#and just. It has only been 2 weeks. but the lack of anxiety is SO noticeable I'm so...

[deoidesign]

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[exopelagic]

supervisor was met. god help our souls

[murdrdocs]

saber tooth | f. odair

description. just two days out from the Games, your mentor and best friend, finnick odair, comes to your room late at night in a mutual fit of insomnia to fulfill your (potentially) dying wish 

includes. SMUT 16+, fem!reader, oral f!receiving, fingering, loss of virginity sans p in v, canon-complicit angst, mentions of finnick’s trafficking, best friends to lovers, reader’s a tribute, finnick’s her mentor, extremely brief misunderstandings, soft dom finnick, pleasure dom finnick, brief mention of drug use (one line), finnick and annie were never together but he mentored her, he rlly cares abt r :((, giggly sex (sometimes), throw away line abt lack of body hair but i rlly like body hair

a/n: whaddup whaddup! this started as a blurb but it um ,,, clearly expanded. there’s no p in v simply bc im so tired rn however i would like to continue this in the future if my mind would allow it :) also the title has nothing to do with the fic i was just listening to easily by chuck inglish

word count: 4k+ 

part 2

A week of anticipation, festivities, and celebration for the Capitol, was a week of anxiety, tears muffled into pillows, and wishing to be somewhere else for you. 

The week leading up to the 72nd Hunger Games. 

The Reaping, Opening Ceremony, and the three days of training that followed were mostly a blur. Your body picked up on the techniques you would need to survive, and with the help of Finnick, you’d managed to commit them to memory. You remembered the way you’d been trained to sit and talk and the jokes you should slip into conversation with Caesar tomorrow night. 

All of their training was working, and Finnick had told you that you had a high chance of making it out of that area. A high chance. Nothing was guaranteed at this point in your life. Which is why you needed to do a few final things. 

The door to your bedroom slides open. You lift your head from the pillow and squint. There’s a little light coming from the hallway, and it backlit the figure. But even without it, you would know who was coming to see you. The only person who’d been coming to see you since the arrival at the Tribute Center. 

“Hey, Finn,” you mumble, resting your head back against the pillow that’s always cool. 

Finnick takes a few steps into your room, stopping to flick a switch that only turns on the lamps beside your bed, and the two ambient ones in the corners. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice is raspy, as if he’s tired, but not to the point of already greeting sleep. It’s a little later than it should be, you were recommended to have gone to sleep two hours ago but you couldn’t. There was too much going on in your head, too many unsaid words and undone actions. You couldn’t sleep with your consciousness this awake. 

Finnick voices the matter. “You can’t sleep, can you?” 

You shake your head, deciding to sit up a little, your bare lower half still secure underneath the thick comforter. Your room was always cold, and the silk sheets mirrored the temperature. Physically, you were the most comfortable you’d ever been, wearing the softest cotton undergarments, and a silk button up nightshirt, your toes warm beneath fuzzy socks. But the weight on your mind was the complete opposite. 

With the way Finnick looks at your face, he can tell just how exhausted you are. 

“Want something to help with that?” He asks as he sits at the edge of the bed, close but entirely too far from you. “A drink? Pills? The Capitol has it all, you know.” The way he says it is the opposite of marveling, the words laced with annoyance and frustration. His tone prompts a small smile from you. 

“‘M okay. I trust my body to do what it’s supposed to.” Finnick’s head is turned down, but you see the way the corner of his lip curls up. 

He lifts his head to fully smile at you, one of sympathy and pity and sadness. His hand reaches out and his palm rests over the outline of your shin. Far too many layers are between the bare skin on both of you, but you don’t say so. You just give Finnick an equally sad smile, expressing your dismay for your situation, and you begin to pick at your nails in your lap. 

“What’re you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Finnick shakes his head. “No such luck for me either.” He shrugs as if he’s used to it and you remember that he’s been in this position too. Just a few years ago, a young boy, your best friend, was sitting in this bed, with similar thoughts weighing on his mind. And now his best friend was in that position. 

You push the sheets back, exposing the beginnings of the skin on your thigh, and you pat the space beside you. “C’mon,” you encourage, not ceasing your patting until Finnick scoffs and slides his slippers off, crawling up to slip under the covers with you. 

The bed is larger than you’d ever seen, something your escort called a ‘bed fit for a king’, but Finnick chooses to sit right beside you, the heat of his body warming yours. 

“We could watch something. What plays on the television in the Capitol?” Finnick’s sitting so close to you that you can feel him shrug. Whenever you reach over to the bedside table, pulling the drawer open to grab the remote, you come back to sit even closer to him, where your arms are pressed flush against each other. 

“Mostly shows about the lives of celebrities here.” 

You gasp, turning to face him. “Is that rumor about you appearing on some reality show true?” Finnick’s ears redden and that’s enough confirmation that you need. Your head throws back with a hearty laugh, and you click on the TV with hopes of finding an episode. 

Finnick sits quietly beside you as you click through the channels, reading the titles and watching maybe a second or two of content before you decide to try the next thing. When you’ve gone through most channels, you land on the one that will play the Games. 

He says your name, as a warning perhaps, but you click it anyway, seeing that they’re talking about you. 

“Now the odds of this one making it out are pretty high. She’s pretty, smart, and trained by the Finnick Odair,” a clip of you and Finnick appears, one that must’ve been taken backstage during the Opening Ceremony. He’s standing close to you, crouched down just enough to meet your eye level. You’re obviously nervous, and he’s obviously attempting to soothe those nerves, cracking jokes with a hand held to your heart, both of yours over it.  “The Capitol’s Prince.” The announcer pronounces those words clearly, enunciated, making sure every late night viewer understands Finnick’s alternate title. 

Clips of Finnick throughout the years show and you grow silent, watching how he commands a room better than you ever could. 

“If she were to make it out, I’m sure she could become the Capitol’s Princess, right?” The announcer smiles just as the remote is snatched from your hands and the TV is clicked off, ridding the bedroom of the colorful hues and leaving you and Finnick with the yellow light from your lamps. 

“Why did you–?” Finnick’s interrupting. He’s thrown the remote to the side of him and he’s turned to face you. 

