#Loop...oh Loop...*sniff*

[starlitmeadows]

i can't stop thinking about them

[metaben]

why is the mountain pass patrol so OP why do you punish the player for Lae'zel failing a deception check lmfao?

[ozzgin]

What if the Yandere school has some sort of event where they interact with students of the darling school and just like how our reader is a darling in the Yandere school they find a student of the darling school is a Yandere

You're an oblivious Darling going to Yandere School, and now you're paired up with...a Yandere hiding among Darlings. The absurdity goes on. Content: gender neutral reader, yandere horde, parody

[Yandere School] | [Yandere School 2] | [More Yandere]

He could immediately tell. You were a sheep among the wolves, and he was a wolf in sheep's clothing. He followed your movements with a predatory gaze, planning his approach.

He'd applied to Darling Academy out of sheer greed, hoping to find his soulmate. He searched, and stalked, and hounded, all in vain. Hell, he even had to repeat a year; it took him an ungodly amount of willpower to pass the damn kidnapping course.

"You're not surprised to discover your captor", the teacher had shouted, exasperated. "Unless you show me genuine shock, I cannot give you a passing grade"

"You can see her from a damn mile", he argued angrily, pointing at his darling classmate. She was supposed to simulate an attack, and he was to play the role of a clueless, helpless victim. Ridiculous.

Who would've thought his one and only was hiding in a Yandere School, of all places? So unforeseen, so unexpected, that he could not believe it to be anything but a fateful encounter. He glanced one final time at the enormous banner hanging against the school building:

"Annual Study Partnership Event: Yandere School x Darling Academy"

"You must be (Y/N). We've been paired together for the week. I'm in your care!", he beams cheerfully.

Despite his annoyance with Darling Academy, it proved to be somewhat useful in the end. Not only did it guide him to you, but it also polished his acting skills to near perfection. The teacher's office was guarded viciously given the previous attempts of the yandere students to cheat the system and have you on their team. Who would ever suspect a Darling? He simply waltzed in, scribbled his name on the event sheet, and left.

"I wouldn't be too excited", you confess, a little dejected. "I'm not...uh...the best yandere out there."

He pretends to sneeze, hiding the grin spreading across his face. Sweet, innocent thing that you are. Oh, don't worry your pretty head. He'll take care of everything.

The annual event consists of a week-long competition. A yandere student is paired with a darling counterpart, and the teams compete against each other for various activities. It's a learning experience for everyone involved, meant to hone the skills of a yandere and prepare the darlings for their future encounters.

First activity: tying up your darling.

Your eyes light up. For once, it's something you're good at. You hurry back to your partner, carrying the box filled with bondage rope, and nod towards the young man.

"Leave this to me", you state solemnly.

The timer starts, and you begin tying the knots. The yandere observes your process, completely infatuated. Your focused expression is downright adorable. Now, he could let you have your moment of victory. On the other hand...can he really waste this chance?

His fingers discreetly mess with some of the rope lying around. A little nudge here, another loop here. You're too absorbed in your work to notice anything.

You hear the bell and huff, exhausted. You wipe your forehead. This is it, the final touch. You hold onto the rope, and pull with all your strength. Suddenly you're dragged forward by an unseen force, and your face slams into your teammate's broad chest. You've tied the two of you together, somehow.

The other yanderes watch the display with a grimace.

(Y/N) is good with rope. This shouldn't have happened, they all think in unison. They glare at the darling pressed against you. Something isn't right. Is that man truly a darling? He feels more like a fellow rival.

"I'm so sorry", you sniff, humiliated.

He strokes your hair affectionately, reassuring you. It happens. The rope must've been faulty. You did your best.

He feels a cold shiver and tilts his head towards the bystanders, then smiles. It seems he isn't the only one who has fallen for you. Though he didn't expect it to be the whole school. Alas, what's life without a little competition?

"Come on, (Y/N). Let's get ready for the next part. I have a feeling we'll win this one", he says, winking at you playfully.

This must be the best week of his life.

[the-kr8tor]

Hobie meets your cats for the first time.

Pairing: Hobie Brown x f!Reader / Spider-Punk x f!Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Tags: Smut Implied, Kissing, established relationship, no use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader.

Synopsis: your cats interrupt your alone time with Hobie.

My Masterlist

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

Your keys jingle in your hands as you try and find the right key to your flat, you would've found it earlier, if it weren't for Hobie hugging you from behind while kissing your neck distractingly. 

"Hobie, can you wait till we get inside?" You crane your neck to look at him. You sigh in pleasure.

"Mmph?" He answers while his lips are still on your skin. 

"I can't find my keys, you're distracting me" you try not to move your neck to the left to give him more access to your skin, you bite your tongue instead to focus on choosing the right key. 

Hobie stops kissing you for a moment to grab your key ring from your fumbling hands. "Let me try" 

You miss the press of his lips on your skin when he pulls away, still reeling from the feeling, you forgot to roll your eyes at Hobie. This is his first time at your place. How would he know which key?

Click

Of course the door opens after only two tries. Hobie smirks at you teasingly. 

You finally roll your eyes, snatching your keys from Hobie swiftly. 

The second you're inside, Hobie attacks your neck once again, pushing you towards a wall, he cages you in his arms as he pushes the door closed with his foot. 

He kisses the underside of your chin, forcing you to look at your beige ceiling. He nips and licks at your skin passionately. Grabbing the back of his neck to guide him towards your lips, you kiss him, while your free hand grabs one of his belt loops to pull him towards you, closing in the small gap between you. Heat emanates from the both of you. 

Meow

A small mewl stops you both in your tracks, you both look to the side breathlessly, stuck in the same position, Hobie raises his brow.

"Oi, bruv, d'you mind? We're having a moment here" He gestures to you. 

"Meoww" the orange tabby cat pushes her empty bowl in front of her. The sound of the bowl moving across your wooden floors acts like a dinner bell, two more cats appear from somewhere.

"Ah, shit, it's way past their feeding time" you look at Hobie apologetically. 

"I don't mind" he pecks your lips, as if to say: we'll continue this later.

"I'm really sorry," You rub his kiss bitten lips with your thumb to swipe some sheen off them "I'll make it up to you later, I promise" 

You turn your back from Hobie still holding his hand, you slowly let go when you went further in your home. 

Once you're in your kitchen preparing their food, Hobie crouches down in front of the orange tubby.

"Cockblocker" he scoffs while Hobie holds out his hand for the cat to smell. The cat tentatively sniffs at his outstretched hand. Once she's satisfied, she bumps her head on his hand. She looks at the other cats then back to Hobie.

The other two follow her lead and they both sniff at him, one of them, a cream colored shorthair, moves towards Hobie's legs, she begins to circle around him while she rubs her face on his leg. 

The last cat, black as the night, stares at Hobie with his bright green eyes, his eyes turn to slits as if to say - you're good to stay, but I'm watching you.

You finally head back to Hobie, Gasping at the scene in front of you. 

"Oh. My. God." You squeal, quickly grab your phone to snap a picture of the adorable moment. 

Hobie looks up at you "guess they like me" he gives you a lopsided smile, the previous emotion slowly dissipates around you both.

"This is a miracle, they usually don't like new people" 

Hobie stands up to his full height, careful not to step on the cats. "They've probably smelled me off you before" 

Heat rises on your cheeks with his implication, you cross your arms to not give away the effect he has on you. He saunters towards you, the cats run off towards their food. 

"Do you have catnip on you?" You eye him suspiciously. 

Hobie chuckles deeply "Nah, cats just have a natural affinity towards me" he grabs your face lovingly, "you wanna frisk me, to make sure?" He gives you his signature smirk. 

You let out a breath you've been holding. He comes closer to you until he's mere inches away,

"Fuckin' hell! What is that?" 

He lets you go, running towards your cat tree. Your excitement deflates. 

"It's their cat tree, the employee at the pet store called it a cat condo" you huff at another interruption. 

"A condo? Love, that's a full on mansion right there" he gestures toward the expansive structure, numerous branches, platforms and cubbies hang on it. 

"Too much?" You wince, terrified he might get turned off by it. 

"For them? Nah, I'm sure it's worth every penny" he looks at it, curious to see if he can DIY a few more floors to add to it.

"You wanna meet them formally?" He turns back around, he sees you carrying the orange tubby, her full stomach protruding.

"Yes," Hobie says a little too fast. 

You bounce the orange blob, "her name's Crumpet! She's the oldest one," you whisper the next part "I adopted her five years ago" 

"Why are you whispering?" 

"Because she doesn't know she's adopted" you whisper back. 

Hobie looks at you fondly, "dork" he softly says as he holds Crumpet's paw, "your mum's a dork" he looks at Crumpet with a smile. 

"Myeow" she answers back 

"I think that means she knows" you chuckle at your own joke.

"You're my dork" Hobie leans towards you for a kiss, he finds you adorable, he thinks you deserve a kiss just for that. 

Before he could though, he felt movement around his leg. He looks down to see your other cat, the cream colored one. 

"Oh," you clear your throat, trying to push down your excitement again. "That one is Teacup, When I got her she was so tiny she could fit inside a teacup" 

Hobie chuckles at the name "Tea and Crumpets, then?"

You nod, "Yep, and that one," you point with your head since your hands are occupied, at the black void sitting on top of your kitchen counter, looking directly at Hobie. "Is Crowley!" 

Upon hearing his name, Crowley drops down gracefully, he rubs his face on your leg, purring loudly. 

"He's a bit overprotective, ain't he?" Hobie looks at Crowley. Crowley glared at Hobie when he spoke. 

"Well, he is the man of the house" you shrug, as you sit down on your sofa. 

The second your back hit the soft plush of the sofa, your other two cats ran towards you, Crowley curls around himself on your lap while Teacup sits next to you looking at Hobie, like she's waiting for him.

You notice Hobie still standing, inviting him to sit next to you by patting the space closest to you. 

"Nyeow" Teacup whines towards Hobie.

"Can't say no to that" Hobie heads towards the space next to you, lifting up Teacup by her arms so he could sit closer to you. He places Teacup on his lap, she curls around herself immediately, purring loudly.

"It's a bit concerning how much she likes you" you softly say, craning your neck to look at Hobie lovingly petting Teacup. 

Hobie puts his non-petting arm around your shoulders moving you closer to him. "She has good taste, just like her mum" he leans towards your lips, slowly closing the gap. 

"Do you really like them? They're not too much?" You whisper against his lips before they meet.

"How could anyone not like 'em? They're perfect, even Crowley" 

You laugh at his jab, "Didn't peg you as a cat person" 

Hobie rubs your cheek endearingly "haven't I told you I'm a cat guy?" 

Hobie guides your face towards his again, when you suddenly gasp. 

"I forgot! I need to give you something" you drop Crumpet on his shoulder, while Crowley moves towards the sofa's armrest. "Be right back" pecking his lips.

"I've got it!" You emerge from the sides holding something. Sitting back down you give the small patch to Hobie. 

Hobie looks at the menacing aura emanating from the arm rest. He sees Crowley perched elegantly, his emerald eyes staring directly at Hobie. While Crumpet sways her tail across Hobie's chest, still perched on his shoulders.

Hobie stares back at Crowley, teasingly smirking at the cat.

"I think he's planning my murder" Hobie points out. 

"Aww he's a sweetheart, you'll win him eventually" you say while petting the void next to you, Crowley sits unmoving still staring daggers at Hobie. 

"Right, what's this?" Hobie looks at the piece of cloth in his hand. 

"It's a patch! I made it for you, y'know to add to your jacket" you ramble on to hide your sudden shyness. 

The patch has a stitched cartoon version of Crowley holding a knife in his mouth, the bottom of the design reads- 'piss off' 

"You made this?" He feels the stitches with his thumb. 

You bite your lip while nodding "you like it? I saw that you have a cat patch already, so I made you another one, she seemed lonely" 

"It's fuckin' gorgeous, lovey" He grabs your face in excitement, he kisses every inch of your face with a loud smooch in-between. 

Before he could finally kiss your lips, he heard a hiss from behind you. 

"Crowley!" You look behind you. "Don't be mean!" 

"Nope" Hobie grabs you by the back of your legs, He lifts you up with ease. You gasp while instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips. 

"What are you doing?" You laugh at his shenanigans. 

"You're my human shield" he says while he peeks at Crowley over your shoulder. 

"He's harmless" you giggle, as if on cue, Crowley raises his hips with a hiss, readying to pounce. 

"Okay, maybe not" you wrap your arms around Hobie's neck while he jumps towards your ceiling. He sticks to it by his hands and feet, while you use him as your personal hammock. 

"He can't reach us up here, right?" He asks you. 

You peek over his shoulder to see Crowley trying to reach you by jumping, while Teacup meows upward, Crumpet sleeps on the couch unbothered. 

You hide behind Hobie, cuddling his torso, the height giving you vertigo. 

"Don't worry, I've got you" he pats your behind before sticking his hand back on the ceiling. "Let me kiss you better" 

You lean up to look at his face, smirking in victory. "Was this a ruse to get me alone?" 

"Know me so well" he chuckles against your lips. You cup his face to stabilize yourself against his body. 

Kissing him back, you hear Crowley's mewls for you to come down.

A/n: Thank you for reading! Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated! ❤️

*picture above is from pinterest*

[steviewashere]

I'd Like For You and I To Go Romancing

Rating: Teen and Up CW: None apply Tags: Post-Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Sex, Self-Sacrificing Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Love Confessions, Lover Boy Steve Harrington, Sad Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart For @steddieangstyaugust Day 21 Prompt: "Please." Title taken from "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy" by Queen.

💕——————💕 “Please.”

It’s said to him so quietly, Eddie almost doesn’t hear it. The same way he can’t really see, can’t make out the shapes in the room despite the one light through the window. Maybe it’s the panic in him, while he’s trying to fight his way through tears as he pulls his clothes back on. But the word whispered at his back makes him take pause.

A desperate little word. He wants it to mean something.

Eddie swallows. Quickly, he goes back to shimmying his jeans back on. Hits his rings on the belt buckle currently hanging loose from the loops of his pants. 

It’s not that he wants to go, but it’s that he should. He’ll give some lame excuse later. Something about Wayne needing him back home—despite it being late at night, despite the fact that everybody knows Wayne works the nightshifts. He’ll say it’s because he gets anxious sleeping in other people’s beds. That he even wets the bed sometimes, even if he stopped doing that more than a decade ago. Gets nightmares so violent and lurching, he’s afraid he’ll hurt somebody. He could say that he actually hates sleeping with another person in his bed.

Despite everything in him screaming that he needs it. Because he’s a lonely, lonely person. And always wanted somebody there, needed them so close they could almost climb inside his ribs.

But he fastens the buckle of his belt and continues on with finding his t-shirt.

“Please,” whispered again, so singular, yet so drawn out, and so heartbreaking. The word pierces through Eddie’s back, kills his heart on impact, and exits his chest in one clean pass. It makes him stop searching again. “Don’t go. You don’t have to go.”

