#and i had to explain NO like it’s a nice shirt I like it genuinely

[thecultured-swine]

I swear when I want to sound sarcastic I come off as genuine and when I want to sound genuine I come off as sarcastic whyyyyy

I think I’m just sarcastic so often that it’s completely bled into my whole being

[saenari]

sweet lamb ♱

au : i got a request for this but it was not how i imagined it so i just … kinda changed a few things lol … um yea enjoy this one it could definitely b better … there is some sensitive topics in this one that may be triggering to some people, please read the content warning and proceed with caution .

cw : dacryphilia, stealing, pet names, hair pulling, fingering, ellie is kinda a perv in this one as well as a bit mean/degrading, intentional lowercase !! reader is described as having long hair … i think that's it erm

wc : 1.6k ♡

౨ৎ for as long as you could remember, your brother had always had a best friend. ellie williams. they were attached at the hip, always laughing and play fighting over video games and going on stupid adventures which almost always involved them sneaking out late at night. as much as you loved your brother, you absolutely hated ellie.

౨ৎ she would always go out of her way to exclude you in anything they were doing, insisting that you were too stupid or dumb or annoying or whatever to participate in whatever bullshit they were getting up to. not that you truly cared, you were too busy studying or hanging out with friends to genuinely want to get all up in their business.

౨ৎ as much as ellie feigned her hatred for you, she truly wanted you to be all hers. she loved when you cried from her insults. it was the saddest and sweetest thing ever. she couldn’t explain why she was the way she was, but she loved being able to have power over your emotions like she did.

౨ৎ ellie loved to sneak up behind you to scare you, pulling at your hair or poking your shoulder, which made you practically jump out of your skin every time she did it unannounced. “fuck you ellie, don’t scare me like that!” you’d yell as she burst out laughing. she often would pull on your hair if you wore it in braids, which you gradually stopped doing.

౨ৎ one night, when you were in the shower, ellie slipped into your room and walked around, going through your drawers and all the trinkets she saw on your desk. she pulled out a pair of pink cotton panties from a cubby with bras and underwear in it and slipped them into her back pocket.

౨ৎ you come out of your shower, hair wet and wearing nothing but a cropped band tee and a small pair of short tight fitting boxers. “what the fuck are you doing in my room?” you say as you brush through your hair. “uh…sorry.” ellie says as she walks out. you don’t really pay any mind to it, thinking ellie was just trying to scare you.

౨ৎ ellie often sees you changing outside your window, not bothering to shut the curtains because you thought no one could see you. when she saw you in your small lacy dress, she almost fainted from blushing. she gazed over your body, when she noticed she could see the faint outline of your tits. she desperately wanted to be in that room with you.

౨ৎ ellie often took your underwear or clothes, which would suddenly just show up in your room again, and you’d be happy to see them, wondering where they had gone. ellie thought it was a miracle you didn’t question where your clothes kept going, because she wasn’t exactly an expert at hiding things.

౨ৎ ellie wanted to do something to get you closer to her. so, one night, she and your brother ask you to watch a movie with them. you are surprised they even invited you in the first place, but you assume your brother beat a little sense into ellie and made her invite you. however, ellie has a plan. she and your brother watch a terrifying movie, which she knows you hate.

౨ৎ before you know it you’re sitting very close to ellie, not even noticing how her hand slips under your shirt, touching your side, comforting you. it was abnormal to feel safe around ellie, but you didn’t question it because it was nice to not be fighting with her for once.

౨ৎ speaking of fighting, ellie often joins in on play fights with you and your brother as just an excuse to grope your ass or tits. you don’t pay it any mind, and ellie thinks it’s cute how you whine when she pins you down and huffs that she always wins.

౨ৎ one night, as ellie makes her way out of your house after a long night of goofing with your brother, she sees you, lying in bed, long hair covering your face as you lay on top of the sheets, with a pillow cradled by your arms.

౨ৎ ellie steps into your room quietly and watches you sleep. she tucks your hair behind you ear. “you know, you really shouldn’t sleep with that door open…you never know what someone could do…” she whispers gently. she kisses your forehead before leaving.

౨ৎ over the next few weeks, ellie seems to warm up to you. you were super suspicious, she was definitely up to something. she came over almost every night, and on saturday she walked into your room. “what do you want, ellie?” you say as you look at her from the chair you’re sitting at. she sits down on your bed, ruffling the sheets. “y’know, if you keep walking around the house in outfits like that, people will think you’re a slut.” she smirks at you. “wow, you really know how to treat a girl, don’t you ellie?” you say as you turn back to your work on your laptop.

౨ৎ “wanna come watch a show with us?” ellie says. “…are you playing at something here?” you say, looking her up and down. “no, seriously, just come watch something with us. it’s so pathetic to see you study on a saturday night.” she says while grabbing your forearm and helping you out of your chair.

౨ৎ ellie and your brother had been watching a true crime documentary about a serial killer, which totally terrified you to the point where you were talking to your brother about it. “i mean, seriously, how can someone do that to someone else? that is seriously fucking creepy, i wish i hadn’t watched that, now i’m really fucking paranoid-” you trail off as ellie leans against your doorframe. “listen, if you’re scared, i can sleep with you tonight.”

౨ৎ you didn’t like the idea of her sleeping with you, but your brother cut in. “shit, ellie, i don’t have a bed for you tonight unless you wanna sleep on the couch. i totally forgot to tell you.” ellie looks at your apprehensive face and starts to talk before you interrupt her. “no, it’s fine. she can sleep here. it’ll be uncomfortable on the couch anyway.” ellie smiles to herself as your brother walks back to his room.

౨ৎ after a while, you find yourself and ellie talking as she puts her hand around your shoulder. “you okay?” she says. “yeah…jus not used to you acting like this.” you say as you look into her emerald green eyes. “cmere.” she helps you into her lap, so your back is pressed against her chest.

౨ৎ ellie slowly reaches up your shirt as you grab her forearm. “you okay with this?” she says as she runs her slender fingers along your abdomen. “yeah…” you whisper as she runs her fingers along the top of your shorts.

౨ৎ ellie reaches into your panties as she kisses your shoulder. “shh..just, let me take care of you bun.” she slowly slides your shorts off and throws them to the side before reaching back into your lace trimmed underwear. she runs a finger along your slit, before teasing your pearl. you whine out as she continues to trace small circles along the sensitive bundle of nerves.

౨ৎ “cmon, you want it, don’t you?” she says as she guides a finger down into you. you whine as she grabs your thigh with her free hand. she slides another finger into you before pounding in and out, touching and feeling up your gummy walls. you moan loudly before clasping a hand over your mouth. “shh, don’t want you brother to know you’re being a little slut for me, do you?”

౨ৎ she continues to thrust into you, groaning as you pant and whine, begging for release. “cum whenever you want, pup.” you don’t need her to tell you twice, finishing all over her fingers as she slows down to let you ride out your high, she brings her fingers swiftly to her mouth to taste you, praying you won’t notice.

౨ৎ she lets you lie down on your pillow, grabbing a fresh pair of panties from your drawer before sliding them up on you. you grab her by the sweater she was wearing before sloppily kissing her. she deepens the kiss before pulling back. “cmon, bun. you must be sleepy.” you shake your head but eventually resign to sleeping with her cradling you in her arms.

౨ৎ months go by, and fucking ellie is a regular thing for you. your brother is none the wiser, and ellie always sleeps in your room. ellie can’t keep her hands off of you, even when your brother is right next to you. when you three are watching a movie, her hands trail under the blanket you two share to touch your inner thigh, dangerously close to your panties. you always try to get ellie to stop, but you two end up going back to your bedroom in a rush, ready to leave your brother sitting on the couch alone wondering what the fuck you two could possibly be doing.

౨ৎ ellie never misses a chance to watch you from your window, sneak glances at you as you get out of the shower, or even touching your ass as she walks behind you, right in the middle of your kitchen. it’s safe to say she now loves you a lot more than your brother.

♡ haiii okay so this fic has been in the back of my mind for a while i wish it was better but oh well um ,, i feel it’s very unrealistic and i didn’t do a good job portraying ellie but oh well . i wanted to release another fic today n i rlly rlly hope u guys will like this one , have a good day or night n thank u sm if ur here reading this !! if ur still here please send me fic requests i’m having writers block lmao ♡

[daisyblog]

First Date

Unexpected Love Masterlist Summary: Harry and YN are set up on a date.

2019

Jonny had separately nagged YN and Harry to let him set them up on a date. Harry’s argument was that he was in the middle of writing his second album, and wanted to be on his own after his last break up. YN’s protest was that she was a single working Mum who didn’t have the time, and added “nobody wants to date a single mum”. 

After what felt like months of constant begging, Harry and YN both gave in to their friend and agreed to go on a date. Jonny had arranged for them to meet at a small quiet restaurant on the outskirts of London, knowing Harry would want to stay under the radar. 

YN had been nervous all day. She had messaged Jonny several times to try and cancel but he insisted that it was just nerves and she should give it a chance. Harry felt mixed emotions, part of him was nervous, he was meeting someone new but the other part of him was excited because he knew Jonny wouldn’t set him up with just anyone. 

Harry arrived at the restaurant first, being fifteen minutes early. He was shown to their table which he was grateful was tucked into a corner away from other tables. He knew that was down to Jonny’s request. Wanting to calm his nervous, Harry ordered a bottle of wine for them, hoping YN liked it too. 

He had just taken a small sip from his glass, when he saw the waiter walking towards him with a woman following behind. Harry stood from his chair, ready to greet her. “Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you”. Harry spoke first, bringing YN in for a hug. 

“Jonny and his persuasive ways huh?”. YN joked, causing Harry to smile knowing Jonny must have nagged YN as much as he had nagged him. 

Harry pulled YN’s chair out for her to sit before taking his place back in her own. “I ordered wine, I can get you something else if you’d prefer”. 

“No…wine is perfect, thank you”. YN smiled with appreciation, showing her little dimples. “I like your tattoos”. She complimented as she noticed them on his arm, that was exposed due to his short sleeved shirt. 

Harry glanced down as he looked at his arm, smiling slightly at the mixture of ink that covered his skin. “Uh thanks…I have too many to count”. He giggled. “Do you have any?”. He gestured to his tattoos. 

YN hesitated before explaining. “I have one…on my wrist”. She turned her hand over to reveal the delicate ink on her right wrist. “It’s my son’s name”. YN watched for a change in Harry’s response or how he may end the date now. 

But what surprised YN was Harry’s genuine grin as he looked down at her wrist. “What’s his name?”. His question was genuine, YN could tell by how he looked at her directly in the eye which a soft look. 

“Jacob”. YN smiled as she thought about her favourite person. The little boy who saved her in more ways than he would ever know. “He’s five and a real sweetheart.”. Harry noticed how YN’s whole face lit up as she spoke about him. “Does me having a son not bother you?”. YN couldn’t help but ask.

Harry frowned at her question before shaking his head. “Of course not…I don’t date people based on if they’re a parent, or if they have a certain job or x amount of money in the bank…I date people for them.”. 

“I’m sorry…I couldn’t help but ask, I’m not used to people being so understanding when it comes to Jacob”. YN apologised, hoping she hadn’t ruined the date before it had started properly. 

“Hey…it’s fine, you can be yourself tonight…there’s no judgement from me.” Harry reassured her, knowing how it felt for someone not to get to know you and having a false opinion. 

“Thank you…that really means a lot”. YN smiled before taking a sip from her glass, needing to treat her dry throat. 

“So tell me about you and Jacob…I can see he’s your life and I want to know more”. The sentence caused a spark in YN’s chest at how interested Harry was in not only her but the one person who mattered the most. 

Harry and YN had talked, laughed and smiled all evening. YN couldn’t remember the last time she felt like herself and was able to be just YN and not just a Mum. Harry wondered how he hadn’t met YN sooner because for once someone didn’t want to speak to him because he was Harry Styles, he could see that YN was genuinely interested in getting to know him as just Harry. 

Harry had learnt that YN was in university studying business when she fell pregnant but had to drop out before graduating. But now owned her own florist in London. He noticed that she hasn’t mentioned her family apart from Jacob, but decided it was best to leave it that way for now. She didn’t ask one question related to the band or his music, she asked questions about his family, where he grew up, his childhood memories and all the little things that built up who he is today. 

After they had finished their meals and nicely argued about how the bill was going to be paid, they found themselves walking through a quieter part of town, still chatting and giggling like two teenagers. They wanted to blame the wine but deep down they both knew it was from the excitement of each other. 

Harry had arranged for a taxi to drop them both back home. They were both supposed to realise that YN didn’t live far from Harry’s Hampstead house. He walked YN up to her door to make sure she was home safe. They both stood staring at each other, waiting for the other to break the silence. Smirks covering their smiles. 

“I had a really nice time tonight”. Harry broke first, meaning what he had said. 

“Me too!”. YN felt shy for the first time all evening. 

“Can I see you again?”. Harry was bold, he hadn’t felt like this after a date before and he wasn’t willing to lose his chance. 

YN smiled, she felt special and chosen for once and inside she was screaming with happiness. Harry really wanted to see her again. “I’d love that”.

They quickly swapped numbers and Harry was eager to arrange to see YN again. Before making his way back to the taxi that was waiting patiently, he leaned in to hug YN goodbye. It was like neither of them wanted to let go but the feeling of Harry’s lips leaving a peck on her cheek is what caused YN to jump around in happiness once she closed the door behind her that night.

Taglist:

@ell0ra-br3kk3r

[emswritingsstuff]

s1-2 daryl who gets jealous and angry with shane flirting with the reader? I have a feeling ur the best person who could make it work

Quite Badass (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

--

note: i quite enjoy writing for daryl, very fun. no warnings except maybe shane gets punched lolz

WC: 1.6k

--

Leaning up against the nearest tree, Daryl stood still. Letting his eyes scan over the camp. Everyone was sitting around doing their own chores and carrying on. His eyes soon found you as you were sitting around the small fire with Carol, seemingly just sewing. Looking down at his hands, he quickly turned around and retreated to his own spot. 

Since the beginning, Daryl had his eyes for you. You were so addictive to him, someone he could look at all day. It felt childish, like he was a teenager all over again; Having a ridiculous crush he could never speak about nor do anything about. Just freezing or getting too emotional everytime you both were together. He had felt ashamed, letting himself get so worked up over feelings, but he couldn’t help it. 

And so, he would just stick to far glances and looks, hoping he would never get caught by you. Or even worse by Shane. Which was a thought that invaded his mind constantly. Daryl, much to his dismay, wasn’t the only one that had eyes on you in the camp. Shane being his biggest competitor nowadays. He never liked Shane, and seeing how he was with you made him jealous. 

But he would never admit it was jealousy.

All things considered, he wasn’t sure of you and Shane’s relationship. But he figured if Shane kept pestering you everyday, the both of you had to be something. Maybe not official, but something. Made him angry, seeing you with such an asshole.  

Daryl was bitter, but it wasn’t like he had anything to be bitter about. You and him were just acquaintances at best and if you had to put a label on it. He was just bitter he would never get to have you for himself, for good. 

Now trying to pay attention to his own work, he started to mess around with his blots. Glenn had scored some new ones on a run, and now it was Daryl’s job to adjust the length to his crossbow. Getting absorbed into the work at hand, he didn’t pay any mind to what was going on in the camp. 

So much so, he didn’t even see the person walking up toward him. A shadow was casted over him and caused him to look up. Meeting your eyes, he quickly looked back down to his work. 

He had thought you were just going to see what he was doing and leave, but you stayed. Looking back up again, he looked you over. Holding a bunch of clothes in your arms, before he could speak you quickly flashed him a nice smile and spoke. 

“Stitched up some of your shirts and jeans. Figured you wouldn’t mind,” you gestured the clothes out to him. Standing up, Daryl took the clothes out of your hands and went to set them in his tent. Giving you a respectful nod and thanks, he proceeded to the tent.

Once coming back out he was surprised to see you were still standing there. Almost like you were mocking him, mocking he could never have you. 

“Anythin’ else ya need?” Daryl made his place where he originally was while still looking up at you. His tone was harsher than intended, but he was genuinely asking. But also slightly annoyed at the taunting he felt like he was enduring. He noticed you playing with your hands before you nervously spoke up. 

“Want help with those? I know what I’m doing. Got taught a while back,” scoffing slightly Daryl focused his attention back to the arrow he had been working on. 

“Don’t ya gotta hang around Shane or some shit,” his tone had some sort of venom in it. But you paid no mind, surprisingly, you just laughed. Looking back up he raised his eyebrow, “Wha’s so funny?” Finally discarding the arrow so all of his attention was on you. 

Calming down from your laughing fit, you composed yourself and explained the situation. “You think we’re a thing? Hell no, never in a million years. Bastard won’t take the hint,” sitting down next to him you both were finally on the same level. 

Now it all made sense to him, Daryl felt like an idiot. You’ve never once reciprocated Shane’s behaviors or gestures. Now he feels like the asshole.

Wiping his face with his hand, he sighed out of disappointment with himself. “M’Sorry,” you responded with a scoff and the wave of a hand. “If I was in your shoes, I would’ve thought the same thing. If you know, it wasn’t me,” Daryl flashed you a confused look but understood nonetheless

Staying silent for a minute, he tried to find a way to avoid the bigger situation at hand. Also known as, his feelings for you. Daryl reached down to the bolts in front of him and picked them up. Handing you some of the ones that were still factory cut and unworked on, he noticed a small smile on your face as you took them. Both of you finally working alongside each other. 

