoying his presence. You loved being home with him, but the studio had a vibe you particularly enjoyed, probably because it was where you met Marshall. You had fun for the rest of the afternoon, hanging out with everyone. Talia seemed a bit moody about Marshall not caving in on the topic of marriage and you were not so sure why. You assumed she was just moody in general, which you could probably blame on pregnancy. She had a knack for being dramatic and hormones probably didn’t help too much in that department. If memory served, you’d been an emotional mess in your first trimester so you weren’t going to judge… In the car ride home, Marshall brought it up. 

So… Talia was a handful, he chuckled. 

I’m sorry about her, you said. I think she’s stressed out about the wedding and a bit disappointed that she won’t be able to reciprocate the whole maid of honor thing. And, you know, hormones… 

Right, he said. But… Are you alright ? 

I am, you said with a genuine smile. I had fun today. Probably enjoyed trying on this dress more than I should have, I’ll admit. 

Look… Maybe we need to talk about the whole marriage thing, he said nervously. I… The reason why I can’t get married is because-

Marshall, you don’t owe me any type of explanation, you said reassuringly. You’ve been married to Kim twice, you have your own trauma and I know it has nothing to do with me. 

You do ? He asked. 

Look… I see all the efforts you’ve made for me, you said. We got the cat I wanted. You’re letting me redecorate a room in your house. You started therapy. You’re even helping me with Talia and Jamal’s wedding. I know you love me. 

I do, he said with a smile. I’m in love with you. 

And don’t think I didn’t hear what you said about me having nine other fingers you could put a ring on, you grinned. I do enjoy a good piece of jewelry. 

Noted, he chuckled. Thank you for understanding, baby. 

He seemed relieved about the fact that you didn’t press him to talk about the topic. As far as you were concerned, you were trying not to think about it too much. And everything you said was true : you were truly grateful for his efforts during the past weeks and wanted to respect his choices as much as possible. The two of you enjoyed your evening, cuddling with your cat, who seemed to despise Marshall. The next morning, you were awaken by the doorbell. Someone was putting all their energy into ringing, way too early in the morning. 

Mind getting the door while I’m getting dressed ? Marshall asked with a groan. I swear, if it’s the damn neighbor about her stupid bake sale again… 

I’ll get it, you said with a yawn. She’s been annoying me too, you know ? And it’s not even 7AM… Who does that ?! 

That woman is crazy, he sighed. Met her twenty years ago and she was already a nightmare. She was convinced I’d bring drugs and crime into her precious neighborhood. Even warned me that she’d call the cops if she saw prostitutes around… 

You giggled and went to open the door, ready to tell Mrs Davis to leave you alone. But much to your surprise, you were greeted my Jamal’s face. He was not smiling as usual, immediately telling you that something was wrong. 

What’s up, Jamal ? You asked. What are you doing here so early ? Its there anything wrong ? Is it about Talia ? The baby…?

Em here ? He asked dryly. 

Yeah he’s getting dressed…, you replied. Oh, there he is.

What’s up, man ? Marshall asked as he came to greet Jamal. 

YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD FUCKING EXPLANATION, your friend immediately yelled at him. 

For what, man ?! Marshall asked confused. What the fuck are you going on about ? 

For the fucking track that got leaked last night ! Jamal yelled. Are you fucking serious ?! 

Wait…, Marshall began. 

Before Marshall could finish his sentence, Jamal hit him in the face. Your friend had an impressive stature and was usually a big teddy bear but, when he was furious, he was rather scary. Next thing you knew, the both of them were fighting, though, to be fair, Marshall was not putting up much of a fight. Jamal was much taller, much bigger than him. You had no choice but to get in there and try and separate them. 

Jamal, let go of him ! You pleaded. 

I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKER, Jamal screamed. 

What the fuck, man ?! Marshall asked as he was panting. 

Y/N, take your bags, Jamal directed. 

What the hell ?! You asked. It’s not even 7AM, Jamal ! You don’t get to barge in her-

I’m not leaving you with that psycho, Jamal spat. 

What the fuck ?! Marshall yelled. Babe, I have no idea what he’s talking about. 

YOU FUCKING NAME DROPPED HER IN A TRACK, YOU PIECE OF SHIT, Jamal yelled. YOU FUCKING RAPPED ABOUT TORTURING HER ! 

You looked at Marshall with a confused face. His face was bruised and scraped, definitely not a pretty sight. What was most shocking, though, was the look of terror on his face. 

Oh fuck, Marshall said under his breath. 

[raainberry]

Moonflower

« In literature, the moonflower has been used as a symbol of love, mystery, and enchantment. »

Sana x gn!reader

Not fluff, not angst, but a secret third thing

synopsis - your job is flowers. she’s not sure how she got into this mess. but maybe you could get her out of it.

- part.II - part.III -

wordcount - 1.6K

TW - like one (1) soft cuss word

A/N - Made a draft, let it marinate for a few days, came back, changed directions completely and VOILÀ. I might get a little silly and make a pt.2 bc there’s leftover drafts🤭

Getting married at twenty-two was not in her plans.

Getting her needs and wishes overlooked in the process was not something she imagined either.

Yet there she was…

“We’re here!”

The volume of that voice startled her. She’d grown to hate the sound of it too.

“You’re gonna love it! The flowers are so beautiful and smell amazing. It’s like they pick them every morning.”

Sana watched as her soon to be mother-in-law left the driver’s seat. The much older woman slammed the door behind herself, leaving her in a silence she craved for ever since that same morning.

However, it wasn’t long until she heard that voice piercing through the windshield.

“Come on, what are you waiting for!”

Sana sighed, quickly gathering herself and putting on that fake smile she’d carefully crafted over the last few months.

She couldn’t remember the last time her smile had been genuine. One that conveyed how happy she felt, like whenever she’d meet up with loved-ones, get one of her sugary drinks no one liked but her, or simply listened to music.

Mundanities like these used to be enough. Now it was all a luxury she couldn’t seem to afford.

It felt like forever since she’d last enjoyed something as simple. Since she last enjoyed something.

Everything was a chore nowadays. Just chores she could only do with her fiancé and/or future in-laws.