Oh, but I do, Eddie thinks, because if I let this go on any longer than it already has, I’ll have to admit how much I love you. And if I admit it and you say nothing in response, I’ll implode right on the spot. I’m saving myself. I’m saving you.

He sniffs. Grabs a random t-shirt from the bedroom floor and begins to pull it over his heavy head of curls. It’s not his shirt, he comes to find, but isn’t surprised. It’s loose on his chest, but tight on his biceps. The shirt is lightly worn. Smells like amber, like cinnamon and vanilla. Not his cologne. Not like cigarettes or marijuana or citrus-bergamot from his Irish Spring. Eddie plucks at the fabric, pulls it farther away from the skin of his chest, where his heart—resuscitated—tries to kiss the shirt with every beat.

If he doesn’t get out of here, he’ll do something stupid like break down into tears. If he doesn’t get out of here, he won’t save face. And if he doesn’t get out of here, he can’t move on.

A pleading, “Eds, please,” hits him. “Please don’t go. Don’t do this to me, too. Please, baby, come on.” Then, the bed behind him shifts. And there’s warmth on his back. A gentle brush of lips to his neck.

Steve wasn’t as sleepy as Eddie thought. Go figure.

“I…I gotta go, Steve,” Eddie states quietly, “I checked my watch. Gotta be home for Wayne, y’know?” He remains as still as he possibly can. Because Steve can read him, he’s come to find. He’ll know that Eddie’s lying if he shifts from foot-to-foot even an inch.

“He’s not home right now,” Steve immediately points out, “it’s dark out. And it’s a weekday, he’s working.”

Eddie swallows again. “I just have to go, Steve.” He doesn’t face him, doesn’t think he could. Doesn’t move, also doesn’t think he could. Just hopes, beyond all else, that Steve will just accept that and go back to bed and forget this night ever happened. That he ever touched Eddie that way. That he ever let himself get involved with a person like Eddie—not because he’s a freak and not because he’s in a different tax bracket, not that he’s above Steve, not that he’s below Steve…because he’s just him.

He hears Steve heave a deep breath.

Then, soft and tiny, “I was going to make you breakfast,” Steve says, “but this doesn’t have to…we can forget this happened if that’s what you want to do.”

“I…Steve”—

“It’ll be hard for me to let go, but I can try.” That makes Eddie turn to Steve. To see him. His limp, sweaty hair and the fact he’s only wearing boxers. The downcast eyes and twisting, nervous hands in front of him. “You’re not the first, so I’ll be fine.”

Eddie’s stomach churns and his palms sweat and he swears that his heart is the loudest thing in this room—screeching and beating and crashing straight out of him. But he brings himself to meet Steve’s volume, to ask, “What do you want, Steve?”

“I want you to stay,” Steve immediately responds, “I want you to stay in bed with me. And…and I’ll wake up first and maybe I’ll find out that you drool in your sleep and then I’ll brush back a stray strand of your hair and I want to get up and make you breakfast and then you’ll be over the moon when I hand you a cup of coffee and it’s made the exact way you love it and then we can…we can…you can…”

He blinks. Blinks again. Harder the third time. “You can…?” Eddie prompts.

“You can find somebody worth loving out of me,” Steve timidly answers, “because I already love you.”

Unable to hold himself back anymore, he takes the few steps forward to put him face to face with Steve. And, in a moment of bravery, holds Steve’s head between his hands and kisses him. Soft and exploratory. Then, passionate and disbelieving. And another, for good measure, that’s in the shape of all the words he wants to say.

“You want that with me,” Eddie states, though it sounds more like a question. Steve nods anyway. “With me. Wow. I…I wish I was better at this part, at saying the good shit. But I do love you, Steve. I’ve been in love with you since we started this whole thing between us but I…I’ve never had something like this and it terrifies me the way you’ve nestled your way into my brain.” He runs his thumbs under Steve’s eyes, catching tears he won’t acknowledge, because he’s sure he’d start crying, too.

“Do you still have to go?” Steve asks quietly, small in a way that’s unlike him. “I don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to be”—

“I’ll stay, Steve. I’m sorry that I…I’ll stay, I promise. Let me just—let me get dressed down again and I’ll make all this up to you, swear it.” He’s jittering out of his skin; he wants to run laps through the whole house, wants to climb the walls, scream if he has to. But, in a way that’s unlike him, he continues to cradle Steve’s face in his palms and with languid, thoughtful movements, he kisses Steve between his eyebrows, under his eyes, the tip of his nose, and again on his mouth. “I’ll stay as long as you want me,” Eddie promises, “you won’t have to worry about somebody leaving ever again.”

Steve smiles sticky sweet and soft like a stack of pancakes. “Good,” he whispers, “because I never want to let you go.”

💕——————💕

[sillystappen]

Soulmate AU but your soulmate is represented by an animal that follows you around since the soulmates birth. (Kinda like the golden compass shtick). Oh and these animals age as their representatives do which differentiates them from regular ones.

Daniel waits 8 years before a lion cub appears before him and Max’s honey badger appears about 30 seconds after he is born.

Daniel is thrilled when the lion cub pads up to him, sniffs his leg before settling at his feet but when he gets older he realises how much younger his soulmate is.

Max’s honey badger is an adult well before Max is but Max loves him and corrects anyone who assumes it’s a regular badger or a skunk with a whole info-dump on how badass honey badgers are. Even his dad cannot separate Max and the honey badger (and once the honey banger pissed on his dads bed because he was mad he made Max upset. He then bit Jos when he tried to get close to either of them).He names the badger Lief.

Daniel’s lion matures into a large fearsome beast but is actually just a big softie when you get to know him and Daniel loves burying his hands and face into his mane. (The fact that the lion is a boy threw Daniel through a loop for a bit but he got over it.) The lion (creatively named Leo) likes licking Daniel’s palm to show affection and glaring and growling at people who either get too close or make Daniel feel any type of negative emotions. It never bites but they don’t know that.

When Max moves up to Red Bull, they decide to keep their animals apart for a while because of their typical nature in the wild. However when they do introduce them, both Max and Daniel are surprised at how well their soulmate animals get along. And when they themselves start bonding quickly, Max starts to suspect Daniel is his soulmate. It makes sense, considering how relaxed his honey badger is with Daniel’s lion and Daniel literally has the nickname of ‘honey badger’ so….

Daniel is also starting to suspect for the same reasons. But he doesn’t like it. Once again Daniel is reminded of their age difference and wants to just live in denial at least for a little while.

Furthermore, Leo the lion has no problem with Max no matter what happens. He bumps his nose into Max and demands pets when usually he would keep to himself (except for Daniel). And Lief the honey badger takes naps on Daniel’s lap.

It takes a while for Daniel to finally get his head out of his ass and confront it but when Max gets the nickname ‘the Dutch lion’ and it sticks, the two can no longer avoid it. [insert kiss & make up scene lovely beautiful angst over merry christmas]

The next GP weekend the two of them walk into the paddock, pinky fingers linked as a lion carries a sleeping honey badger on his back behind them, growling at anything that tries to disturb it.

And when either of them win a race a resounding roar can be heard across the paddock

[peachesofteal]

Oh my gosh imagine! Imagine Johnny wakes up first so naturally he goes to check on you and you’re just gone! So ofc he goes to wake up Ghost in a panic. And naturally they search the whole house before realizing that the front door is open and then they just lose it. Bc their omega isn’t just outside, she’s outside IN HEAT other alphas will jump at the chance to mate and breed what’s theirs. And poor you has no clue what’s happening. All you know is it’s hot and loud and everything is so scary and you just want Johnny & Simon to come back and take care of you and keep you safe. All you can do is sink down on your knees in the middle of the sidewalk & cry. Johnny & Simon are finally able to find you, less than a block away sobbing your poor hear out on the dirty ground and their hearts just break bc their poor sweet darling is like this. Simon just scoops you up and carries a whimpering, sobbing you back to the apartment, tucking you back into your nest and promising a hovering Johnny that they’ll discuss this with you when you wake back up.

(I’m sorry for how long this is your last post just really got me)

HEY hi hello this is 🤌 let us indulge. Takes place after this.

🩵

18+ / MDNI / dead disco omegaverse au / Mature themes

Johnny wakes instinctively.

There’s a buzzing in the back of his mind, a gnawing, biting sound that’s fissuring across his soft tissues and down into his cerebral cortex. It’s bothering him, dragging him further and further to consciousness.

Wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up-

“Johnny.” Of course, Simon has woken at the same time. They operate on the same circuit, same wave length, same state of being. It is no surprise that as soon as Johnny’s eyes are blinking open blearily, his partner’s, his mate’s, are doing the same.

They were so fucking tired. Not having slept in over twenty four hours, and then thrown for a loop when they got home to you, found you, suffering, terrified, in the beginning throes of your heat, hiding in the closet.

He tried not to think about what it all meant. He’s still trying.

His brain snaps to life just as Simon is sitting up, both of them groping in the dark. His hindbrain is screaming at him, urging up forward and up. Something is wrong, something is wrong, Omega, Omega-

“Darling?” Simon calls out to no answer. No sound of you breathing, or coming awake between them in the bed. No sound your whimpering, or the little soft moans that you had making in your sleep.

Your scent is still present, but not tangible. Not real.

The bed is cool in the middle. His fingers stretch across his, hoping to feel the curve of your body, the heat of your skin.

Simon’s already got the light on by the time he’s swinging his legs over the mattress.

Johnny’s heart plummets to his stomach.

You’re not in the room.

Where are you?

Simon strides over to the closet door and eases it open, crouching on his knees, brow furrowing.

You’re not there. Your scent is even older in the closet too, sour distress faded amongst clean linen.

“Si-“

“Be calm.” The other Alpha instructs, but how can he? You’re not here.

Where are you?

He bolts from the room with his mate hot on his heels. You’ll be in the kitchen, he decides. Possibly trying to eat, your mind forcing you towards nutrition in preparation for breeding. Or, you’ll be curled up on the couch, half asleep, trying to smother your noises or soothe your pain by yourself.

“Darling?” It echoes, with no response. He sniffs the air on instinct, just to confirm the worst. His fear.

You’re not in the flat.

“Fuck.” Simon growls, and Johnny turns, nearly pushing into him.

Simon stands rigid, staring at the end of the hall.

Where the front door is hanging wide open.

“No.” It’s the ghost of a whisper, denial clogging his throat. “No, no, no.” His entire body, his brain, roars.

He yells your name. Shouts it, while Simon storms back into the bedroom and nearly rips the bathroom door from its hinges to look for you.

“She could be anywhere.” Johnny is not stupid. He’s incredibly intelligent. His expertise highlights his strengths, his tactical awareness, his patience, his problem solving and critical thinking skills. He’s not some impatient, newly packed Alpha with the hindbrain of a peanut. Outside of a rut, he stays fairly in control.

Or at least, he usually is.

But right now, his instinct is hard to shove down. It’s pushing through his mouth, forming across his tongue in fearful, rage filled snarl.

His Omega, their Omega, is gone. You’re gone, and could be anywhere. You could be hurt. You could be in danger. another Alpha could have found you. Could be trying to mate you, breed you. Could be trying to take what is theirs. Could be hurting you.

You’re out there, alone. Without them.

Something desperate, something scared and worried, breaks from his mouth.

Simon’s operating within the same window. He’s practically vibrating, pheromones filling the flat with the off taste of distress.

“Get dressed.” Simon snaps, and Johnny follows him into the room, moving in lock step.

They track your scent for almost an hour before it becomes strong enough to get a lock on it. Everyone steps out of their way, shying off the sidewalk and casting curious glances towards them, but Simon stops for none of them.

He’s only focused on one thing.

Omega.

“Close.” Johnny murmurs, Simon jerks his head in confirmation. Your scent is getting more and more pungent, rotten stone fruit permeating through his skin like a sickness.

You’re scared. You’re confused, panicked.

He tries to think like you would, but if he’s being honest, he doesn’t understand you right now. He doesn’t understand anything, doesn’t know why you’ve been lying, doesn’t know what’s been happening in their own flat. He doesn’t know what drove you to leave in the middle of the night, during your heat, and it’s driving him a little insane.

Where are you? His heart weeps when he thinks about you, their little Omega, on the street somewhere. Scared. Alone.

We’re coming, darling.

It doesn’t take too much longer, after that first hour. The full strength of your scent hits them like a truck when they turn down a block, and then to their relief, and subsequent horror, they find you kneeling on the sidewalk, sobbing. Your body shaking, eyes wide with fear as an Alpha towers over you. They can smell everything, your slick, your sweat, the evidence of your too vulnerable state, and Simon wants to rip this intruder to pieces.

The knife finds his hand like it’s always belonged there. Like it was born there, like it’s an extension of his body.

“Alpha.” You sob openly, eyes glinting in recognition when you blink up at them, and his instincts scream, hindbrain urging him to slaughter this fool in front of them so that he can tuck you into his arms.

“Get the fuck away from her.” Johnny growls, and the other Alpha straightens, clearly sizing him up for a fight.

“Piss off. Found ‘er first.”

“Don’t think so.” Simon grits out, and it’s enough to give their opponent pause, his gaze darting back and forth between the two of them.

Simon lifts the knife. Just enough to catch his attention, just enough to convince him to turn tail and run.

Leave him. His scent is strong, kill him another day. Omega needs us.

Johnny’s already moving towards you as soon as the offending outsider splits, and Simon tucks the blade away. For another day.

You cry, your wailing shattering his heart, splintering across his hindbrain, forcing him down towards you.

“Darling.” They both crouch, and your hands reach, seeking, shivering in the night. “Shhh. It’s alright now, baby.” Simon’s body instinctively seeks yours, looking to provide you with safety, with comfort, to cease your crying while Johnny’s does the same, and they both press you between them, holding tight while you hyperventilate.

“Try to breathe, love. We’re here now, it’s okay.” Johnny rumbles, setting up a deep vibration from his chest, soothing harmonics radiating from his body. When you don’t calm, he looks to his mate in worry, still trying to calm you. “Alpha’s here, right here. We’re with you, darling.”

It’s clear, you’re not going to calm down out here. Your body is in fight or flight.

They need to get you back to the nest.

Johnny tugs you forward, maintaining full contact and tucking your face under his chin until Simon stands, when he bends forward and plucks you into his chest, tucking you away protectively while they trek back to the flat.

You cry, aloud, during the short trip. Sobbing into his neck, chest gasping for air while your hands try to hold onto Johnny at the same time. He tries to keep your face pressed to his gland, arms banded around your back, cradling your head to his neck. It hurts him, both of them, and Simon churns out soothing, calming pheromones in bucketloads, desperate to break through to you.

“Shhh, darling. Shhh.” He coos against your trembles, Johnny running ahead to unlock the door. They don’t even turn the lights on as they find their way into the bedroom, seeking the nest that you had previously abandoned.

When he puts you down and they pull away, you scream.