“I want you to make it out of the Games, I really do.” You nod, watching the way his chest rises and falls with breaths that fill the hesitant silence. “But, I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you.” 

“What do you mean? You don’t want me to be loved and adored by the Capitol?” You say it a tad bit sarcastically, but your tone dulls down when you notice how serious his face is. 

He shakes his head. “No, I really don't.” You scoff, beginning to get upset over the idea that a night that was turning peaceful, began to turn on its head. “Because everything comes with a price here,” he says your name, making sure you’re listening. “The ‘love’ the Capitol has for me is ingenuine, they love me like I’m an object. Not a person with thoughts and feelings.” 

“Finnick, I don’t think I understand.” But you do, you really do. 

He tells you as much, that same sad smile from earlier on his lips. 

Before you can speak, he does. “Look, I came in here to ask you what you want.” 

Your eyebrows furrow. 

“Before the Tributes I mentor get sent off, I like to fulfill their wish. In case they don’t…”

“In case they don’t make it back.” He nods. “So a dying wish?” Another nod. 

“So, what d’you want?” 

You know what you want. You’ve wanted it since you were a teenager, watching Finnick, the most loved victor, leave for the Capitol and come back weeks later. Since you watched him train Annie Cresta and everyone, including yourself, believed there to have been something between them. Since he walked into your room just 20 minutes ago. 

“What I want, I don’t think I can ask you for.” You speak low, your voice a whisper. Your head rests on the headboard behind you, turned to face Finnicks. 

He shakes his head gently. “I have connections. I can guarantee almost anything.” 

“No, Finn.” You don’t think you can ask him for this. Especially with what he’s essentially just told you. It would be selfish, it would be insincere, it would ruin the friendship you have between you two. 

“I can’t.” 

His head’s already facing yours, and he brings one of his hands up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing the skin. 

“Yes, you can.” 

“No, Finn, I can’t.” Your eyes sting, as does your nose, and you know there’s no use in pretending the tears aren’t there. He’s seen them, he’s acknowledged them by swiping his thumb under your eye, catching the first drop. 

“I would do anything for you. Just say the word.” 

You search his eyes, his face, the tip of his ears, his Adam’s Apple. You’re looking for his tell. But it’s not there. It’s just Finnick. Your Finnick. And he wants the best for you. 

You’re the most vulnerable you’ve ever been at this moment; sitting in a bed in the Tribute Center, just two days out from the Hunger Games, a period of uncertainty that is life or death; your best friend, and unrequited crush, as your mentor, having to hold your pieces together at least until the end of this. 

There’s no point in hiding anything. You know you need to lay it all out. So you do. 

“Even take my virginity?” 

The air is still. Stiff. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t breathe. His thumb halts. He doesn’t blink. 

You sit there, watching him, holding in the sob that threatens to wrack across your body. 

“Forget it. I’m sor–” 

“Yes.” 

“What?” 

“Yes.” 

There’s a moment where you don’t act. A moment where disbelief trickles down your body like the tears from your eyes do on your face. 

“Finn…” 

“I would do anything for you. I have wanted you since we were young, but I thought…” 

“Doesn’t matter what you thought then. Not anymore. We go from here now.” 

And there is the nagging possibility that all of this could be because of your potential fate. Maybe he’s humoring you, or letting you in on that final step of human intimacy before your life ends. You prefer not to think about it. Especially whenever Finnick’s moving closer to you and you can feel his breath on your lips. 

Your lips are almost touching, the tanned skin of his face is right in front of you, the same goes for the pink of his lips. He’s almost there, then he says, “Are you sure?” 

“‘M sure.” And Finnick is kissing you. Finnick Odair is finally kissing you. 

He kisses you softly, sweetly, with precision and a gentle nature. As if he’s afraid that he’ll do something wrong and hurt you. 

You kiss him back in a similar fashion, just with added timidness that Finnick doesn’t possess. 

Your hands raise slowly, in choppy motions that are both due to your uncertainty, and the distraction of finally having the man of your dreams kiss you like you’re made of porcelain. But you manage to get your hands to Finnicks torso, palms pressed flat against his thin shirt so that you can feel the abs along his torso. 

You’ve felt them before, in time of play fighting, or whenever he would have you replicate his breathing or form. But touching along his torso in this circumstance is different. Now, your touch ignites a fire within you. It makes Finnick grip the back of your neck and pull you closer with one hand, the other sliding the covers away and hooking his hand at the back of your thigh, pulling your left leg over your right. 

Your hands slide down to the hem of his shirt, slowly starting to slide it up until he gets the hint and pulls away just enough for you to slide the shirt between you two, up and over his head. Then he’s back on you. 

When you sigh blissfully into his mouth, he starts to kiss you like he’s desperate to have you close. Like he wants to engulf your entire being until you’re intertwined. 

The best you can do is physically move closer to him, letting the hand on the back of your thigh guide you to straddling his lap. 

It’s then that Finnick pulls away from you. Your hands trail up to cup his cheeks, moving back to play with the golden blonde locks that seemed to never be out of place. 

He stares up at you, sea-green eyes pulling you even further into a state of enchantment. Whenever he tilts his head, eyes stuck on you, and kisses into your palm, you melt. His hand lifts to gently circle around your wrist, nimble fingers rubbing little circles into the skin. 

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Finnick speaks. “I need you to remember that even if I’m doing the work, you set the pace. You tell me what you like and don’t like. You tell me when to go and when to stop. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

And then you’re back at it. His hands circle around to your lower back, pushing into the curvature to bring your chest closer to him. He uses the position to his advantage, dipping his head to kiss at the exposed bits of your skin; your neck, collarbone, the starts of your cleavage. He quickly becomes frustrated with the lack of skin, and you bite back a smile as you gently nudge his head back and begin to undo the buttons. 

He watches you in a trance-like state with a look that seems akin to awe. You can’t help but tease him just a bit, shifting in your position atop his crotch and slowing your work on the buttons. 

Finnick groans and his hands leave your lower back to push your own hands away, deciding to undo your buttons himself, grumbling something under his breath about you being a tease. 