Each time, each day she had to see them somehow meant adding a new detail to worry about in a wedding that felt less and less hers as time went on. A new box to tick in a checklist she had no desire to even start in the first place, much less partake in.

She barely knew how it had gotten to this point.

She felt as though she was drowning, yet had no idea how she’d even landed in the water.

The last few months were a blur. Everything went so fast.

One second she was graduating college. The next she was engaged to her year long partner.

Literally.

The man had proposed at her graduation party.

She blamed it all on the moment’s euphoria. That’s what made her say yes. It had to be. It was the only reasonable explanation as to why and how she would agree to such a mess.

Now the bliss was long gone.

“White roses are really pretty, aren’t they?”

Your voice startled her out of her thoughts, causing her lips to turn into that fake smile again.

It was impressive how quick she could switch up. That skill she picked up managed to fool more than a few people in the midst of this hell hole.

“I got proposed to with them.” She blurted out, her eyes stuck on the flowers proudly exposed in front of her.

It was almost robotic. Like a pre-loaded answer.

That didn’t go past your ears. You could tell her voice lacked a certain emotion that you were used to hearing in this workfield.

“Oh. Then would you consider them as an option?”

The woman finally looked at you, taking notice of your uniform and name tag. She looked confused, and a faint redness appeared on her cheeks, giving away something she’d rather keep to herself.

Now she regretted the words that slipped out of her daydream.

After taking a glance at you, she would have preferred to keep you clueless about her engagement…

“For your wedding.” You precised, breaking the silence that had settled.

“Right.” She sighed. “I don’t know.”

“I see. Maybe something similar?”

You went on to show her and tell her all about a bunch of flowers that looked like this damn white rose. It didn’t go so far as making her smile again, but she enjoyed hearing about the various pretty plants surrounding her.

It took her mind off what she really was there for.

Until she was reminded again.

“Sana! Have you seen these? So pretty!”

The brunette glanced over to the other side of the shop, seeing the older woman holding what seemed to be a bouquet of bright, orange flowers.

She couldn’t contain the disdain she felt at the sight.

You caught her features tense up for a split second, completely understanding her reaction. It was hard to hold your laughter back, but you pushed through in order to keep the palpable tension between the two from exploding.

Sure, the flowers were pretty, but they were far from a good choice considering the kind of event you were being sollicited for.

“They are, but something a little more delicate would be more suited.” You said, attempting to save the poor bride-to-be by your side. “I’m actually showing Ms. Sana a few options here if you’d like to join us.”

You’ve dealt with a few mothers and in-laws before, you knew how to handle the more hands-on ones.

You always made sure to put the brides and grooms’ tastes first, earning you more than one scolding. You couldn’t care less, though, all you wanted was for your customers to have a pretty bouquet to their liking and a smile when exiting your shop.

“I’ll just look around on the side.” The older woman turned her back to the two of you, to the brunette’s delight.

“What’s your favorite flower?”

You looked back at her, catching a determined gaze with your own. It was certainly different than the detached, almost absent one from a minute prior.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m open to any suggestions. Who knows, maybe I’ll get to like at least one thing about all this.” She scoffed, bringing a peony to her nose.

Now, you’d sensed the fact that this wedding planning was being done under some tension. The patterns never lied, but you still found yourself surprised at her words.

It seemed to be worse than you thought.

“Do you not have one?”

Her voice snapped you back to reality. You must have been silent for a while.

“Sorry. I was just thinking.” You mumbled. “But to answer your question, I do have one. I like moonflowers.”

“Moonflowers…” She repeated under her breath. “It sounds pretty.”

“They look pretty too.” You smiled. “Would you like to see them?”

“Do you have some?” She asked, curious.

“Of course. It’s the main reason I work here.” You smiled, leading her to your favorite flowers.

Her face lit up at the sight of them. Her features suddenly looked much softer, her eyes a little brighter, and her smile… It was small, barely noticeable if you didn’t focus on her lips.

Yes, you were staring at her lips, but could you really be blamed? She was beautiful. Everyone stares at beautiful things. You were no different, and she wasn’t either.

She was staring too, only at the flowers.

You cleared your throat, suddenly remembering what you were being paid for, and resumed your job.

“We only have a few of them, but they’re beautiful.” You said, filling the silence between the two of you.

“Why do you prefer these?” She asked, tracing a few petals delicately.

“It’s a long story.”

“I have a lot of time.” She glanced at you, her eyes letting you know you’d better start telling her that story.

You weren’t sure where that attitude was coming from.

She seemed so hopeless when she stepped in behind that in-law of hers. You expected to deal with another worn out bride, bracing yourself for about an hour of work to turn that frown upside down.

Nothing had warned you about this rebellious trait she seemed to have.

You were curious now. Surely, if she wanted to put an end to this, it looked like she could…

So why was she here?

“Why are you getting married?”

Maybe a little too forward, you thought, wincing at your own words.

The motion of her fingers against the flowers came to a halt.

“What?”

Her eyes were back on you, and you felt your heart pick up the pace. You racked through your brain, searching for an excuse to cover your unprofessional slip-up, all while trying to decipher the way she looked at you.

“I ask this question to all my customers in order to get them the best flowers.” You lied, pulling your best customer service smile. “I’m not trying to sabotage your wedding, don’t worry.”

“Do you actually?” She asked, completely switching her focus onto you.

“Yes.” You lied again. “I’m not asking for details. Just a few adjectives will do.”

Sure you felt a little bad about it, but in all honesty, you were more impressed by the fact that you managed to keep it together and not stutter once.

That woman had one intense gaze.

“Well…” She trailed off.

She was hesitant, looking for words you could already tell would be lies.

It made you frown internally while you feigned patience in front of her.

Maybe the attitude was a façade.

“Because I was asked to.”

Or maybe not.

You weren’t sure of anything regarding this woman and her situation anymore. That was one good lesson of never judging a book by its cover, or something along those lines.

“I see.” You nodded, looking down at the ground.

It was a lie again, but in your defense, you didn’t know what else to say this time around.

“Have you ever actually sabotaged a wedding?”