Both of you were silent, and it was comfortable. Getting away from the main group, and Shane, turning out to be the best thing for you. 

Nice things couldn’t last forever though. Both of your heads shot up to the sound of loud footsteps coming closer. Rolling your eyes and Daryl shaking his to himself, you both realized it was Shane. Maybe if you both ignored him, he’d leave? That was hopeful thinking.

Once he reached your spot, Shane just loomed over you both. More or less, he remained closer to Daryl, almost acting as if he was the man himself. Daryl didn’t look up, Shane didn’t deserve the respect of a greeting in his eyes, especially now learning he’d been on your case for so long. 

Placing his hands on his hips, Shane began to speak much to Daryl's annoyance. “Darlin’, why are you all the way out here? You know I want you to stay in my sight.” Shane’s tone gave off the impression of a controlling boyfriend, making Daryl cringe. The petname too, he was the only one who should call you that in his mind. 

“I was just helping Daryl, no harm done. I’m a grown adult, I don’t need someone to save me,” your voice was calm, and Daryl had to applaud that. If he was in your shoes he would’ve been off the walls. Shane just shook his head in response though, not taking your answer. 

“Doesn’t matter, you should’ve stayed in sight. You know how Dixon’s are,” Daryl could feel Shane’s judgemental stare piercing right through him. At that moment, Daryl shot up and pointed the arrow at Shane, “Jus’ fuck off already, don’t want ya here.” Daryl moved his arm to point at the main part of the camp, but Shane didn’t move, didn’t even move a muscle. 

Still smirking, Shane looked down and groaned looking back at you. He had puppy dog eyes, making Daryl cringe more than he already was. Shane inched closer to you and placed his arm around your shoulder. “How about you and I get out of here, go somewhere private?” Shane was now just looking at you, not even acknowledging Daryl was even there. At this point all Daryl could see was red, wanting to knock in Shane’s teeth at that very moment. 

“I think I’m okay here, Daryl’s good company,” You smiled looking at Daryl before Shane let out a small, mocking laugh. “Him? Darlin, a redneck like him doesn’t deserve a gem like you,” you scrunch your face in response and detached from him. Backing away slowly, Daryl watched as you slowly stepped toward him, seeking some sort of protection it seemed. 

Daryl instinctively made his place between you and Shane. Making a quiet tsk noise with his tongue, Shane shook his head. Despite his efforts to intimidate Daryl, it didn't work. 

Shane’s arm started to sneak up to reach out toward you, but not without a quick smack from Daryl. “Don’t.” 

“Or what?” the minute those words left Shane’s mouth a swift punch from Daryl was thrown. Shane stumbled back, a hand where Daryl’s fist collided. “Come around ‘er again, it won’t be a fist next time,” Daryl spit out. Which finally caused Shane to take his leave, but not before cursing Daryl under his breath. 

Daryl’s breathing fell heavy, calming down from all the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Looking down at the ground, he attempted to collect himself before facing you again. When suddenly he felt a soft hand grab his. Peeking over at his hand he noticed it was your hand in his. Your thumb was rubbing his hand in a slow motion, something to calm him down. And he found it worked, much to his surprise and yours. 

“Sorry,” Daryl interrupted himself with a sigh before he continued. “Got outta hand,” he tried to pull away from you, but you held his hand tighter. It was silent for a bit, neither of you not having a clue what to even say. You eventually broke the silence, seeming as cheery as ever. “How about we just finish these arrows? You’ll need them eventually.” Nodding in agreement, he let you drag him to sit down and work. 

For Daryl, it felt like the minutes dragged on. Feeling the regret of getting violent and also letting his emotions take over in front of you. “You know,” his head instantly shot up at the sound of your voice. “Never had a guy punch someone for me before,” Daryl felt his cheeks get hot before looking back to his work. “Yeah, well, Idiot wouldn’t shut up.” You laughed to yourself as you agreed, “True, but still. Pretty badass.” 

“Badass? Really?” Daryl chuckled a little at the makeshift complement, which caused you to laugh as well. Shrugging, you continued to work. Daryl’s eyes still remained on you and watched you work. As you looked up, Daryl moved his head down. He heard you laugh again before you eventually spoke, “At least now that Shane’s gone, you get to look at me up close.” 

[erwinsvow]

i’m definitely projecting BUT i genuinely feel like shy!reader would have wavy hair and be so insecure about it (even tho it’s so pretty) so it’s always straightened but i just know if rafe saw it he’d fall even deeper in love with the girl!

oh 100%. lets project together angel why not. if you dont have wavy hair pls look away im sorry. but i do have wavy hair that i straighten all the time so ! you sent this to the right bitch

your hair, though you've been told so many times was pretty either way, is usually straightened several times a week, if not daily. it's easy to fall into the trap of preferring it sleek and shiny than the waves that were pretty for the first day, frizzy the next, and somehow constantly clashing with the outfit you selected for the day.

you thought straight hair was easier, looked better, went with everything. even if it wasn't true, you had bought into it for long enough, your blowdryer and flat iron your two best friends.

the first time rafe met you, your hair had been straight. it was that way on your first date, as well as your second and third, as well as every sleepover at tannyhill or early morning drive to watch the sunrise at the beach. he'd never seen your hair any other way, not realizing there was, in fact, another way for it to be seen, until today.

you and rafe had spent the first hour of the morning rolling around in his bed at tannyhill, working up a sweat, which then was washed off in the shower together. rafe gets out first, listening to his phone ring repeatedly in the distance. you finish up, washing your hair and turning the water to the hottest setting now that rafe wasn't there to complain.

when you walk back to rafe's room, he's on the bed, still on the phone. you try to dry yourself off and get dressed without giving him too much of a show, settling for one of rafe's old frat shirts and using another shirt of his to start drying your hair. he looks at confused, but you don't say anything, knowing he's still on the phone. you need at least a minute to explain cotton t-shirts and scrunching to him.

rafe finally hangs up the call with barry while you rummage through your overnight bag, realizing your flat iron and blow dryer were left behind on your bathroom counter, a result of finishing up your hair for your date yesterday.

"is sarah home?" you ask, looking up at rafe.

"don't think so. and didn't i give you a towel? why's my shirt on your head right now?"

"i forgot my hair stuff at home."

"oh," he says, walking back to his dresser and returning with something in his hand. "here." he hands you a hairbrush.

"what am i supposed to do with this?"

"you said you needed hair stuff. uh, you're welcome."

"i have a brush, rafe. i meant my dryer and my iron. do you think sarah would be mad if i used hers? is that weird, though?"

he didn't think it was that serious, but you look more upset by the second.

"what'd you need that shit for? we're not going anywhere until lunch. it'll dry by then." you stand up, taking the hair out of his shirt and trying to salvage whatever waves remained.

"i wanted to wear it straight for the club, though. my outfit, it looks better with straight hair-"

"huh?"

"and i didn't even detangle or use that conditioner, it's all at home. ugh." you keep scrunching, going to the mirror and taking a look. rafe follows behind you, eyebrows knitted in confusion while he takes a piece of curly hair between his fingers. it's pretty, the way it falls around your face and certain pieces are curlier than others. you look pretty like this, though he's sure you look pretty any which way.

"how come i didn't know your hair's like this?"

"um, i like it flat. do i have to go to the club like this?"

"i like it. s'pretty. c'mon, leave it."

you turn to face your boyfriend. like everyone else, he's just saying it to be nice.

"will you take me home to grab my stuff? please?"

"if you really want it, kid, but i think you should leave it," rafe says, bringing his hand up to your hair, stroking the pieces by your face, twirling a wave around his finger. "c'mon, for me?"

you hesitate, looking up at your boyfriend.

"but i wanna look nice for the club."

"the fuck are you talkin' about? you always look nice."

"but it's not as nice. it's messy. i like it-" rafe interrupts you, bringing his hand to your jaw the way he always does, squeezing tight but not too tight.

"stop. it looks nice. stop overthinkin' it. got it?" you nod. "s'nice. you should wear it like this more often."

"sure. whatever you say."

"that's right."

[hellfirenacht]

C'mon, It's Just One Night (Part 2)

Summary: After getting a fake love note in your locker, you ask Eddie to help you mess up some bullies plans. 

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, smut later, fem reader, reader wears a dress at one point, mentions of bullying, actual bullying, three-shot

Master List

3.8k Words

Part 1

You and Eddie didn’t talk about the plan again until the night of Homecoming. Most of the chats you had about what was going to happen tonight was about the secret show that Corroded Coffin was going to do right after the dance. 

Honestly, you had heard a few kids quietly whispering about the show, which surprised you. You wondered how many people were interested in the music versus wanting to see the Freak and his band play. After all, Corroded Coffin only really played The Hideout on Tuesdays, which wasn’t exactly the best time slot for high schoolers. 

It was about a half hour before the dance was supposed to start, and you had spent the whole day distracted. You kept reading that stupid note over and over again, and anyone watching you would think that you were just excited about a secret date. The truth was that you hoped that the note would somehow give you any sort of clue about what was planned for you when you made your way into the gym that night. 

You’d convinced the rest of Hellfire to try and gather any information on what was going to happen, but no one came back with any information. Even Lucas, who was a jock, couldn’t get any information from anyone. 

Maybe this would be a Carrie situation. 

Having telekinetic powers could be cool though. 

You stared hard at the brush on your desk that night, trying to make it move with your mind. Nothing happened. 

It might not have moved because as you were glaring at your brush, a knock came at your bedroom door. It was your mom, wanting you to come outside and take photos of you in your outfit. And yeah, you were a little excited to do that after all the work that you had put into looking this nice for a fifteen minute bit. It wouldn’t hurt to have proof that you looked good tonight.

You stood up and smoothed out your dress before walking outside into the front yard as your mom called out that she’d be out there in a second as she grabbed the camera.

You didn’t expect anyone else to be outside, but when you stepped out the door you were greeted with the sight of someone standing on the porch.

It was Eddie.

Eddie Munson. 

His hair was freshly washed and his waves were framing his face perfectly. His leather jacket had been discarded for the night and he was wearing a dark gray button-up shirt that looked almost black with the top two buttons undone. The closest you’d ever seen him wear a button up were a few flannels that he wore in the fall and winter. His jeans looked... they looked new. New and dark blue with no holes in them to be seen. The only pieces of his outfit that you recognized were his rings and his reeboks. The twilight had cast a near purple haze over your neighborhood, and Eddie... Eddie looked good in that fading light. 

“Holy shit.” You said, after staring at him like an idiot for a moment. “Who are you and what have you done with Eddie?”

“Ha Ha.” Eddie fake laughed. “I could say the same about you.” 

You felt your cheeks grow warm, unsure if that was a compliment or not. “I... You look good.” you said more genuinely. 

This caused Eddie to shift slightly on his feet. “You look better.”

You could have died on the spot. 

“Wait, what are you doing here?” you asked. “I thought we were meeting up at the school?” 

“You’re coming to the show with me after this anyway.” Eddie explained. “It’d be easier if I just drove both of us. We can still pretend that we didn’t meet up, I can drop you off at the school where no one will see us together and I’ll follow you inside after a few minutes.”

That made sense, you were going to be helping out with set up after the dance anyway. 

“You might have made a mistake coming out here to pick me up, you know.” you said. “My mom will be out here in about two minutes and if she sees you, she’s going to make us take cheesy photos together.”

“I can humor your mom for a few minutes for this.” Eddie shrugged. “Besides, I owe her for being such a loyal customer.”

You stared at him. “Eddie... what do you mean by that?”

He gave you that trademark shit-eating grin, the one that he often used during club when he knew he was about to royally piss everyone off. 

“How else do you think I was able to buy new jeans?” he asked, his brown eyes shining in the lingering twilight. 

“Eddie Munson, you motherfucker, do not tell me that you sell drugs to my own mother-” 

Speak of your mother, and she shall appear with a smile and a camera in hand. You were going to have a long talk with Eddie later about boundaries and selling weed to your mother, even though you knew it wouldn’t change anything. 

Your mom quickly ushered you to take some solo pictures of you, and Eddie stood behind her watching with amusement as you awkwardly posed in the way you had seen in some teen magazine that you’d browsed when waiting in line at the grocery store. You felt stiff and awkward until Eddie started making faces behind your mom’s back that had you breaking out into a fit of giggles. He was totally going to give you shit for this later, but you knew he’d have his moment in the spotlight in a moment as well. 

Eddie was next up, but somehow he had no problem casually posing and smiling for your mom’s camera. Asshole. 

Then the couple’s pictures came and your mom made it clear exactly how she had wanted you two to pose. Eddie didn’t even hesitate wrapping his arm around your waist and holding your hand. 

For a few moments, you forgot what was supposed to happen that night. In this moment, you could really believe that you were going on a date with your best friend, and that he was holding your hand because he wanted to, not just because he was being forced to because of a favor. Eddie had always been a good actor, and you thought that if he wasn’t such a metal-and-D&D nerd, he could have been great in the theater department. 

Eddie really was a storyteller at heart. In music, in Dungeons and Dragons, in his doodles, the way he played up his Freak persona, and in this moment with his arms settled on your hips and his head on your shoulder. If Eddie wanted to captivate with a story, he could. 

It’s a shame that a story was all this was. 

Once the two of you were finally released from the watchful eye of your moms camera, Eddie led you to his van. He opened the passenger seat door for you, and even helped you into your seat as if he were a real gentleman. You didn’t think anyone had ever done that for you before. 

“So... is there a plan for how we’re going to do this?” you asked. “We haven’t really talked about how this is going to happen.” 

“What time is your secret admirer supposed to show up?” Eddie asked, the sound of his mixtape crackling through the air. 

“7:30.” 

“Then you’ll go in about five minutes early, stand in the middle of the gym, and at 7:30 I’ll burst in, sweep you off your feet, and then we can blow this joint.” Eddie said. 

“I could use a joint.” you sighed, looking out the window as reality came back. You weren’t a princess, and this wasn’t a fairytale. Eddie was only doing this as a favor, nothing more. 

“I’ll let you have one after we set up for the show.” He promised, pulling his van up to behind the school where no one was going to be dropped off for the dance. “I’ll see you inside in five minutes.” 

You gave him a nod. “See you on the other side, Freak.” 

You slipped to the entrance of the gym, and walked towards the booth where you presented your homecoming ticket. Homecoming had started at 7 pm on the dot and most students were already inside, dancing and giggling and having fun. The sound of the latest pop songs were echoing through the halls outside of the gym. The cheerleader running the ticket booth looked you up and down with a giggle.

“I love your outfit! It’s so... unique!” she gave you a smile that was way too wide and you grit your teeth at the false compliment. You shoved that anger down into your gut, and gave your best fake smile back, hoping that you sounded more sincere. 

“Thank you, so much!” Your voice came out a bit higher pitched than anticipated, but the cheerleader didn’t seem to notice. 

“Your Secret Admirer is going to love it.” She continued, and you felt your stomach twist. Shit, the cheerleaders were in on this too? You wondered how many people were in on this. “He asked me to give you this when you got here.”

She handed you a note, in the same sloppy handwriting as before. 

Meet me in the center of the dance floor at 7:30. 

It was 7:26 right now. You were tempted to make the assholes wait, after all, you wanted to make sure Eddie had a chance to get here before they could. But the cheerleader obviously saw you read the note, and there was no time to turn back. 

Just show up for me. Eddie. You thought to yourself. Although this had been your idea, you were feeling nervous now. You really were about to put yourself out on full display to the school, willingly offering yourself up on a plate to your peers for humiliation. What if this didn’t work? What if Eddie didn’t make it in time? What if something worse happened with Eddie here? 

The short walk from the entrance to the middle of the dance floor felt like slow motion. Your mind felt fuzzy and you hoped that you weren’t shaking from nerves. You stood in the center of the dance floor, and turned to face the single clock in the back of the gym. You could barely make out the time with the distance and dim lights, but you knew it was almost time. 

7:27

7:28

You could do this

7:29

Almost time....

7:30

7:31

Where the fuck was Eddie?

7:32

Did he get held up?

7:33

Did he change his mind?

7:34

Fuck, you could hear the giggling.

7:35

You felt a tap on your shoulder. 

This was it. 

You turned around slowly, waiting for the worst. 

Eddie stood before you, corsage in hand, on one knee as if he was proposing to you. 

Maybe this was the real prank. Maybe the real prank was the one you played on yourself to be able to see your best friend kneeling and smiling up at you, offering you a corsage. 

Time froze for a second as you took in the sight and committed it to memory. 

“I’m glad you made it.” Eddie said, loud enough for anyone to hear. He really did have that natural projection that should have had the theater kids begging him to join them. “I knew you’d respond to my note.”

There was a dull murmur of confusion behind you, and you saw Eddie’s eyes flicker to something that you couldn’t see and he gave you a small nod. 

Fuck, that was your cue. 

You brought your hands up to your mouth, acting like all of the actresses you’d seen on tv who’s characters had been proposed to. You began nodding and accepted the corsage, letting him slide it onto your wrist. 

How had he known what color to get to match your dress? 

Eddie stood up and you threw your arms around him. “I was hoping it was you!” you said loudly, no need to act for this part. Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up and spun you around once. He really was deceptively strong, and you giggled as he set you down. Your lips met his cheek. His arms stayed around you. 

Eddie smiled at you in a way that made your cheeks heat up and your knees feel weak. 

You two were staring at each other. 

The music changed. 

Eddie moved one of his hands from around your waist to grab yours, and the two of you were slow dancing before you even fully knew what was happening. 

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You asked, following his movements. 