“Hey, we’re here. Everything’s alright, you’re safe now.” Johnny whispers, and then curls around you. You shiver, still reaching, and Simon molds himself along the other side, your body between them, sniffling and crying while you paw at their clothes. “She needs a bath.” Simon agrees, but he’s not sure if now is the time. Will you even let them bathe you?

“In the morning.” You need water, and food. It’s probably too late to even try to delay the rest of it, though he’s not sure either of them should be trying to fuck you in this state.

“What are we going to do?” Johnny worries aloud, voice teetering with anxiety. Simon knows that he’s scared, unraveling, only keeping himself at bay because you’re in his arms.

“In the morning, Johnny.” Simon reaches, stroking along the Alpha’s gland to soothe him, settle him.

He shifts, pushing off the pile to go to the kitchen and your scent spikes, noxious panic singing out into the room. You whimper, eyes peering through the dark at him, one hand clutching onto where Johnny has you pressed to his back, his mouth lapping over your gland, again and again, and the other, reaching for Simon.

“Alright, alright. I’m here, we’re here darling. We’ve got you.”

He folds your small fingers into his grip, sinking into the nest as he too, presses his lips to your neck to soothe you, strengthening your instincts until you’re softening, small whimpers purring in your chest.

[oneforthemunny]

christmas (baby, please come home) |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: it's not the most wonderful time of the year for everyone, including you and eddie.

apart of my munny's merriest that you can read here!

contains: angst. eddie is mean. past parental trauma. grief. holiday grief and sadness. angst really.

Heavy boots, covered with slush and snow from the frozen ground below, pounded up the creaking wooden porch. Eddie huffed, his breath clouding around him, a gloved hand reaching for the screen door. The toe of his work boots knocked against the doorway, kicking off the remainder of the snow from the icy, winter wonderland that arrived overnight, just in time for Christmas Eve. With it, came an icy chill that had Eddie working overtime to make sure the horses were warm. 

It was an odd feeling, walking into the mud room, plopping on the bench to pull off his boots. Eddie waited, inhaling in the cold, crisp air, waiting for the warmth to flood back to his system. That cozy heat to thaw out the chill that shocked his system, left his cheeks red and frost bitten from the cold. The euphoric feeling of relief that coated him every time he walked in from the snow. It never came. 

In fact, it felt colder in the house. 

In the house that was decorated, halls decked and every square inch covered with Christmas. The usual homey contentment that came from looking at the decorations was gone, replaced with a miserable, heavy feeling settled deep in the pit of his stomach, feeling him with a sickening guilt. 

Visions of your fight, hateful words piled on with yells and slamming doors, right there in the kitchen. A kitchen that should be filled with Burl Ives’ Christmas album on a loop was missing its merry music; it was missing you. 

“We always spend Christmas with my family.” 

“Yeah, exactly. It’s always about you, what you wanna fuckin’ do!” 

Eddie could see your face as if it was in front of him again. The way your expression fell, crumbling before him, the betrayal in your eyes rimmed with flecks of hurt. It made his stomach turn all over again. 

“You don’t- I thought you liked spending time with my family.” Your voice was small, far too small for your usual tone. “They always love spending time with you, Ed.” 

“Oh, yeah, to you they do.” He scoffed, eyes rolling so hard he gave himself a headache. He could feel it now. “You always leave me with your asshole uncle, who always wants to tell me the same goddamn story about how he used to ride horses growin’ up, like I give a shit-” 

“-Eddie! He’s trying to be nice and talk to you, so you’re not-” 

“-So I’m not miserable? Well, guess what, honey. I’m fuckin’ miserable!” His voice was so loud it shook the wooden cabinets of the kitchen, your tin snowmen rattling on top of the shelves. “I am fuckin’ miserable every Christmas! I would rather be here alone, shovelin’ shit all goddamn night and day than be there!” 

The hitch in your breath rang loud and clear in Eddie’s ear, his own face crumpling this time, a shaky hand rubbing across his eyes to try and keep his composure. But how could he? How could he stop the ache in his chest when he remembered the way you looked at him? The way your eyes filled with tears, lip quivering in fear. You hadn’t cried, not in there, atleast. Instead, you waited until you got to the bedroom, pulling out your own little overnight bag and filling it silently. 

He’d been so furious, so unfathomably filled with weeks of pent up rage, Eddie had to step out. Fury filled steps, a swinging fist to a post that left his knuckles bloody, splintering into the pale skin that was already blooming with bruises. Eddie really regretted it now, sure he’d broken a knuckle at the way it had swelled, doubled in size and kissed with dark purple, welt-like bruises. Oh, what he would do, what he would give, to have you fuss over it, patch it up and huff at him for doing something so immature. 

You didn’t. 

Instead, you stayed silent, save for the heart wrenching, hiccupy sniffle you gave when loading your bag into the trunk. Eddie’s body was still buzzing, electric with every ounce of bitter grief he’d tried to ignore. 

“Where you goin’?” Eddie gritted, tone sharp, it left you shuddering at the unfamiliar sharpness directed at you. 

“You want to shovel shit, since it’s so much better than being with my family.” Your breath stuttered in your chest when you took that breath. One that had Eddie’s heart lurching, nervous system flooding with a damning shock that left his head reeling in fear. 

“Better than being with me.” The crack in your voice matched the crack in Eddie’s own heart, splitting it right down the middle. 

“I don’t want to make you any more miserable than you already are.” You spat, and suddenly, Eddie longed for the sadness in your tone because the bitterness that replaced it was worse. 

Your own boots crunched on the ground, bare with snow and ice, but frozen from the cold. “Have a Merry Christmas by yourself, Eddie.” A hard yank of your car handle, and you were gone. 

Eddie watched you go in a horrified stare, your car disappearing down out of his sight in a red flash, feeling like he was watching a movie- a fucked up movie through his own eyes, but not in his own body. 

Then he was alone. 

Eddie was alone, standing on his family’s land, holding his throbbing hand alone. He was alone then. He was alone later that night, when he crawled into bed, teary eyes and shaking hands grabbing at your pillow, smothering himself with it because it smelled like you- terrified it might be the last time he could smell you. And he was alone now. Sitting in a too still kitchen, in a too quiet house, on Christmas Eve, alone. 

The burning threat of tears choked him, bubbling out of his chest and crept up his throat. Through blurred vision, Eddie could see the time. A little past four. He wondered what you were doing, what your family was doing. If your dad had started a card game yet. The same Rummy game he always made sure to deal Eddie in to- always made sure to include him. 

If your uncle was on his fourth or fifth glass of eggnog, spiking it with an extra pour of Woodford. He’d always offer Eddie some, slurring and spilling a little onto the festive tablecloth. Drunkenly tell him about his childhood, how he grew up riding horses, the same droning story that Eddie would always nod politely at. He was sloshed through the holidays, but never mean- always a jolly drunk, bellowing laughs through shining eyes. No smashing of plates or bruising grips like Eddie’s childhood Christmases always had. 

Or if your mom had got a chance to breathe, pull herself out of the kitchen with your aunts. She’d always hug him so warmly when she’d greet the two of you at the door, fussing over taking your bags and jackets, so happy the two of you were there. She’d even embroidered a stocking for Eddie last year, surprised him with it proudly. He’d nearly cried. 

It was a weird feeling. This feeling that he was becoming a part of your family. That they wanted him to be a part of it. 

He only had Wayne left, the rest of his family was long gone. It filled him with a grimy, gross feeling how much he enjoyed his time with your family. The sickening thought that he was betraying his own, replacing them and filling in their spots with shiny, new replicas. 

Wayne would laugh at him, tell him he should enjoy it, he better enjoy it. “You know Darlene and me go to Florida ev’ry Christmas, boy. You better stick it with ‘er. She’s a good’en.” 

Wayne would be furious at him if he knew. Probably take him ‘round back for the way he spoke to you, about your family. Eddie wouldn’t blame him, he was furious at himself for it. 

Eddie’s eyes found their way to the mantle, your stocking and his lined side by side. His was full, stuffed with small gifts and goodies you’d cheerily slip in, tongue clicking at him when he’d try to peek. Yours was deflated, sans for a small pair of cabin socks Eddie had got in early November. 

The bile in his throat brought him back to his very cruel reality in front of him. He’d been mean to you- he acted like his dad. 

Eddie’s stomach lurched, moving to the sink, a shaking hand pulling his hair back, retching into the sink at the revelation. Parallels of his mom and dad, his childhood, how his mom would decorate the house from top to bottom, make it nice and festive for Eddie. His dad would come in, tear it down, mock her for it in a drunken slur. She’d always buy him a gift, make sure Eddie’s stocking was filled with what she could: penny candies, knitted gloves, dented wacky packs from the discount store. Eddie would make her an ornament, his Mamaw Munson would get her a little gift, but never his dad. Her stocking was always empty. 

A choked sob caught in Eddie’s throat, vomit spewing into the shiny surface under him. Clammy forehead pressed to the cool countertop, he took a deep, shaky sob to try and keep the cry in. The mangled sob that shook his core, rattled his lungs, burned all the way from his stomach to his nose. 

Calloused hands wiped at his wet cheeks, chapped from the cold, giving a fierce sniffle. Eddie felt eight again, noticing for the first time the way his mother’s eyes dimmed, how she tried to hide it when she opened the empty stocking. She had been hopeful that there had been something in there, that this year his dad would remember her, be better. He never was. 

Eddie couldn’t be him, he wouldn’t be. He’d already reflected him in every way, too much for his own comfort lately- screaming at you, that rage that tore through him, bloody knuckles and aching throat that was leaving you in tears. 

As his shaking fingers turned the dial, cradling the phone to his ear, he hoped you would answer- that he could just get to you, talk to you. Your mother’s cheery voice rang over the phone instead, a happy roar of chatter mixed with music playing behind her voice. 

“Oh, Ed?” Your mother’s voice sounded concerned, he could practically see her frown, one you inherited. “Are you feeling better, hon? We miss you. I’m sending your stocking and gifts home- well, not the stocking, I’ll keep that but what’s inside.” 

You’d told them he was sick, covered for him- just like his mom used to do for his dad. The kindness in her tone nearly sent Eddie over the edge, pulling the receiver away to take a breath, to keep the sob from coming out. 

“Ed?” Your mom tried again. “Are you there?” 

“Y-Yeah, I’m sorry. I just… Is s-she around?” Eddie’s voice was tight with emotion, and he knew if he said your name, it would break whatever facade he’s mustered at the moment.

“Uh-huh, one second.” A staticy rustle filled the receiver, your name muffled and falling from your mom’s lips. 

Eddie didn’t realize he was holding his breath, until he released it, a desperate sigh of relief when you took the phone. “Hello?” 

“H-Hi, baby.” Eddie tried, hoping his voice was soft enough, gentler now- than the last time he talked to you. 

“Hi.” You bit, through gritted teeth, dragging the chord of the phone into the hall with you. “What do you want? I’m with my family.” 

His water line brimmed again, overflowing with angry tears. “Yeah, I know, honey. I’m sorry, I just,” Eddie took a deep breath, stuttering in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

Your own lip wobbled, fresh with tears. You’d pulled into your parents drive the night before, eyes red rimmed from your cry, telling them something about the hay and your allergies. They’d believed you, pulled you in with a warm hug. It was nice, comforting at your home, surrounded by your family until you were asleep. A bed had never felt so cold.

 “I don’t-” You grit, trying to keep your own emotions in. “This is why you called me?” 

Eddie flinched at the venom in your own tone. “I am sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby, you don’t even kno-ow.” Eddie’s chest stuttered. “I didn’t mean any of that, I swear. I was- I’m just… I’m not doing great this year, baby.” 

Your heart jumped at the shake in his tone, the rawness of his words. “You really hurt my feelings, Ed.” You admitted, your voice smaller. “I don’t- I don’t know why you don’t like my family. They love you-” 

“-I don’t.” Eddie shook his head, fist balled around the phone. “I didn’t mean any of that. I love your family, I-I love you.” 

“So, you said all of that, why?” You scoffed lowly. 

Eddie’s knee bounced. He hadn’t expected you just to forgive him, but it was still hard- hard when you weren’t here, when you were away and hurt, and he was alone and miserable. 

Miserable, the single word in the world he wished to never say or hear again. 

“I…” Eddie’s hand threaded through his matted locks. “I don’t know. It’s weird. Not- no, no, no, not you or- fuck, that’s not what I meant.” Eddie rambled stupidly. 

“I feel weird about being with your family on Christmas because…I like it.” Eddie’s vision was blurred, watery with tears. “It’s just different from what I grew up with, and… and I don’t know, sometimes it’s just, it’s overwhelming, baby.” 

You stayed silent on the other end, the only sound signaling you were still on the line was the faint yells and mummers of your family, only making Eddie’s heart ache even more. “They’re all so nice, it-it makes me… I didn’t have that. My family didn’t have that, and-and every time I’m there it just makes me wish they did.” 

The both of you fell into a silence, one that was becoming far too common. Eddie’s heart hammered behind his ribcage. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. This- nothing is your fault, you know that? This is on me. I shouldn’t have ever talked to you like that, said that shit. I’d beat the dog walking shit out of anyone who said that shit about you, and then I say it? That’s just-” Eddie let out a humorless, watery laugh, fist pressed to his forehead in an attempt to extinguish that fury burning through his chest again. 

A cleansing breath later, Eddie’s head was in his hands. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, wobbly when he told you. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

“It’s… We can talk later, Eddie.” Your voice finally rang through, shaky and unsteady, clutching the phone like it was your life long. “Thank you for calling me. For telling me that.” 

The silence settled again, both of you unsure, scared to make the next move. 

“I, uh, I wish you were here.” You broke the silence this time. “My family keeps asking about you. They miss you, a lot.” 

“I miss you.” Eddie sniveled, wiping his running nose with the back of his hand. “I mean, I miss them too, but I just… I miss you a lot.” 

A pause, the slight clear of your throat. “I have to go.” You whispered, voice tight and Eddie knew you were close to tears. “I have to help my mom set the table, but… I’ll call you tonight.” 

“I love you.” Eddie blurted, sacred he might forget to say it with how his head was swimming. “I love you so fuckin’ much.” 

“I know.” Your voice was soft. It made Eddie’s stomach lurch all over again. 

The line droned in a steady beep after your receiver clicked. Eddie held the phone there, eyes shining dully with unshed tears in the lights of the strung decorations. A defeated slump in his shoulders. He didn’t feel any better, worse if anything. 

Eddie was surrounded by a deafening silence, the house too quiet. Too quiet to be Christmas. Too quiet without you. 

The soft glow from the barn pulled Eddie’s attention, the doors pulled to keep the heat in for the horses. He twisted the phone in his palms, turning it over in his hands gently before jabbing his fingers back into the dial. 

The line rang once, twice, nearly a third before it was answered. 

“Gare, hey, I’ve got a big ask…” 

“Honey,” Your mom’s eyes squinted, yellow rubber gloves dunked into the soapy warm water in front of her. “I thought you said Ed wasn’t coming.” 