Your eyes darted back to her. Your obvious surprise amused her, and she let you know with a laugh as soft as her smile.

You felt something in your chest. A sudden drop in temperature as her laugh sent chills down your spine, only for it to rise again along with your heart rate.

It was odd. Something about her was odd. It seemed as though she was hiding something, and your body debated on whether or not it wanted to be around to find out what.

And all you could do was watch, feel, and respond when needed.

“No.”

You opted for the truth this time. You didn’t expect much to come out of it, but it seemed to please her.

Her smile appeared again. It was a little wider than before. More confident.

You ignored its effects, but you couldn’t ignore the beauty of the sight before you.

It was all you could focus on, forgetting about your surroundings and their own beauty once again.

It was blinding.

Enough for you to agree to anything that might come out those perfect lips.

She knew all about that.

She’s been told all her life.

And she loved to take advantage of it.

“Do you want to?”

[milkywaydrabbles]

Hello!

You could do a body worship for Alucard Castlevania, we know that he has that scar on his chest, plus the ones that could have been left from so many battles and maybe that makes him think that his wife feels repulsed by him, but quite the opposite! Please and thank you for giving us your writing!

A/N: It was a little difficult seeing where this was gonna go in the beginning-I decided to make this more loving than a kinktober type deal, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!! MWUAH

Body Worship x Alucard

You can feel Alucard distancing himself. It’s subtle. Unnoticeable really, to anyone who didn’t know him. But you did. And you can feel how he’s been detaching himself from society; from you. When you first noticed it, you thought the worst immediately: he didn’t love you anymore. He didn’t want to be with you, there was something wrong, he was trying to figure out a way to ask for a separation. But you calmed yourself enough to really look closer at how he was acting--and while the little voice in the back of your mind still taunted you and tried to trick you into thinking you’re the problem, you knew that wasn’t the case. But now that brings a different set of problems: Why wasn’t he saying anything about what was troubling him? You didn’t want to push it, especially since it was barely noticeable that there were any issues at all. You tried to coax it out of him, dropping things like ‘you know I’m always here if you need support right?’ or  ‘I love you Adrian, I’m here for whatever you need’. He just smiled and nodded as normal, though it didn’t reach his eyes the way it normally does.  You think you’d bring it up soon.

Alucard came home as normal in the evening time after helping the village’s men dispose of the remainder of the night creature bodies--it was a random attack, of some desperate stragglers trying to feed--hunched over and tired. You were by his side at the door, kissing his cheek and whispering ‘welcome home’ as normal, taking hold of his hand with a squeeze. There was that sad smile again. “Adrian, honey--what’s going on?” You asked, scared to raise your voice higher than a whisper. “You haven’t been acting like yourself recently.” You could see the gears turning in his mind, either steadying himself to tell you the truth, or make up some excuse--you weren’t sure which one. “I’m...simply tired, my love. I’m sorry for worrying you.” You sighed, knowing he decided for the latter. “Let me help you relax then, I’ll bathe you--”

“It’s alright.” Alucard mentally cursed himself at how quickly he rejected your offer, seeing you wince. He tried again. “It’s...it’s okay, darling. I’ll be quick. I’ll meet you in bed, yes?” He went to the room after that. 

That nasty parasite of self doubt and loathing ate itself deep into your body, nesting in your heart as you tried to keep your composure while Alucard finished his bath. You tried to keep it at bay, especially after the last few weeks, but it was becoming so overbearing you weren’t sure if you could actually convince yourself anymore that he wasn’t avoiding you anymore. You laid in your shared room, almost having half a mind of sleeping in one of the guest rooms to give him space, but you don’t think your heart could take it if he decided not to come and find you. You busied yourself with a book, hoping it gets you tired quickly so you can at least rest for the evening. You heard the door click open, and trained your eyes on the pages in front of you, blinking away anxious tears that settled in your eyes.  Silently the dhampir climbed into bed and kissed your temple, your body tensing up when he got close. You were hoping the dull lighting would help you, but you knew better than to think his senses weren’t heightened enough to notice something off. 

“Darling, you’re crying.” Fuck. “What’s wrong?” You heard the genuine concern in his tone, and you weren’t sure how to continue from there. “Just been a day, I’ll be alright.” You tried to be as strong as he’s been, brushing it off, but he was persistent. “No, we need to talk about it. What’s going on sweetheart?” You couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

He paused, in surprise. 

“Something’s been off for weeks Adrian, don’t think I can’t tell. I’ve tried to give you time to talk to me about it, I’ve tried asking, but you keep shoving me off.” Your voice was breaking, tears now flowing freely. “You’re not talking to me, it’s making me nervous. We haven’t even been...intimate with each other, for weeks now. Do you not--”

You stopped yourself, having to rephrase your question, it would have killed you otherwise to know if he didn’t love you anymore.

“Do you want a divorce?”

At that, his hands flew to your face, holding you like you were a delicate flower--brows furrowed and eyes scared. “Of course I don’t--I love you more than anything in the world.” Desperation filled his words. “You are my most precious treasure, I couldn’t live without you--”

“--Then what’s going on?” 

He sighed, wiping your tears away before retracting his hands, staring down at the calluses that have formed over the years. “I’m...scared. I look at myself in the mirror and find nothing but a monster staring back. These scars, are--..they’re hideous, you don’t deserve a monster like me. You deserve so much more than this--and I fear one day you’ll recognize that.” It was your turn to wipe away his tears, he didn’t realize he’d begun crying. You had climbed into his lap before he knew it, stern look on your face. “Don’t you dare ever speak about my husband like that again, do you understand?” He blinked, cocking his head to the side. You continued,

“It’s okay to feel vulnerable, everyone has off days of self consciousness--but don’t you ever call yourself a monster. I love you Adrian Tepes. I love you more than I need oxygen to breathe. You are no monster, and you are not hideous in any way. Are you listening to me? You’re everything to me.” 