When you giggle above him, Finnick has you pushed onto your back in what seems like the blink of an eye. Really, it did happen quick, but your eyes were already closed from giggling so hard, so reopening them to Finnick above you, your shirt opened and your barely confined tits in Finnick’s eyeline, is disorienting. 

“Jesus, look at you,” Finnick mumbles. And he is. His eyes are hungirly skirting over your figure, taking it all in. From your eyes, to the bra that you wear, all the way to the cotton panties that hug your hips. 

His gaze stops at your lower half for a while, watching your stomach rise and fall with your breaths and the way there’s definitely a little wet patch on your panties. 

“What am I gonna do with you?” He mumbles under his breath. The question is rhetorical, and meant only for him. But, in a fit of nerves, you answer anyway, needing to do something other than lay there. 

“I don’t know, Finn, there’s a lot that you can do. You can go down on me, give me your fingers, your cock.” 

His eyes lift to yours, shock evident within them. “Did you just say the word ‘cock’?” He laughs between the words, that perfectly pearly white smile greeting you. 

“Yeah,” you say, laughing through the syllables too. 

Finnick shakes his head with that smile still present. 

He swears under his breath but then his fingers are playing with the hem of your panties and you’re back under, focused on what he could possibly plan to do next. He hums, eyes on you, eyebrows raised. 

It takes you a second to realize what his intentions were, but you do soon enough. “Keep going. Please.” 

The tips of his fingers reach below the band of your panties. He begins to pull them down, just until your hip bones and the start of your mound becomes visible. At first, you disgraced the Capitols groomers' work of ridding your entire body of hair, but you can’t help but feel a little grateful that they did. You knew that Finnick wouldn’t care either way. 

You lift your hips, letting Finnick pull your panties over the curve of your ass. When they sit at the halfway point of your thighs, he lowers his head and presses his lips to the area right above the waistband. And he continues to do so, sliding your underwear down and kissing through the journey. 

The last kiss he gives you is on the arch of your foot, right before he guides the garment over the remaining part of your body, throwing them off to the side of the bed. 

Finnick sits back on his heels then, just looking at you, looking at your legs which are just almost crossed at the knee, your ankles together and one knee raised slightly above the other. You’re shielding the most vulnerable part of you, hiding it almost. But when his green eyes meet your center, briefly meeting your eyes, you slowly part your legs, allowing him to see you in all of your glory. 

Finnick sucks in a sharp breath of air, his chest rising with it. He doesn’t let it out until your legs are completely opened and bent at the knee, inviting him in. You sit halfway up on your elbows, watching him, waiting for him. 

It’s not long until he makes a move, just a few tense moments and then Finnick’s kicked into action. 

His calloused hands on your knees, sliding around to the back of your thighs as he lays on his stomach, directly facing your cunt. 

When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. “I wanna taste you, sweetheart. Just for a bit. Is that alright?” 

His eyes are visible over your mound, but they’re not focused on you just this once. They’re focused on your cunt, scanning it, taking it all in almost as if he’s committing this moment to his very strong memory. 

You’re a little starstruck, reckoning with the notion that Finnick wants to give you head. Therefore, you sit there in stunned silence, attempting to find the words to deliver your over enthusiastic agreement. But Finnick takes your silence negatively. 

“You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to, honey. Just wanna make you feel good. That’s what I’m here for.” And there are those eyes again. They’re pleading, but also making you feel comfortable, reminding you that you’re in charge. 

You smile gently, nodding. “Yes.” 

And the first lick has your head spinning. His tongue is warm, and wet, and he licks a long stripe from your leaking entrance to your clit. It’s slow, and methodical. He licks your juices up, but they’re coming back tenfold by the time he’s pressed a kiss to your clit. 

A surprised moan pushes up your throat. The feeling has your hips pushing into his face on their own accord, your elbows slipping out from under you and your head throwing back onto the mattress. 

Finnick disconnects from you for just a second to let out a pleased groan, but the absence is too much for you already. You’re wiggling your hips, searching for him. 

Finnick laughs and the sound has heat rising through you. “‘M still here. Not leaving this pussy anytime soon.” 

He lives up to his promise immediately. His mouth’s back on you, licking and sucking on your most sensitive parts. 

It’s now that you remember how experienced Finnick is. How knowledgeable he is about the general spots of someone’s body. And he’s able to apply that knowledge to your body, with the help of your zealous responses. 

You’re moaning, your back arching, your hands gripping the sheets. Your knees bend more, your legs spread more, it’s all more and more and more. You want more from Finnick. You need more. 

You’re communicating that fact when you finally have enough courage to fist a hand into Finnick’s hair, and it’s like he’s rewarding you when he slyly begins to probe a finger at your tight entrance. 

You’re clenched, far from relaxed, but with a deep breath, you’re loose enough for him to slide in to the first knuckle, then the second, then all the way, his single digit comfortable within your walls. 

Finnick fucks you with his finger, aiding the penetration with his pretty pink lips around your pink nub. He sucks, the pressure making your head spin, your consciousness in the clouds to the point where you don’t notice another of Finnick’s deft fingers teasing your entrance. 

“Another?” he asks, voice barely able to be heard due to his proximity to your cunt. 

“Uh-huh,” is all the affirmation you can give. 

It’s a little tight and uncomfortable at first, but once his digits are evened out and curling in you, and his tongue is lapping up your juices like it’s water, you’re riding so high in a blissed out state that discomfort is the last thing on your mind. 

Your approaching orgasm becomes known to you quicker than you can anticipate. It’s like all of a sudden there’s tension in your lower abdomen, begging for your attention, begging to be released. 

“Finnick, Finn,” he hums, not stopping any of his ministrations. “‘M so close. Almost there.” 

You hadn’t thought it to be possible but Finnick gives you more. His fingers fuck you faster and harder, his cheeks hollow as he alternates between sucking along your nerves and stroking his tongue is the areas that you’re most sensitive. 

It feels so fucking good, a pleasure you’d never experienced in your life. You couldn’t imagine being in this position with anyone other than your best friend, someone you trusted with your entire being. It’s as if he knows your body better than you do, because sooner than you would’ve liked, your back is arching and your legs are lifting off the bed and your nails are digging into Finnick’s scalp, all signs that your orgasm is right there and you cum with a loud cry that melts into breathy moans. 