You nearly dropped the plate you were drying, breath caught in your throat. “What?” You hissed, leaning to look out the small window over the sink. Sure enough, there in the dark, snow covered driveway was Eddie’s truck. 

“I-I didn’t think he was.” You shook your head, setting the plate down gently. “He said he wasn’t feeling well. I’m just- I’ll be right back.” Slipping on your boots, not bothering to lace them, you stepped outside into the frigid cold of the night. 

Eddie didn’t see you, back turned, grabbing armfulls of bags out of the back seat. “What are you doing here?” 

He jumped, nearly dropping your aunt’s present, eyes wide when he turned. “Shit, I-I…” Eddie’s tongue tied, jumbled and thick in his mouth. He didn’t expect to see you, standing there, in your little Christmas sweater that had his heart swelling. He wanted to kiss you, coo at you for being so cute, get you all blushy and giggle at his compliments. 

Your lifted brow, arms crossed over your chest protectively stopped him. “I wanted to give your family their gifts. I-I was just going to leave them on the porch and tell you when I called tonight.” 

Your foot twisted into the snow, eyes cast downward. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I did.” Eddie nodded firmly. “They’re not- It’s not great. The mall was closing early so I had to kinda rush, but, uh, I wanted to get them something.” He looked at you, eyes shining with emotion. “Wanted to get you something too.” 

Your stocking was hooked onto his left pointer finger, a crooked bend of the knitted fabric, hanging heavy and filled with tiny trinkets and things that ruffled. You looked at it carefully, face quipping just barely, but Eddie caught it. “I didn’t want you to think I forgot about you.” Eddie muttered lowly, breath showing under the glow of the lights. 

“Thank you.” You nodded, swallowing thickly around your words. “I can help you take them in.” 

“No,” Eddie shook his head. “I don’t want to… I know you don’t want to be with me right now, baby, and I get it. I’ll just drop them off-” 

“-Come inside.” You sighed, arms still tight around his chest. “My mom already saw you. It’s just easier for you to come in.” 

Eddie tried to hide the hurt he felt with a simple nod. “I don’t want to ruin your Christmas.” He muttered softly. “More than I already have.” 

“Eddie,” You sounded tired, words heavy with emotion, exhaustion maybe. “Come inside.” Your eyes lifted to his, so sweet, nearly pleading he was sure he might sob. “There’s still leftovers. I’ll heat them up for you.” 

So Eddie followed you inside, gifts under his arms, letting your family greet him warmly, chocking his red eyes and matching nose up to the hay fever he’d been having. Your mom fixed him a plate, poured you both a glass of mulled wine. 

In the tiny bed of your childhood room, the two of you talked in hushed voices, silent apologies traded over soft touches. 

“I didn’t mean it.” Eddie whispered, nose pushing into your neck. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” You nodded, and you did. Even if it still hurt, still wounded from the words, you knew that was true. 

Eddie’s cheek pressed against your shoulder, hands grabbing at you, pulling you closer and closer like at any moment you might disappear from his clutches. “My mom,” His voice cracked, eyes pinching shut. “She used to love Christmas.” 

“Really?” You hum, tone as even as it could be with the shock. Eddie never spoke about his mother. 

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “She, uh, she used to decorate every Thanksgiving. Pull out the tree after dinner, put it up. My dad,” Eddie swallowed around the bitter title. “He was always passed out by then, so she could do it pretty quickly. Get it up and ready before he’d wake up and bitch. It wasn’t a lot, a tree and some other stuff, but I’d always help her. She-She always let me put the angel on top.” 

You weren’t sure what to say, what you were supposed to say. Eddie’s mom was a sensitive spot. One he didn’t talk about much, at all, really. 

“She would really like your family.” Eddie’s voice was small, a rarity. Always the loud, rough and tough cowboy, commanding wild bucks all day. Small wasn’t in his vocabulary. 

“They would have really liked her.” You said slowly, vibrations from your voice tickling Eddie’s ear. 

Eddie knew it was true. He felt stupid, really, waves of horrible guilt crashing over him again as he clung tighter to you. Your family wasn’t the enemy, wasn’t one to try and replace his own family, just an extension. 

He meant what he said, that his Mama would like your family. He already knew she’d love you, simply because he did. He hoped it was true, that your family would’ve loved her. He knew deep down they would have, that they would welcome her with the same warmth that they gave him. 

That they’d always make sure her stocking was full on Christmas morning, because they always made sure his was. 

[getonite]

YOU KNOW I LOOK TOO GOOD TO NOT BE HIDEOUS!

( synop. the voice inside of dazai's head swallows him whole ) contains. 1.8k+ wc — gn!reader ; dazai angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers ( hinted ), dazai gets a hug, alcoholism, drunk!dazai, pre-ada but post-pm, mention of vomit, dazai has a panic attack + cries, implied sh scars. ( the author is back on their torturing dazai bit ; this song literally belongs to him, okay. kinda pt2 to my prev dazai fic. )

"Dazai . . . "

"Dazai."

"OSAMU!"

Dazai twitches, awakened by the familiar sound of a yelling voice. "Huh?" his voice slurs as he sits up slowly, his body clearly in pain. You sniff, groaning the thick smell of alcohol stuck in his clothes. "Don't yell, hangover . . . " he grumbles. "Or maybe I'm still drunk."

"Get up," you say firmly, looking down at his slumped body resting against the wall.

He must've been downing drinks last night, though, at least not to the point where he couldn't figure his way home. Though, it seems he couldn't get into the house as his keys are resting in his hand and he's sitting onto the concrete next to the door.

"Huh? Wha—What, I'm getting- huh?"

You sigh and loop your arm underneath his, carefully pulling him inside of the house. You carefully grab the keys and set them on the rack near the door. Dazai let's out a drunken giggle as you pat him down, making sure that everything he left with is still with him.

"You are so fucking irresponsible," you hiss, tugging Oda's coat off of his lanky body. After forcing him to sit down, you walk to the kitchen to get him a much needed glass of water.

"Oh, coooome on," he hiccups, "You love me though.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, "Your lucky no one found you black out drunk like that and stole your shit. Or worse, killed you." You emphasize your woods, setting the cup ( you don't trust him with a glass ) of water in front of him. "Or have you forgotten, you just left the Port Mafia?"

Dazai sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes at your statement.

After months of hiding, you'd think he'd get it. Maybe that he'd follow suit of you. Stay low, stay quiet, and say lawful. Apparently not. He can't even stay clean.

There's a thought of wanting to punch him, maybe it'll knock some sense into him you think. Taking a deep breath, you bend down, slipping off his shoes and putting them next to the door. "Drink your water, please," you grunt," I'll run you a bath."

"Mhm~!" Dazai sings. He's been mumbling and humming tunes, kicking his feet as you attempt to clean him up.

After a couple of minutes, you walk down the hallway toward him, "Alright, c'mon!" Dazai giggles, hurriedly getting up from his seat. Though you see the scene happen in slow motion. As if he had low iron ( which he probably does ), the blood rushed down towards his feet and he immediately stumbles, hanging onto the table as he tries to gain his bearings.

"Osam—" you pause when you see his puffed cheeks. You sigh and dash for the small trashcan in the bathroom and hold it below his mouth. And a second later, you hear the gross sound of vomit.

You rub his back, waiting for him to finish before you even attempt to bring him to the bathroom. You almost gag as you bring him carefully to the bathroom and strip his clothes, unraveling his bandages as well.

A wave of both guilt and disappointment passes through you as you see him flop into the filled bathtub. He's thin. New scars have appeared a top the old and ( incorrectly ) healed ones. He's too pale, his hair is back to the state it was when he first appeared, and he reeks of the bar. Even after your efforts, it seems as if you can't get him out of this slump. "Osamu . . . "

Dazai lifts his head, silently responding to your voice. All of the mumbling, sound effects, and humming are stopped as you carefully clean his skin.

"What is going on with you?" There's a deep frown on your face as you inspect his forearm. "No matter how much I try, you only clean yourself up when I make you."

"I work, you sit in a bar, come home and plop yourself on the couch without a fucking word," you hiss. Dazai flinches, though your not sure if it's your voice, or your movements. Regardless, a sense of guilt floods you and you take a deep breath.

"What is it?" You pause and look at him, "I know you're still recovering from Oda, I understand grief. But you refuse to talk about it and then drown yourself in alcohol, no matter what I do."

There's attempt to keep your voice calm and level, though he can hear it. The underlying emotions of annoyance, worry, and disbelief.

His eyes are downcast, focused on the water covering his lower half. They're dazed, pupils dilating as they stay focused on the one spot. "Osamu?" You frown, eyes flickering to study his face. Your face falls when you hear the quiet sound of his breathing.

His chest shakes as he breathing increases, his jaw shaking in an attempt to say words.

"Oh . . . Osamu," you mumble as tears swell in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and onto the arms resting in his lap. His arm flinches at the sting of the salty tear to the cuts on them.

You carefully get into the bathtub fully clothed behind him. He feels the warmth of your skin touch his as you carefully grab onto him, holding him close with pressure on his chest from your arms. "You're alright, I promise. It's okay," you whisper. His trembling hands touch your arms.

The silent tears continue to fall, the sound of the drops hitting the water, and his ragged breathing fill the air.

"Hey," you whisper, "Can you do something for me? The bathroom is kind of bland, but can you point out 5 things you see?" Dazai gulps, your voice sounding distant despite how you're hugged to him. Nevertheless, his eyes dart around the room, he attempts to find something to grab onto to.

His jaw ticks, "The- The shampoo," he croaks. You nod with a small smile growing on your face, "Good. It's okay, try to breathe," your hand rests against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat. "Tell me some more . . . "

Dazai sniffs, chest stuttering rapidly, "Your— s-s- sweatpants." His grip tightens on your arm as more tears slide down his face. "That's it, can you give me another one?"

"The," he gulps, "Clock."

"Come on, you got it. Can you give me another one?"

His lips tremble, teeth clacking together in an uncomfortable pace. He sucks in a breath, vision fuzzy as he focuses on your voice. "Uhh, the toilet," he whimpers, glossy tears clouding his view before they spill. You nod, "Good job, one more."

Dazai squeezes his eyes shut before blinking, to search for something else. "Soap, the soap."

You help him attempt to breathe, "Good. Now breath, just feel the way my chest is moving."

For the next few minutes, you talk him through the 5-4-3-2-1 method until he's relaxed in your hold. The water has gone cold, and the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes cling to your skin. "How about . . . " you start, "I clean you up, then we judge what to do hm? You just— you need a good bath and some food."

Dazai nods silently. He's not entirely in the room. His eyes are unfocused as he feels your careful hands gliding along his skin, though everything feels muffled to him, the room beginning to blur once more before your hand slightly pulls him from his disassociate state.

You pull him from the tub, drying him off, cleaning his arms and legs, wrapping his wounds in bandages, and cutting his hair again. ( Making sure he brushes his teeth )

No matter how many times he attempts to tune in on your voice, he can't do it. Nor can he focus on anything. His hands don't feel like his hands. The table doesn't feel like it's familiar texture. The room doesn't smell right. He doesn't sink into the seat correctly. And the chopsticks send tingles through his hand. None of it feels real.

He feels your warm hand touching the back of his neck. "Breathe," you whisper, "Touch it again. Hold it and breathe, it'll feel right."

His world is fuzzy, except the static quiets when you touch him. He slowly eats, the entire time with you keeping a warm hand on him.

Dazai starts to wake up as you carry him to the bed, pulling him into your embrace. There's silence throughout the room, not a sound unleashed to part the quiet atmosphere. Well, until you speak. "Osamu . . . " you whisper, fingers dancing in his head of curls as you carefully think of what to say. "I love you."

The man's eyes widen at your soft words. "No matter which way you choose to interpret that. I do."

"Which is why I have this urge to take care of you. It's what drives to clean up your empty bottles and canned food. And it drives to wonder what can I do to help you?"

Dazai gulps, his fingers entangled in the fabric of your new shirt.

"Your two years of hiding are almost over," you whisper, "Im selfish, you've known that since we were kids. So please, just promise me something. I don't need your thoughts, your feelings, nothing. Just two words."

"Hm?" Dazai looks up at you, having a feeling as to what you'll say.

"I'll sound cringe," you roll your eyes with a faint smile on your face, "but—promise me you'll tell me when you feel like your falling again. Doesn't matter how much I have to do it, I'll pick you back up. Cut your hair, change your bandages, whatever. I just—I hate seeing you like that. You just have to tell me."

Dazai remains silent, simply laying against you.

"I sorry," he whispers. You sigh, "Don't say sorry, just promise. I said I'd protect you when we were little, I mean that, even if you are older than me ( by a year ). I just need you to promise."

"I promise," he whispers.

You smile and mess with the small hairs on the back of his neck. "Good."

A faint smile appears on Dazai's face, one you can't see of course. "Well, first order of buisness," you speak. Dazai frowns, looking up at you.

"You're banned from all bars."

"Hey!" Dazai shrieks, shooting up to look down at you.

"You throw up on me, I'll kill you," you say firmly.

"Thought you were supposed to protect me," Dazai frowns, with a teasing verse.

"I can knock some sense into you."

"Asshole."

"Mhm," you hum, pulling him back on top of you, making sure he's comfortable beneath the sheets. "Also . . . " He mumbles.

"You love me?"

A couple of months later, you walk with Dazai to the four-story building of your workplace. Before the man can even open his mouth as you walk through the door, "Do not flirt with her."

Dazai whines as you drag him upstairs and to a door that reads 'Armed Detective Agency.'

A hum leaves your lips as you walk in, lugging Dazai along by his collar. Your eyes drift to a grey-haired man in traditional Japanese clothing, a green haori draped over his kimono.

You throw Dazai forward, walking to the side of him.

"President, this is the one I was talking about."

the ending was kind of ass. i think i lost the concept a bit lol. i hope you appreciate this a little. reblogs r appreciated!!

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 14 - Un Coin Tout Bleu

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: None really... angst, make-ups, misunderstandings, confessions and a proposal.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the penultimate chapter, so everyone is starting to make peace. There is one more chapter that will have explicit content and an epilogue to go. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Aubrey Hall, UK, October 1939

Instinct has you up on your feet and chasing after, rounding into each room you pass, but you cannot find either of them. Your stride is definitely no match for Benedict’s; he is likely already far away. 

When you stumble up the stairs, you collide with Violet. She is taken aback at first but then sees your apparent distress and has you in a hug before you know what is happening. 

“Whatever is it, my dear?” she soothes into your hair.

“Eloise found Benedict and I asleep in an embrace and ran away in horror,” you stutter. “And then I let slip to Benedict you think he loves me, and then he ran. Oh god!! I have messed things up so horribly,” you lament.

Her motherly concern has you clinging to her, the sting of your mother’s recent rejection still a whiplash to your heart.

“Let us find my wilful daughter; she is likely just in shock, that is all.” she counsels calmly. “And then we will deal with your errant husband.”