Your hands trailed down his chest, tugging at his shirt, silently pleading him to just take the damn thing off. He concedes, barely, and assists you in peeling the clothing off, unable to look you in the eyes. You frown. “You know what I see?” You whisper, hands tracing the major scar on his chest, and branching off to the smaller ones. “I see strength, and courage, and someone who puts his own fears aside for the ones he loves. I see a man who puts his life on the line to protect others--even strangers.” You lean down and start placing kisses on his shoulders, and start your way down his chest. “I see someone who loves, someone who is kind, someone who is worthy of love and kindness too.” You hear his breathing hitch, a tremble in his breathing as he tries to steady himself. You press on, shimmying lower off his lap and pulling at the sheets. “I see a man who gives his all to everyone around him, and never asks for any of it back. I see a man who never takes, even if he deserves to.” You plant more kisses around his adonis belt, and his hips, grazing your teeth on his skin.

He’s crying now, you know, and he still tries to hide. Alucard shuts his eyes so tight it feels like his lids will rip. He’s been torturing himself for the last few weeks, feeling the ugliest he thinks he ever has. And not because he thinks his physical attraction has lessened, but because of the monster he sees every night in the mirror. His skin is littered with the remains of battles and war, etched forever on his body the horrors he’s endured. And he sits in his loathing, and then looks at you--this angelic being that has made home in his heart, and he wonders how you love him like you do. He wonders what you see in him, how it could possibly be different than what he sees in himself. And now, after all this torture to himself, he listens to you wax poetry about him, how you are so terribly in love with him, and it overwhelms him so much he can’t help but cry. But still, he doesn’t feel worthy of it all, and so he tries to shrink away, but you won’t let him. 

“Look at me, Adrian.” 

You’ve trailed back up, except now your robe is off and you’re sitting in only your underwear. Your body also has scarring, from battles that you’ve endured in your life also. From men before him who have put you in harm’s way. From night creatures who have attacked your previous village. You have markings that your body has naturally given you, because you’ve grown. Scars and marks are littered on your skin, and you bare yourself to Alucard regardless of it all. Tears continue to flow, though you’re whipping them away. His hands trace your body, squeezing the sides and fingertips touching the raised bumps. You let him explore, bringing his hands to the even larger wounds that he hadn’t traced yet, as if he refuses to acknowledge that you’ve been through such pain. He wishes he could take them away. 

Alucard’s hands find purchase on your back and press you to his chest, feeling contact with your skin grounding him. “I’m sorry...” He chokes out, ashamed of how he’s been treating you over his own insecurities. You shake your head anyways, hands raking through his curls. “Don’t apologize, my sweet boy. Just let me love you.” He whimpers, and nods against your chest, moving in tandem with you. Your hips move up to allow him to push his pants down far enough to release his hardening cock, and you rub yourself against him still clothed. You hear him sigh, tightening his arms around you as you do so. “I love you so much.” He murmurs against your skin, hand dipping between your bodies to pull your underwear to the side and prod at your entrance, slowly dipping into your wet heat with a groan. Your fingers tighten in his hair--it’s been some time since you’ve felt him like this, the stretch stinging just a bit as you get used to him again. “Adrian--” You moan, grinding down on his lap. “I love you, you’re perfect for me, you’re everything I need--” You continue your praise as you find a rhythm, bouncing yourself on his lap. He’s overwhelmed, your very presence pushing him into euphoria. The doubts and hatred he had for himself dissipated with each clench of your pussy, with each praise you’re whining into his ear. “Darling, I won’t last tonight--I’m s-sorry.” He grinds out between clenched teeth, nails digging into your hips. You continue fucking yourself on his cock, tits pressed against his chest. “I want to feel you Adrian, please--please, fill me up.” You beg, kissing his face, wherever your lips can get to. You press kisses on his forehead, his temple, his cheeks and nose and chin and finally his lips. You feel him buck into you, meeting your bounces with thrusts of his own. You whisper sweet nothings in his ear: ‘You’re an angel, Adrian’ , ‘you’re my world’ , ‘You’re so beautiful’. 

He doesn’t last much longer after that, crying into your shoulder as he tenses and cums inside your pussy. You don’t dare let him go, combing through the tresses around him with your fingers. I love you, I love you, I love you. He chants those words in his mind until he calms himself enough to say them out loud, to declare his love to you in that moment and every moment after that. 

[greg-montgomery]

daydreams

gif by: @hotch-girl <3

aaron hotchner x reader

summary: you and your boss share a bed and talk about what you daydream about every night 🥰

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“No one’s sleeping on the floor,” you said, using an authoritative voice like Aaron always used.

“Are you sure?” he asked, placing his go-to bag on top of the bed - the one bed in the middle of your shared room.

When the receptionist of that little hotel you were staying at, had informed you about the lack of available rooms, you had genuinely gotten annoyed; the thought of performing your night routine alone in your room having been the one thing you’d been looking forward to all day. But when the key to the last room available was left for only you and your boss, suddenly your six steps skincare routine didn’t matter anymore.

“I’m sure,” you answered. “Hotch, you are the last man in the world who would ever make me uncomfortable.” You meant it.

Aaron didn’t fight you any further, and less than an hour later, you were both under the covers.

“I can’t sleep,” you sighed, staring up at be ceiling.

“We just lied down.”

”I know, but I can tell when I’m not gonna fall asleep fast. I can always tell when I’m so sleepy I’m just gonna pass out and won’t have time to even daydream. And now I’m not feeling that way,” you explained.

You turned your head to the side so you could look at him. His face was barely visible in the darkness of the room and yet managed to make your tummy feel funny.

He smiled. “Do you daydream a lot?”

“Yes,” you simply said.

“What do you daydream about?”

You.

“Hmm…” you said, acting like this was a tough question which needed a lot of thinking. “A perfect day in my life. From beginning to end. In detail. What I’d have for breakfast, what I would be wearing, who I would be with. Not anything really unrealistic. But something perfect anyway.”

Aaron was staring at you but he didn’t comment anything on your words. It was like he knew you had more to say. That’s why you shifted your body so you could lie on your side and have all your attention on him, like he had his on you.

“Or romantic stuff…” you added, shyly.

“Hmm…romantic stuff with…?” he was quick to ask.

“Me!”

He chuckled at your obvious answer. “Well, yeah.”

“I can’t tell you who I daydream about,” you said, softly.