“You said you wanted to really sell this that we were together now.” Eddie said, keeping his eyes on you. “I don’t know how many people would believe it if I showed up and we immediately left. It wouldn’t exactly be memorable.” 

“Right, good point.” you agreed. 

“I always have good points, that’s why I’m the dungeon master.” Eddie chuckled, “Besides, it’d be a shame that you put in this much effort to look good for little old me to not show you off. What kind of boyfriend would I be? I have to make sure that I get a reputation for being a mean and scary freak, but also a decent date.”

Boyfriend. 

“Shit.” you said quietly. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, brows furrowing with a frown. 

“I didn’t think about what happens after this. You agreed to be my fake date, but I don’t want you to feel trapped with me after this.” you said. “Yeah, this’ll get everyone off my back for now but when school starts again, I don’t want you to feel like you have to act like we’re together.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Eddie said. “It’s not like my dating life is thriving here anyway. Between you and me, I’m a little too old for those who dare try and get with the Freak here.”

You let out a small laugh. “Tired of one night stands with girls who just want bragging rights?” 

“After the third time, I was starting to feel like I was cheating on my right hand.”

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, erupting into a fit of giggles. This felt right, this relaxed moment with Eddie. This is how it was supposed to feel with someone, right? It was supposed to be easy, and with Eddie it always was. 

“Thank you, Eddie.” you said after your giggles had died down. “I really owe you one.”

“I thought this plan was me owing you one.” Eddie asked. 

“This is honestly above and beyond helping you get a passing grade for a test.” you admitted. “I know you have your show tonight, and you hate doing anything for school. Plus, you showed up wearing this and you spent money on jeans and the corsage- oh, thank you for the corsage-”

“Hey,” Eddie snapped you out of your rambling. “Don’t act like you forced me to do anything. You said I had full creative control tonight. I chose to do all this for you.”

“Why?” you asked, meeting his eyes. “You could have so easily told me to just fuck off and said no.”

“I’ll admit this wasn’t exactly my idea of how this night was going to go.” Eddie said. “But then you said that you wanted the Freak to show up for you. I wanted to know what would happen if it was just Eddie.” 

“Just Eddie...” you said quietly. Not the Freak, not the satanic cult leader, not the dungeon master. Just Eddie, your friend. “I’m glad that just Eddie was the one to show up.” your mouth went dry. “I- ...Eddie I-”

The two of you had stopped moving in slow circles, Eddie was closer than he had ever been to you before. You forgot where you were and Eddie was leaning closer to you, his mouth opening as if he was going to say something. 

And that’s when it happened. 

Whatever it was, it was room temperature, and sticky. It dripped down from your hair, down your face and onto your dress. You looked down to see pools of red flooding below you on the gym floor, and then your head shot up to see Eddie, covered in the same sticky substance with a dumbstruck look on his face. 

Blood? Was that actually blood?! Was Eddie bleeding? Were you? Wait, had someone actually dumped pigs blood on you?

Eddie wiped his face, smearing the substance on his skin and hand and carefully brought it to his face and sniffed it, and then gave it a small lick.

“Corn syrup.” he said and looked at you, his eyes wide in shock. 

“You mean this was a Carrie situation?!” you asked in a loud whisper as the two of you stared at each other. You looked around, and saw the group of jocks laughing and high fiving each other. One of them was holding an old paint bucket. Your body froze, and you couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Those assholes had thrown fake blood on you and Eddie. They won. You fucked up. Eddie did so much for you tonight and you never even considered that the jocks would be smart enough to adjust their plans to account for Eddie being here-

Then Eddie started laughing, like really laughing. It was that genuine laugh that you’d heard a hundred times when the party came up with a stupid plan to get past one of Eddie’s challenges in Hellfire. 

He looked at you, with a spark in his eyes and a grin that was manic. 

His laughter was so contagious, that you found yourself laughing as well. You heard the laughter from the jocks start to die down and turn into mutters of confusion. The whole gym seemed to go silent, and you think the DJ stopped the music but you were laughing too much to care. 

How fucking rediculous was this? It was almost too obvious what they had set up, but you didn’t think they were this unoriginal. How did they even sneak in the bucket? How did no faculty or staff react to this?!

“I guess the Freak is showing up, anyway.” Eddie laughed and looked at you. “Let’s give them the show they want.”

Eddie’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck and started pulling you in. Instinct took over and you gripped at his stained shirt and then your lips met. The kiss was met with gasps and oohs and shouts from around you, but you didn’t care. Eddie was kissing you, and you were kissing him back. The two of you must have looked like a spectacle, covered in fake blood and making out with him in the middle of the dance floor after laughing like maniacs.

“Stop that, right now you two!” you heard a teacher yell, and that’s when Eddie pulled back.

“Feel free to kill me for that later, okay?” That wild smile was still on his face. 

“I think we should run now.” you agreed, deciding that whatever had just happened within the last 30 seconds could be processed later. You could see a few teachers starting to finally take action and start to run over, and the jocks were now scattering. Even though you and Eddie were the victims here, you didn’t really feel like sticking around. Whatever would happen with the school, could wait until Monday.

Eddie grabbed your hand, flipped off the few jocks that were still gawking, and the two of you took off running through the exit doors of the gym, the two of you laughing and cackling like mad. 

“Fake blood!” you yelled as the two of you dashed across the parking lot. “They threw fake blood on us!” 

“They actually spent money to get that much corn syrup and dye!” Eddie laughed, opening the door to his van for you again. 

“Shit, it’s gonna get all over your van.” you said, taking your seat anyway and buckling up. 

“That’s the least worrying thing I’ve spilled in here. Don’t worry about it.” He said, hopping into the driver side seat. “Jesus Christ, I didn’t think they had it in them!”

“Eddie, they ruined your new clothes.” You frowned, looking at him. The fake blood was starting to dry to your skin, and you could see it starting to give Eddie’s hair an odd texture in certain areas. 

“They also ruined your dress.” 

“Yeah, but I was never going to wear this again.” you said. 

“And I was going to ruin these clothes anyway.” he shrugged and started the car, peeling out of the parking lot like a bat out of Hell. Eddie’s lead foot hit the gas and the two of you were speeding down the road, out of town towards the quarry. 

“Holy shit.” you said, leaning against the seat as the adrenaline faded. 

“I think that could’ve gone worse.” Eddie said, still smiling. “I think the blood really adds to Corroded Coffin’s whole thing.” 

You shook your head, grabbing some napkins from the floor and wiping your hands off. “Shit, do we owe them a thanks now? Should we send them a fruit basket?” 

“Nah, they’ll get what they deserve. A slap on the wrist for pulling this stunt at a school function.” Eddie glanced at you with a wry grin. 

“Right, why do I feel like they’ll get off easy but somehow we’re gonna be the ones in trouble on Monday?” You rolled your eyes and lowered your voice in a horrible imitation of Principal Higgins. “Yes, those two played a harmless prank by dumping corn syrup on you, but you two displayed unsightly behavior in front of everyone in some sort of Hellish ritual-”

“Ouch. I didn’t think I was that bad of a kisser.” 

You stopped talking and suddenly the corn syrup felt sticky and uncomfortable. You still hadn’t been able to digest the fact that the two of you had kissed- no, you two had full on made-out in front of the whole student body. Had there been tongue? You honestly couldn’t remember. 

An awkward silence settled over the two of you and you were unsure of what to say. You wanted to tell him that no, he wasn’t a bad kisser at all. You wanted to be smooth and say something like “Well, I wasn’t really paying attention before, how about we try again?”. You wanted to say anything to indicate that you liked it and very much wanted to do it again. 

Instead the two of you sat in the loudest silence you had ever been in as the two of you drove the long strip down to the quarry. You scolded yourself, thinking that saying anything had to be better than saying nothing. 

And yet no words came out.

This was supposed to be a one shot in April. Now it's a three-shot. Do NOT let me write more than three chapters. The third chapter is almost done. There will be smut.

Divider by @strangergraphics

Tag List: @supernaturalstilinski @wonderlanddreamer @princesssunderworld @kores-mun-son-n-more @munsonfiles

@ladysilence @ghcstpyre @avalon-wolf @huffledor-able541 @sheneedsrocknroll92

@i-trash-about-things

[flowercrowngods]

some hurt/comfort cuddles for @t-boyeddie. because you deserve nice things and cuddles

🤍 also on ao3

Steve feels endlessly pathetic pulling up to the Munson trailer with a hammering heart at two in the morning, feeling like he has nowhere else in the world to go. It’s a lie. He knows it’s not true, knows that his brain is lying to him, knows that his thoughts got all tangled up and messy somewhere between noon and midday, knows that all he has to do is breathe through it and just get this day over with.

But he can’t breathe. And he can’t sleep. And he—

He needs a hug. He needs Eddie and his stupid, sweet, lovely koala hugs with his goddamn hair all up in Steve’s face. He needs it so badly that he can’t wait until tomorrow — and now here he is, pulling up to the trailer.

He gasps a little in the silence of the car when he spots a familiar figure sitting on the front steps, a blanket around his shoulders and a cigarette in his hand. Tears spring to his eyes — pathetic little tears that he refuses to allow right now, so he blinks them away. But the longer he looks at Eddie sitting right there, looking up at the approaching car with a smile that’s slowly growing, the more he feels ready to fall apart. And he will, if he’s not held together.

And Eddie is so good at holding him together. Steve needs him close; can’t wait even a second longer.

Steve cuts the engine and is out of the car in one swift move, walking over to wonderful, beautiful Eddie who is gloriously, miraculously awake.

His quick steps on the gravel match the loud, rapid beating of his heart, and then Eddie is getting up, closing the distance between them just as fast, until they’re crashing together in a tangle of arms and a gentle hand on the back of his head that’s pulling him close, close, closer.

“Hey, baby,” Eddie breathes into his cheek, his temple, his hair, and Steve wants to melt into him. Wants to cry now that the world smells like Eddie again, feels like Eddie again; now that the world is Eddie again. “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head where it’s still hidden in the crook of Eddie’s neck, his hands clenching in the soft, worn shirt he’s wearing to sleep. He wants to say, No, not really. Wants to say, It’s stupid. I was just lonely for a little too long. Missed you. Missed you, missed you, missed you.

But he can’t say anything. The words get lodged in his throat and the thought of speaking makes the world feel so overwhelming again, makes him feel like a failure and a fuck-up and all those things his mind tells him that he is on nights like this.

Things that he knows he isn’t. He knows! But knowledge doesn’t protect him on nights like this.

What protects him is the way Eddie sways them gently this way and that, silent in his own right — humming slightly to give Steve something to focus on. It makes his eyes sting again, so he burrow’s further into his love’s neck.

“I’ve got you. Was waiting for you, you know? Had a feeling. Just a feeling, Stevie. So glad you came.”

It’s good. It’s good he’s here. Eddie is glad. Eddie doesn’t judge him or hate him or think he’s too much, think he’s pathetic, think he should talk and explain and be as strong as they both know he can be.

Steve takes a deep breath, inhaling Eddie’s scent, his shampoo, his aftershave, the cigarette smoke and the laundry detergent. It settles him, and he can practically feel his frayed mind smoothing out, can feel his racing heart slow down, can feel his hands unclench from Eddie’s shirt as he breathes like he couldn’t all day and all night.

Once he’s calm enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s about to snap and break and crumble any second now, he slowly lifts his face and meets Eddie’s eyes. Even in the dark, illuminated only by the street lights and scarcely lit porch lamps, he looks so kind. So patient. So genuine.

So, so lovely.

“Hi,” he breathes, carding a hand through Steve’s hair, and Steve feels like a fragile little thing again — but gentler this time, because he knows Eddie is holding him. Because he knows Eddie won’t let go.

“Hi,” he croaks, wanting to try again with the words. It doesn’t feel good, doesn’t feel right. Maybe tonight isn’t for talking then.

“Do you wanna come inside? Stay the night with me? I’d hate to let you go now that I have you, Stevie. How’s that sound?”

He nods before Eddie even finished the first question, watching the smile unfold on his face until it’s full and wide, his hand not stopping its motions through Steve’s hair.

“Come on in, then, beautiful.”

Eddie leads him by the hand, leads him inside, entirely unwilling to let Steve go. He guides him through the dark trailer that Steve knows so well by now and doesn’t let go of his hand even as he makes him sit on the bed.

Steve looks up at him as Eddie steps between his legs and holds him close again, knowing that Steve loves this position. He can hear Eddie’s heart beating like this, can wrap his arms around him completely and just hold on forever and ever as Eddie plays with his hair.

“You’re pretty,” Eddie murmurs then. “And smart. And kind. And I’m incredibly lucky to have you here with me, Stevie. Do you know that?”

He does. It’s not why he’s here. It’s not why he can’t talk tonight. He just… He just needs Eddie.

So he doesn’t react, which is a language they have made for nights like this, and instead holds on even tighter around Eddie’s middle and leans back, falling onto his back on the bed and pulling a laughing Eddie with him, who gets the memo instantly and wraps his entire body around Steve.

The grounding weight of Eddie on top of him is what makes a few of the silent tears fall, because he gets to have this now. Because it’s okay. It’s good. Eddie loves him. He’s not a fuck-up.

Eddie brushes a kiss to his forehead, his nose, his cheek, and holds him. Tells him good things in a soothing tone sometimes that go right over Steve’s head because he’s busy losing himself in the steady beat of Eddie’s heart, the rise and fall of his chest that he’s now resting his cheek on, with Eddie’s arms around his shoulders. He’s focused on the vibrations of his voice that carry through his whole body and right into Steve’s. It’s a magical feeling that he wants to chase, so he trails his fingers down from Eddie’s adam’s apple to the middle of his chest, and up again, every time he talks. It makes Eddie laugh, makes him shiver, makes him brush more kisses to Steve’s forehead.

Quiet cuddles in the dark of Eddie’s room allow Steve to breathe again even as he buries his nose in Eddie’s neck, almost smothering himself just to make him laugh again, call him ridiculous, and tell him, “I love you.”

Steve smiles until he falls asleep still half on top of Eddie, who promises not to let him go. And he doesn’t. He won’t.

[helioswritings]

The first time it happens, it’s almost subconscious. You’ve always loved the way Umemiya smells, you chalk it up to some weird omega thing you can’t explain and that must be what leads you to shove the shirt into your bag. You don’t tell Ume about it, because frankly you’d rather die but more than that you couldn’t stand for him to say it was alright, like you knew he would.

The second time is intentional. The sweater is just sitting there, beckoning you like a siren would a sailor. You shove it into your bag, knowing it would join your nest along with the shirt you’d purloined a week before. He enters the room a beat later, oblivious to his missing sweater.

The third, fourth and fifth times happen similarly. A shirt, a jacket, a blanket. They all rest on your bed in a pile, like a horde of treasure. Your treasure. It makes you preen, almost. You slept on it almost every night, even though your ill gotten gains made you feel a bit creepy most days, downright stalkerish others.

You’re almost certain that it’s because he smells nice and not at all because you have a crush on Umemiya. Definitely not that. Not that he’d know or care, you could probably go right up to him and plant a kiss on him and he’d grin and tell you how good of a friend you were. Could’ve had a crush on any man from Furin but no, you chose Umemiya.

It all comes to a head on accident. The two of you are sitting on your shitty couch in front of your equally shitty tv, when he asks where the bathroom is. You point him in the direction of it, trying not to look like you're inhaling his scent of pine, fresh rain and wood.

It's when you get up to get a cup of tea that you hear: “oh I’ve been looking for these!”

You rush into your room in an instant, seeing Umemiya standing at your bed, gazing into the halfheartedly built nest that sits in the middle.

“That's my favorite blanket, y’know.”

“I-uh, sorry?”

“The shirts you can keep, but I think I’d like the jacket back, at least. That one, anyways, but you can keep this one.” He takes the jacket he’s currently wearing off, setting it on top, grabbing the jacket you previously stole instead.

“What are you….what's going on?”

Ume grins at you. “I don’t mind, you know. I mean, I would’ve preferred you ask, but I don’t care.”

He kisses your cheek. “Let’s finish the movie, yeah?”

And all you can do is follow him, dumbfounded.

After the film, and when he gets ready to leave, it all comes rushing out and he just laughs.

“Well, to be honest, I knew it had to be you. You’re the only one I let in there, but I didn’t want to embarrass you. I thought it was cute.”

“Cute.”

He rolls his eyes. “And everyone tells me that I’m oblivious.” It's teasing, but genuine.

You build up the courage to kiss his cheek as he leaves, the smell of him so strong it nearly suffocates you.

He grins. “See you.”

You stare at the door even after he’s gone.

[mizusnose]

Could you possibly write some headcanons for what you think a relationship with Mizu would be like in Modern!AU? (xreader)

so this is actually gonna be a part of a separate drabble that includes doctor!mizu, but i’ll use that as a template for this headcannon response bc the brainrot is too strong..