Looping your arm with hers, Violet leads you to a few places where she knows Elose skulks when she wants to escape the world. You both eventually find her in the attic, where stacks of books and pillows are near an oval window that suggests this is often a refuge for her.

“Eloise Bridgerton, come and make amends with your friend,” is her stern greeting.

“Why should I?” Eloise sniffs, steadfastly refusing to turn around, staring out the small window at the grounds below. “She did the one thing - the ONE THING - I told her would make me disown her….” she adds bitterly, referencing the chat you had in Paris many weeks ago before Benedict arrived. “This was a choice she made.”

“Falling in love with your brother was not a choice, Eloise; it happened quite without me meaning to,” you implore, wanting her to believe it's true.

At that, her head whips around, surprise claiming her face. “Love?” she scoffs. “Please…” Looking to her mother for support in her derision, she frowns when she seems to find none. “Are you serious?”

“Yes…” you reply softly, taking a hesitant step forward, holding your palms open at your side—a conciliatory gesture. “I married Benedict to escape, yes, but even before then, I knew I felt something for him. That connection has only grown more profound since. We have spent a lot of time together in secret. I am truly sorry I, well, we, kept it from you. I was scared you would be angry and hurt. And you are. And you have every right to be.” 

“It's true, Eloise,” Violet, standing a few paces behind you, pipes up. “I saw it the minute they arrived here. And I can tell you right now, your brother feels exactly the same.”

You want to believe Violet’s assertion about that, but you feel a tightness in your chest as she says it, worrying that it may not be accurate.

“You are my friend,” she whines almost petulantly. 

“And I will always be your friend if you allow me,” you counter delicately. “No matter what happens with Benedict, and even I do not know now, you will always be dear to me and a part of my life.”

“What did that bloody idiot do now?” she inquires, sharp as a tack.

“After you left the room, I-I mentioned your mother thinks he loves me, and well, he ran out, you admit, hanging your head.

“That idiot…” she blusters, rolling her eyes.

“I'm very sorry if you see this as a betrayal. I wanted to keep it quiet because I love you so much as a friend. I truly never want or meant to hurt you….”

Eloise sighs, and you watch her shoulders slump. “You are just lucky I know some semblance of what you speak…” she offers wistfully, a glimmer of hope that has you inhaling sharply.

You know without asking that she is referring to Phillip, and you twist to smile at Violet briefly, who suddenly looks very invested. 

“I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive me. I know it may take some time,” you allow. Hope creeps into the edges of your heart that you can reconcile with one Bridgerton, at least. 

“It is just a shock that you kept it from me,” she sighs, finally admitting what upset her the most.

“I thought us terrible actors,” you giggle lightly, hoping humour will brighten your exchange.

A soft smile teases at the corner of her lips. “Are you suggesting I am not as sharp as I could be?” she jests gently.

“Heaven forfend!” you clutch your chest, feigning shock, then morphing into a smile you hope is an olive branch. 

“I think perhaps you saw what you wanted or rather didn't want to see, daughter dearest,” Violet interjects mildly. “Because I can confirm they are both utterly terrible actors,” she chuckles.

You bite your lip and hang your head in an act of contrition that seems to amuse Eloise greatly. Her hesitant huff of humour is the best noise you could possibly hear.

“Friends?” you query tentatively, hopeful.

“Friends,” she pouts, crossing her arms. “But there is still much to make up…” she adds.

“Understood.”

With this fragile peace brokered, Violet links her arm in Eloise’s and yours, leading you both back down into the house with a declaration that tea, the ultimate British elixir, is needed.

—

Ten minutes later, you are gathered in the small glass conservatory, partaking in said refreshments. Other Bridgerton children—Colin, Francesa, and Gregory—likely drawn by the biscuit smell have also materialised. The gathering is a peaceful balm to a dramatic day. A large part of you still aches that Benedict fled, but you try to force it from your mind and concentrate on the fact that Eloise may be willing to forgive… with time.

Just as you stand to refill your teacup, however, the calm is shattered. Benedict charges into the room, flustered and breathless. He drops an envelope he is holding onto a side table and marches right up to you, stride purpose-filled, completely ignoring the rest of his family.  

“There you are! I have been looking all over for you!” Relief palpable in his tone but still agitated and animated, grabbing your forearms. “Where on earth did you go?”

You splutter indignantly. “Where did I go?! Me? I think the more pertinent question is… where did you go?! You ran out of the room so fast!”

“I asked you to wait a moment,” he frowns.

“No, you didn't!” you state forthrightly.

He seems to falter, relinquishing his grip on your arms. “I… I didn't?”

“No…”

A look of doubt, then confusion, then finally understanding ripples over his face. “Oh…So you thought I… Oh…”

“Yes,” you reply quietly so the others gathered, who seem very invested now in your exchange, cannot hear. “I thought you walked out because of what I divulged.” Not wanting to go into detail with an audience.

“No! No!” he asserts candidly. “Nothing could be further from the truth!” His eyes soften as he realises what happened, looking genuinely contrite. “I am so sorry. I must’ve forgotten to say it out loud in my excitement.”

“Excitement!?” you are baffled. “You looked terrified!”

He grabs your hands this time, holding them in his, a look of earnest sincerity claiming his handsome features. “Yes, I was nervous and shocked that my mother knew and told you,” briefly glancing towards her over your shoulder. “But it spurred me to finally be brave enough to show you something. Something very important that I need your opinion on” 

He lets go of your hands to grab the envelope from the table. With a nervous mien, he opens it and hands you a pile of photos. They are of an idyllic-looking country home surrounded by a pretty garden and countryside beyond. It looks so beautiful and instantly captures your imagination. For some strange reason, it already feels familiar to you.

“What do you think?” Benedict seems super nervous, shuffling his weight between his feet, apparently anxious for your answer. 

“It's very pretty,” you opine neutrally, primarily confused. “I'm not sure why you are showing me, though?”

“I… I wanted to know if it was somewhere you could see yourself living?” he asks enigmatically with a small smile.

“Why?” you frown, unwilling to confess the truth - that you would live there in a heartbeat. It looks like the house you dreamed you would live in one day.

He takes a deep breath, seeming to steel himself. “Because… I would like to buy it. For you. Well, for us.”

There is no other word for it - you are floored. A loud buzzing sound is behind your ears, your knees feel oddly weak, and there is a tingle in your fingertips. 

“For us?” you stutter, disbelieving.

You could hear a pin drop in the room. You can’t see them, but you know his family behind you likely have gaping mouths, especially Eloise.

“Yes, to live in. Together,” Benedict answers, that crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And if you are willing to live with me, well, then I also have another question for you…”

Your lungs feel afire, and your brain is short-circuiting—almost unable to surmount the shock. Entirely confounded as your heart pounds hard in your ribcage.

“A-A-And if I am, what is your other question?” you ask breathlessly.

You gasp as he falls to one knee before you, and you hear a collective ripple of shock behind you as he produces a little velvet box from his pocket.

“I wanted you to wait so I could also go and get this,” he explains, a slight shake in his hand as he holds it open—an engagement ring with sapphires and diamonds nestled within. 

You can feel your eyes welling with tears as you gaze down upon him.

“Realising my mother knew the truth and accepted it was a wake-up call for me. I had to finally be brave and confess to you. We are already married, so some may think this pointless, but it is nothing less than you deserve: a proper, heartfelt, honest proposal.” 

His free hand reaches and grabs yours, lacing your fingers together. It feels like the anchor you need to stay upright. 

“Given the short time, it may seem reckless to others, but I do not care what anyone thinks but you. I know what my heart tells me, indeed, has told me from the moment we met—you are my home, my refuge, my present and my future. Y/n, I love you more than I ever thought possible. I would marry you a hundred times over, in whatever way you would have me. Please, please, will you be my wife?”

A sob escapes your lungs, and you fall to your knees with him, wanting to be at eye level.

“Yes, Benedict! A hundred times - yes!!!” 

Your answer is rendered through watery tears as he breaks into a breathtaking grin and pulls you both to your feet. He gathers you into his arms and seals the pact with a lingering but chaste kiss. His eyes are misty, too, as your lips break apart and exchange smiles.

Behind you, his family erupts into whoops and applause as he pushes the ring onto your left finger, fitting snugly over your wedding band. You twist to see Eloise, a begrudging tear in her eye; a burden lightens in your heart as she nods towards you as if bestowing her tacit approval.

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[snoopyana]

one night.

the sequel.

“can i be with you just one night? i can wear you out inside.”

in which you meet eunseok at a basketball game, after your boyfriend, wonbin, left you alone during a heated argument— and eunseok swoops in to temporarily take his spot.

song eunseok. smut. darkish? eunseok drops his whole “i care for you” facade and blames you for the whole situation in the end.

everyone knew what was going on behind the bleachers. it wasn’t necessarily a private place to argue. definitely not to argue about you eyeing his teammates a bit too long for wonbins liking. you had no ill intention behind your gaze, but he thought otherwise. his voice gradually rising in volume when you denied having any interest in any of the other guys. it was almost as if he wanted to say you had a thing for his members.

“oh my god, what’s your problem??” you cut the man off mid-sentence. the bickering had gone on for so long that his members would peek their heads in to make sure anything was alright. “my problem? my problem is how you were basically glazing them with your eyes.” that was far from the truth, and he knew it. wonbin only said that once he finally saw the other men listening in.

“are you SERIOUS right now? you ASKED me to come and watch you guys practice and that’s what i’m doing. do you expect me to only look you? god forbid i’m not an airhead all the time and actually act interested in what’s happening around me??” wonbin stared at you dumbfounded. his eyes blown, fist clenched. “i’m done.” walking past his teammates, he snatched up his duffel bag before storming out the gym.

rubbing your temple, you finally let go of your emotions. eyes stinging as the argument looped in your mind. “oh my fucking god.” slipped past your lips as you made your way from underneath the bleachers. quickly being were surrounded by the rest of his team and bombarded with “are you okay?” which only tipped you over the edge. going from a small stream running down your cheeks to full crocodile tears.

their words quickly turning into hesitant hugs as you broke down in the middle of the court. eunseok lead you over back to the bleachers, this time to sit down and most importantly — calm down. the others stood in a semicircle around you two. you face falling into the palms of your hands as you continued your small emotional crisis. silence followed as eunseok rubbed your back, the others standing there simply for emotional relief. looking at their phones, sungchan was the first to speak up.

“hey, we gotta get going. but if you ever need anything, i’m pretty sure we’d all be willing to help. right? just call or text.” his sentence was followed by a bunch of “mhms” and head nods. stepping over to your side, sungchan ruffled your hair before walking to pick up his stuff. signaling for the rest to follow. “you coming eunseok?” anton turned back to you two, realizing eunseok was still seated. “no, she still needs a way to get home, wonbin had driven them here and clearly he left already.”

nodding his head, anton waved goodbye to his friend, giving you another glance before letting the door close behind him. the buzz from the overhead lights and your sniffles echoed through the open area. he continued to draw circles on your back until light cries and sniffles turned into light breathing. searching his pockets, eunseok pulled out his phone. ‘8:46PM’ stared back at him. it had been close to an hour since wonbin stormed out, and 20 minutes since the boys left.

as he looked at his screen, he could feel your body shift. finally lifting your head up from your hands — glancing over, eunseok put his phone down to move small pieces of hair that stuck to your face. wiping your cheeks with the back of his hand as well. “you alright now? i can take you home or we can just sit a little longer.” moving his hand from your back to your shoulder. “i don’t wanna,” you spoke in between sniff ,” see him right now.” it had completely slipped his mind, you two lived together. “oh yeah, sorry. i can just drive you around if you want.”

giving him a quick nod, eunseok helped you to your feet — slipping his hand around your waist as he led you out the building and into the parking lot. opening the passenger door for you, he made sure you were situated before going to his respective seat. starting the vehicle, the first part of the drive was filled with silence and eunseok making random turns as you stared out the window.

“so,” he finally decided to break the silence after nearly 10 minutes, “what happened back there?” coming to a stop, the red from the light illuminated your face. “he was being fucking stupid. saying i was ‘checking you guys out’ when i was just watching.” huffing, you let your head fall back onto the seat. “like does he not trust me around other dudes or something? but if i started to act like that when he’s around women i’d be in the wrong!” crossing your arms under your chest as you thought about the whole situation. tears threatening to roll down your face for the second time tonight. “hey its okay, calm down.” reaching over, he rubbed your leg — thinking nothing of it for the time being.

“god. i swear he just wants me to cheat or something.” looking ahead, you took notice to eunseoks’ now still hand. eyes darting over to him, his eyes were glued to the road. “what’s stopping you?” the question caught you by surprise. “because i..”

you wanna say love him. don’t you?

eunseok pulled into a vacant lot. “because you what? you love him?” he was now facing you, waiting for a response. eunseoks hand lingering on your thigh. you sat in silence.

spit it out. you don’t. at least not right now.

“no. i.. i don’t.” humming in response, eunseok leaned over the center console. lips ghosting yours. he stayed like that in silence, his eyes glued to your lips. you were quick to close the distance. lips colliding with his.

when was the last time you felt this way? this desperate. how would wonbin feel if he saw you right now?

eunseoks hands found their way your neck, pushing you closer into him. his lips curling into a smile when you whined. pulling away, a quiet snicker slipped from his lips as you caught your breath. eyes blown and lips already puffy. “get in the back.” opening the car door, eunseok walked to the back while you quickly crawled through the center. once he was seated, he tapped his lap — which you eagerly sat down in. thighs on the sides of his while his arms stretched over your waist.

it’s not too late to stop you know.

pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind, his lips found their way back to yours. feeling a little more relaxed, arms wrapping around his neck. a few minutes passed before the sound of your phone buzzing snapped you out of your trance. reaching for your purse, eunseok started to grind his hips into yours.

it’s him, isn’t it?

guilt started to kick in, this is cheating. “he’s asking where i am..” looking at eunseok, your eyes quickly started to gloss over. “tell him you went to a friends house. he doesn’t need to know you’re with me.” there was hesitation in your eyes, but you did as he said. throwing your phone to the side, his lips found yours again. a slight tremble in your touch while your hands snaked through his hair, and he noticed. his hand slipped under your shirt, massaging the skin — while his other cupped your cheeks.

it felt so intimate. would wonbin do this? did wonbin do this?

that feeling would quickly fade as eunseoks’ once gentle hands roughly pulled at your jeans. helping him, you tugged at the material, pushing it down until they laid on the car seat. pushing you to sit on his knees, the man pulled his sweats down just enough for his dick to spring up. “come on, we gotta make it quick.”

he seemed so much pushier now, what happened?

shuffling up to his lap once more, eunseok spits in his palm. giving his cock a few pumps before tapping onto your thighs — causing your body to automatically hover over his. lining himself up, the male pushed you down onto his hard-on. the stretch being even more intense from the lack of prep.

seems like he doesn’t care anymore.

he was now buried deep inside your cunt, giving you the bare minimum of time to adjust before snapping his hips into yours. eunseoks head resting in the nook of your neck — biting at the skin. “hey, no.. no marks.” but did he listen? of course not. biting harder as his pace increased. he didn’t even bother to talk to you. wasn’t this supposed to be distressing you? why aren’t you enjoying it as much now?

he was quick to finish, pulling out and jerking his way to his own climax. but you hadn’t reached yours. opening your mouth to speak, your words were cut off before they could even come out. “he’s outside, hurry up and get out so you can go home.” pushing your body onto the seat next to him, eunseok was quick to stuff himself back into his pants. opening the car door, wonbin stood just outside. eunseok slipped out, standing next to the other male. a small smile plastered on his lips — your lip gloss coating his face.