“That’s okay,” he answered with that same soft tone. “You don’t have to.”

There was a pause before Aaron spoke again.

“So do I know them?”

“Hotch!” You giggled, throwing him one of the pillows you grabbed from the bed.

He laughed and you swore it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.

“Yes, they’re from work, but I’m not saying anything further, because you’re a profiler and you’ll figure it all out.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” he gave up.

But you wouldn’t let this subject go before asking your own questions too.

“Do you daydream?”

“I guess I do sometimes,” he said.

“What about?”

He thought about it for a second. “When I daydream about the future it’s almost always about my son. Plans I make for us…I think of him growing up, achieving his goals…”

Your heart hurt from how much you loved him. You didn’t think it could get worse, but his sweet words made you wanna jump on top of him and cover his face in kisses.

“Hotch, that’s the sweetest thing in the world.”

“But when I don’t think about Jack, I usually recall moments from my day that made me happy,” he said, taking you by surprise.

“Do they ever involve us?”

“Y/N, you and the team are my day. They’re almost always about you,” he answered sincerely.

A huge grin took over your face and the butterflies in your stomach were throwing a party.

“What is it?” he asked, when you’d been silent for a bit too long.

“Life is short you know?”

“What?” he laughed, confused. But that was exactly what you were thinking. Life was short. If not now, then when?

“Y/N?”

“They’re almost always about you,” you smiled, using his own words.

“The romantic ones?” he asked, his left hand reaching out to brush a few hair away from your face.

“The perfect day ones too.”

[robo-writing]

NSFW Alphabet - Barnabas Tharmr Edition

Pairing: Barnabas Tharmr/Reader Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors DNI Author's note: Took me a while to get his manner of speech right, but I think I nailed it in the end. Warning for some more dark romance themes in this one, otherwise enjoy!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s clingy, preferring to lay in bed alongside you, indulging himself in your presence. Afterwards he’ll have one of the maids run a bath for the two of you, but until then you’re not leaving the bed for anything. Whatever you need it can wait, right now Barnabas needs you by his side and nothing else.

Stubborn as anything, he pins you to the bed. “And where exactly do you think you’re going?” He asks, as if you leaving his embrace is a betrayal. You don’t get a chance to explain yourself, silenced by his lips against yours. Sweet as they are, you pull away with a laugh, pressing your fingers to his chest. “I only wish for some water, is that too much to ask?” He buries his head in your neck, nibbling at the vast expanse. “Yes, it is.” 

“It’s only a short walk away!” You laugh.

He lays his head between your chest, peeking up at you with pale blue eyes. “Far longer than I could stand to be separated from you.” An arm snakes its way to your back, pulling you ever closer. “I will summon one of the handmaidens, but until then you will stay here, with me.”

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

If you ask him to choose he will look at you like you’ve grown feathers and a tail. What do you mean favorite? He loves everything about you, he’s not so simple to prioritize one thing above another.

He’d probably say his hands, because he gets a lot done with them. The same hands he uses to cut down foes is the same ones he uses to make you cum.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s coming inside of you, no questions asked. Don’t try to argue with him either, he’ll just fuck you until you’re too stupid to say no. Afterwards he’ll watch it drip out of you fascinated, might even finger it back inside.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Enjoys the idea of having you sat on his cock during especially boring meetings, your moans forcing the other council members to stop and take pause at your blissful expressions, spread open in a way only he could provide.

Of course he’s far too possessive to let such a thing happen, but a man can dream.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Has experience with bedding women for the sake of pleasure, but you’re the first woman that has caught his eye in a more profound way, made a dent in his bedsheets. It’s the first time he’s felt genuine love, and it took him a while to understand those emotions.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary or lotus position, close third would be cowgirl. Really anything that lets him hold you close.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very serious, do not try anything funny. Any attempts will be met with an ache that persists for days.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Does the bare minimum in terms of shaving, but if you ever mention it he’s making it a regular habit. He’d do anything for you as long as you asked him. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Initially he struggled with his emotions, didn’t quite understand why his heart picked up its pace when he looked at you or why your smile could lift him from the foulest of moods. He didn’t have a name for it, but he knew that he needed you more than he needed to breathe. When he finally understood that this yearning for you was love, he was quick to express that.

The power you have over him is something so grand, so tangible he would kiss the very ground you walk on if it pleased you so. Sex with him isn’t an act, it’s devotion; sweet and simple.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

High sex drive, doesn’t jerk off. He wants every single drop of his seed in you and you only. He had left for an excursion beyond Waloed, forced to suffer the words of politicians for hours on end. He shouldn’t have to be here, but they had insisted, wanting an answer from the king himself even if it would be the same as it always had. He had grown antsy in your absence, images of your form haunting him as he pretends to be interested in what they have to say. Days pass and he can feel a nagging in the back of his mind, wanting nothing more than to hold you in his embrace, to taste the sweat against your skin, feel you call out his name in bliss. He lies awake at night missing you, erection pressed against his sleepwear uncomfortably, but makes no move to relieve himself. 

No, he wouldn’t dare, not without you. A week passes, and he is finally returned to his love, your familiar scent putting him at ease the moment he steps into your shared bedchambers. He can never tire of this, of how you so easily bring him at peace.

You jump into his arms without hesitation, kissing him tenderly. “Welcome back, my lord.” There’s a coy smile on your face, a hand gingerly playing with his hair. “I’ve missed you.” He admires you, a familiarity in your gaze. He is glad to know he was not the only one left wanting. He picks you up unceremoniously, walking to the bed. “As have I, my love. Allow me to show you just how much.”

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lingerie - Seeing you dressed in the finest of lace is a gift in and of itself, and being able to rip off the wrapping makes that gift even more enjoyable.

Body Worship - You are his queen, expected to be treated as such. 

Mirrors - An extension of body worship, he will watch eagerly as you shake on his lap, a single hand placed at your neck. “Do not turn your eyes away, my beloved. I should have you witness yourself, as I do.”