SFW

ofc mizu would be the typical nice to you and only you lover. this usually manifests in the way she talks to you, looks at you, and of course touches you.

she’s shy. most people take her glares and silence at face value and can’t understand how your relationship works.

even in med school where you both met, mizu is cutthroat and so smart. she’s intimidating and beautiful, and the first time you talked to her it was in a surgery. Her hands bloody and eyes focused.

she gives you her own pens when you lose your own on morning rounds. lets you wear her shirts and sweaters and sweats after showers and sex.

mizu works out in the mornings you do yoga. you do core workouts together and mizu always gets competitive when planks are involved. “the one who stays up longer has to cook dinner tonight” sort of vibe.

speaking of cooking, mizu cant. for shit. she relies heavily on takeout, or snacks, or protein bars. buys packs and packs of cliff bars and protein shakes and downs those on her short lunch breaks.

makes sure you eat though. sneaks vitamins into your coat pockets, the gummies because she knows you can’t swallow pills.

the relationship is professional in the hospital, but when you’re assigned on the same case, she makes sure to let you explain, talk to the patient, and take charge in the surgery room. mizu takes on charting, prescriptions, the quote unquote boring stuff she’d usually dump on an intern.

you’re both goal-oriented and driven. so whenever a new paper comes out, she sends you the pubmed link instantly and you both discuss it over dinner. mizu explains how she can use the research for her own paper.

on date nights, mizu dresses up and you’re mesmerized yet again by how beautiful she is. her golden chains she usually wears beneath her scrubs glow lightly in the nice sushi place she takes you.

she’s always reaching for you. across the table at dinner, on the couch relaxing, in the streets walking home. her palm is always wide and warm.

mizu is messy. you’ve actually had multiple fights over it. she doesn’t clean her toothpaste from the sink, shoves off her clothes into a pile in their room, leaves her side of the bed undone.

however, she’s extremely OCD at work. her desk, desktop, and calendar are neat and pretty. she teases you and your unorganized google calendar.

likes to show off her strength and wrestles you often. pins you down on the couch and kisses you soft and tender despite her constant weight above you.

loves loves LOVES to cuddle. i’m talking “babe come here i’m cold~~” sorta thing. gets extremely and genuinely upset in the summer times when you push her off you in favor of being cool.

is obsessed with you. has you as her wallpaper, her desktop photo, your name on her cell and pager is gorgeous.

answers your calls with a “hey you” and ends with an “i love you, see you tonight.”

is very skilled with her fingers (wink wink). in surgery, she’s the quickest and gets upset at the interns when they take too long.

kisses your forehead in the mornings. tells you a story at night when you can’t fall asleep. kisses you sweet and soft before you separate in the mornings.

i love doctor!mizu 😔

[hinamie]

It haunts me every time I see the 10 years later post with the first years, so I have to ask. Is Megumi’s shirt supposed to resemble Gojo’s outfit from the first anime outro? Because it does and I know it makes me go ‘shit, I’m cringe’ when I realize I’ve started dressing like my mom

THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE why would u od thi sto me,.,, listen i can explain pl s im so . i can EXPLAIN

a. megumi wore it better b. ORIGINAL COLOURSWATCH HAD MEGUMI IN BLUE BUT I CHANGED IT CRIES i decided i didn't like the rgb ,,, little did i know i was dooming my son..,,,

im crying megumi im so sorry tht was 10000% unintentional i swear to christ i was just on pinterest taking outfit insp from various j/kfashion minimalist outfits bc ths just Genuinely how i think megumi would dress :'<<<< why am i never free why cant i have nice things

[aauroraxia]

Supposed To Be

Armando Aretas

This story is based off of a song called Begin Again by Taylor Swift ^^. For a better experience I highly recommend you listen to the song 🎧!

Sypnosis: Y/N just got out of a toxic relationship with ex named Greg. She finally decided to start dating again. On her first date with her new boyfriend, Armando she has many flashbacks of her past relationship. Armando shows her how love is supposed to be, and not all love is toxic.

Warnings: None

I took a deep breath in the mirror, doing a little twirl. I looked perfect, my tight red dress, hugged my curves. My curly hair curled perfectly around my face. My black high heels made me a little taller than I actually was, but I don’t care, I think I look perfect and I hope he thinks the same.

I was finally dating again. After breaking up with Greg, I was scared of dating. Until I met Armando. He told me that he didn’t know my ex or what he did for us to break up, but, that he was nothing like him, he’s one of a kind.

One of my friends had offered to take me to the restaurant I walked out of my house grabbing my phone, purse, and keys, and walked to the car. As I sat in the passenger seat I started thinking.. ‘Remember what happened last time you went on a date’

Flash Back Start 𖣔

I arrived to the cafe that Greg asked me to meet him at. I looked in the mirror in my car, fixing my hair. I wanted everything to be perfect.

I walked inside the cafe, glancing around looking for Greg. He was nowhere to be found. I started panicking, thoughts flooded my mind.

‘He couldn’t be standing me up’

‘He wouldnt’

‘Would he?’

The waiter sat me at a table. I caught a few weird glances from other couples. I pulled my phone out of my purse, checking the time constantly, and maybe to see if Greg texted. After about 25 minutes, he hadn’t called or texted.

Tears flooded my eyes. I put my phone away and gathered my things. It’s time to go home.

As soon as I stood up I heard the cafe bell ring. I turned around to see Greg walking in the shop. His brown hair, messy. He had on a blue button up shirt that wasn’t even buttoned completely.

Had he even tried to look nice? Was this “date” really not that important? I balled my fist up, sitting back down in my seat, waiting for him to walk over.

He sat in front of me in silence. No ‘Hey, I’m sorry for being late.’ No stupid excuse. Just silence.

Flash Back Ends 𖣔

I shoved that memory deep down in my mind, or at least I tried. I started my car and drove to restaurant I was meeting Armando at.

I walked in the restaurant, hoping Armando was already here. And he was. He waved me over to the table he was sitting at. Walking over to him, he looked at me with a small but genuine smile. He stood up and pulled out my chair for me.

That was so nice! I sat down across from him, locking eyes with him. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of me.

Flash Back Start 𖣔

The rest of the date went pretty well. Greg told me this lame excuse of how he couldn’t get a stain out of shirt, that’s why he was late. He asked me how was my day and after I answered him he explained how his day went.

While explaining my day I made a small joke. I guess he didn’t think I was funny because he just stared at me, with a blank unreadable expression on his face.

Embarrassing…

I quickly changed the topic to work, to avoid any further embarrassment.

“Hey, I think you look really pretty tonight, but um I’m not that much taller than you and you wearing heels makes you taller than me.. I don’t like the look so if we’re supposed to be together could you stop wearing heels?”

The audacity..

It’s not my fault that he’s shorter than Peter Pan. But this date already started rocky so I just smiled and nodded.

Flash Back Ends 𖣔

“Te ves hermosa. Ese vestido y esos tacones te hacen ver muy sexy.” Armando said.

I smiled at his sweetness. I knew he wasn’t much of a talker but he was putting in a effort to talk, and that’s all I needed.

“How are you?” He asked

“Good, what about you. Apart from being hunted from the police.” I joked

He leaned his head back, laughing. Last time I told a small joke I was hella embarrassed. But that wasn’t the case this time, thankfully.

Soon, a waiter came and took our order, we ate and talked about any and everything. He even payed for both of our meals. Damn, he couldn’t be any more perfect.

He offered to take me home and I agreed. “Any specific song you want to listen to?”

I started thinking.. “Can you play ‘Fuck It I Love You’ by Lana Del Rey.

“Yeah”

Flash Back Start 𖣔

When Greg invited me to his apartment, on the way there I asked him to play that same song. “What does the song even mean. It’s boring and sad. How about something else.”

I looked at him in utter disbelief. Did he really not understand the meaning? Once again I just smiled and nodded.

Flash Back End 𖣔

“Sorry if you don’t like this song.” I said “I know it’s supposedly sad.”

“Nah, it’s not sad. It’s real.” He assured me.

Oh my gosh I think I love him.

Once arriving at my house Armando walked me to my front door. Like he was protecting me.

I loved that. It made me feel like I would never have to worry about my safety with him.

“Como te dije antes, no conozco a tu ex ni lo que hizo para que rompieras con él, pero nunca te lastimaré amor.”

I smiled, placing both of my hands on his shoulders, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. Once I pulled away, he softly cuffed my cheeks, pulling me into a passionate but loving kiss.

“Sure you don’t wanna come in?” I asked him with a playful smirk.

“Quizás lo haga” He said with a smirk, locking his car, and following me inside.

I don’t know how far this “relationship” with Armando would go but, I do know this is how love is supposed to be.

Translations:

“Quizás lo haga” - Maybe I will

“Como te dije antes, no conozco a tu ex ni lo que hizo para que rompieras con él, pero nunca te lastimaré amor.” - Like I told you before, I don't know your ex or what he did to make you break up with him, but I will never hurt you, love.

“Te ves hermosa. Ese vestido y esos tacones te hacen ver muy sexy.” - You look beautiful. That dress and those heels make you look very sexy.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Pretty When You Cry.

Joel realises his morals are fucked. You realise you like it.

Pairing - Joel Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Lots of cursing, sexual content, mentions of prostitution

Word Count - 1750

Author's Note - oh boy. buckle in. i love when a character has a messed up moral compass and is a little rough and jagged around the edges. i also love lana del rey. hence, this joel fic was born. please enjoy.

Masterlist. Requests.

“Stupid fuckin’ girl,” Joel spits at you.

You flinch and step backwards, trying to escape what is inevitably going to be a brutal verbal assault. The older man watches your every move and chuckles darkly.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Nowhere, is the answer. You’re down a dark alleyway in the QZ, a barely lit back street. Even if you run, you’ll just end up circling back around. You’re walled in – both literally and figuratively.

Joel moves towards you, his large frame making you want to shrink away instinctively. He towers over you, broad shoulders blocking your view.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

You weren’t, is the issue.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Joel has been desperate for a car battery for weeks. A few days ago, you’d overheard a guy talking about smuggling spare parts. You’d set up a covert meeting, and asked if he could get you what you needed. He’d told you he could – for a price. It didn’t matter that the currency was you. You’d do what you needed to do. For Joel.

You’d made your way to meet him tonight. His name was Pete, you were pretty sure. He was a sleaze, a real piece of work - but he had connections. He had people working for him, could practically get you anything if you asked nicely and promised to pay.

You had nothing to your name. No one did, these days. You knew you couldn’t pay Pete with alcohol, or cigarettes, or drugs. No, you’d give him something else. You’d give him you. An offer which he eagerly accepted.

He wanted you to pay before he’d give you the battery. You’d argued, but it was no use. You didn’t want to make him angry – it’d only make it worse.

So there you were. He had backed you against the wall of this very alleyway, demanding you take off your shirt. Just as you were lifting the hem over your head, Pete hit the ground.

You looked up to see Joel, more furious than you’d ever seen him before. He’d punched Pete in the head and knocked him out cold.

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” he hissed.

“Well I was doing you a favour. Not anymore, apparently,” you hissed back.

“A favour? You’re whoring yourself out as a favour?”

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, turning on your heel to leave.

Joel grabbed your wrist and pulled you backwards with force, taking no care whatsoever. You were worried he was going to snap your arm, the way he was clutching it.

“Stupid fuckin’ girl.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“Are you even listenin’ to me? What the fuck were you thinking?”

He’s looking at you pointedly, clearly expecting some sort of explanation. You’re not really sure what to say. When you don’t answer, he takes another few steps forward, intimidating you until your back is pressed against the rough brick of the wall.

Joel grabs your chin between his fingers and forces you to look at him. His fury hasn’t subsided – you can still feel it rolling off of him in waves. He’s buzzing with adrenaline, the electricity of it infectious, seeping into your pores.

“You better have a damn good reason as to why I just watched you take your shirt off for Pete fuckin’ Davis.”

He spits the man’s name like it tastes disgusting in his mouth. It makes you smirk slightly.

“You think this is funny? Huh?” Joel asks, squeezing your face tighter. You shake your head, not once breaking eye contact with him. He stares you down for a minute before releasing his grip.

“He has a battery,” you explain quietly. “He’s been selling spare parts. Said he could get me what you need if we cut a deal. It’s a small price to pay, Joel.”

“That is not a small price.”

The genuineness of it makes you wince.

The thing is, Joel doesn’t usually care about this kind of stuff. He’s not exactly an upstanding citizen, having made his fair share of dumb deals and below the belt exchanges. He’s usually the one encouraging you to break the rules a little, if it means you both benefit.

Above all, you are convinced that Joel doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anyone, not really. You know that he and Tess have this ambiguous sort of partnership - friendship at a complete stretch. But that’s it. Joel doesn’t care.

So why is he so furious?

His rage has infected you now. You’re exasperated, sick of the mixed signals. You and Joel were partners in crime, acquaintances at most. It didn’t matter that when he looked at you, the whole world fell away. It didn’t matter than when you heard his voice, time stopped temporarily. It didn’t matter that he was the last thing you thought about at night and the first thing you thought about in the morning. None of it mattered.

“Why do you fucking care, Joel?” you spit, shoving at his chest. His scent is suffocating you, making it hard to think. You need to put some distance between you before you do something reckless.

“Why do I care? Why do I fuckin’ care?” he practically yells at your face. “Are you that stupid?”

“Stop calling me stupid!” you retaliate. “I’m smarter than every damn person in this place!”

“Smart enough to turn to prostitution?”

That word makes you scoff.

“It wasn’t like that. It would have been a one time thing. A quick payment.”

“That’s not a fuckin’ payment! That’s the one thing you shouldn’t fuck around with!”

You can tell he’s genuinely upset, but you’re not sure why. It’s none of his business what you choose to do with your body.

“I was doing this for you, asshole! He would have given me the battery, and you could have gone and found Tommy. I did this for you,” you yell, shoving him as hard as you can. He doesn’t move.

“Keep your fuckin’ voice down,” he hisses.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“God damn it! You never fuckin’ listen, do you? How stupid are you, huh?”

Joel takes a heavy step forward, one hand reaching out to wrap around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just keeps it there, holding you in place. Right where he wants you.

His eyes darken, still alight with fury. He smells like smoke and musk and sweat and spearmint toothpaste. You want to lick the exposed skin of his neck to see if he’d taste the same.

He leans in, almost bumping your nose with his.

“We don’t fuck around with that stuff, alright?” he murmurs. “I’ve seen pretty girls like you get hurt real bad for a lot less. You can’t let them treat you as any less than human.”

You’ve never heard him this sincere. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Why do you care, Joel?” you whisper. “I’m just as disposable to you as I am to the rest of them.”

He pauses, and you can see the cogs turning in his head. He’s still holding you by the neck, his other hand coming around to tangle in the back of your hair. He’s looking at you so intently that you feel your bravado start to waiver. Your bottom lip quivers, and your eyes begin to well up. A drop runs down your cheek, and the dam breaks.

He’s never seen you get upset like this. You’re trying to stay stoic, but the tears are falling freely, dripping down your face.

This is the moment Joel realises that he’s a changed man. He’s known for years that his morals aren’t what they used to be. They can’t be, not in this world. He’s murdered, robbed, tortured, kidnapped. His moral compass was broken a long time ago. But the change has never dawned on him, until now. He’s holding you roughly, watching you try not to sob, and he doesn’t feel sad. He doesn’t feel sympathy, or regret, or remorse. No. He feels a sick sense of arousal. He’s turned on.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, looking at you carefully. Your lip quivers again, and his resolve breaks completely. He’s surprised he doesn’t hear it shatter.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry.”

With that, he’s surging forward, dipping his head to lick at your tear stained cheeks. Your sadness is salty and sweet and real. He’s hooked.

Joel presses forward and kisses you harshly. His hand tightens in your hair, yanking you closer to him. He presses your bodies together, and the warmth of him makes your head spin.

You’re still crying as you moan into his mouth. He’s rough and careless and you want more. He groans, and presses you backwards into the wall, the brick scratching up your back. Everything is blurry for the both of you. He’s grabbing at you, groping anything he can find. He’s searching for skin, hands making their way up and under your shirt. You know how risky it is, making out with Joel in a back alley in the middle of the QZ. You don’t care. Neither of you do. You’re drunk on each other and it’s clouding your judgment.

“You like it when I’m mean to you, honey?” he murmurs, voice jagged and low. He’s kissing at your neck, nipping the skin and leaving purple bruises in his wake. 

“Yeah, Joel, fuck. I love it,” you whine. “I love you.”

The both of you freeze at your confession. You’re honestly not sure if you mean it, or if it’s just the heat of the moment. It doesn’t matter now. You’ve said it, and you can’t take it back.

“You think you do,” he mutters against your throat. “But love doesn’t exist in this world. Not anymore.”

You both pause, heavy breaths filling the air. After a while, you break the silence.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you whisper. “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.”

You’re not sure whether you’re apologising for loving him, or admitting it, or for the events of the evening. You’re just sorry.

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs gently against your mouth as he kisses you again. “Don’t be sorry.”

He takes you up against the red brick wall, legs wrapped around his waist and arms tangled around his neck. Your back is cut and bleeding, throat sore and pulsing where he’s bitten you. He makes you come twice before he finishes himself, teeth sinking into your shoulder, hands leaving prints on your hips.

Joel says that love doesn’t exist anymore. You think he’s wrong.

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 6]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 3.1k

Authors Note: New chapter!! I hoped y'all enjoyed the little interlude between this part and the last, I really enjoyed writing it. And I hope you enjoy this update, as well!

Taglist: @cassies-cookies @crisle19 @jk-190811 @khadeeeeej @kooklovee @lalataegi @lallataegi @rispwr @taetaecatboy @whoa-jo @11thenightwemet11

Interlude | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

The bed that you woke up on was soft, despite being a bit smaller than you were used to. There was a soft hum coming from a spinning fan, creating a comfortable white noise in the otherwise quiet apartment. Your weekender bag was tossed on the floor, and you slowly pieced together where you were. You knew you must’ve fallen asleep shortly after coming to Jung Kook’s place, exhausted by the situation you’ve found yourself in. You checked your phone by your bed, and realized that you had slept all day. 