“this is your fault by the way. should have gone home.”

note- hii. i wanted to try and venture out of my comfort zone a little with my writing style AND themes. nothing too intense for now. i kinda liked writing this though. i will say it’s not one of my best works but hey, we live and we learn. if you guys enjoyed, please do tell me. i’d love to hear some feedback. also, can we tell i’m a little head-over-heels for car sex? like woah.

note 2- ALSO, took me less than 10 days to write another fic? are we proud of me guys? i feel like thats an accomplishment, im getting more confident in my craft.

[sluttyminghao]

everlasting love | k.mg

♡ pairing: kim mingyu x afab!reader ♡ w.c.: 3k ♡ genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff ♡ this fic contains: domestic!mingyu, shy to confident reader, mingyu takes you to a dog park, friends to lovers trope, mingyu gets horny over a thong, unprotected sex (reader is stated to be on the pill), big dick mingyu, mentions of reader passing out after orgasm, mingyu sucks on readers tits ♡ synopsis: mingyu wants you to know how much he loves you after dropping hints for years, and takes you on a date you'll never forget, and maybe you'll also figure out you love him too. ♡ a/n: part of the svthub spring series! you can find all the other wonderful fics here, take a read and stroll through the garden!

“Mingyu, why are we at a dog park? Neither of us even has a dog.”

“Because we can pat the dogs that are here, silly! It’s a great way to kill an hour or so.”

You chuckle and watch as he runs in front of you, before squatting down in front of the first dog approaching him. It’s small in stature and black in colour and looks like a toy poodle at first glance. As you walk closer and bend down beside him so the dog can sniff your hand, you can hear him talking to the dog in a cutesy voice that has you cringing externally, but melting internally.

For as long as you had been friends with Mingyu, which if you remembered correctly was about 7 years, there had always been a small part of you that had fallen head over heels for the tall, tanned man. You kept it buried down inside you as deep as it would go, and promised yourself it would never, ever come up.

You just hoped that it wasn't obvious in any aspect, because you were sure you’d shrivel into a ball if he knew your true feelings.

“Over here! There’s a whole bunch of dogs wanting their bellies rubbed!” Mingyu’s voice floats into your consciousness and you quickly stand and jog over to where he was now laying stomach down on the grass, rubbing the belly of a dalmatian. You wanted to scold him for rolling in the grass in a white shirt and light-coloured jeans, but he looked so cute that you didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“Quick! Take my picture!”

Mingyu’s excited voice makes your heart skip a beat as you pull out your phone and snap a couple of pictures, which you were sure he’d upload to his Instagram later. Mentally, you were kicking yourself for having your feelings for him bubble up like a boiling pot on a stove. It’s not like he would like you back anyway, he could have literally anyone he wanted.

But little did you know, the only person he wanted was you.

From the moment he laid eyes on you all those years ago, he couldn't picture his life without you in it. Every night, he dreamed about every inch of you, how the perfume you use makes his heart race and how he wants nothing more than to push you against a mattress and make love to you.

The only thing stopping him from confessing was that he didn't want to ruin your friendship. It was the best thing in his life and if you rejected him, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

“Oh, look at how pretty these flowers are!”

Mingyu is drawn immediately to your voice, his head snapping up and abandoning his spot on the ground with the dogs to find you crouched over some shrubs a few feet away. He’s not sure what kind of flowers they are, but you seem pretty invested in them.

“What are they?”

“They’re called Zinnias, I love how bright they are… they’re my favourite flowers.” You ramble, letting your hand brush over the petals of a bright yellow zinnia gently. Mingyu watches as you observe each flower, take some photos and a couple of selfies before finally standing up and looping your arm through his.

He feels his heart jump into his throat at the sudden closeness of you, but brushes it off as you lead him to walk along the path full of different flowers and shrubs. Mingyu observes you strolling and watches as you stop to pick some daisies, peonies, and other various types of flowers. He thinks it’s so cute.

“We should make flower crowns!” You squeal with excitement as you place the various flowers into a container and place them in your backpack, slinging it back over your shoulder and sliding your hand into Mingyu’s again. You give him a reassuring squeeze and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven, but is quickly dragged back to Earth when he almost runs into his car.

How did you guys get back to his car so quickly? He swears you were still in the park 30 seconds ago.

You giggle at his clumsiness and climb into the passenger seat, eagerly waiting for him to hop into the driver's side. He follows suit and turns the key in the ignition with ease, before driving slowly out of the car park and out onto the busy streets.

“So, do you want to go out for dinner or just do something at home?” Mingyu asks, diverting his attention to you as he slows the car to a stop at a red light. You hum and rest your head in the palm of your hand mulling over the options. Mingyu was a very good cook, so it wasn't a hard decision to make, but you still wanted him to think it was a hard decision.

“Can we just go back to your place and have some ramen? I’ve been craving it for literal weeks and no one cooks it like you do.” The grin on your face makes him melt inside as he nods and makes a U-turn to head to his apartment, hoping he’s got all the ingredients to make you the best ramen ever.

As soon as he turns into his driveway, you’re already taking off your seatbelt and skipping inside, either to change into his clothes or start getting ingredients ready for the ramen. He’s kind of hoping it’s the former, but he’d be happy with either scenario considering how domestic they both were.

He walks inside and closes the door with a soft thud, placing his keys on the hook and toeing his shoes off onto the doormat. As he walks further into his apartment, he notices you’ve already turned the heater on, the tv is set up with Netflix, and your pants are on the floor. He grins and picks them up off the floor, placing them over the back of the couch before attempting to find where you had gone to.

When he walks into the kitchen, he feels as if his jaw might fall off.

You’re standing in the middle of the kitchen, grabbing all the ingredients you would both need. His eyes can't help but gaze over your body, widening when he notices you’re not wearing any pants at all. He thought that maybe you had changed into a pair of his sweats, but no, you’re standing there in only your pink thong and jumper.

He feels his cock twitch.

“Uhh…” His voice makes you stop and turn to face him, grinning from ear to ear. You take quick steps over to him and pull him by his forearm to come into the kitchen and help prepare the ramen. You knew what you were doing, teasing him by exposing basically everything from the waist down, but you couldn’t hide your feelings for him much longer, especially after today.

“Come on, let’s make some ramen!” Your voice grows whiny and he feels his cock twitch again, wondering how you would sound with his cock sheathed deeply inside you. He shakes his head and grabs one of the ramen packets, emptying it into the pot of water and turning the stove on.

You move to sit on the countertop, legs slightly spread so he can see the small wet spot that's begun to form on your thong. He doesn't pay much attention at first, focusing on placing all the ingredients in the pot and then going to grab the salt and pepper from the cupboard.

As he turns around from the cupboard, he almost drops the salt and pepper shakers at the sight of you; legs spread and jumper riding up your midriff, exposing a small sliver of your abdomen. He swallows harshly at the sight of the damp spot on your underwear and has to place the shakers on the counter before turning to properly face you.

“I… uh…you look really good right now,” his stutters have your confidence growing, and as a boost of confidence shoots through you, you feel the need to remove your jumper, exposing your matching lacy bra.

“I think you would look pretty good too if you removed your shirt and pants, we could match.” A giggle escapes your throat as you see the flush cover his cheeks and ears, hands quickly going to remove his shirt and tossing it to the side. Without a second to waste, he’s also removing his pants and leaving him in his boxers with a half-hard erection.

You lick your lips and spread your legs further, inviting him to come stand between them. He obliges and lets his hands hang loosely over your hips, his lips brushing yours only slightly enough to have goosebumps covering your skin. Everything feels so close, yet so far. What happens now?

“I love you, Mingyu.”

The words have his eyes widening, and even though your words are sentimental, you feel his cock twitch against your thigh. His eyes dart to where the ramen is slowly cooking away on the stove, knowing he doesn't have very long before the noodles will be ready.

“I love you too.”

He presses his lips delicately to yours and feels your arms sling over his shoulders. You can feel his rapid heartbeat against your chest, and it makes you feel so good knowing that you’ve made him feel this way. Every single touch he gives you, every slight graze along your skin, has it burning a trail that doesn't leave your mind.

You can feel yourself getting soaked by the second, Mingyu’s magic lips working deftly against your own and his tongue licking along the seams of your mouth. You can tell he’s holding himself back, and you need to let him know that it’s okay to let go.

“M-Mingyu-” your voice comes out breathily and has him groaning into your mouth before he’s reluctantly pulling away. At this point, he has a raging hard on and the wet spot on your panties has doubled. He stares at you, pupils black with lust and a small smirk on his lips, his fabric-covered cock pressing against your panty-clad cunt, only soaking you more.

“The noodles, Gyu, we need to move them off the stove,” you giggle, one of his hands reluctantly pulling away from your supple skin to fiddle with the nobs before eventually turning off the stove. Without a word coming from him, he turns back to face you and easily picks you up off the countertop, swiftly moving you to the couch you had set up earlier.

“I need to fuck you, but I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry about it.”

His eyes gleam with want and he feverishly presses his lips back to yours again, his hands moving to your back to fiddle with the clips of your bra. He removes it within a few moments with relative ease, sliding the straps off your shoulders and exposing your nipples to the cool air. 

He licks his lips at the sight of them pebbling up and immediately ducks his head down to wrap his lips around one of them, one of his hands teasing the other. His tongue feels rough against your skin and only drives you crazy. Your hands are in his dark locks, tugging against them as if your life depends on it.

“So fucking beautiful, can't believe I waited this long to confess and see this,” Mingyu mumbles against your skin, feeling his cock strain impossibly harder against the fabric of his boxers. He knows he probably has a pre cum stain on the front, but he could not give a shit with how good you look and feel.

With his mouth still wrapped around your tit, he reaches a free hand down to mindlessly rub your clit through your thong. Your grip on his hair tightens as he circles the bundle of nerves quickly, and your stomach begins to bundle up in pleasure.

“Mingyu…I ne-need you to fuck me.”

You don't have to ask him twice. Before you can say another word, he’s pulling off your nipple and practically ripping your panties in half. As you open your mouth to complain about your favourite thong being ruined, he shimmies his boxers down and exposes his girthy cock to you.

Your jaw drops open at the sight of him. You knew he had to be big, given his tall stature, but he was bigger than you had imagined. His girth was also much larger than you had been used to in the past, and while it slightly scared you, you also couldn't help but be extremely turned on at the same time.

“Have you got lube?” He asks, and you point to a small cupboard in your room where you kept all sorts of goodies like lube and your toys. He chuckles as he paws through the cupboard, and you roll your eyes, knowing he’s still a child at heart even though he’s about 30 seconds away from sheathing himself inside of you.

Moments later he comes back with a black lube bottle and pours a small amount onto his palm, before chucking the bottle next to you on the couch and pumping himself slowly with the lube, a low groan bubbling from his chest. You feel a new wave of arousal flood your body at the sight of him. How had you not jumped his bones years ago?

“Are you ready?” He asks, adjusting his body so that he’s hovering over you, while your legs are wrapped around his waist. You nod and let your lips press to his hungrily again as he begins to slide the fat head of his cock into your entrance. You whine at the sting and feel tears well up in your eyes. 

Even though he’s hardly pushed half of his cock into you, you can already tell he’s a very attentive lover. He kisses away your tears as he thrusts his hips further into you, holding you as close as he physically can while he sheaths the rest of his girthy cock inside you. Once he’s bottomed out, you both let out a sigh of relief and he peppers your face with kisses, praises flowing from his lips with every kiss.

After a few moments, you squeeze around his cock and he groans, before beginning to move slowly. He can feel your walls pulsating around him, and he’s certain he won’t last long if you keep it up. He plants his arms on each side of your head and starts thrusting a little faster, cock twitching when your boobs begin to bounce a little with each push inside of you.

“F-fuck…god, mingyu!” Your voice is like heaven to his ears as your mind turns to mush, any coherent thoughts you had flying out the window with how well he’s fucking you. Your moans and whimpers are sending him over the edge, and as his orgasm begins to peak, his hips start an extreme pace, groans and whimpers filling the room and your sweat colliding with each other. 

Your own orgasm isn't far behind Mingyu’s, and you feel yourself toppling over the edge with a loud cry when he lets the rough pad of his thumb bump roughly against your clit, rubbing harshly until your thighs clench around his hips and your back arches off the couch while stars dance across your vision.

It takes a while for you to come down from your high, and you don’t even realize that Mingyu has already gotten up and started cleaning you up with some tissues and wipes. You have a stupid smile on your face as you look down to see Mingyu sliding a pair of his sweats up your thighs, which he mirrors when he realizes you’ve come back to earth.

“Hi, darling, are you feeling okay?” The pet name has your cheeks burning but you nod regardless, reaching a hand out to comb through his hair softly. He leans into your touch, sighing softly at the contact, before he’s standing up and grabbing a shirt and placing it over your head, moving your arms to get them into the arm holes.

“So, I figured what we could do tonight is eat ramen, watch shitty television series and make flower crowns with those zinnias and other flowers you picked earlier, how does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect, Mingyu.”

“And you know, I actually did a bit of research on the zinnia flowers, and they actually have an interesting meaning.”

You quirk your brow, not even knowing that zinnias, let alone flowers, had meanings behind them. You urge him to go on, and he quickly pulls out his phone to show you what he had found through his research. You find yourself tearing up at the meaning behind them and bury your head in his shoulder.

“The meaning I like the most is that it stands for everlasting love and affection, but also for endurance and daily remembrance. So, from now on and every year on this day, I am going to bring you a bouquet of zinnias to remind you of my everlasting love for you.”

[yorshie]

Appy Slices: No Nose Zone

Bayverse turtles x femreader (No Y/N)

Warning/Summary: It's the weekend after Romeo left, surely everything's calmed down by now, right? SFW (short Leo POV for comedy sake)

Appy Slices Part Two Let's GO!

aged up turtles (22 ish)

By Monday, you figured all your turtle related problems were over. Sure, things had been a little weird all weekend after movie night, but you figured with Romeo gone things would go back to normal by the next time you saw them.

The turtles responded happily enough to your texts after the tortoise went home with his mother, and your quick text informing them of his departure was the equivalent to opening the floodgates on their affection and attention.