Choking - Either giving or receiving, depends on what he’s in the mood for that night. Sado-Masochism - Let’s be real here, this is Barnabas we’re talking about. The man lives for battle, both in and out of the bedroom. Treat him rough, he can handle it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom, occasionally the throne room if he’s feeling bold. Also has a tendency to drag you away to the nearest empty room if you’re looking extra desirable that day. It’s not like anyone will complain after all, he is the king.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

A single look from you is enough to get his blood boiling. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything involving bodily fluids, or anything that would permanently scar you. He may be a masochist but he’s not unsanitary, nor is he evil.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As mentioned before, his only experience with sex prior was whatever woman would occupy his bed when he felt like it. He used to think he had a preference for receiving because that’s all he knew until that point, focused on his own pleasure above all, but you quickly changed his view.

His mouth moves against your pussy enthralled, his eyes dark with lust. You mewl for him, a beautiful sound that stokes a fire inside, brings him closer and closer to completion without a single touch.

You squirm under him, unable to handle his ministrations even if he knows you crave them so. His two hands lock you in place, no room to push away as he devours every last drop of your lust.

It runs over his chin, spills against your plush thighs, and he makes no move to remove himself. He indulges, gorges himself on your taste until he’s satisfied, and returns for seconds greedily.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

On a good day he’ll drag on for hours, teasing you until you cry, on a bad day he’ll fuck you until his fingers bruise your skin and your legs give out. Depends on how annoying his royal advisors are.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes, but not too often. He’s aware of his reputation, but he will throw it out the window in a heartbeat if he sees the brand new lingerie set he’s bought you peeking out beneath your dress.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes, without a doubt. 

The cold bite of steel sends a shudder down your spine. Ever so slowly, the flat of the blade moves against your naked chest, to your stomach, and finds its target at the fine line of your panties.

Barnabas watches you mesmerized, how your body reacts to the danger, goosebumps forming as he moves his blade across your skin. You don’t move away from him, even when the blade moves back to line your throat.

“So well behaved,” he whispers, pressing the blade further against your skin. “You would trust me with your very life?”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I would.”

You bite your lip when you feel his knee pressed into your pussy, knife still at your throat. 

“And what if my hand were to slip?”

It never would of course. Barnabas is far too experienced to let such a thing happen.

A quick flick of his wrist and your underwear is left in pieces, the blade now lying flat against your mound. His eyes roam across your body, a hint of something sadistic rising when he sees your reaction.

You tremble, forcing yourself to stay still lest the knife truly hurts you. Even as you try your best, he can feel you just barely moving against his knee, still seeking pleasure.

A whimper, shaky hands moving to rest at his chest. “Please, keep going.”

A wicked grin passes across his face. “As you wish.”

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You can try to beg him to stop, the key word here is “try.” Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t listen.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Assuming this is a modern AU, he’ll entertain a buttplug or a vibrator. If ropes count as toys,  then those too. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Damn near fucking evil. His dick could be throbbing in his pants, ready to make a mess of himself but he will hold back just to draw out your pleasure one more time, just one more time dear— It’s never just one more time.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunter, not very loud. Would rather listen to your cries instead.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Loves to teach you how to defend yourself. He was over the moon when you asked him to hold a sword for the first time, and now you’ve gotten to the point where you can parry a blow. Not only is it an excuse to spend time with you, but he can have the peace of mind to know that if you’re forced to fight, you could handle yourself. 

You would never have to, of course, because he’d never leave your side long enough for anyone to harm you. Any fool bold enough to try would be unrecognizable after the fact, but he’d be a liar if he said the image of a sword in your hand wasn’t arousing.

The both of you stand in the courtyard, not a soul around save for the birds that fly overhead. You hold your sword in a strong grip, despite your exhaustion, while Barnabas has barely broken a sweat. Inexperienced as you are there is a spark in you, one that may yet grow into a wildfire with the right training.

“You have been practicing without me, I can see it in your stance.” He muses, eyeing your weakened body.

To anyone else it may seem a mockery, but you knew better. You raise your sword in front of your body, lips curling into a grin.

“Do you think I’ll be able to defeat you now?”

He shakes his head in amusement. “A Dominant you are not, but I will make a fine swordswoman out of you yet.” (As an added bonus, I also think he would love bringing you the most lavish gifts! Perfumes, jewelry, the softest fabrics straight from the Dhalmekian Republic, he enjoys spoiling you. Anything for his queen.)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6.1 inches, uncut, slightly curved upwards, veiny. Always hits your gspot without fail.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Less of a sex drive and more like he’s ready to please you if you so wish. You would only have to ask, and sometimes you don’t have to, he can tell. The two of you are sitting in the throne room, side by side as he gives an audience with a member of royalty.

You’ve been eyeing him all day, sneaking a glance every time he speaks. You shouldn’t bother him, he has enough on his plate as sole ruler of Waloed, so instead you let your imagination run amok. Broad shoulders and strong arms, large hands that always know what you need and how you need it. Maybe he’d tease you, or maybe he’d fuck you until his name is the only thing you can scream.

Gods, just thinking about him makes your core ignite. Your focus is broken when the man rises from the floor, leaving the room. Had you been daydreaming that long? Your confusion is further increased when Barnabas motions for his personal guard to leave the room. “I would have a moment to myself,” He waves towards the large oak doors. “See that I’m not interrupted.” Wordlessly they file out, and only when he’s certain no one remains does he turn toward you. “How long have you been left wanting?” Your eyes widen. You try to deny it, but a hand at your chin stops you. “I could feel it, your gaze,” His hand moves lower, tracing against your collarbone, then grabbing your neck as he speaks lowly. “I can see right through you, desperate little thing you are.” He pulls you toward him, leaving your seat and moving into his lap without hesitation. “Tell me what has preoccupied your mind so, what you need.” You shiver, a hand slowly moving up your bare thigh, higher and higher. “You, Barnabas.” Pleased with your answer, those same large hands remove your underwear within seconds. “Then you may have me.”

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Doesn’t sleep, enjoys watching you sleep peacefully. He'll stroke your hair and whisper as sleep claims you. "My beautiful queen, forever and always."

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you want to use me, i could be your puppet

for @subeddieweek day four with the prompt edging

rated e | 2,505 words | please check ao3 for tags

Day one:  ao3 | tumblr Day two: ao3 | tumblr Day three: ao3 | tumblr

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Eddie didn’t think this through.