As you stretched out, you began to smell a pleasant fragrance coming from outside the room. You rose from the bed and opened the door, walking down the hall as you followed the scent of freshly cut vegetables. You found your way towards the living room, which sat adjacent to the kitchen, where Jung Kook stood, not yet noticing you were close by. His dark hair looked incredibly fluffy, with strands falling perfectly out of place. He wore a pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt, showing off an arm of tattoos that usually stayed hidden behind the sleeve of a professional suit. But he still managed to look softer than you’ve ever seen, as he combined ingredients together in a large, red bowl.  

“Hi.” You called out softly, earning his attention. 

“Hi.” He repeated, continuing to stir. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Very good… Thanks.” You said quietly, walking to the kitchen island to sit on the bar stool across from Jung Kook. 

“I, uh… I figured you would be hungry.” Jung Kook explained. “I hope you like japchae.” 

“I love japchae.” You smiled. “Oh my God, I haven’t had that since coming to the city.” 

“Great.” He smiled back. “This is a family recipe, so tell me what you think, ok? It’s almost finished.” 

“Thank you.” You responded. 

You looked around his small but nice kitchen, taking in Jung Kook’s little corner of New York. His white board calendar was pressed to the refrigerator with blue marker ink-scribbled reminders on a few important dates. The happy law school graduation photo of himself, and what you assume to be his mother, was hung up with a magnet cutely made to look like a Doberman puppy. A small collection of cookbooks stacked on top of each other, largest to smallest, creating a neat pyramid shape on the counter, and a collection of soju and whiskey that seemed to be carefully selected. It all felt so… him. Nothing too fancy or expensive, but it didn’t need to be. It was cozy, and for the first time in several days, you genuinely felt calm. This space, his space, felt safe. 

Then, you noticed a freshly cut bouquet of red and pink flowers in a vase of water, sitting right by you on the kitchen island. 

“Those are pretty flowers.” You commented, reaching over to gently touch one of the pink petals. 

“Oh! Yeah, they’re um…. T-They’re for you, actually.” Jung Kook stuttered. “I wanted to take them to the guest room, but uh, I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“You got me flowers?” You asked, your eyes wide in surprise. 

“Yeah. I saw them on my way back from the office.” Jung Kook explained nervously, watching your expression closely. “There’s um, there’s this flower street cart thing, down the block, on the corner. I pass by it all the time, but uh, I thought m-maybe it would… make you feel better? After, y’know… everything this morning.” 

“You got me flowers.” You repeated to yourself quietly, staring at the bouquet of red and pink. “Jung Kook, that’s really, really nice of you.”

“Y/N-” 

“Nobody’s ever gotten me flowers before.” You said softly, tears blurring your vision. “Thank you.” 

Jung Kook stood there stunned, not expecting this reaction. How could a woman who had everything in the world, be so moved by a three dollar bouquet? 

“Nobody has gotten you flowers before?” Jung Kook asked, but internally burning to ask why Jimin has never done that for you, being as its something so simple. 

“No.” You shook your head. “Never.” 

You didn’t offer more of an explanation, and the timer on the kitchen stove buzzed, stealing Jung Kook’s attention away to plate the noodles before he could ask you anything else. 

“Here,” He said, filling your bowl. “Let me know what you think.” 

You nodded a quick ‘thank you’ when he handed you the bowl and utensils, and your cheeks blushed when his dark yet sparkling eyes watched you take the first bite. You never noticed how his eyes sparkled like that, like stars contrasted against a clear, black night sky. 

If someone had told Jung Kook years ago that one day, you would be alone with him in his apartment, eating his father’s famous japchae recipe with a smile on your face, he would’ve thought they were messing with him. It sounded too much like a daydream, like one of those pretend, domestic scenarios he used to fantasize about over and over again while sitting next to you in class. But here you were, as beautiful as you’ve ever been, barefoot in a pink nightgown, smiling that sweet smile, in his kitchen.  

“It’s delicious!” You praised, lighting up excitedly at the flavor. “I think you could’ve been a chef!” 

“Thanks.” He blushed, shaking his head. “Eat well, ok? Have as much as you’d like.” 

The two of you ate in casual silence for a few moments, except for the occasional slurping. You sat at the kitchen island, and Jung Kook leaning against the kitchen counter, still facing you, with a bowl of his own. It was a small moment, and it felt delicate and new, chocked full of potential, like a seed planted in the cold ground. It was something Jung Kook wanted to water and nurture, to see if it would bloom when the weather turned warmer. 

“So…” He said, breaking the silence. “What do you want to do tonight?” 

“Hm?” You asked with a mouth full of noodles. 

“Well, I’ve got some games. Board games, or the Switch,” He explained. “Or, we can watch something. Netflix, Hulu, HBO… Whatever you want.”  

“Any of that sounds so nice.” You said with a smile. “Seriously, I’m happy with anything.” 

“Ok.” Jung Kook said, before glancing down to notice your bowl was empty. “Do you want any more? I made plenty.” 

“I’m so full now, but thank you.” You answered with a small laugh. 

“Any time.” Jung Kook responded, taking your dish. “I’ll clean up, don’t worry about it. I’ll meet you in the living room in a few minutes, ok?” 

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” You asked, watching him already load the dishwasher. 

“No, please, don’t worry about it.” Jung Kook said. “I’ve got it, it’ll just take a second.” 

“Ok.” You said, walking towards the dimly lit living room, only illuminated by the soft glow of the floor lamp sitting in the corner of the room. 

His Apple TV and Switch sat side by side on top of a small bookshelf, underneath the wall-mounted tv. The shelf was lined with comics, horror and romance books, which took you by surprise, be it a nice one. The curtains were opened, revealing a beautiful view of Manhattan at night, with glittering skyscrapers. You stood by one of the windows, looking out and taking it in. From so high up, the world below looked so small and far away, completely separated from where you stood, unable to reach you. Once again, a new sense of calm and safety flooded your system, allowing words you never meant to say to spill out.

“Jimin’s never gotten me flowers.” You thought out loud, speaking softly to yourself. Jung Kook heard you, and paused putting the last dish in the washer, turning to look at you from the other room. The distance between the two of you palpable; so close, yet still so far away. 

“Jimin’s never gotten you flowers?” He asked gently, and you turned to face him with a tinge of pink to your cheeks. 

“No.” You repeated, shaking your head. “Never.” 

“I’m sorry.” He responded, unsure as to what else he could say. 

“It’s ok.” 

But it wasn’t. Jung Kook knew that, and you knew that, but it went unsaid. Jimin gave you everything you should want; expensive gifts, trips to beautiful locations, and dining at the best restaurants in the world. But beneath all of that, the things you needed were absent. Peace. Protection. Stability. When those things don’t exist, you end up with a mess, exemplified ironically by a trashed luxury hotel suite. 

“Let’s watch a movie.” Jung Kook said, coming to the living room, and breaking you out of your thoughts. “Have you seen Wonka yet?” 

“Wonka? As in, the Timothée Chalamet musical Wonka?” You giggled at the suggestion. “No, I haven’t. I’ve heard that movie is so silly.” 

“I think silly may be perfect right now.” Jung Kook smiled at your description, revealing his boyish dimples, before sitting on the couch. “C’mon, I’ll put it on.” 

The movie glowed on the screen, and you settled into the couch, quickly getting comfortable. Jung Kook tried to focus, which proved to be a challenge as he sat so close to you. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heart race, or his abnormally deep breaths, or sense just how badly he wanted to hold your hand, or throw his arm around your shoulders so you could lean into him, or kiss your lips. He appeared calm on the outside, but inside, he was more desperate than he’d ever been. You were so close, but still so painfully far away from where he knew you could be... or maybe, even should be. But for the night, he accepted what he had; the girl of his dreams, comfortably in his apartment, but not quite close enough to touch. For now, that would have to be enough. 

——————————————————————————————————

Jimin’s father spent much of his life teaching his son what he could. Negotiating business deals, looking over contracts, and how to find a good lawyer, leading to his meeting with the family attorney, Mr. Kim Namjoon. But the underlying message of all of these things, was the most important lesson that Jimin had ever learned; Parks get what they want. It didn’t matter how, or at what cost; this is a family that got what they wanted. 

Jimin, for much of his life, had experienced this. A play room of toys at 5. A puppy and a horse at 10. A weekly allowance at 13, with deposits being much more than most people would see in a month. It was his father’s way of showing love. A poor man turned rich man through hard work, his father wanted his son to have the life he never had as a child. This only became more true with the early passing of Jimin’s mother. In his grief, Jimin’s father continued to spoil him monetarily, while setting high expectations in the areas of academics and sports that Jimin, despite being an overachiever by every metric, could never seem to hit. This is when Jimin began secretly drinking, as a way to cope. Love in the Park family wasn’t expressed in three words, or in sentimentality. It was expressed through the swipe of a Black Card, and tinted by the ever-present need to have control. 

This would come to a head on an early morning in Mr. Kim’s office, when Jimin, still hung over and tempers boiling just under the surface, was told exactly that. 

“What do you mean no?” Jimin asked, his tone angry. 

“I mean no.” Namjoon said nonchalantly. “She’s not coming back to the hotel. She’s staying where she is.” 

“I thought I told you that if your colleague is left alone with my fiancé again, I’ll pull my business from the firm and find representation elsewhere.” Jimin gritted his teeth. “I find this to be completely unacceptable.” 

“Mr. Park, with all due respect, let me tell you what I find to be unacceptable.” Namjoon responded, growing frustrated with the client. “What’s unacceptable, is having my high-profile client trash a five-star Manhattan suite, and leave Ms. Y/L/N so desperate for relief that she calls me at the crack of dawn, only for me to find you passed out in your underwear on the bed from a night of heavy drinking. You’re lucky the other guests didn’t call an employee when they heard the noise, and that it was only Mr. Jeon and I, because I guarantee your little ‘lover’s quarrel' or whatever would’ve been plastered all over the Korean press by now. It would’ve been embarrassing for everyone involved.” 

“How do we know it won’t be in the press?” Jimin tsked. “How will it look to send me into treatment, with my wife-to-be staying with another man? You think people won’t ask questions about that? You think that’s not embarrassing for me?” 

“I think it makes you look responsible.” Namjoon argued. “We can tell any curious press, and the judge, that you’re getting your life back on track, and you’ve left your fiancé in the care of a close friend, who also happens to be a colleague of your lawyer, so that she has support. It makes you look selfless, and secure. You know what doesn’t? Throwing your fiancé’s clothes around like a spoiled brat when she tries to leave you. That, Mr. Park, I can’t spin in a way that makes you look good.” 

“She was only trying to leave for the night.” Jimin said quietly, clearly ashamed to admit to Namjoon the damage he had done. “She wasn’t leaving me… She loves me.” 

“She does.” Namjoon agreed. “Which is why she wants you to get help, and why you shouldn’t worry about Mr. Jeon. And I know that you love her, too, which is why you need to focus on keeping her. This is the way you can do that.” 

“Fine.” Jimin agreed through tight, gritted teeth. “So then, what’s the plan?” 

“Today, we’re getting documentation from the treatment center, and Ms. Y/L/N’s letter.” Namjoon explained. “We’ll meet Ms. Y/L/N and Mr. Jeon at the rehabilitation center, and we’ll make sure everything’s in order to show the judge tomorrow morning. Then, we’ll argue that you’ve responsibly checked yourself in, and that you need time before you’re able to conduct yourself in a courtroom again. Ms. Y/L/N will write a letter about your character that I’ll submit to the court, and knowing this judge, I believe he’ll find it admirable that you and your fiancé are committed to your treatment, and he’ll defer your date.” 

“Ok.” Jimin nodded. “I think that can work… I’m going to miss her while I’m gone, Mr. Kim.” 

“I know.” Namjoon said, his voice empathetic. “But you know she’ll visit you as often as she’s allowed to by the center, and she’ll miss you just as much, if not more so. That’s why you need to do this, for her. Now come on, we need to get going.” 

Jimin’s personal driver was waiting outside of the firm for the pair, ready to take them to the address that Namjoon had texted him earlier that morning. The car ride was silent, with Jimin watching people from his tinted window go about their day. He was nervous to see you, unsure of how upset you’ll be with him. His leg bounced uncomfortably as the car turned right several blocks from the office, taking them closer to where Jimin would be spending the next three months. 

He saw you, standing outside of the building with Jung Kook. You wore a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, and a Chanel bag across your body. Jimin quickly unbuckled and got out the car, anxious to see you. 

“H-Honey…” He said, dashing over to you, like nothing else in the world existed. You wrapped your arms around him, soothing his worries, and Jimin pulled you in close to kiss your lips. Jung Kook immediately looked away, choosing instead to meet Namjoon’s attention and nod his hello. 

“Hi, baby.” You said, holding back tears. 

“Honey, I’m sorry. I’m so, so fucking sorry.” Jimin rambled, his hands cupping your cheeks so that you’ll look at his face, as he wiped any tears that rolled down. “Anything mean that I did, and anything mean that I said, I didn’t mean it. You know that, right, Y/N? I’m so sorry, you must’ve been so scared. Fuck, I never want to hurt you, or upset you. I love you, and I’ll never be angry like that with you again. I’m gonna get better, ok, honey? Gonna get better for us.” 

Jung Kook wanted to scoff, but he bit his tongue. He wondered how many times you’ve heard the same promises, hashed out the same fights, cried the same tears. He wondered how many times you’ve had to piece your heart back together, only for it to shatter again. 

He wondered how many times you can spin in the same circle, until growing too dizzy to do so any more. He wondered if that day would come, and if he could be the one standing there, ready to steady you until your world stopped spinning. 

“I love you.” You said softly, keeping your arms around Jimin. “I just want you to be happy… I was so scared, and I missed my Jimin.”

“I’m right here.” He said, pressing another kiss to your head as his heart broke. “I’m right here, honey. I’ll always be happy, because of you, ok? Nothing is ever going to change that. I’m your Jimin, forever. I love you.” 

“I hate to break up a sweet moment, Ms. Y/L/N,” Namjoon said, stepping towards the couple. “But we need to wrap up some loose ends, so that we can get Mr. Park set up for tomorrow.” 

“Ok.” You said, pulling away from Jimin. He grabbed your hand and smiled softly, pulling your hand up to his lips for a kiss. 

The four of you walked into the treatment center, with Namjoon, Jimin and yourself signing Jimin in and going over what will take place over the next ninety days. Jung Kook just stood behind and out of the way, watching the way Jimin kept your hand in his, or softly brushed  pieces of hair from your face, or snuck a quick kiss to your lips and cheek when he thought nobody saw. Jung Kook watched the way you folded so quickly under his touch, his kiss or a sweet look in his eye. 

In that moment, Jung Kook felt as though he were a college student again, watching you with another man, while he blended seamlessly into the background walls. 

[wheels-of-despair]

Evil Woman and Baby Bro vs. The Worst Summer Vacation Ever Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Evil Woman and Baby Bro are off to see their old man in sunny Florida! Against their will. Armed only with well-concealed snacks and metal mix tapes and unacceptable attitudes. Send help. Contains: Lots of Gareth the Grump, a sucktastic step-family, sweet gifts from Eddie, pining, forced family fun time, a wicked sunburn, a daring escape, an emotional reunion, a hospital visit, a happy ending. Words: 6.7k

Your brother doesn't ask you for much.

Leave him alone. Grab him a soda. Stop being gross. (Well, that one's usually directed at Eddie, too.) But in general, he's pretty easy to get along with. You'd never actually tell him this, lest it go to his already big head, but you like him. Genuinely. He's a good baby brother.

So when he asked (begged) you to accompany him on a family vacation (court-ordered) to Florida (oh, the humidity!) with your father and step-mother and her two brats…

"He said please," you explain to Eddie. He sits on the opposite side of your couch, arms and legs crossed, glaring at you. (Yes, the thought of bringing him with you had crossed your mind, but your old man wouldn't even pretend to consider it. Even if you tried to pass him off as one of Gareth's friends and not the guy who does unspeakable things to you whenever you're left alone for ten minutes.)

"You're leaving me, the love of your life, alone for two whole weeks. To go to a place you don't want to go to, with people you hate…" his eyes somehow narrow more, "because Gareth said please."

You heave a sigh and lean your head back to stare at the ceiling. You've been through this. Yes, you're a legal adult and don't have to abide by government-enforced visitation requirements for children of divorce anymore. Yes, you hate your father and his replacement family and the traveling and the beach. But you love your brother. You don't want him to suffer alone.

"Alright, I guess I'll allow it."

You raise your head to see that his vicious glare has been betrayed by a twinkle in his eye and a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh and crawl to him. He opens his arms and stretches out his legs, and you lie on the couch together instead of staring at each other across an empty cushion.

"It's just two weeks," you remind him, nuzzling your cheek into his chest. "And it's the last time. If all goes well, I may never have to see the old man again."

Eddie sighs and holds you a little tighter.

"You're not gonna like… fall in love with some big buff surfer dude with a nice tan and decide not to come home, are you?"

You snort. "Baby, you know I like 'em scrawny and pale."

"How dare you, I am not… wait, do you think I'm scrawny?"

"Nah," you smile, sticking your hand under his shirt and rubbing the belly that's filled out beautifully since you started feeding him actual food. "You're perfect."

"You keep that in mind when Brad and Chad try to make their move," he mumbles into your hair.

"Oh, there's two of them?" you tease. "Are they twins? This… this might change things. Hang on, let me re-evaluate. Two big buff twin surfer dudes." You draw a 2 with your finger, just above his belly button. "One pale nerd." You draw a 1, slowly dragging your finger down his happy trail. He shudders. You glance at the clock.