Finnick pulls his fingers out of your cunt but his mouth stays on you, placing gentle kisses and kitten licks along the slicked area. When your legs have lowered and your breath has evened out, he pulls his head away from you, a wince leaving his lips. 

“Darling,” he starts, receiving an affirmative hum in response. “You’re pulling my hair out.” 

“Oh, shit, sorry.” Your hand lets go of his hair, your body burning with embarrassment. But Finnick’s bright laugh and content smile soothes you. 

“‘S okay,” he mumbles as he leans up and presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. Your lips mold to his like they were created for each other, and the kiss is slow, methodical, loving. 

You whine when he pulls away, but his hands have already hooked under your thighs and he’s pulling you with him as he starts to sit back. 

You end up in the position you started in, sitting on Finnick’s lap, your hands on his shoulders. 

Under you, you can feel his bulge confined in his pants. You shift a little over it, your throat beating with your heart rate due to the anticipation. 

Finnick’s eyes close softly and his head throws back. Your hand rises to push back the bangs of his hair which lay on his forehead, in favor of resting your skin against his. 

“Sweetheart,” he groans. “We …. We can’t.” 

Your heart drops. 

“Huh?” 

“I wanna feel you, sweetheart, I swear.” His eyes open to stare at yours and you notice the sincerity in them. It doesn’t do much to lift your spirits, though. “But we can’t. Not yet.” 

Your eyebrows furrow, waiting for further explanation. It comes from him quickly. 

“I need you in your right mind in the Games. You need to be focused, and only thinking about survival. Nothing else.” 

“You’re so full of yourself.” 

He chuckles. “Maybe. But we have to play it safe.” A beat. “You trust me, right?” 

And you do. Wholeheartedly. 

[violetbranwen]

frankie is a long time friend of a friend/runs in the same circles as you, and you both have a hate boner for one another. it all comes to a head bc he's the only one in the group chat who answers your call for aid when your [insert some busted appliance/plumbing fixture] and you're going to either fight, fuck or fumble this night.

WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE.

You ask, ye shall recieve. Thank you "nonnie" ;)

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Angst, alcohol consumption, drug addiction, coke addiction, Frankie being mean/an asshole, Whiny Frankie Supremacy, weed smoking (medicinal), Ken Burns?, Country Music?, pining, angst, M!Masturbation, sub!Frankie.

Thank you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for beta-ing this real quick. Word count: 2.3k  

Frankie Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3

Frankie pops his first beer of the night as he starts the next episode of the Ken Burns ‘Country Music’ documentary. He started it out of sheer lack of something better to do a few nights back, but now he’s hooked. He’s ready to settle in for the night, rolling a joint as a new message in the group chat comes in.

He checks it, only to see its you.

He locks his phone and turns it over; no way is he entertaining your bullshit tonight.

~*~

You sit there for what seems like forever, not a soul answering your cry for help in the group chat. You know it’s Friday night, you know everyone is likely to have plans, but the way water has flooded your kitchen is no joke.

So much for the joys of home ownership.

You lament as you wish there was a super contractually obliged to fix this mess. But it’s a week away from your next paycheque and you cannot afford to call in an emergency plumber. You’re about to give in and get your credit card out when a message comes through.

~*~

The credits roll at the end of the documentary and Frankie hums in approval, he realises he’s barely touched his beer, and his joint is similarly untouched, long gone out. He’s ready to put the next episode on and re-light as his modest buzz settles him into the recliner. Since quitting coke he’s found weed to be a welcome mellow fix that never tempts him too far but lets him mute the cravings otherwise. It has meant he’s gained a few pounds from all the munchies, but he takes that as a win. He was getting too skinny and working out is near impossible when so under-fuelled.

Absently he checks his phone again and his stomach drops.

No-one has answered your call for help, it’s been almost two hours. He shouldn’t care, the two of you butt heads on everything, you’re the Lex Luthor to his Superman. He hates you, at least, that’s what he tells himself. You challenge him in a way the other guys don’t. You don’t take his bullshit.

He swipes the message across to reveal the “Seen” tab, and his stomach drops. Everyone in the group chat has seen it, Alyssa, Barry, Benny, Santi, Will… the list goes on. There’s a pang of guilt in his gut as he realises just how desperate you must be right now.

He grumbles as he turns off the TV and snaps his lighter shut, putting his ashtray and joint aside. He’ll be damned if he leaves you hanging like this, no matter how much he claims to hate you.

~*~

You pace your hallway, waiting for the bane of your existence to arrive. You’re trying to put on a brave face, trying to ignore the coil in your gut. You play it off as anxiety, but you know it’s more than that.

You’re nervous because as much as you try and hate Frankie, he always gets under your skin. You’re always left wondering what his scruff would feel like on your skin, grazing your jaw, your neck. You hate Francisco Morales, but only as much as you secretly find him hotter than the sun.

He’s not a bad guy, you know he’s struggled with addiction, you know he and the guys saw some shit in the military. But there’s a rudeness reserved only for you when it came to social gatherings and interactions in the group chat.

You’d initially put it down to you being a new addition to the group – by way of Santi – after you two hit it off at a quiz night last year. But in that year, he has only seemed to close you off more and more. You’re almost at the point of looking for a new group of friends, if you’re completely honest with yourself. And you resent him for it.

You’re jolted from your thoughts as a fist pounding on your front door signals his arrival.

I have a doorbell asshole.

You grumble inwardly, but you tell yourself to play nice, Frankie’s doing you a favour here.

“Coming!”

You pause at the door, not wanting to seem too eager as you feel a nervous flutter in your stomach. You take a deep breath and swing it open to reveal Frankie in all his glory. Your chest constricts as you feel the inevitable bloom of desire in your core.

He’s wearing a floral pink and white Hawaiian shirt with a dark tank underneath that stretches across his soft belly. His sinful calves are on display under his tan cargo shorts and you try not to ogle him further as you welcome him into your home.

“Hey, thanks for doing this,” you start as he steps over the threshold, eyeing up your house with a methodical gaze, “Look, I know we’re not-,”

“Don’t worry about it, just show me where the sink is.”