Throughout the week, Raph sent you texts while you were walking to and from work, vigilant about making sure you weren’t followed and nagging about keeping an eye on your surroundings. Mikey left you a dozen or more funny video links everyday for you to enjoy on your breaks and in-between bites of your lunch. Donnie programed your phone so whenever you opened it on the subway ride home it went straight to a new playlist he had put together for you. Even Leo left you a voicemail every morning, at a calculated time when you couldn’t pick up, just letting you know he hoped you had a good day.

So by the time Friday rolled around again and you were heading down to the Lair, six or so pizza boxes in your hands, you weren’t expecting any hiccups in the ‘let’s just all forget about cranky, territorial turtles’ plan.

That was, until Michelangelo met you at the door, arms open wide to give you his customary welcome hug. You dropped the boxes on the table, squealed with glee and jumped for him. He caught you as he always did, swung you around in an arc before he pulled his head sharply away and gagged.

He set you down quickly, face falling into a mask that you had never seen on him before.

“Angelo?” You asked, confusion and worry bleeding into your tone.

“Wow, Babes.” He wrinkled his nose, arms coming up to hold you decidedly away from him. “You uh… you reek.”

You froze, fought the urge to openly sniff yourself. “I-smell?”

He nodded, rubbing his hands up and down your arms in what you hoped he meant as soothing, because his grip was just a shy tick too strong. “Yea, you-”

“Hey, princess, you got the pizza!” Raph walked in from his weight room, towel over his wide shoulders and a grin pulling his lips. He went to take you from Mikey, and you went willingly, hopeful that you’d get your turtle cuddles.

His head dipped into the slot where your neck met your shoulder while your arms looped over his neck, silently asking to be picked up, and he went rigid. 

You heard him give a loud snort, the sound barreling through his chest under your face, and he all but shoved you away, blinking rapidly and lip curling. “Oh, not this shit again.”

“What shit?!” The words popped out with a squeak, your shoulders up, blocking your neck. You stared up at him, eyes wide and questioning.

Mikey caught your elbow, fingers warm and firm, coaxing you into half facing him again. “C’mon, babes, let’s get you a shower, then-”

You heard his words while taking a few steps in the direction he was corralling you, brows lowering as you processed what he wanted. Your knees locked, and you rocked away from his gentle pull. 

“I don’t need a shower, Mikey.” 

“Yes, yes you do.” There was a large hand on the small of your back, but you stayed firm against Raph’s push, a little bubble of anger starting to manifest in your gut.

“Stop being pushy.” You ordered, about to turn back to fix Raph with a scowl, but a quick hiss of an aerosol can brought you up short.

Your gaze latched onto Mikey’s wide eyes, impossibly blue as you watched him process the flash of emotion on your face at the sound, before you rolled your head to the side and spied the can of Febreeze in Raph’s hand.

“Raph.” You asked, quiet, calm. “Did you just-”

He sprayed the can again, in a sweeping motion, hitting you from mid thigh to shoulders.

————————

In the Dojo, Leo’s head whipped around in alarm at a faint screech, arms moving to brace his weight forward, up and out of the Lotus position he had just settled into. The feminine sound tunneled through the Lair again, and he was up, moving, his heart a sudden spiky thump of terror under his ribs. 

He barreled through the Dojo door and into the main room, barely a pause to catalogue the interior, before a scuffle by the entrance to the bathrooms caught his eye and he focused on it. 

That terror in his chest bloomed into relief, morphed into confusion, then finally settled into irritation, and with a sharp huff and a shake of his head, he started for the squabble.

Raphael and Michelangelo were trying to wrestle you through the bathroom door. Raph had his arms looped under your own, one large hand tucked behind your head in a hold just tight enough to stop you from slipping free, other hand belted around your middle and lifting you up into the air. One of your hands was clenched tight around the heavy metal door frame, one leg braced on the other side of the opening. Mikey had both hands occupied trying to bend your leg up and off while keeping ahold of the other.

The whole time, you were screeching at the top of your lungs, only stopping to gather more breath, voice cracking at the beginning and end of each noise. With each belt of sound Leo flinched, his head ringing, heart quickening despite the fact that he could clearly see you were not in danger.

His brothers, on the other hand-

Leo breathed in deeply, sucking in the air to bellow, when he heard Mikey shout incredulously, your foot breaking free and crashing into his chest before he could re-snag it:

“Where does all this anger come from!? Where does she store it?!”

—————————

“What the hell are you two doing?”

You hiccuped at the sound, the sharp bark of clipped words, screech cutting off mid belt as Leo intervened.

Raph and Mikey froze, caught red handed, before Raph seemed to recover, swinging you around and away from the door, all but shoving you under Leo’s nose. “Smell.”

“What?” Leo hissed, eyes narrowing, chin jutting forward, patented ‘big brother ire’ coming out strong.

“She stinks.” Raph growled over your head, as if it made sense, “like that stupid tortoise.”

“What?” You squawked at the same time Leo repeated the word, your anger building even as his snout arced down, burying into your hair. Your free hand came up to shove him away, but he moved just as you made contact, his whole face curling up as if he’d sucked on a lemon.

“I do not smell!” You shouted it with a renewed wiggle, going limp in Raph’s hold in an effort to slip from his grip.

“Yea, you do babe.” Mikey interjected, hugging both your legs to his chest. 

“Just, put her down.” Leo said, flexing his face muscles, tying to relax around the offensive smell. 

Slowly, Raph and Mikey released you, and you wasted no time stepping outside their grabbing range, skirting around Leo until you had the eldest brother between you and them.

“Mikey, go get whatever you think would fit.” Leo said, voice low, and you peeked around the edge of his shell to frown up at him. “Raph, go-” He lifted an arm, peered down at you before focusing on his Red banded brother again. “Go get the secret weapon.”

“Secret weapon?” You asked, annoyed and more than a little suspicious. “Leo? What secret weapon?” 

He didn’t answer, but he did let you grab at the sides of his shell, edge him sideways to keep him in front of you as both Raph and Mikey slid past. You tried to follow where Raph was going, but Leo took another snorting breath, shaking his head as though to get rid of a bothersome insect.

“I really smell?” You asked, voice small, shoulders curving inwards when he didn’t deny it.

“Hey, it’s ok. We’ll fix this.” He said, raising his brow ridges and tilting his head in an effort to see you, since you had yet to move out from behind him.

“Or, and this is just a suggestion, but you could all kindly get over yourselves.” You put some sarcasm into the words, backed it up with a solid push against his carapace, and he swayed forward just enough to not jar your elbows.

“Hm…” He quirked a corner of his mouth. “Tempting.” He raised an arm, and you retreated further behind him. “Hey? Why am I being used as a turtle shield?”

“Because.” You shook your head decidedly, tapping the back of his leg to get him to shift to the side. “If anyone’s got a chance of manhandling me into a shower, it’s you. So you just keep your hands to yourself.”

He openly chuckled at that, turning away to look out over the Lair towards something. “I would never dream of manhandling you.”

“It’s literally your go-to move, Blue.” You argued, before the sound of quiet footsteps had your shoulders going up again, on the defensive.

“Hey, Leo, what’s-” 

Leo made some sharp motion, you could feel his arm move, but Donnie broke off, and you knew some sign language was taking place.

“Oh, well that’s rude.” You pushed Leo again, swinging him around when you felt Donnie try and sidestep around towards you. You heard a huff of amusement as he swayed again, but Donnie was undeterred.

“Hey?” He asked, drawing out the word, and his head popped around Leo’s shell, low enough that you realized he must be crouching. He gave you that patented little smile, his eyes roving over you, “You ok?”

“I’m fan-fucking-tastic, Don, and I’m not taking a shower.”

He bobbed his head, shuffled forward a step, before retreating with a little huff when you swung Leo into his space and forced him to back up. He disappeared, before popping up on your other side, even lower this time, peering up at you.

“I don’t think you need a shower.” He continued, and you gave him a deadpanned stare, not buying it for a minute, and he grinned again. “What about a bath, though?”

“A bath?” You parroted, narrowed your eyes threateningly.

“Yeah, a bath,” He swayed forward. “I bet you’ve had a long, exhausting week. And I know you were excited to come down here and see us.” He slid forward a step. “Let me run you a bath? I got all the plumping fixed up, you’ll never run out of hot water?”

Unbidden, you thought about the sunken tub Donnie had fitted into the bathroom a few years ago. It was practically a pool for you, and since it was so large you almost never let yourself have the luxury of using it. 

You set your cheek on Leo’s shell, thinking it over. “All to myself?”

“All to yourself,” he chirped, dipping his head in agreement. “I’ll even dig out that smell good stuff you like so much.”

“I thought that stuff was overpowering?” At the mention of smell, your shoulders hiked back up again, and you felt Leo tense, saw the flick of Donnie’s tongue against his lower lip.

“No, no, it’s not bad.” He raised his hand, reaching out slowly, “promise.”

You thought it over, narrowing your eyes, thinking it over, let him pull your hand off Leo’s shell.

“I’m gonna go get some blankets,” Leo whispered to Donnie, as he pulled you slowly out from behind his older brother, and you had to focus to make out the words. “You good here?”

“Sure, we’ll be right as rain, won’t we?” Donnie asked, as if there was no way you could take offense at the way they were skirting around you.

“Wait-what?” But Leo was gone, and Donnie tucked your hand into his much larger one, pulling on you gently until you were in front of a rapidly filling tub inside their tiled bathroom, not quite sure how you got there.

“Here you go, some towels, and I’ve got the smell good stuff.” Donnie passed you the stack.

“Wait, Don,” you sputtered, grabbed up the soap as he tried to leave. “This is- this is yours-”

“Use it, then this one.” He tapped the second bottle, the one that was the scent you kept down in the Lair for emergencies. “The first one should get rid of any-well-” He shrugged, with a small smile, apparently smart enough to not tell you that you stunk to your face.

“I-I’m sorry,” You put down the stack of towels, and he caught your hands, holding them in his gentle grip.

“There’s no need to be sorry, ok? There’s no way you could have known about it.”

“But-why?” You gestured, and he let you, head tilting as you swung your arms out in a circle to encompass everything that had happened in the last hour.

He hummed, then tapped your forehead, eyes crinkling at the wrinkles of offense that followed his digit. “It’s just a turtle thing, don’t worry too much over it, kay?”

You gasped, forgetting the weirdness for a moment. “Oh my god, something the great Donatello won’t explain?”

He was amused, but not enough to expound. “Take the bath, relax. I’ll be waiting for you.” He reclined to his full height, pausing to lock the door before he swung it shut with a pointed wink.

True to his word, when you inched the door open and stuck your head out, he was waiting with politely adverted eyes and a bundle of clothes. When you eyed him, he handed you the bundle, then slid his palm over the door to keep it shut.

You figured out a moment why a moment later when you unraveled the clothes and found they were not the spare set you left in the top drawer of Leo’s dresser. You pushed against the door angrily, to not avail. “Donnie! These are not mine!”

“The beanie’s mine.” He said unhelpfully, seemingly without remorse. “The shirt smells like one of Raph’s old ones.” He tilted his head, and when you peered angrily through the door all you could see was the crinkle of amused golden hazel. 

You looked down at the garments. “This hoodie better be clean and not the one Mikey’s been wearing all week.”

“And the pants are Leo’s.” Donnie talked on, as if he hadn’t heard you, and that was enough to keep you from slipping the hoodie over your head, instead tying it as a makeshift belt to keep the ridiculously large sweatpants up on your hips.

“This is stupid. I feel stupid.” You knocked on the door, and his hand slid away, far enough that you could waddle out. The shirt was more of a dress, tucked into the ridiculously vibrant, blue sweatpants. The orange and white hoodie only worked as a belt thanks to the amount of times you could roll the waist of the pants. And over your head, you tucked your wet hair up into the purple beanie to avoid getting anything wet. “I look ridiculous. Can’t I just go to Leo’s room and get my clothes?”

Donnie’s gaze swept over you, eyes crinkling, lips pressed close to keep from twitching as he looked you over. But you saw the way his shoulders relaxed, curved towards you as he leaned forward. “Do you want me to carry you?”

“No.” He nodded at your sharp answer, then gestured you towards where the others surely were. “I hope you break a rib trying to hold in those giggles.”

“Fair.” He allowed, for once not about to correct you, lips pursing quickly, before they smoothed out again.

You found the others in the living room area, preparing for movie night as if nothing had gone amiss. When you tripped over a sweatpants leg trying to get to the couch, however, it was Raph that caught you.

You felt his chest inflate, and you stuck out a hand, pushed his snout away from whatever body part he was smelling. “No, no one is sniffing me anymore. This is a no nose zone.” You flicked his snout, hard. “No nose!”

He snorted, but set you down in the middle of the couch, and without hesitation claimed the spot next to you, a plate of pizza in one hand. You eyed it, eyed him, before leaning forward, pushing up the sleeves of the faded red shirt to grab a slice.

Mikey came from the kitchen area, whistling, cheery once again as he settled against the couch on the floor. You heard him giggle right before a cold can was pressed up the loose leg of the blue sweatpants, against your calf, and you hissed, flicked the limb to move it away. 

The can plopped in your lap, and his large fingers grabbed your calf instead, pulled forward until it draped over his shoulder. “Now you smell divine, baby cakes.” He patted your knee where it rested beside his head.

“No Nose Zone, Mikey.” You grumbled into the pizza, tensing to keep from spilling into Donnie’s space when claimed the other side of you, his long arm curling up to rest behind your head while the other launched kernels of popcorn into the air. “I’d bet five bucks I still smell suspiciously of turtle, though.”

Leo had the remote, the last to join, and he took the spot on the floor in front of Donnie, the back of his head touching your other calf where it was curved under you. “No Nose Zone, remember? We aren’t allowed to check.”

“Damn right, you aren’t.” You accepted him opening your pop for you though, sipping it slowly. 

“After all that, you should smell like-”

The others chorused, “shut up, Mikey.” And he broke off with another little giggle.

When you finished your first slice of pizza, you found Donnie had place a hand full of popcorn in front of you, and you snorted in amusement as you picked kernels from his palm.

Leo still hadn’t picked a movie, and you looked down to find his head tilted back, watching. “Hey, earth to Leo?” He blinked, and you gestured with your can towards the tv. “Movie?”

“What do you wanna watch?” Raph asked you from your right, and you blinked in startled surprise at him. He only scrubbed an arm idly along the muscles of his other, plate perched on the thigh closest to you, eyes crinkled as he regarded you.

“I picked last week?” You protested, but he only shrugged, as if the turns didn���t matter anymore. 

You glared at all of them, ending with Donnie, who simple raised his brows in question. 

“You sure you don’t wanna explain?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Hm… nope.” He supplied, curling his arm behind you to prop up his head, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word. 

In retaliation, you made them watch your favorite movie for the fortieth time.

[feyreswaterybowels]

Shadows Dance🐦‍⬛ (#4)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel is losing his shit. He tries to keep it together for Sarah but he needs (Y/N) back—needs her far away from Jarek.

Warnings: Reference to implied sexual assault. Implied sexual assault that led to pregnancy. Referenced forced miscarriages.