"Y'know…" you begin, letting your fingers trace his zipper and the growing stiffness it's barely concealing. "We've got half an hour…"

Day One

"I'm gonna miss you so fucking much."

"I'll be back before you know it," you mumble into Eddie's chest. You didn't think it would hurt this much to leave him behind. But here you are, squeezing the life out of him like it's the very last time. Two weeks without him is going to feel like an eternity.

"It's time to goooo," your mom calls from the car. She and Gareth have been waiting with the windows down while you said goodbye to Eddie (again) but it would appear that her patience is beginning to wear thin.

"Gotta go," you sigh, pulling back and looking up at his gorgeous face one last time. "Will you be here when I get back?"

Eddie recites the landing time of your return flight and assures you that he will be here, in this driveway, waiting for you to get home.

"Love you," you whisper.

"Love you more," he counters, leaning in for one last kiss.

He walks you the few steps to the car and opens the back door for you. You get in. He closes it. You turn back to face him as the car pulls away; your eyes don't leave his until you turn the corner and your driveway disappears from sight.

You lean back and close your eyes, feeling empty and alone, while your mother and brother chat in the front seat. You can't believe you left him behind. Two whole Eddie-less weeks. You haven't gone more than a few days without seeing each other since you met.

You reach into your bag and pull out the mix tape he'd given you this morning. "If you come back here a pop fan, I'm going to be very upset with you," he'd teased. You stare at the paper insert he'd decorated for you, and then let your hand close around the box. You wish it were his hand instead.

The trip to the airport, the flight, and the landing were a bit of a blur. Your mother teared up as she said goodbye. The plane was cramped, and even the eardrum-blasting mix tape Eddie made you wasn't powerful enough to drown out the sound of multiple crying babies. Getting there was the easy part. The real adventure began when you and your brother got off the plane... and saw a taxi driver holding a cardboard sign with your names hastily scribbled in Sharpie.

"If you were to make two kids who didn't like you come to visit you in a place they didn't want to go to, don't you think you'd at least bother to show up and get them?" Gareth grumbles.

"Baby brother, you're looking at it all wrong. Would you rather spend this ride in a roomy cab with a total stranger, or crammed into a backseat with the evil step-siblings?" He answers with a smirk.

The cab ride took almost an hour, and passed in silence. After shooting each other odd looks meaning things like "are we going to get murdered?" or "at least there's no small talk" you stared out the windows and took in the scenery. Florida is not nearly as neon as Miami Vice would have you believe. You passed strip malls and houses and palm trees. Very exciting.

The driver pulls up to the curb in front of a rental house near the beach and exits the cab without turning off the engine. You take this as your cue to get out. He moves your bags from the trunk to the sidewalk while the pair of you stretch, then gets back into the car and drives away without a word.

"Guess he got paid up front," you muse, watching his taillights grow smaller.

"Great conversationalist, feel like we should've tipped him for that," Gareth grins.

"There they aaaare!" your step-monster squeals from the porch, making you both wince. "Come in, we've got so many fun things planned!"

"Kill me," Gareth grumbles under his breath.

The reunion goes about as expected. You're escorted into the kitchen for a lovely feast of weird organic hippie food that makes both of you queasy. (You've both stowed away plenty of snacks in your luggage.) You're grilled on each school subject and your nonexistent extracurriculars, and then forced to sit through a recap of everything your angelic step-siblings have accomplished since you'd seen them last. Honor roll! Perfect attendance! Soccer trophy! Scout badges!

You pick at your lunch and endure the bottomless bragging until you're escorted to your rooms.

"Girls are in here, and the boys are down the hall!" the step-monster chirps.

You both freeze.

"We always bunk together," you protest.

"You're not hiding out under headphones and listening to your Satanic music the whole time like you did over Christmas," your father chimes in. "This vacation is about family bonding."

"We're as bonded as we're gonna get," Gareth argues, crossing his arms boldly in defiance. You're letting him pick the movie and the snacks on your first movie night back home.

"If you're going to be difficult, I could just send you home."

"Is that an option?" you ask.

"Because we choose that," Gareth adds.

"Can't we all please just--" the step-monster begins.

"IN!" the old man roars.

You trade smirks and part ways.

You unpack your suitcase in the pink room with the two twin beds and listen to the step-sister (what is she, 9? 10?) yap excitedly about whatever random thoughts cross her mind until dinner. Which sucks even more than lunch did. After dinner, the whole family gets to clean up together and play a thrilling game of Monopoly! (Barf.)

You make the old man proud by volunteering to be the banker. It shows initiative! Perhaps a career in finance is in your future! Little did he know, it was so you could slip Gareth extra play money under the table. He owns almost the whole board by the end. The little ones are quite frustrated by all the rent they have to pay.

Tragically, Garethopoly is called before the broke little angels give in to the tantrums that had been brewing all night. At 8:30 (wow), you're instructed to put the game away and get ready for bed.

You put on pajamas chosen specifically for this occasion; boys' boxers and a stained Hellfire Club shirt. Your cellmate, looking like a proper princess in her frilly nightgown, eyes you warily. Good. You sit on your stupid pink bed, turn on the seashell lamp, and pull out one of the six paperbacks you brought along.

Your eyes won't focus on the words, but you pretend to read in hopes of being left alone. There are so many things you'd rather be doing, and places you'd rather be. You should be arguing over shitty horror movies at Family Video with Eddie right now. And getting a pizza.

God, it's only been one day of hippie food, and you're already fantasizing about pizza.

The step-sister shrieks when Gareth enters the pink nightmare of a room.

"No boys allowed!"

"Chill, kid, I'm just making a delivery," he rolls his eyes.

"My name is Ashley, and this is the girls' room!"

The attitude behind her declaration makes it the funniest thing you've heard all day. You disguise your laugh as a cough. Gareth ignores her and tosses a cassette to you. You pick it up curiously. When you notice Eddie's handwriting, your heart soars.

"Eddie told me to give that to you before bed," he sighs, then furrows his brow and launches into his best Eddie impression: "'Not at the airport, not when you get there. Right before bed. You hear me, little drummer boy?' Kay. I did it. Be sure to tell him that your tape was delivered at the appropriate time."

"Will do," you laugh. "Thank you."

"Yup," he says, cutting his eyes at the step-sister who's still glaring at him with her covers pulled up to her neck. For modesty. He rolls his eyes again and leaves.

"What's that?" she asks after he's out of sight.

"A tape."

"What's on it?"

"Probably a mix," you shrug.

"What kind of mix?"

You're spared further questioning by the step-monster coming in to tuck her little angel in. How sweet. You pop your headphones on and pretend to listen until the lights are out and the kid quiets down.

And then you press play.

"Gareth, if you're listening to this, I promise… you will regret it," Eddie rumbles, low and threatening. You've never been so happy to hear someone's voice in your life. That's your Eddie. It's like he's right here with you. You'd rather be there with him, but you'll take what you can get. "I'm warning you, man. This tape contains shit you absolutely cannot unhear. You will be scarred for life. This is your last chance. Rewind the tape, and pass it on like you were instructed to. Right before bed. Thank you for your cooperation."

You bring your hand to cover your mouth so laughter won't escape. He waits a beat, then changes his tone.

"Hey, baby," he says smoothly. Tears prickle at your eyes. "If you're missing me half as much as I'm missing you, you're probably hurtin' pretty bad. But it's okay. I'm here." Tears stream down your face and drip on your pillow. "Here's what's gonna happen: I'm gonna ask you a question, and you're gonna pause the tape and think of an answer. And then you're gonna hit play again, and you're gonna laugh, because I've predicted exactly what you're going to say. You ready?" You nod. "You just nodded, didn't you?" You smile and nod again. "See, I know you better than you know yourself. Now… how was your day?"

You press pause. Shitty. The plane was crowded and the ride was bumpy. It's hot and muggy, and you're rooming with a kid you don't like, and you don't want to be here. You want to be there with him, cuddled up on his couch or in your basement or in the van. You want to go home. You press play.

"Wow, that sucks. Screw that Florida weather, and your dumb-ass step-family." You smile. "It's gonna take so much work to counteract this horrible vacation. We're gonna have to hole up in the trailer and eat nothing but junk food for a solid week to undo this. You in?"

Absolutely.

"Knew you would be. What do you think I'm doing right now?"

You press pause and think. Watching TV and/or jerking off. Play.

"Don't say jerking off, you pervert."

He didn't say he wasn't, he just said not to say it. He's jerking off.

"I am not!" He does that goofy little chuckle he does, and you wish you were close enough to feel it vibrate through you. "Okay, I might be. I'm lonely, dammit." You hear a paper shuffle. "As you might have guessed, I've tried to script these out and time it so I've got enough to keep you Eddie-fied until you get home. So it's not much, but I'm hoping it's enough to remind you that I'm here and I miss you and I'm NOT JERKING OFF while I wait for you to come home. Well, not the whole time, anyway. That's about it for tonight, but uh… I'm gonna end every night with a song. To lull you to sleep. Because that's the kind of music we're into, obviously."

You close your eyes and hug your walkman to your chest, wishing it were him instead.

"This first one needs no introduction, so!" He clears his throat and starts singing… to the tune of Black Sabbath's "Evil Woman". "I miss that look of evil in your eyes, that thing about not jerking off was a lie, sorrow will be me until you're here, not sure what Ozzy's saying there… Evil Woman, please come play your games with me!"

Eddie stops singing and starts laughing. "Okay, that's it, you've been sung to sleep, now please do wicked and kinky to things to me in our dreams." He laughs again. "Turn the tape off after the 'love you', because you're not allowed to listen to tomorrow's until tomorrow. Kay? Kay. Good night, my Evil Woman. I hope your tomorrow sucks less than today. I love you. Press stop. Now. Now! Now? Now!"

You wait a beat and press stop, leaving the headphones on. What if you're not ready to say goodbye? Even for 24 hours?

Day Two

"Hey, baby." You press pause and let the feeling of calmness wash over you. You've been looking forward to hearing his voice all day. Play. "How was day two? You didn't forget about me already, did you? Is Gareth keeping those pretty surfer boys away from you like I asked? Tell me everything."

Pause. Today sucked. At least most of the first day was spent traveling with someone you like. Why did the old man even want you here if he was just going to be a dick to you both the whole time? Those brats were up your ass every second, asking too many questions and watching your every move with their beady little eyes. They went through your bags when you and Gareth hid out on the balcony for a moment of fucking peace and turned your contraband in to the authorities. All your food. Even your friggin' aspirin. You'd both received a long-ass lecture on chemicals and toxins and personal responsibility and how unhealthy habits shorten your lifespan. Which didn't sound too bad right fucking now. You were hungry. You couldn't sleep. Those fuckers dragged you out of bed at 6am, and for what? "Early to bed and early to rise, makes a family healthy, wealthy, and wise!" Psychos. Absolute psychos.

Play. "Wow, baby. That fucking sucks. Want me to come get you? 'Cause I'll do it. I'll hop in this van and speed my ass down to… where are you again? Doesn't matter, I'll find you."

Your chest aches.

"Ready to be lulled to sleep by the comforting voice of your handsome lover?" Always. "Alright, here goes." He clears his throat. "Your body's empty now as I hold you… wait, that's a pillow. Now you're gone, I miss you, but I told you, I remember bath times and morning wood, you best come back to me, without you I'm no good. I love you to death! I love you to death!"

Megadeth's "Loved to Deth," only better. Eddie laughs to himself when he finishes. "G'night, babe. Hope tomorrow's a better one. Love you."

Stop. You've never felt more lonely in your life. Taking off your headphones and glancing over to confirm that the step-brat is asleep, you get out of bed as quietly as you can. You need air.

You walk down the hallway toward the balcony, and aren't too surprised to find Gareth already there, on the wicker sofa staring out at the ocean. You sit next to him.

"I wanna go home," he mumbles.

"Me too," you whisper.

"How are we supposed to survive 12 more days of this?"

"By not letting them get to us. Just remember… we get to go home soon, and be happy, with people we like. These assholes will continue to be assholes, wherever they are."

Gareth heaves a sigh. You'd hug him if you didn't think he'd pretend to gag.

"I don't wanna go back in there. That kid's fucking creepy. I woke up this morning and he was just laying there, staring at me."

"Oh my god, the girl was doing that too!" you whisper in outrage. "What is wrong with them?!"

"Fuckin' Children of the Corn," he grumbles. You snort.

"Well… we probably won't get away with it for more than one night, but we could stay out here until the warden drags us back inside," you suggest.

"Fine by me," Gareth groans, scooting down on the cushion and putting his feet on the coffee table. "Is this improper?" he asks in a bad British accent.

"Nah, we were raised in a barn, it's fine," you grin, moving to do the same. You knew you'd both catch hell for not sleeping in your assigned cells in the morning, but for tonight, you'd take fresh air and Gareth over a creepy kid and a hard twin bed.

Day Three

"Hey, baby. Congrats on surviving three days without me! Your prize is coming home ASAP for some sweet lovin'." Eddie laughs at himself. "How was your day?"

Pause. Fucking sucked. You woke up to yelling about not being in your beds for your 6am wakeup call. You ate a bland breakfast and were dragged to the beach for a family photo op. Staged photos of all the loving siblings bonding. Building a sand castle… that your father actually built, because it needed to be impressive and photo-worthy. You all had to gather around it and smile and pretend to be working on it while the step-monster snapped away. Eating healthy snacks on an ironed picnic blanket. Playing in the ocean… where the playful splashes from the step-brats got so much saltwater in your face, your eyes were too red for more photos. You looked like drug addicts! It was disgraceful! Family fun time would have to continue tomorrow.

After that, you huddled under an umbrella until time to go inside. You and Gareth had applied sunscreen multiple times throughout the day, but still got a bit of a burn. This trip is un-fucking-bearable. You'd give anything to be in your dark basement with Eddie, far away from these douchebags and the burning Florida sun. Play.

"Fuuuuuck," he sighs. "I thought you were exaggerating when you told me how much these people sucked. No wonder you'd rather be at home with me." You'd do anything to trade this hell for sixty seconds of being home with your Eddie. "Ready for your song?" You nod. "People gonna make ya wonder if you're right, keep ya wide awake and worried late at night. Why don't ya tell 'em to beat it? Why don't ya tell 'em to eat it? Just a bunch of clowns, don't let 'em grind ya down!"

Motorhead's "Grind You Down."

"I know I didn't change anything in this one, but I don't think I needed to. I hope this song gets stuck in your head for the rest of the trip. Keep it playing. Don't let 'em grind ya down. That's it for tonight, babe. Hope tomorrow's better. Love ya."

Stop. You stare at the ceiling and grasp a handful of blanket, wishing it were Eddie's hand. You imagine hearing the roar of his van in the street and sneaking out and running away from here until you eventually nod off.

Day Four

"Hey, baby. How was day four?"

Pause. You couldn't find your sunscreen this morning. You'd torn the house apart, desperate for that high SPF you'd bought especially for this trip, and the step-brats finally found the bottle on the porch. Maybe you dropped it in your hurry to get back inside yesterday, you thought. You slathered it on as fast as you could, during a lecture about holding everyone up, and returned to the beach.

They kept you so busy staging bullshit for the camera, you didn't notice the problem until it was too late.

It was not your sunscreen. The step-brats had dumped your sunscreen out and refilled the bottle with lotion for a fun prank. The giggly little bastards finally confessed after your third re-application of the day. You and your brother were already burnt to a fucking crisp. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. The demon children were given a finger-wag and forced to skip dessert. (Cantaloupe, what a cruel blow.) You and Gareth were told to stop being so dramatic about a little sunburn. It was a harmless prank, they said. This is what siblings do, they said. Nevermind the chills and the headache and the unbearable fucking pain. It's just a harmless prank! Play.

"Those bastards. Do you want me to come down there and fight them? 'Cause I will. You know I will." Yes, please.

"Okay, this one's extremely rewritten to make up for yesterday's. Sorry-slash-you're welcome. Here we go: "Evil Woman, you've been down too long in the Florida sun, and I am having no fun."" Tears prick at your eyes. He's rewritten Dio's "Holy Diver" for you. "Ride the dolphin, see the sand and the sea, hope you'll think of me. Oh, I am so lonely." He laughs, but the tears spill down your burning cheeks. "Not bad, right? Watch your back, Weird Al. Weirder Ed's coming for you. Well, that's it for tonight… talk to you tomorrow, okay? Love you."

You rewind and replay the song. It's one of his absolute favorites. The fact that he rewrote a perfect song just for you makes you melt. Or maybe that's just your insides reacting to your outsides being fried.

"Evil Woman, you've been down too long in the Florida sun, and I am having no fun. Ride the dolphin, see the sand and the sea, hope you'll think of me. Oh, I am so lonely."

Gotta get away. The next line would be "gotta get away".

You lie there on your hot, scratchy sheets and think about escaping in order to get your mind off of the pain. What if you… and then you… could you actually pull this off?

When you're sure everyone's asleep, you get out of bed as quietly as you can and creep down the hallway to the boys' room. Gareth's not in his bed. He's not on the balcony. You stalk quietly through the house, no idea where he might be in this strange place.

He's standing in front of the fridge with the door open.

"You okay?" you whisper.

He jumps back and gasps. The bottles in the door rattle. He closes it softly, but you both look in the direction of the bedrooms and listen closely for stirring. You relax when you hear nothing.

"Scare the shit out of me, why don't you," he grumbles, leaning against the cool metal of the fridge. "No. Not okay. I'm hungry. I hurt. Everything fucking sucks. I wanna go home."