He cuts you off, not looking at you as he speaks, and you bristle at his tone. It’s like he’s speaking down to a child, scolding you no less.

“This way,” you snap as you lead him into the kitchen and gesture at the sink, the cabinets below open ready for him. You feel his gaze on you. It makes you squirm, but you do your best to ignore the pooling of arousal in your panties.  

“You turn the water off?” Frankie asks as he notices the multiple bath towels on the floor, sodden in your failed attempt to try and dry the place out. You’re just glad the kitchen is tiled.

“Yup.”

“Good,” he says almost to himself as he strips off his shirt, throwing it onto a countertop before getting on his knees. You prop yourself against the counter and wait, trying very hard not to stare as he gets on his back. He bends his knees to brace himself as he grabs the adjustable wrench that you’d been battling the U-bend with for the last hour. You try not to imagine how he’d look similarly stretched out on your sheets upstairs.

“Ok so good news, it’s not the U-bend,” Frankie says with a huff as he pops the entire faucet unit up and out of the basin, he rolls up onto his feet. You’re a little annoyed that he was able to determine the issue in minutes after you had spent over an hour googling and trying to fix it yourself.

“Oh?”

You are genuinely curious, so you push off from the counter to see what Frankie’s doing. He holds up the underside of the faucet, showing you a broken rubber ring sat at the neck of the mechanism. His shoulder brushes yours and you feel the fizzle of heat under your skin. Your heart flutters and you think he’s going to move away at the contact, but he seems only to lean in further.

He smells good. A faint hint of weed, which you know he has a prescription for, and his cologne, earthy and rich. It blends together into a smell you know by heart, something so uniquely Frankie, it makes you salivate. You hate how much you want a man who seemingly thinks so little of you.

“This happened to me last month,” he explains as he brings the offending washer into your eyeline, “Damn contractors used cheap fittings so they’re all going, Santi’s went last week.”

“So, I need a new tap? It’s that simple?” You groan in frustration, you’d been ready to spend hundreds of dollars to get this fixed, and here’s Frankie swooping in to save the day.

“Yup, but you’re not likely to get anything now,” Frankie looks at his phone, it’s way too late to be getting something decent. His eyes flick up to meet yours and you see his pupils dilate. There’s something in his deep, sinfully dark eyes that makes you wonder if you’ve been wrong about his feelings towards you all this time. But you avert your gaze, you’re probably just reading into things too heavily.

“Yeah, shit,” you sigh, “At least I’ve got bottled water, so I won’t die of thirst.”

“I can come by tomorrow to pick up and fit a new one if you want?”

The offer is out of Frankie’s mouth before he can stop it, his good nature tumbling out in an unusual display of kindness towards you. You furrow your brow, shocked by the sudden good will from him. It makes you nervous.

“Why’re you being nice to me all of a sudden?” You scoff, something about Frankie being so cold to you for the last year, only to play nice when you’re in distress makes your stomach turn. Like he’s trying to take advantage – or worse – pitying you.

“You needed help and no-one else was responding so I thought it was the right thing to do.”

He grumbles bitterly as he turns his back to you grabbing his shirt from the counter and hastily pulling it on as he turns to leave.

“You could have just left me hanging,” you snap, “What’s different today? Is it so you can lord this over me? Saving the poor little damsel in distress, another tool with which you can ridicule me with?”

“Ridicule you?” Frankie snaps, turning to face you, his face pained as if you’d struck him with a physical blow.

“Don’t play dumb,” you growl as you square up to him, “I hear the snide comments you make about me when we’re out with the others. Desperate this, lonely that.”

Frankie winces, he remembers exactly what you’re talking about now. That night months ago at a club in Orlando. You were dancing with someone you’d met at the bar, and he’d gotten jealous. He brushed it off to Will and Alyssa, going on the offensive instead of letting slip that he’d have done anything for it to be him you were grinding against. He just didn’t know you’d heard him as you went to get another drink.

“That was one time,” he growls but it’s a weak rebuttal and he knows it, “I was in a bad place.”

You know that; you know he was only a few months sober. He wasn’t in a good place when he first met you. But that’s no excuse to continue to treat you like he has ever since.

“Sure, but ever since you’ve looked at me like I don’t belong,” you hold his gaze, even as your eyes start to fill with tears, “Always dismissing my comments, rolling your eyes if I dare speak up in your presence, it gets tiring Frank- Francisco. You don’t have to like me, but they’re my friends too, don’t make me lose them just because you can’t stand me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way I swear.”  

“Yeah well, save it,” you say, pointing to the door, “I don’t need you to save me Francisco, and I sure as hell don’t need your pity. Get out of my house.”

“That’s not how it is, I promise,” he pleads but you’re not looking at him now, your cheeks are hot with embarrassment and you’re trying not to say something you’ll regret.

“Please, just leave,” you snap as you feel tears welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, ok.”

Frankie sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair, he brushes past you, and you hear a soft “I’m sorry.” As the door clicks shut behind him.

You feel your body tremble with rage as you find yourself unable to process the whole interaction. You pull out your phone and message the group chat.

You: Crisis averted.

You think you should add that it was Frankie who helped, but you’re feeling petty. All he did was show you the problem, he didn’t actually fix anything.

If anything he made things so much worse.

~*~

Frankie slumps back down in his recliner but he doesn’t turn the TV back on. Instead, he sits in silence and broods. He re-reads your message to the group chat and scowls. He has no right to be mad, not really, he knows that. But he really wishes he’d dealt with the situation better.

He looks down to his tented shorts and curses himself, the moment he showed you the faucet you were so close to him. The moment your arms touched he felt the rush of desire he suppresses every time he sees you. Now he’s worried he’s fucked it up completely. He can still smell you, the scent your bodywash he’s committed to memory now clings to his skin.  

He forces himself upstairs and into the shower, running it ice cold, just to try and make his erection go away. But it doesn’t help. He’s painfully hard as he tries to think of anything else.

All he can think of is the way your skin felt against his, the way you called him Francisco. It was meant to spurn him, but he loved it. The way his name rolled off your tongue with derision. It’s all he can think of as he turns on the hot water and grips his cock. He pumps himself slowly as he feels the hot burn in his gut, he’s already so fucking close.