Running from Steve’s bedroom, naked, meant he would have to find a hiding place.

He did not want to have to deal with this right now.

He didn’t need Steve seeing the way Eddie’s feelings would no doubt show on his face, how he’d be quick to brush off Steve’s apology.

How quickly he’d agree to continuing what they’re doing so he had something rather than nothing at all.

The house was quiet, dark, a reminder of how lonely Steve probably was when he wasn’t busy with the kids or Robin or him. No wonder he was always so quick to jump in bed with Eddie; He wanted a warm body to keep him company.

“Eddie! Wait!” Steve’s voice came from the top of the stairs, but Eddie didn’t turn.

Maybe if he locked himself in the downstairs bathroom, Steve would give up and he could sneak out to his van wrapped in a towel or something. He’d done worse.

Unfortunately, Steve was much faster than him, probably due to the whole jock thing. Eddie had no chance.

Steve’s hand burned where it touched Eddie’s arm, trying to make him turn around and face him.

“Please, Eds. Please look at me. Let me-”

“I don’t want you to explain, Steve.” Eddie turned to him, suddenly angry. How dare he ruin what they were doing? How dare he take something that was so precious and send it careening off the road so quickly? “I want to pretend it never happened. I want to go back to letting you touch me and kiss me and hurt me just right. I want to know you don’t mean it.”

“Why?” Steve sounded angry. “Why would you want that? Is it that bad? What is it about me loving someone that makes them wanna run in any other fucking direction than to me?”

And Eddie wasn’t really prepared for that.

He didn’t really know exactly what happened with Nancy or any of the other girls Steve had been with in high school. He didn’t really know much about any of his casual hookups. He just knew that Steve gave so much to anyone he cared about, and many people took more than was fair of him to give.

“Why can’t I love you, Eddie?”

Eddie looked at Steve, really looked at him.

His eyes were watery, red-rimmed as if he was doing everything he could to resist letting the tears fall. Eddie could see his flush cheeks, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to hold back a sob. His hands shook.

Eddie recognized this for what it actually was. Sure it was emotion, and maybe Steve felt it was genuine emotional turmoil.

But it was also the start of a panic attack, one that would quickly escalate to something Eddie wasn’t sure he could help Steve through.

“Steve, hey-”

“Don’t fuckin’ pacify me, man.” Steve’s breathing picked up and Eddie had to shut this down. “I can be upset.”

“Yes, you absolutely can. I’m not gonna tell you how to feel, but you definitely need to breathe, nice and slow.” Eddie put his hand on Steve’s bare chest, forgetting for a moment that they were both still naked, both still sweaty and sticky from everything they did in Steve’s bed.

“I am breathing.”

“You’re panting. You need to sit down.”

“I’m not sitting down-”

“Red.”

Steve froze.

Eddie immediately regretted saying it, hated that he was using this in a situation outside of their agreement.

He just needed Steve to stop and take care of himself for a second.

“That’s not fair,” Steve’s voice was shaky, unsure. He’d never heard it like that, not even when they first started this, not when they discussed the difficult things.

“It may not be fair, but neither is what you said.” Eddie looked behind him at the couch, the same couch Steve had held his hand while they talked about what they’d be into trying together. “Can we sit?”

“I dunno, are you gonna run again?” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, which would be a hilarious image any other time, but was currently just really sad.

“No. I’m not gonna leave.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” Eddie agreed.

They both sat down on the couch, shifting until there was enough distance not to touch, facing each other.

Steve threw the blanket over their laps to at least make an attempt at being serious.

“I’m sorry I said it like that.” Steve sighed as he put his head back against the couch. At least he seemed to be holding himself together better now. Maybe Eddie could have a turn at a breakdown. “I shouldn’t have said it when we were still…”

“You shouldn’t have said it at all, Steve.” Eddie watched as Steve ground his teeth together. “I know you may think that’s what you’re feeling, but you were on a sex high.”

“I can see why you’d think that,” Steve sounded like he was doing his best to stay calm. “That’s why I shouldn’t have said it then. But I did mean it. That hasn’t changed and it won’t change.”

“Steve, be serious.”

“I am! I need you to be serious! I love you. I’ve loved you for long enough to know that’s what it is.” Steve turned his head and gave him a sad smile. “I know it wasn’t supposed to happen, and I know you don’t feel the same, but I’m glad I said it, even if it wasn’t how I planned to.”

Eddie had to remind himself to breathe as Steve’s words sank into his brain, consumed his chest and stomach, made the nerves in his body spark with a combination of hope and fear.

“How long?” Eddie squeaked out.

“You remember that night when we talked about our limits?” Steve grinned.

“That was…so long ago. What the hell?” Eddie slapped Steve’s knee, but didn’t pull it away fast enough. Steve’s hand grabbed his. “We’ve been around each other almost every day since then.”

“And I thought about it every day,” Steve admitted. “I was gonna ask you on a date first and make it a big romantic thing. I had a plan.”

“Steve, I-” Eddie shook his head. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to say these things to me to keep me around. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s lining up at my door. I wouldn’t trust anyone the way I trust you with all this. I kinda figured you’d be the one to call it off soon.”

Steve moved the blanket for a moment, tugged Eddie into his lap, and tilted his head to the side.

“I’m not going anywhere, Eds. You’ve got me and I’ve got you.”

How did he do that? How did he sound so sincere, so charming, after such an emotional admission?

“You’ve got me?”

“I’ve got you,” Steve surged forward, lips crashing against Eddie’s as his hands left bruises on his hips.

Eddie would be an idiot to let him go.

He would have to trust that Steve meant it, and he’d have to trust that his heart would be safe in Steve’s hands.

He already trusted him with everything else.

The blanket that had barely been around his waist slipped, half pooling on the couch next to them and half falling to the floor.

Steve pulled away, breathless.

“Will you?” He asked.

Eddie had no idea what he was actually asking. “Will I…?”

“Go on a date with me.”

“Yeah, Stevie. I’ll go on a date with you. You’re buying, though,” Eddie winked.