Your brother's not much of a crier these days, but his eyes look suspiciously shiny in the moonlight shining through the windows. It fills you with rage.

"Let's go."

"What?" he asks.

"Let's fucking go."

You stare at each other for a moment.

"You're serious?"

"Dead fucking serious. We don't want to be here. That dickhead only wanted us here for a photo op, so he can show everyone what a great parent he is. They're not just gonna let us sit here for the rest of the trip. Wherever they go, they're gonna drag us along too. Burns and all. So let's fucking go."

"Let's fucking go," Gareth echoes, pushing off the fridge.

"Pack your shit, I'll meet you back here in ten," you say quietly.

"More like three," Gareth smirks. "I never unpacked my shit to begin with."

You grin at each other, even though it hurts your fried faces, and take off toward your bedrooms.

You're packed in no time. You make a quick stop in your dad's bedroom, holding your breath while you extract a credit card and a few bills from his wallet. He snores away, rigid and on his back like he learned how to sleep from a textbook on how to mimic a human. The step-monster sleeps like a corpse, hands clasped on her stomach and mask covering her eyes. They're not even touching. You and Eddie could never.

You slip out of the room and find Gareth waiting for you in the kitchen.

"Ready?"

"Born ready."

You step out the front door and let it close with a satisfying click. Adios, bitchachos.

"Now what?" he asks.

You stare at the dark, empty street.

"Guess we walk," you grin.

"All the way back to Indiana?"

"To a bus stop or a cab that will take us to an airport, smartass." If you weren't both in pain already, you'd smack him. He smirks, and you start walking.

The further away from those people you get, the better you feel. When you get to the highway, a cab pulls over. You didn't even hail it. It's like it was meant to be. A woman in her fifties, named Linda, takes you to the nearest airport… which is fifteen minutes away from the rental house.

"Why did he have us hauled halfway across Florida in a cab when we got here, if there was an airport right here?" Gareth asks when it comes into view.

"This one's more expensive," Linda supplies. "I can take you to that one, if you'd prefer? Might save you a few bucks."

"That's okay," you smile. "We need to get home as soon as possible. Our father can spare it."

You thank her for the ride and give her a hefty tip that makes her face light up.

"You kids have a safe trip! And put some aloe on that sunburn!" she calls out her window as you enter the airport.

You approach the desk and talk to a pretty blonde about the first flight to the Midwest. You slide the credit card across the counter and secure two tickets to Chicago on a plane that leaves in an hour.

Day Five

"Did we actually pull this off?" Gareth mumbles, gazing lovingly at the ticket in his hand.

"Hope so," you mumble, taking it from him and putting it in your pocket for safekeeping. Little brothers, no matter their age, are not to be trusted. "Let's find the gate, then find something to eat."

"Hell yeah."

You walk for a while, and stop when the gate comes into view. You don't need to walk all the way down there just yet.

"That's us," you mumble, gesturing toward the gate in the distance. "By the time we eat, it'll probably be time to board. Let's roll."

You look to Gareth, but he's not looking at you. He's looking at the McDonald's sign. The golden arches shine like a light at the end of a miserable tunnel leading out of organic hell.

"Good choice, Gareth the Great," you smile. "Know what you want?"

"Everything," he practically drools.

You don't quite order everything, but the two of you devour a tray full of fast food - at airport prices, on the old man - like you've been starving for days. Which you have.

"Fifteen minutes until boarding begins," you note, sucking down the last of your drink and looking at your watch. "Let's hit the bathroom and call Mom."

You dump your trash and find the bathroom. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror and recoil. The burn looks so much worse under these fluorescent lights. No wonder you both scored free refills. You're going to peel for the rest of your life. If you ever see those brats again, it's ON.

You meet Gareth at the pay phones and drop a few coins in. But your mom's line is busy. You try again a minute later. Still busy. The clock is ticking. You call Eddie instead.

"Hawkins Morgue, you stab 'em, we slab 'em," he says boredly.

"Hi, baby," you breathe, so relieved to hear him live.

"Well this is unexpected," he laughs. "Tapes not doing it for you anymore? Needed some of the real thing?"

You smile, but Gareth's impatient face reminds you why you're making the call.

"We're on the run, babe, and we need your help."

"The Munson Underground is always at your service, m'lady."

"I tried calling Mom, but the phone was busy. Can you tell her that we're on the 1:05 out of Tampa, and we should be in Chicago at… wait, does that account for the time difference?"

"You're seriously making a break for it?"

"Yeah," you whisper, the reality of what you're doing starting to sink in. "We couldn't take it anymore. It was awful, Eddie."

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, and Gareth takes the phone before you can start crying on it.

"She'll be alright once she gets home. Which should be sometime in the next few hours. Will you hunt down our mother and tell her to pick us up?" He tells Eddie to get a pen, then relays the details of the ticket. "Kay. Here's your wife." He hands the phone back to you.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" he says, voice calm and soothing.

"Okay," your voice cracks. "Love you."

"Love you more," he says. "Gotta go, I'm gonna go tell your mom in person since you can't get through. See you in a few hours!"

You hang up the phone and take a shaky breath.

"Ready?" Gareth asks.

"In a minute," you mumble, checking your watch again. You approach the information desk and ask for an envelope. You put your father's name on it, put his credit card and change from the cab ride and dinner in it, and seal it. The woman at the counter assures you that it will be held in the office for your father. You'll call and tell him where to get it when you're safely back home, where you belong. (Or maybe send him a nice postcard.)

You board the plane wordlessly, sinking into your seats with a renewed sense of urgency. You're not out of the woods until you're in the air. You watch the people filing on, wondering if your old man would be smart enough to figure out where you went. Or if he cared enough to show up and drag you off.

You breathe a sigh of relief when the plane takes off, and so does Gareth. You're in the sky. You're on the way home. Everything is going to be okay.

"We're free," you mouth.

"Fuck yeah," he mouths back.

You grin at each other and reach for your walkmans. Should you listen to the rest of Eddie's goodnight songs, or save those? You'll save them. One a night, those are the rules. You pop in the mix tape he made you and close your eyes.

You don't open them again until you land. Your head is pounding. Your mouth is dry. The chills are getting worse. Your skin feels like it's going to crack if you move too much. Gareth feels it too, wincing and hissing as he gets out of his seat.

You gather your things and exit the plane with the rest. The blast of cold air conditioning feels nice on your hot skin as you step into the massive airport.

"Look," Gareth nudges you. You both regret it instantly, but you look in the direction he gestures to see your mom and your Eddie waiting for you. You quicken your pace.

"Holy shit," they say in unison as you approach.

You walk into Eddie, and his arms wrap around you. He's so warm, your body tells you to get away from him. Heat bad! Cold good! But you endure the discomfort, holding him tight and crying into his chest. You made it. You're home.

"Let me look at you," your mom orders, peeling you away from Eddie. "What the hell happened? Did you forget your sunscreen?"

Tears leak down your face, stinging as they go.

"Those little assholes dumped our sunscreen and replaced it with lotion," Gareth growls. "It's just a harmless prank, you're overreacting," he mocks in his best Dad Voice.

"Like hell," your mom seethes. "You're going to the ER." Gareth whines, but you expect this will be a nice documented event to bring up in court if the old man still insists on visitation after this debacle. You both agree to drink a full bottle of overpriced airport water in the car, in exchange for going to the hospital in Hawkins rather than the city. You want to go home, dammit.

Your luggage is collected, and you head out to the car. You and Eddie sit in the back, and you want desperately to lay your head on his shoulder and sleep the whole way home. But it's too hot. Your face hurts too bad. You settle on holding his hand loosely; your palm didn't get burned, at least. He uncaps your bottle every few minutes and reminds you to take a drink.

The visit to Hawkins Memorial Hospital doesn't take long. The nurse makes you both chug another bottle of water while you wait, and the doctor quickly diagnoses you with sun poisoning. You are sentenced to several weeks of aloe, rest, and staying indoors. No one in your party has any objections.

When you finally get home, Eddie helps you get your clothes off while your mom helps your brother. It's ten times harder and more painful than usual. He coats you with aloe and puts you to bed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt. Your sheets scratch. Your skin burns. You can't stop crying.

"What's the matter?" he asks, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"It's stupid," you cry.

"Tell me anyway."

"All I want is for you to hold me but you're too hot and I'm a lobster and I'm going to crack and peel and die."

Eddie snorts, and you cry harder. He lies down in your bed, on the edge so he's not touching you. All you've thought about for days is in your grasp, and you can't touch him. It's cruel and unusual and it's not fair.

"I'm right here. The burn will fade in a week or two. Then we can get back to being all over each other and grossing everyone out, and all will be right with the world."

You let out a strange sob-laugh sound, and it makes him smile. A chill causes your whole body to shiver.

"How are we doing in here?" your mom asks from the doorway.

"Fine," you lie.

"She's crying and shivering," Eddie tells her.

"Traitor," you mumble.

"I brought painkillers and a glass of water," your mom says. Eddie sits up to receive her gifts. "Don't let her sleep until she drains that."

"Yes, ma'am."

You sit up long enough to take your pills and drink your water, then fall asleep next to the Eddie you can't touch.

You wake to the unmistakable sound of your mother giving her ex-husband a piece of her mind. Eddie's eyes are as round as saucers while you listen together; you've never heard her this mad before. There are curses, there are threats, and finally, the sound of a phone being slammed back onto the base. The house is plunged back into a heavy silence. You stare at each other for a moment, not daring to make a sound.

"If she ever yells at me like that, I'm gonna be crying and apologizing and trying to make it up to her for the rest of my life," he whispers.

"I've never heard her yell at anyone but him like that," you smile. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Thank fuck," he breathes.

"You guys awake?"

You and Eddie both jump at her soft voice in the doorway.

"I'll take that as a yes," she chuckles. "You're due for another pill and about a gallon of water. Would you like some pancakes with it? You slept through breakfast. And lunch."

"Sure," you answer, stretching and immediately regretting it.

"A fresh coat of aloe will make it easier to move," she advises.

"On it," Eddie says, rolling out of bed to get it.

"I'm gonna go see if Gareth managed to sleep through that, then I can fill my little fugitives in on all the trouble they've caused." She laughs to herself and proceeds down the hallway.

She recapped the phone call over pancakes. Your father got his credit card back… and a bill so massive, Gareth's likely off the hook for any remaining court-ordered visits. The old man ranted about you two ruining his family vacation, and hurting the step-monster's feelings, and ignoring the step-demons, and being surly and secretive the whole time, and stealing from him, and of course the cost of the plane tickets… but somehow, the icing on the cake was that you'd left the McDonald's receipt in the envelope with his change. "How could anyone spend that much money on garbage masquerading as food?!" You all had a good laugh over that one, then went back to bed. Doctor's orders.

For the next two weeks, you happily holed up in your dark basement with your brother and your boyfriend and sometimes your friends, watching movies and eating junk and drinking all the water you could hold. You still insisted on listening to your Eddie Tape every night, but with him next to you, your answers to the "how was your day" questions were much happier. After about a week, you declared yourself cleared for cuddling, and started to make up for lost time.

Gareth was so happy to be home, he didn't even complain.

Much.

[queenshelby]

The Basement (Part Two)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut, CNC, Anal, Rough, Derogation

Four weeks after you signed the contract, you arrived at Cillian's house which, at least from the outside, looked like every other house on that street.

You were greeted by a woman named Mandy who took your bag and gestured for you to come inside.

"You brought clothes, that's sweet," she chuckled, raising an eyebrow as she led you into the house and you simply nodded shyly, feeling slightly intimidated by the thirty something year old woman. 

"You know, you won't need them sweetie, so maybe leave them in the spare room for now," she then said, indicating a small room off the hallway.

Feeling like you had no choice, you quietly dropped your bag on the floor and followed Mandy down the corridor. The rich scent of expensive perfume filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of exotic spices wafting from somewhere deeper within the house.

"Uhm, may I ask who you are? I didn't expect anyone but Cillian to be here," you said hesitantly, trying to get more information about your circumstances.

"Oh! That's right, you don't know me yet, do you?" Mandy replied coyly, winking at you. "I'm Mandy, a friend of Cillian's and I'm going to look after you for the next two weeks," she added cheerfully before taking your hand and leading you downstairs to the basement.

"Where is Cillian?" you asked Mandy as your heart pounded wildly against your chest. You couldn't help but feel anxious about what was coming next; the prospect of being trapped in this home for two whole weeks was terrifying but also strangely arousing.

"He's out at the moment, but will be back in a few hours," Mandy stated. "He asked me to get you ready for when he returns," she added, leading you down a winding staircase until you reached a dark but spacious room, containing a big, beautiful bed with chains, a leather chair, and a mirror on each wall. There was also a spa bath and small ensuite and whilst the room was nicely decorated, the sight of your windowless surroundings made your stomach churn nervously.

"What do you mean ' getting me ready'?" you then ought to ask, swallowing hard and Mandy smiled kindly at you. Her tone was soothing, almost maternal.

"Well, for starters, I will talk you through what you can expect from your stay here and then he has asked me to restrain you for your first encounter with him, just to make things more interesting," Mandy explained, reaching out to stroke your cheek gently. You flinched away instinctively — Mandy chuckled softly.

"You read the contract before signing it, didn't you?" Mandy asked, cocking her head slightly to one side, her brow furrowed in concern. The question hung between you—a loaded gun aimed straight at your guilt. Your eyes darted toward the corner of the room, avoiding any confrontation with the older woman.

"Yeah, I did," you finally admitted, mustering all of your courage. 

"Good, then you should know what is about to happen," Mandy said, patting your shoulder reassuringly. "So, how about you undress sweetie, so that I can apply the restraints properly?"

With a weak nod, you began to unbutton your shirt while Mandy turned around. It felt strange to undress while someone else watched, especially since you knew what would happen once you were completely nude.

As you slipped off your shirt and pants, leaving only your underwear on, Mandy cleared her throat loudly before turning to face you again.

"Very nice, darling," she murmured, looking you over appreciatively. "Are you comfortable with wearing nothing at all?" Mandy asked, her voice softening. "If not, we can cover you up with a robe, if you prefer."

She seemed genuinely concerned about your comfort, which struck you as odd considering the circumstances. However, there was something oddly comforting about her gentle, patient manner. It made you trust her enough to respond honestly.

"No, I guess I'm okay with being naked," you managed to say weakly. "It feels weird, though."

You could see Mandy smile at your response, her expression warm and understanding. "It does, doesn't it?" Mandy responded sympathetically. "But I guess it makes things easier access wise," she then told you while you began to remove your bra and panties, leaving behind the stark reality of your vulnerability.

Mandy's gaze wandered across your body, taking in every curve and line. "Beautiful," she whispered under her breath. "You have such stunning curves, no wonder Cills took an interest in you."

The compliment left you feeling both flattered and embarrassed. "Thank you," you muttered awkwardly, averting your gaze to the ground.

"Now, please put your wrists behind your back," Mandy instructed in a soothing voice. You hesitated for a second before complying, apprehensive about what would happen next. You clumsily interlocked your fingers, feeling the cold metal touch your skin as Mandy attached the first chain. "How tight is this supposed to be?" you whimpered, squirming uncomfortably.

"Just right," Mandy answered confidently, tightening the chain further.

"A bit uncomfortable, but not too much." You tried to relax your shoulders, but the cold metal digging into your flesh made it impossible, which was something Mandy ought to ignore.

"Now lets talk about the particulars, shall we?" Mandy started, sitting you down on the edge of the bed. "Cillian asked me to go over some details with you so that you know exactly what to expect during your stay," she explained, her tone warm and friendly. "The first thing is that you'll be staying in this room for the entirety of your stay, unless he decides otherwise. All meals will be delivered to you and the bathroom is equipped with everything you might need, including fresh towels and toiletries."

You glanced around the room, noting the luxurious amenities.

"Now let me tell you what is expected of you, little one," Mandy spoke in a calming voice, her hands resting on your shoulders. "Cillian will come down here four or five times a day, to... entertain himself with you. This includes intercourse and anything else he wants to do. Anything he asks for, you do. No questions asked."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing larger by the second.

"Occasionally, he asks me to join in or hold you down for him," Mandy added casually, checking the chain's tension. "He will like to watch you struggle a bit and I can guarantee you that you will become rather sore after the first few days. But it's all part of the fun, isn't it?" Mandy said, patting your bare leg gently.

"Now you consented to him ejaculating inside you and the doctor has given you a depo shot two weeks ago to make sure you don't get pregnant. You also consented to anal sex and you agreed to him having sex while you are asleep, for which sleeping pills were prescribed to you, correct?" Mandy asked, her voice matter-of-fact.

"Uh-huh," you croaked, nodding feebly. Your throat constricted painfully, your breathing shallow and ragged.

"Good," Mandy nodded approvingly, patting your knee. 

She paused, her tone turning softer. "Also, you understood that you are forbidden to masturbate or play with yourself, yes?"

"Yes," you managed to utter, blushing profusely.

"Good," Mandy said, patting your knee affectionately. "Now I will let you relax. Cillian should be here soon," she reassured you and you gave Mandy a weak smile, nodding in agreement.

The thought of enduring countless sexual encounters with Cillian, without any chance of escape or even self-pleasure, terrified you. Yet, a strange sense of anticipation began to wash over you. What kind of person would choose to endure such humiliation willingly?