“Fuck,” he groans under the hot stream, “I’m sorry.”

He growls as he fucks himself harder to the thought of you putting him in his place. He’s never considered himself a sub, but it’s all he can think of now. He’s whimpering as he fucks his fist faster and faster at the memory of you chewing him out. He deserved it, and that makes it all the sweeter.

He wants you to make him suffer. Atone.

He comes with a whine as his spend splatters against the tiles and slowly washes away down the drain. He pants desperately for some time before washing himself off. He heads back downstairs to re-light his joint and watch another episode of his documentary. On a need-fuelled whim he texts you.

Frankie: If you want me to fix your sink, let me know, I’m free all day.

Frankie Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3

[erideights]

Little pieces here and there (4)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Parts: one, two, three, five

Word Count: 4,2K, i should ask for forgiveness

Warnings: flirting, pinning, (FUCKING) FINALLY, unprotected sex, buggy detaching parts of his body during sex like the freak he is

A/N: i've been building this moment so long that i was, once more, inspired by god to make this chapter the longest ever, i hope you all enjoy and that the awaited smut doesn't disappoint and delivers (let me know, anxiety is killing me, love u all, see you in chapter 5, the final (until season 2) of this series) (again i'm really really sorry for any grammatical mistake!)

Day 5 after what happened during the Arlong Park fight, or what is the same for her = 5 AAP, (Y/N) is sure about three things:

1. With the choice of leaving her mercenary life behind, comes her new position as the ''strategist'' of the Straw Hat crew, a group of very unique people that after a couple of stops along the way, would arrive at the Grand Line.

2. Their next destination is Loguetown, which excited her; she loved the city, she never turned down an assignment that involved working there. They would arrive in a couple of days and stock up on everything they would need before beginning the greatest adventure of their lives.

3. Buggy's nose was real. Very real. And she missed him. Just a bit.

To be more precise, that bit of tension and constant sarcasm around her. She knew he was a pain in the ass, and that his staying on the ship wouldn't have lasted much more than an extra day and a half because one of her crewmates -Zoro- would have unceremoniously thrown him overboard anytime.

But it was really fun for her, so from time to time and in particular, when she passes by the helm, she finds herself remembering that annoying talking head and smiling a bit.

And so, after an entire week, they arrive at the famous Loguetown, the tomb of the most famous pirate of all time, a refuge for mercenaries, pirates and bounty hunters from all corners of the East Blue! No matter what, everything your heart could desire -except for the One Piece- you could find there. Jewelry, weapons, food, alcohol, a good bed to sleep and rest in, or other darker, macabre and adult types of entertainment.

Ah, what a city. Anyone could get lost among its endless alleys packed with people. That's why when the crew splits up, they do it in pairs, making sure that Zoro, who they had already discovered, lacked complete and utter sense of direction, wouldn't be left alone and lost among the city's infinite tide of pirates. (Y/N) is the one who goes with him, both heading to the largest armory in the city to replace his destroyed katanas while Sanji and Luffy take care of the food, and Usopp and Nami go around to do… she doesn’t really remember what. Trying clothes she believes.

She must say, however, that this swordsman is not exactly the most talkative person in the world even though their friendship has considerably grown and deepened during their little journey. Apart from sharing small notes about the city, how many people there are, or what they should do, they don't really talk that much; in her case, because she is absorbed in her surroundings, soaking in every possible detail. Him, silent because his reputation as a pirate hunter is famous around all the East Blue, and of course, in Loguetown there are only pirates. He prefers to stay alert to avoid future conflicts and have a peaceful morning. Not for him, but for his crew.

That's why when a gloved hand flies out of a dark alley, and violently covers the girl's mouth and nose, preventing her from screaming, while another grabs her by the waistband of her pants and yanks her back, forcing her to get in said alley, Zoro doesn't even notice, he continues calmly walking, minding his own fucking business, heading to only God knows where.

Farewell, mosshead.

In a blink, (Y/N)'s back collides with a strong torso, and with her heart in her mouth and adrenaline running wild in her veins, she stretches her right hand to reach the knife she has in the holster on her right thigh to destroy the asshole that dares to try to steal from her. Or murder her. Or that's her idea until she hears a familiar voice murmuring an “I got you” behind her, before turning her head and discovering the biggest, reckless buffoon she's ever met.

Buggy.

Eyes wide open, she screams against his palm, pissed off by the way he scared the shit outta her. Extremely angry, she yanks his hand away from her mouth, turns her entire body around and looks at him with what he would swear, is the most annoyed expression he ever saw in his entire life. Before the clown can excuse himself and his lack of manners, just as she begins to see that stupid smile appear on his stupid face, she slaps him so hard that for a second, he thinks his head will detach from the rest of his body.

Then, and pushed by an outburst of passion that comes out of she doesn’t even understand where, a mixture of adrenaline, surprise, her desire to kill him with her own hands and the -sexual- frustration with which he abandoned her the last time, she grabs his vest, pulls and kisses him. Again, all before Buggy can even react.

The kiss is brief. Really quick, but intense as hell, and she manages to leave him breathless. Yes, him. Only him. Because the moment they separate, when (Y/N) pushes him back, she spits out a heartfelt “You're an idiot!”

What a fucking rollercoaster. He doesn't even remember what he was about to say anymore to greet her. He's in fact, too stunned to speak. Did she slapped, kissed, and insulted him in less than a minute? Oh, she's a freak, just like him. The only difference between them is that she knows how to pretend the opposite. But she can't hide it from him. Not to the king of the freaks.

''I missed you too, baby'' he admits with an amused smile, moving his jaw a little from side to side, as well as his neck; that woman is stronger than he expected.

''Yeah? Because I really didn’t.’’ she spits once again, taking a deep breath. ''Liar'' he retorts, eyeing her up and down. ''Liir'' she instantly mocks, still recovering from the tsunami of emotions that just passed through her. ''What the fuck are you doing in Loguetown?''