“Of course,” Steve nodded, leaning up to peck him on the lips. “I was thinking about a road trip. Heard there’s a new record shop opening in Bloomington if you wanted to check it out.”

“Fuck, you really do love me, don’t you? You know I could spend hours in there, right?” Eddie’s heart couldn’t handle the soft look in Steve’s eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll bring a cooler with drinks and snacks. It’ll be fun,” Steve shrugged.

Eddie inched back the tiniest bit and was suddenly reminded that they were very naked. And Steve was getting hard again.

“You know…this house is kinda quiet. Maybe we could…”

“Oh, you wanna be loud?” Steve raised his brow. “Hm. I guess I should give you a reason to be.”

The tone was different, not quite his usual teasing demand, but something that left Eddie wanting.

“Please. God, Steve, I need it, need you,” Eddie had no idea where this begging came from, or why he suddenly felt like he would die without Steve’s hands on him.

“I know what you need, baby,” Steve kissed his jaw, soft for what Eddie knew was coming. “But I need you to tell me your color first.”

“Green, so green.”

“Hey.” There was the demanding tone. “Look at me.”

Eddie had no choice but to look.

“I need you to think about it. Don’t think about how desperate you are. Are you okay with everything we talked about? Are you okay with me loving you?”

Eddie thought about it. Was he actually okay with their short conversation, the feelings Steve admitted to, what that would mean going forward for them? Or was he desperate in more ways than one?

No, no he definitely was okay with this. He’d been so worried that his feelings would never be returned, that he’d be in an endless loop of unrequited love, that he’d do what Steve did and let it slip while he was in space.

Having the guy he loved love him back was a best case scenario for him.

“Green.”

Steve’s lips were back on his, hungry, rough, almost more than Eddie was prepared for, but it wasn’t unwelcome. He sunk into the feeling, let himself drift into Steve physically so he could carry him away mentally.

“Wanna get my fingers in you. Think you can handle just spit?” Steve said as he nipped at Eddie’s neck, leaving red, leaving teeth marks. Eddie wished they could be permanent. Maybe he’d get them tattooed.

“Mhm, please,” Eddie nodded, ignoring the tiny part of his brain that was telling him to be responsible and get the lube. He’d be sore if they didn’t.

The louder part of his brain didn’t care about that, wanted to be sore. He could feel good now and deal with the limp tomorrow.

Steve’s fingers ghosted over Eddie’s lips, pressing down until his mouth opened. He sucked them in, three of them, moaning around them as he made sure they were slick enough to get inside with little resistance.

They were both impatient.

Steve pulled his fingers from Eddie’s mouth only a few seconds later, gently patting his cheek with his other hand when he whined at the loss.

“You’ll have me inside you again, baby.”

Steve didn’t waste another second.

His wet fingers rubbed against Eddie’s entrance, fingertips teasing along his rim and just barely pushing inside one at a time.

It was too much, not nearly enough, and almost exactly what Eddie needed all at once.

He was so close already, teetering on the edge of coming without a hand on him or fingers actually inside him, and it would probably be embarrassing if Eddie could think about a single thing that wasn’t the way heat was pooling in his stomach and chest.

“Close,” Eddie whimpered, bucking up against nothing as if that was even necessary.

Steve’s hands were gone. Just like that. No warning at all.

Eddie whimpered again, reaching his hands out to touch, to beg, to do whatever would get Steve’s hands back on him and finish the job he started.

“No, baby,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Not yet.”

And so it went.

Steve got a finger inside him, barely thrusting it in and out before removing it completely when Eddie would start rocking back into the touch.

Then there were two fingers, and Eddie could just barely feel the pressure against his prostate, begging for more or less or something that would be different from the current hanging by a thread he was doing.

He could feel himself drifting, knew he was mentally checking out from what was happening, but he could still hear Steve’s rough voice soothing him, guiding him.

Three fingers pressed inside him, slower than before, stretching him in a way he never could himself.

He felt full, used.

“Color, sweet boy,” Steve said from somewhere in front of him. Eddie was having trouble centering himself, couldn’t quite figure out where he was physically even though he knew he was with Steve.

The fingers inside him stilled, not working him open further or pushing and pulling until Eddie was naturally rocking back and forth.

Steve needed an answer. Eddie had to give him one.

“Green.”

“Good boy,” Steve praised.

Eddie pretended that didn’t make his heart flip-flop in his chest, but something must have given him away anyway. Steve was grinning at him knowingly, though he didn’t say anything.

“You’re gonna come when I tell you, right? Not a second earlier than that.”

At this point, Eddie was pretty sure Steve was in complete control of his body. He was simply the puppet on Steve’s strings.

“Answer me, Eddie.” Steve pushed against his prostate, making his body shiver and cock twitch.

“Only when you say,” Eddie gasped out, lifting his hips to pull away from the overstimulation, but immediately falling back down when he missed it. “Wanna be good for you.”

Steve groaned, and his fingers pushed in and out of Eddie faster.

He wanted to be good, but he was only human.

“St-” Eddie moaned. “-eve. Can’t-”

“‘S okay, baby. You can come now.”

And Eddie did.

Just like that.

The relief of finally being able to unclench his thighs, to actually feel the last string tethering him to earth snap as his release painted Steve’s stomach.

His fingers slowed, but didn’t leave him, keeping him stretched as he clenched around them during the waves of pleasure still wringing through him. He felt like he’d never stop feeling this deep pulsing, had to try to open his eyes to see if he was still coming somehow.

Steve was murmuring something against his hair.

When had he even fallen against Steve’s chest, face buried in his neck?

How long had he been just whimpering against him like a dog in heat?

“...So good for me, sweet boy. So proud of you for waiting for permission.”

Oh.

Praise like that wasn’t exactly a new part of their aftercare, but it was rare that Steve said it more than once or twice, usually just holding him in his arms in silence while Eddie came back down from the clouds.

He’d think about that later.

For now, he let his body relax, the noises stop, and his breathing slow.

He could sleep in Steve’s arms, feel the love pouring from his words and fingertips, and plant his feet on the ground in the morning.

Day five: ao3 | tumblr