The thoughts swirled in your mind, creating a whirlpool of confusion and doubt. You tried to rationalize what lay ahead, grasping at straws to justify your decision. Was it curiosity, perhaps? Or was it the lure of his fame that enticed you into this predicament? Regardless of the reason, you found yourself submerged in a sea of desperation as you faced the inevitable truth. You sighed heavily, casting a longing glance at the door, willing it to swing open and reveal the object of your fascination.

As the minutes ticked by, your impatience grew, gnawing at your insides like a ravenous beast. You were chained to the bed, naked, and time seemed to slow down, the seconds stretching into eternity until, suddenly, the door creaked open.

"Alright, little one," Cillian murmured, stepping into the room as he shut the door behind him. His presence sent a shiver down your spine, the mere sound of his voice causing your heartbeat to race.

"I can see that you have settled in nicely," Cillian said, his voice husky, as he walked closer to the bed. His eyes, bright blue, held a hint of excitement as they scanned your body.

You nodded silently, your throat constricting. Words failed you, replaced by a tumultuous mix of emotions. Fear, anticipation, shame, and arousal swirled within you, creating a whirlwind of sensations.

"Why don't you turn onto your stomach for me?" Cillian suggested, his voice calm and confident.

Your heart raced, but you managed to roll onto your belly, facing away from him while the chains twisted tighter, the rope tangling up at the bedhead.

"Perfect," Cillian murmured, running his fingers along your spine while caressing your upper thigh.

His touch sent goosebumps dancing up your arms, and you shivered involuntarily.

"Now tell me," Cillian prodded, his voice dripping with wicked intent. "Have you ever had anal before?"

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible.

"N-no, I haven't," you stammered, your heart hammering against your ribs. 

"And yet you agreed to it," Cillian murmured, his voice laced with a hint of satisfaction. "This should be interesting, then," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

"Please," you whimpered, the word escaping your lips like a plea for mercy. "Just don't hurt me when you put it in there," you begged and Cillian's laughter echoed in the room, filling the space with an unsettling energy.

"Don't worry," he soothed, stroking your back gently. "I promise to be gentle. At least at first," Cillian murmured, his fingers trailing up and down your spine.

"You're trembling," he observed, pausing to brush loose strands of hair away from your neck. "Is it because you're scared?"

'A little,' you manage to squeak out, your breath hitching in your throat.

Perhaps it's the thought of the unknown, or the realization that you're bound to a stranger, powerless to escape his whims. Cillian smiles, his teeth white and perfect, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Don't be, I will ease you into it," he assures you, placing a warm hand on your back. "I might fuck your pussy a little bit first, that should loosen you up," Cillian said, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants, revealing his erect cock.

"And while I fuck your little pussy, I might start stretching your asshole with my finger," he continued, moving onto the bed.

"We'll see how that goes," he teased, crawling up behind you.

You gasped, the sensation of his throbbing member rubbing against your hip sending a jolt of anticipation rippling through your body. You could feel your juices pooling between your legs, soaking the thin mattress beneath you.

"Let's see how much you can handle," Cillian murmured, guiding his cock towards your entrance.

You braced yourself, your muscles tensing as you waited for the entry. He pushed, his length sliding effortlessly into your wet heat. Your moan echoed in the silent room, a muffled cry of pleasure reverberating off the walls.

"That's it," Cillian growled, each thrust driving deep within you. "Fuck, you are so tight," he groaned, his hips moving rhythmically, pistoning in and out of you. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, your muscles quivering with desire.

"Good girl," Cillian purred, his grip tightening possessively as he thrust deeper. "Take it all, baby. Show me how much you want it."

You moaned, your voice hoarse and desperate while Cillian groaned, his pace quickening.

"You're so wet, so hot," he moaned before pulling out of you abruptly.

"What are you doing?" you cried out, your voice cracking with frustration.

"Shhh, little one," Cillian murmured, stroking your back soothingly. "Relax, I'm just preparing you for what's to come," he said, kneeling between your legs, pulling you onto your knees so that your chain hands were resting on the bedhead.

He then thrusted in to your pussy again, harder than before, ramming into you like a jackhammer.

"That's it," he growled, his voice laced with lust. The room was filled with the sounds of your grunts and the slap of flesh meeting flesh.

"Now I will spread your ass cheeks apart. alright?," Cillian murmured, his voice laced with anticipation and you gasped, your body stiffening in anticipation. "So that I can see your little virgin hole back there," Cillian he then told you, squeezing your cheeks apart roughly.

You winced, your body protesting as he rubbed your asshole with his index finger, coating it with your pussy juice, making it slippery.

He then pressed his fingertip against your sphincter, applying gentle pressure. 

You flinched, your body resisting the invasion. 

"Relax," Cillian murmured, his voice thick with lust. "I'm just getting ready to stretch you out," he told you as he slid his finger into your rear, breaching the barrier with a gentle pop. 

You gasped, a wave of discomfort washing over you.

"That's it," Cillian purred, his voice laced with anticipation.

"I'm just testing the waters," he said, adding another finger, widening the gap. "Can you feel it spreading wider?" he murmured, his voice husky with lust.

"It hurts," you whined, squirming beneath him.

"I know, baby," Cillian murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Just breathe through it," he said, pressing a firm kiss to your collarbone. "You're doing great," he praised, his voice laced with adoration.

You inhaled deeply, letting out a shaky sigh as you adjusted to the intrusion.

"Good girl," Cillian praised, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Now, lean forward onto your elbows," he instructed, slipping his fingers out of you.

"I want to prepare you for my cock," he said, stroking your back soothingly.

Without hesitation, you complied, leaning forward onto your elbows, presenting your sore little hole to him.

"Good girl," he cooed, kissing your back. "This might feel a little cold now," he warned, lubing himself up with a generous amount of K-Y Jelly. He then positioned himself behind you, his hard cock pointing directly at your ass.

You shuddered, bracing yourself for the impending invasion. He grabbed your hips tightly, holding you steady as he rested the tip of his cock against your opening.

"It's going to hurt a little," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "But remember, it's all part of the experience," he reminded you, his words a whisper against your ear.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suddenly, he thrust forward, the head of his cock breaching your entrance.

"Oh god fuck, you are too big," you screamed, your muscles spasming in shock.

"Shhhh, baby," he murmured, his voice softening. "Just breathe through it," he repeated, pressing a tender kiss to your exposed neck. "You're doing great," he praised, his voice thick with adoration.

Cillian continued to work his cock into your rear, inch by excruciating inch. His rhythmic, deliberate movements felt as though he was carefully sculpting you, carving his path deeper and deeper.

"It hurts," you yelped, your voice breaking. "Fuck!" you spat, squirming beneath him. 

"Shhh, baby," Cillian cooed, his voice thick with lust. "This is what you wanted, right?" His words were meant to taunt you, but they served a different purpose altogether.

"You wanted me to use you," Cillian murmured, his voice soft and soothing as he pushed all the way into your rear.

"To claim you, own you, and fuck you however I wish."

You whimpered, your muscles clenching involuntarily. Every push sent a sharp pain shooting through you, but it was accompanied by a growing sense of fullness which felt strangely satisfying.

"Tell me what you think about me using you like this, Y/N," Cillian breathed into your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck.

The command, so blunt and demanding, left you stunned, unable to form coherent words.

"Come on, little one," Cillian urged, his voice softening. "Tell me how it feels."

You struggled to find the words, your voice cracking as you forced out a reply.

"It feels strange," you croaked, your breath hitching in your throat. "Fucked up, actually."

Cillian chuckled quietly, his warm breath fanning your neck. "I bet it does," he murmured, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. 

"What else?" he asked, his voice husky with lust.

Cillian's question hung heavy in the air, a weighty reminder of the depth of your surrender. You squirmed, feeling his erection pulsating inside you, filling you up in ways you never imagined possible.

"It feels dirty," you confessed, your voice breaking. "Like I'm just your toy," you said as your voice trembled, a quiet whine echoing in the room. 

Cillian laughed, his voice deep and rich with satisfaction. "Exactly," he replied, his tone laden with triumph as he thrusted into you again, hard and fast.

You gasped, your body responding despite the agony coursing through you.

"You're mine now," he proclaimed, his voice echoing with confidence. "My little toy."

The words stung, yet there was a bizarre sense of satisfaction in knowing that you belonged to him, body and soul.

"Oh god, why am I enjoying this?" you asked, your voice strained and desperate as the pain increased. "Why do I crave more?" you asked out loud, confused by your emotions. 

Cillian smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Well, clearly you like being dominated, controlled, and used," he said. His words cut deep, but there was a strange allure in the idea that you were a natural slave.

You felt ashamed, disgusted, and utterly helpless as you accepted the truth. You were indeed a natural slave, thriving under the control and domination of others.

"I think you enjoy it even though it hurts, don't you?" he asked, his manhood relentlessly plunging into your ass. With each brutal thrust, you could feel your resistance melting away as the intense pleasure consumed you.

"No, I don't," you lied, your voice cracking. But deep down, you knew he was right. You did enjoy it - the roughness, the pain, the complete submission to his desires. It was liberating, freeing you from the constraints of societal norms and expectations.

"You're a liar," he growled, his fingers gripping your hips tightly. "Admit it, you love being dominated and controlled."

"Oh god," you panted, feeling your insides tighten around his massive shaft. 

Cillian chuckled, his voice deep and dark as he pulled out slightly, before slamming back into you, sending a jolt of pain through your core.

"Your ass is going to be so sore after this," he gloated, his cock thrusting mercilessly into you. "It's going to hurt a lot actually," he teased, grinning wickedly while you moaned at the sheer thought of it all. 

"And guess what? I won't let you cum until you've earned it so the pain will be even worse," Cillian said, his voice dripping with wicked delight. "You'll beg and plead for release, but it won't come until I say so."

You shivered, the prospect of endless torture exciting you beyond measure. This is what you signed up for, you reminded yourself. A man who possessed the ability to dominate and control you completely. The idea thrilled you, sending a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Now, I need you to hold nice and still for me while I fill your little hole with my seed," Cillian murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Are you ready for me to mark you as mine?"

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. As Cillian withdrew his cock, you felt a sense of loss, a void forming within you that only his presence could fill.

"Put your face down in the pillow," Cillian ordered, his voice commanding. "I'm going to slide in deep now, baby," he said, positioning himself behind you once more.

"I want to feel you squeezing my cock with your tight little channel, begging to be marked with my seed."

You could hear the hunger in his voice, a palpable force that resonated loudly through the room. The thought of being claimed, owned, and possessed by him excited you beyond belief. You moaned softly, arching your back in anticipation.

He rammed his cock back into your now gaping rear with such force that it hurt, causing you to scream out in pain.

"Ah! Fuck!" you yelled as tears welled up in your eyes from the intense penetration.

"Good girl, let me hear those pretty little screams of yours!" Cillian roared, his words punctuated by the forceful thrusts of his cock. 

You grimaced, biting on the edge of the pillow to muffle your cries. "Ow! Ah!" you groaned, your voice muffled and shaky. Despite the mounting pain, you couldn't help but revel in the sensation of being thoroughly taken by someone so unrelenting.

"Here it comes, baby," Cillian rumbled, the words vibrating against your skin as, with a final, triumphant thrust, he surged into you, filling you to the brim with his seed.

You cried out, the sudden influx of warmth overwhelming you.

"There we go," Cillian murmured, a satisfied grin playing across his lips. "Now tell me, how does it feel?" he asked while withdrawing his cock slowly, causing your gaping hole to shrink almost instantly.

"It burns," you whispered, your voice quivering as you felt his hot semen leak out of you, staining the bedding beneath you. "But I loved it," you admitted, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

"I knew you would," Cillian chuckled, his voice dripping with pride. "Now you're mine."

You flinched, a wave of dread washing over you. Now that it was done, the reality of your situation hit you like a ton of bricks.

"What happens now?" you asked hesitantly, your voice trembling.

"It's simple, really," Cillian replied nonchalantly, his voice laced with amusement. "I'll continue to use you as I please, whenever I please. And you'll learn to accept your new role as my pet," he explained before giving you a quick wink and untying you from the bed. 

[pretty-blkgirl]

Soul’s Desire [Ch. 9]

-Masterlist-

~~~|~~~

“Han, it’s been 30 minutes”

Changbin lets out an irritated sigh as Han checks his phone for the 5th time. You were late, embarrassingly late, and hadn’t even let Han know beforehand.

Chan was a little upset but chalked up your tardiness to preparing for your debut.

“She’s about to debut, Bin, we gotta give her some grace”

“It’s not that she’s late, Hyung, it’s that she didn’t check in first.”

Just as a back-and-forth was about to ensue, a wild knock on the door interrupted the boys.

Chan jumped up to open the door, letting you in. Han was immediately eased by your presence, missing the way his other two soulmates looked at you with a little hesitation.

“Hi guys, so sorry! I was with my members and we lost track of time“ You smile

Chan smiles back at you politely, but Changbin doesn’t. He was still a little bothered by how you failed to let Han know you’d be late, but he tried shaking that feeling off.

“No problem, it’s nice to meet you,” Chan says, “I’m Chris”

You bow politely while giving him a firm handshake

“I’m Changbin” Maybe it’s because you two are bonded by now, but you can feel how he’s already a little suspicious of you.

He’s very polite, shaking your hand and offering you his chair, but you suddenly don’t think the guys like you as much as Han said they did.

You four settle into some slight banter. You and Han joke around while Chan and Changbin watch, adding little comments here and there.

After a while, you realize you haven’t talked to your other soulmates, so you face Chan and put on your best smile.

“Chris, Hannie told me that you’re getting into fashion nowadays. Have you figured out your style yet?”

Chan gives you a grin, “I’m not so sure. I kinda like street clothing, tighter-fitting shirts, baggy pants, beanies, and stuff like that. I’m taking advice from Innie”

You nod, “I follow you on Instagram and honestly, your whole aesthetic is so cool”

You and Chan’s conversation flows naturally after that, with you complimenting him and him blushing while shaking his head.

After a few short minutes, you move on to Changbin.

“I know this is random but I always wanted to ask you, do you have a favorite verse of yours?”

He quickly shakes his head, “No, that’s like asking me to choose between the members. I can’t have a favorite”

Changbin had a certain aura about him. You knew he was one of the sweetest, gentlest souls ever, but you could tell he was the type to be polite, yet cold with new people.

He still took care of you, offering to get you drinks and snacks when you mentioned you hadn’t eaten yet and offered to give you his jacket when you shivered, but he couldn’t be bothered to send the smallest of smiles your way.

It scared you, and you wondered what you did to deserve the stoic expression.

“Y/n, tell us about you” Chan says, almost as if he can sense the tension

“Okay! Well, I joined JYP around a year ago now, I was a trainee for six months. My favorite color is gray, my favorite food is fried shrimp, I have three cats and two dogs back home, I’m an only child, and I’m the Maknae of my group”

Han smirks once he realizes he already learned all this information about you, the other two members nod at your words.

“I have a dog too, her name is-”

“Berry” You finish, smiling, “Did Han mention I’m a STAY?”

Chan laughs, a blush on the tip of his ears, “He said something about it, among other things”

“He said that you said you always felt connected to us” Changbin starts suddenly, “Can you explain that?”

You nod with a genuine smile, “Yep! I guess, as a fan, I always felt a little…closer to you guys. I chalked it up to me being delusional but after I auditioned for JYP, and moved here and everything, my palm started to itch like crazy”

“That’s interesting” Changbin mumbles, “Our palms kinda tingled I guess?”

“Silly enough, you know how our symbols are kinda shaped like an infinity symbol?” Han asked, pointing at your hand.

You neglected to wear symbol blurring ointment, only because your members demanded to see what it looked like. You just wore an oversized hoodie and hid your hands in the sleeves.

“Yeah” You affirm, “It’s so cute”

“It didn’t always look like that” Changbin confessed, “For the longest time, it was….incomplete?”

“Then you got your symbol, and BOOM” Han narrated with a loud clap of his hands. Chan and Changbin jumped in surprise while you let out a startled laugh

He grabbed your arm and lifted your sleeve just enough to show your hand, “now all of ours look like this” he cheeses

The food came after a few more minutes of conversation. Changbin warmed up to you after you asked him about his workout regimen, finally letting his goofy and flirty nature show.

Chan led most of the conversations, and that didn’t surprise you since you knew how extroverted he was.

Han was joking or laughing about something the entire time, while you sat there and thoroughly enjoyed your time with the group.

By the end of the dinner, Changbin decided to be the one to walk you to the cab he had ordered for you.

You two were in the back of the building to avoid any fans seeing you.

“Sorry for being so cold earlier,” He said as you two walked (rather slowly) to the car.

“Oh, um, that’s okay!”

He sighs, “I was just a little upset you didn’t check in with Han to tell him you were gonna be late. I have a thing about knowing where my members are and wanting them to be safe and whatnot so checking in with one another is a big deal to me”

You hum, understanding his point of view. Honestly, you like that he’s that way, your members are usually like that as well but you guys having each other’s location eliminates having to ask where you are.

You made a mental note to make it a habit to check in with your soulmates, especially Changbin.

“I understand that, and I’ll be more mindful in the future”

You make it to the car and he opens the back door for you to get in before reaching into his pocket and pulling out money.

“You’re not paying for the cab Bin,” You say, crossing your arms

“I called the cab, you’re my soulmate, I pay”

“Well you’re my soulmate and I don’t want you paying for me”

“Too bad, that’s something you’re gonna have to get used to.”

Before you could protest some more, he threw the bills in your lap before blowing you an exaggerated kiss and closing the door.

You rolled your eyes but smiled all the way home

~~~|~~~

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