''I came looking for my sorry excuses for a supporting cast,'' his crew. Were they still alive? Would have sworn Zoro destroyed all of them but who knew. ''and turns out I found the perfect, shiny, little new supporting star for my show'' he adds, as flirtatious as always around her, approaching (Y/N) again.

''Oh, I feel flattered but as I already told you, I don't like being in the spotlight. I relate way more to the shadow around it.”

He rolls his eyes but nods in understanding, reaching out to grab the girl's waist. ''Mhm. What about a private show, then? We have a play to finish, If my memory's not betraying me.'' He whispers honeyed, closing the distance between the two just a bit more. Cannot stop himself, neither he wants to. He knew as soon as he recognized her on the street, he would not let her go without putting order in their outstanding matters.

She’s about to add her usual sarcastic and smartass remark saying something among the lines of ‘without inviting me to dinner first?’ but she chooses not to. Just for once. ''I could agree to that.'' The girl admits, tilting a smile. ''Not here, tho.'' Pressing the clown's chest with her index finger, signaling for him to stay still, (Y/N) runs her tongue over her upper teeth, taking a couple of seconds to think.

In the end, she raises an eyebrow, and with an amused smile, she asks: “Do you trust me?”

''Not in a million years''

''I knew you would say that.'' She still takes one of his hands, that was still on her waist, and starts walking quite fast towards the other end of the alley, pulling him with her. He doesn’t object at all, despite not knowing where the hell is she taking him, and simply follows her lead, unconsciously squeezing her hand to not to lose her in the crowd.

Not many minutes later, after climbing some stairs and turning a few streets, there they are, in front of a beautiful tavern with windows decorated with ornate dark wooden planks, designing patterns of small squares, offering a beautiful view of its interior. The building was not one of the largest in the area, but it was not one of the smallest either. She knew from experience* that the floors above the tavern were rooms rented to the pickiest pirates. They had enough space to rest comfortably after a long voyage at sea, with a good bed and several locks on the doors and windows to prevent intrusions, attempts at robbery or murder, or a drunken idiot making a mistake and entering the wrong room.

*She knows this because a couple of years ago she needed to sneak in during the night to steal a jade seal from a famous pirate captain, who had previously stolen it from the temple it belonged to a few months before. Getting in wasn't easy at all.

Walking to the side of the building, where the windows of the rooms can be seen better, (Y/N) looks right, then left, making sure there’s no one nosing around.

‘’Here we are.’’ She announces, looking at him with a devilish smirk on her face. ''Now pay attention, here's my brilliant, unique and exceptional plan. It will absolutely blow your mind.’’ He cracks a genuine smile after hearing how she praised herself. She sounded almost like him. 

“First step: Throw your head up to that window over there,” she points said window with her index finger, two floors above their heads, “and tell me if there’s someone sleeping inside. Or if you see any sign someone rented the room.’’

Confusion is the feeling that crosses his beautiful face for a second, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and lips pressed into a small incredulous smile. She wants to sneak through the window without being seen and not pay a single berry? Exactly what a true pirate would do. He was starting to fall in love with her.

Without a second thought, his head separates from his body and floats to the open window, slightly sneaking in to check as she asked. And as fast as it goes up, it returns back down, just like a yo-yo. ''Clear'' He confirms, amused. 

''Perfect, second step: now throw your right hand, same window, and leave it there.'' And he does as she says, no questions asked, because he could not do otherwise. Because he wouldn't want to do otherwise. He was not made to follow orders and still, deep down, he knows he would follow hers. Or better said… he would follow her around. She was, maybe, not a theatre kid like him, but to his eyes, she shines brightly.

Not as much as him, tho.

Once Buggy's right hand waits patiently on the window frame, (Y/N) grabs the clown by the shoulders and strategically positions him under the window. Then she takes his left hand, bringing it forward. "Third step: with this hand you propel me into the air, with the other you grab me and you help me sneak in."

''And the final step?'' Getting very close to his face, the girl rubs her nose against his and whispers, voice low and lustful, ''You float to the window and meet me inside for that private show you mentioned before.'' He already knew the goal of that whole improvised plan, but he almost purrs when he hears her say it.

Then Buggy throws her upwards without prior notice, way stronger than she expected, and a sweet, genuine laugh escapes (Y/N)'s lips at the lack of gravity and that distinctive tickle in her stomach that rises to her throat. Not even when he uses that floating hand to catch her and guide her to the room, her feet on solid ground again, she’s able to stop laughing.

She expected this whole forbidden getaway to be entertaining, but not so, so fun. There was no point in denying the obvious: the complicity, the chemistry between them is criminal, asphyxiating, palpable, and so, so /real/. It's not only about physical attraction and sexual tension anymore, they were actually really compatible, which could only, and is already, making things one hundred times better.

As soon as she's inside, still giggling a bit, she's quick to reach the door and securely close it, fitting the bolt with a pair of lockpicks that she had on her. On the other hand, as soon as Buggy gets inside the room he chooses not to lose a single second, because every second he wastes is one less that he can enjoy that fantastic woman who is driving him crazy; before she can return to the center of the room, he has already recovered his right hand, thrown his hat to the floor along with his coat, and has rushed towards her, kissing her again, this time without a hurry, but voraciously, passionately, with the irresistible yearning he has been suffering for almost two weeks. He wants-- no, he needs to make her his. The desire making his blood boil. Her warmth, her smell, the taste of her lips-- even her laugh. It was too much. Too intoxicating.

(Y/N) welcomes him, sighing deeply against his lips, tilting her head a little, melting in the kiss, her hands flying to his hair to take out the bandana and pull at his blue locks, to which Buggy responds by grabbing her from the back of her thighs, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed, near the window. He lets some of his weight fall onto her, loosely holding himself on his knees on the mattress. She closes her legs around his waist, pressing him even a little closer against her body, excitement coursing through her veins like poison.

All that little game with the clown was just flirting, huh? Yeah, sure.

For a minute, everything is kisses, stealing each other's breaths, strong caresses on arms, legs, and back over clothes. There are bites at each other's lips, seemingly incapable of getting enough of the other, the attraction between them driving them both so absolutely insane than getting some distance to get naked seems impossible.