Word Count: 1.5k

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 ↓

“Here,” Feyre says gently, sitting a warm cup of tea in front of Sarah. Gazing at the small child asleep against her chest, thumb tucked in his mouth.

She reached forward with shaking hands grabbing the cup. “Thank you,” Sarah breaths in a shaky voice before taking a sip.

“Sarah, dear, we need to ask you some questions,” Rhys begins but Feyre cuts in.

“Maybe we should give her a minute to settle,” She offers but her mate shakes his head.

“No. Every minute we waste is a minute she’s alone with Jarek.” Feyre nods in understanding, she knew very little of this Jarek male but it didn’t take much to figure out he wasn’t a good guy.

“Can I lay him down somewhere first,” Sarah asks, voice breaking and raspy. Rhys' shoulders lose a bit of rigidness, eyes softening as he looks at the girl he loved so much and nods.

“I’ll take the child,” Mor steps forward. “He can lay in (Y/N) and Azriel’s room.” She shoots a look towards the shadowsinger, who doesn’t respond but doesn’t protest either. Sarah nods, letting Mor take the boy, leaving the room and ascending the stairs.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Sarah says, shrinking in on herself. She was finally back with her family and it was wrong, it was all wrong.

“Just start at the beginning,” Feyre offers gently as Mor joins the room again. Sarah meets her eye and sniffs.

“Okay, um, well, I met Jarek two months before my birthday

The Day Court was absolutely stunning. Sarah parts from her sister heading out the back of the large mansion, admiring the beautifully crafted architecture. Intricate designs laced with gold. I reached out to touch a particular pillar that had swirling designs all the way to the top.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” A voice asked. Sarah turned, blushing at the sight of the male next to her.

“Indeed,” She nods, drawing her hand back to herself, taking a sip from the glass in her hands. Some sparkling juice Rhys has slipped into her hand.

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you traveling from Night Court?” He asked, Sarah looked over at him and offered a small nod.

“I am, this is my first time visiting Day Court,” She nodded, watching as he took a drink from his own glass—sure it was the faerie wine the rest of the people were drinking. “I’m here with my family. The High Lord is my uncle.”

“What is your name, dear?” He asks, offering his hand. “I’m Jarek of the Autumn Court, formerly Night Court. I wasn’t aware Rhysand had a niece.”

“Oh!” She gasps, offering her hand. “I’m Sarah. Rhys isn’t my uncle by blood. I was raised by my sister (Y/N) and her mate who are close with him.”

“Ah, I see,” He nods, a charming smile pulling at his lip, before offering his arm. “Well, you allow me the honor of showing you around?”

Sarah’s cheeks heated, nodding at the handsome male, looping her arm through his. “I would enjoy that.”

“That is how we met. After that we seemed to run into each other quite often. I didn’t think much of it,” Sarah tells the story, sadness and regret laced in every word. “He told me we should keep quiet about seeing one another since I was younger, but that on my birthday he would be willing to meet my family—meet all of you. A-and he convinced me to sneak out and meet him before the dinner. He kissed me for the first time, I’ve never been able to fully remember anything after that and he wouldn’t tell me either. Just that I woke up at his house days later.”

Everyone in the room was angry. Seething. Not at Sarah but at Jarek for taking advantage of her in her young innocence. Azriel’s shadows were a brewing storm around him as he listened to what his girl said.

“Did he—did he hurt you?” Azriel asks, a painful lump in his throat simply at the thought.

Sarah’s gaze drifted towards the stairs Mor at went up with her child before looking down. She didn’t have to say it for everyone to know what she meant with that look. He had forced himself on her and the result was pregnancy.

“It wasn’t the first time,” She whispers, “it happened a lot, usually his healer—who was also a prisoner—would make a tonic to rid the aftermath.”

Her voice broke, eyes welling with tears, Azriel was at her side in an instant, wrapping her in a strong embrace.

“With Elias,” She continued after they pulled away, “it was too late to take the tonic. I escaped two years ago but I had no clue where I was going. I didn’t even know where I was because he never allowed me outside. His men found me, brought me back. By the time I realized I was carrying a child it was too late.”

“Sweetheart,” Rhy’s breathed emphatically—trying to keep the thoughts of what had happened to himself under the mountain at bay. Knowing this sweet girl had gone through something similar hurt.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Feyre speaks, reaching out to grab Sarah’s hand, glancing at her mate, feeling his emotions through their bond.

“Sarah, dear, when you got out, where were you?” Cassian asked, arms folded across his heaving chest.

“It was hard to tell, it was dark and we were in the mountains but I—I’m pretty sure it was the Autumn court,” She says, looking around when everyone remained silent and stone faced. “What is it?”

“It’s just that the Beron is still over the lands there. He isn’t exactly our biggest fan. We could have…trouble gaining access to his lands,” Rhys explains gently, watching the girls eyes water.

“This is all my fault.” Her voice crack into a sob. Azriel grab her face shaking his head.

“No. It is no one's fault but his. I promise you, we will get (Y/N), back,” He says standing. “We’ll get her back or I’ll destroy all of Prythian trying.”

════════════════════════

Azriel stands at the window of his destroyed bedroom in the house of winds. Arms crossed, jaw clenched, fists sore and snarling quietly to himself, shadows storming around him, whispering to him.

He doesn’t look back when the door opens but he knows who it is.

“Az,” It’s soft, of course she’d be the one to come check on him. “Are you okay?”

He nearly scoffs. If it was anyone other than Mor he may have. Is he okay? Was he supposed to be okay knowing his love, his mate, was stolen away and at the mercy of a man that probably wanted her dead?

“Sorry, dumb question,” she said, coming to a stop next to him.

Azriel glances at her but doesn’t say anything.

“We’re gonna get her back—”

“Yes, and what pain will she have suffered by the time she is back?” Azriel bites, bitterness and hatred lacing every word.

Mor sighs, leaning against the windowsill. “What happened in here?”

Azriel snarls to himself as he remembers what sent him into his rage that left the bedroom in absolute shambles. His fists clench, he wants to his something.

“I can’t feel her.”

“What-”

“(Y/N). I can’t feel our bond. Obviously it wasn’t broken but it’s not there either.”

“Oh, Az…”

It’s silent. They stand there together, the stars of the night sky twinkling in the vast darkness of the sky.

“We spoke a bit more with Sarah,” Mor starts, and Az tenses—anything she says could send him into another fit of rage. “We know there’s wards placed on the home that’s probably what’s blocking the bond.”

It’s not the right thing to say. Azriel hisses, tearing himself from the window, pacing back and forth not caring about the debris being crushed under his boots.

“Az-”

“I can’t do this. I need to go find her. I need to be out there and Rhys has ordered me to this room. To our room. And I-I can’t,” He bites, still pacing. “When she leaves it’s different. It’s her choice. I know I’ll see her again. But this? He could kill her. He could force himself on her just like he did with—fuck.”

“You need to get your shit together, Azriel,” Mor snaps, Azriel looks up at her shocked. Opens his mouth to snap back but she holds her hand up silencing him. “Rhys ordered you here because he knows you aren’t in your right mind right now. (Y/N) needs you. She needs you strong and out there doing your job to find any and all information to find her. She is waiting for you—for us and you’re sitting here having a melt down.”

Azriel stares at her. Mouth ajar eyes wide. Fuck. Fuck, he’s so stupid. How could he be so selfish? So self absorbed? His girl was out there, out there alone with his and he was brooding in his room.

“Are you ready?” Mor breathes, looking at expectantly, arms cross and brow raised.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m ready.”

[kingofthe-egirls]

AFTER 1071: LUFFY x Y/N

(spoilers, obvi)

“Are you—,” you whisper, tracing his features with hungry fingertips, “Are you still…you?”

He stares at you with crystalline eyes. “You tell me.”

You stare back at him, hard.

His smile quirks up.

“Yes,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck, “It’s still you.”

He giggles, manic, wrapping his own rubber limbs around you and lifting you off your feet. He twirls you around and you’re dizzy.

“Lu—!”

“Haaahahaha!!!” He sets you down spinning, and you gasp as you twirl around like a top. You dig a little into the ground with the force of it. “You’re so CUTE y/n!!! And you’re ALL MINE!!!!”

He bounces up twenty feet in the air, only to land down directly atop your shoulders. “Fuck!” You scream, knocked over by his weight. He giggles, pulling at your face. He has you spring back like a doorstop, back and forth with a strong boing!!! ringing in your ears.

“Luffy!!!”

He snickers, arms wrapped around you in loops. “Yeaahhh? What is it, kitty? Are ya having fun yet?”

“Mhmm,” you nuzzle your face into his, squishing his nose against your cheek. “You’re so cartoony!”

Luffy lifts you off the ground again, carrying you like a sandbag under one arm. You bounce along in his trajectory, powerless to stop him even if you wanted to. “Let’s go to my room!!!”

****

Sex with new Luffy is wild.

He’s stuttering and crying, slipping out of you at every other thrust.

“Luffy,” you chide, running your hands through his sweaty hair, “Are you okay?”

He sniffs.

“Was so fucking scared,” he admits, burying his face in your neck. His hips snap instinctively, and you both hiss. He’s deep inside you, now. “I—I think I died, y/n. I don’t ever wanna do that again.”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” you hitch a breath, wrapping your arms around his neck. Closer, closer, please just closer—

“I-I fucking love ya so much,” he whines, rubber-wrapping his arms around you several times. He sits up so he can thrust easier. You whimper, feeling filled up and emotional.

“Love you too, Luffy.”

“Mmmnnn,” he moans, head thrown back in overwhelming emotions. “Don’t wanna lose ya—don’t wanna lose another fight like that—don’t wanna feel all cold like that ever again—,” He hiccups, tears now forming at the corners of his eyes. His hips slow, and you gasp.

“Luffy!” You sit up, unraveling his arms from around you. He’s sniffling now, and you climb into his lap. He buries his face in your hair, and inhales a shaky breath. He exhales out a shattered sob. “Luffy—,”

“M’sorry,” he hiccups, “M’so sorry.”

“Baby,” you hush him, stroking your fingers over his back. “It’s okay, honey, it’s over now, it’s okay…”

You want to soothe him as best you can. You want to wrap him inside your heart and let him live there.

As it is, you press his face into your chest, and let him heave ugly, wet sobs against it.

Softly, you start humming.

“Binkusu no sake wo todoke ni yuku yo…,” Luffy hums, wrapping his arms around your waist to sway you both gently to the rhythm. You keep going, softly carding your fingers through his hair as you sing. “Umikaze, kimakase nami makase,” your voice catches, throat dry, but you keep going. “Shio no mukou de yuuhi mo sawagu,” you sniff, hand resting atop Luffy’s raven head. “Sora nya, wa wo kaku tori no uta…,” You trail off, but Luffy takes a long, loud sniff, and joins in. You both start singing.

Sayonara minato tsumugi no sato yo

"Don" to icchou utao funade no uta

Kinpa-ginpa mo shibuki ni kaete

Oretachya yuku zo umi no kagiri

You both start singing the yo-ho-ho’s with enthusiasm now, lifting off the bed to stand up, swaying in each other’s arms. It’s not long before you’re shouting the words, jumping up and down on the bed like little kids.

“Yo ho ho! Yo ho ho-ooo!!!”

Luffy howls to the moon, bounding off the bed to stick his head out the window. His naked form is lithe and silvered in the nighttime. You follow him. Always.

“Yo ho ho! Yo ho ho-oh!”

You both wrap your arms around each other, and sing to the full moon.

[shares-a-vest]

(ready for some easter/spring-themed nonsense from me this week???)

“Steve!”

Steve merely hums, nosing further into Eddie’s neck.

Eddie taps him on the shoulder whispering, “Oh my god, Steve.”

Steve growls, clearly misinterpreting his tone and tightens his grip on Eddie's hips.

Like yeah, he’s making out with Steve in the middle of the woods out the back of the Harringtons’ house in Loch Nora. They’re on a comfy huge blanket, Eddie straddling Steve’s lap and having a grand old time after a delicious picnic lunch Steve had put together.

But there’s something more pressing at hand.

Eddie rolls his eyes, slides one hand up Steve’s chest (earning a hip thrust) and pushes himself back.

Steve whines, detaching himself from Eddie’s neck with a childish humf.

“Whaaaat!”

The poor thing looks flustered, his right cheek pinking up, hair all tousled, shirt collar askew with a reddening mark Eddie had been working on before he got distracted.

Eddie pinches Steve's cheeks with one hand, creating pouty fish lips as he slowly turns his boyfriend's head in the direction of what has him suddenly uninterested in a make-out session.

A white rabbit hopping about, picking at grass about three feet away.

“Oh, no... Eddie!” Even though he is mumbling through squished-up cheeks, Steve is obviously more than a little annoyed.

“But it’s a rabbit!” Eddie stage-whispers, not tearing his eyes away from the fluffy furball.

At a glacial pace, he frees Steve from his grip, carefully lifting off him with minimum movement. Steve whines again, loud and it spooks the creature enough for it to take a giant leap in the opposite direction before continuing to sniff about.

Eddie pivots on his knees and makes grabby hands at their picnic basket.

“Gimmie those stupid celery sticks,” he commands in a whisper.

“No!” Steve also whispers, crossing his arms.

“Yes!” he insists. “Besides, why would you pack such a noxious weed for me to eat?”

Steve lightly shoves him, picks up the basket and drops it down in front of Eddie with a loud enough thud he whips around to look at the rabbit. Thankfully, it hasn't moved.

Eddie begins crawling towards the rabbit, celery sticks clenched in his hands as Steve huffs and flops back on the plaid blanket, his hair flying forward as he goes down. Eddie moves along, gradually settling down to an army crawl as he ventures closer and holds out a lone stick of celery.

“Come here, little guy,” he coos, wiggling the treat.

The rabbit turns, hops towards him and starts sniffing at the celery. When the creature sticks its head forward for the food, Eddie reaches out a tentative hand for a gentle pat. The rabbit allows it, concentrating on devouring the celery. The distraction emboldens Eddie to sit now, waving a hand back around to give Steve a thumbs up.

Once it’s done eating, the rabbit nuzzles at Eddie’s knee as he continues stroking its back. Ever so gracefully, he loops a hand under the thing to scoop it up. The rabbit goes willingly and Eddie turns back to the picnic, beaming as he scratches behind furry ears.

“Ew, no!” Steve whisper-scoffs, shooting upright. “Don’t pick it up!”

“Oh come on, Stevie. He’s so cute!”

He begins walking back to the blanket when Steve waves his hands in protest.

“Don’t you come back onto this blanket, Eds!," Steve warns, still inexplicably choosing to whisper as he raises a flat palm to stop him. “You’re covered in dirt!”

Eddie eases down, sprinkling dirt (ranging from smaller granules to clumps) from his clothes all over the blanket. Steve whines and begins brushing at the mess, only managing to now smear it on the picnic blanket.

Oh well, one less piece of plaid-something for the Harrington household...