“Baby,” raspily, he press his crotch between her legs to let her feel his growing erection under his pants. ''I suggest you getting naked before I rip your clothes off by myself.''

She moans in response, wetter, more aroused by every second passing, unable to even think about playing hard to get this time. ''Aye aye captain'' she manages to whisper back mischievously, separating her hands from his body in order to pull her own shirt up and throw it somewhere in the room.

He grunts, but makes the titanic effort to separate himself from her, standing on his knees in front of her laying body, licking his lips, breathing heavily, eyes half-closed, already fucking her in his thoughts. Of course, seeing her undress for him is quite a show.

After her shirt comes the button and zipper of her pants. Although before getting rid of these, she pulls the scarf around the clown's neck, forcing him to lean over her again, and after it goes his vest. Given the girl's haste, he lets escape a hoarse laugh that reverberates inside his chest and decides to help her with whatever’s left between them; shoes, pants, gloves, and underwear.

''You're gorgeous'' he breathes, taking in her image in front of him. “You’re almost making me feel guilty for what I'm about to do.”

Before she could even ask, or threaten with a ‘don't you fucking dare’ or something among those lines, one of Buggy's hands flies to her own, and pins her wrists against the bed with such force, she hisses, heart in her throat, deafening her ears. She remembers herself, this was all too good to be true, and that damn clown promised to make her beg. He wasn't going to forgive her so easily, was he?

Her fault.

''Sweetheart, open your beautiful legs for me, will you?'' Returning to the bed, the clown settles between the girl's thighs, running -with the only hand still attached to his body-, one of her legs, from the knee to the hip bone in a slow and tortuous caress.

''Now, I'm pretty sure I warned you about what's about to happen last time you took advantage of my... uncomfortable, kinda-hostage situation on your stupid little boat. When you decided to push me to my limit.''

She is too aroused, too turned on to think clearly, her mind clouded by the same rush of hormones that’s making her incredibly wet. Having him now naked between her legs, threatening her in that low tone of voice, exposed helplessly in front of him, doesn't help at all; it is, as a matter of fact, making things way worse.

''You wanted me to beg, right?’’

''Exactly. It's that easy.'' After a couple of strokes, he grabs his erection and runs it slowly through her wet folds, both of them barely containing a moan in their throats at the sensation. He, perhaps, better than her, because (Y/N) involuntarily pushes her hips upwards, trying to get some more. ''Ah-ah. Want me to fuck you, sweetheart? Just beg for it. Beg for /me/.''

Being the proud woman she is, it's not exactly easy for her to seriously beg for something. Joking? Of course, any time, even sarcastically, but something is telling her, her sixth sense probably, he won't settle with a sarcastic remark and dove eyes.

Closing her eyes tightly, she lets herself be carried away by pure and absolute desperation every time he runs his erection through her, lubricating himself with her fluids. He is silent, already tasting the sweet victory he’ll feel when he manages to break her and make her beg. Although this doesn't happen as quickly as he would have preferred.

''(Y/N)'' He warns, and it's the first time he says her name out loud. The first time she hears him, with his raspy voice and his beautiful accent, pronouncing her real name instead of some compliment or silly nickname to call her.

Welcome, breaking point.

''Beg--'' 

''I need you,'' she interrupts him in a low whimper, lifting her hips. ''Bugs-- Buggy, I need you to fuck me. Now.”

Usually, it's moments like this particular one in which the clown enjoys recreating himself, making others beg a little more, -sex, mercy, forgiveness- doesn’t matter-, taking his good time listening to her moans and cries of desperation. But he can't help it, the second he hears the girl call him by his name, telling him how much she needs him, and that silly attempt of an order at the end, he knows it’s game over, and he decides to give her exactly what she wants, penetrating her suddenly the last time he runs slowly through her folds. A sweet moan of relief and pleasure escapes from (Y/N) chest along with a "Fuck, Buggy--". From him, a hoarse grunt. A shiver runs down their spines, and quickly, Buggy recovers his other hand, freeing her from his grip, to aggressively pull both of her thighs to bring her closer to him, and begins to thrust hard, all shreds of self-control escaping from his body lightspeed.

He pushes into her as deep as he can in no time, burying himself between her legs, face hidden in the crook of her neck, hands keeping her legs open, close to his hips.

She doesn't know what she likes more, the erratic sound of his breathing and panting in her ear, the desperation with which his whole body seems to search for hers or each penetration sending an ecstasy shock through her nerves, but she soon becomes a puddle of sweet moans, whimpers and breathing as heavy as his, one hand pulling hard at his blue hair, the other resting on his abdomen, nails digging slightly his skin with each thrust.

''Oh god, Bugs--’’

''Moan my name louder baby,'' he breathes before biting her shoulder, leaving the mark of his teeth imprinted on her skin. ''I want them to catch us. I want them hearing you scream my name.”

And she does. She moans his name again, just not as loud as he wants. Which means there is something, something he can do better. Something to push her to her limit, to make her a believer, and make her /his/.

Summoning all his willpower, and not before one last, violent thrust, the clown stops and suddenly pulls out of her. (Y/N) complains with a loud cry, opening her eyes to ask what the fuck is he actually doing, how dares he to stop. Thank God, she doesn't have time to threaten him before he speaks.

''On your knees.'' And of course she obliges, on all fours, the simple idea making her completely lose her mind. Only thing, Buggy doesn't intend to keep her like this for a long time; as soon as she exposes herself for him again, he buries himself once more inside her as deep as he can and starts thrusting again, slowly but strongly, ending each thrust with a loud slam. This time, both hands separate from his body, one reaching for her delicate neck, which he circles with his fingers and presses to lightly cut off her breathing. The other one flies to her mouth, pushing between her lips with two fingers that she soaks in her saliva.

(Y/N), unable to articulate a single complaint, sucks, bites and licks them, muffling against them every sound that escapes her throat.

A pleasure shock, like a lightning bolt, forces her to arch her back the moment that same hand flies to her clitoris and starts masturbating it, overstimulating her.

Buggy is really determined to make her his, to not let her forget about him, to become the legitimate protagonist of each of her erotic fantasies, so to finish driving her crazy, the hand he has around her neck lifts her up, pulling her until he forces her back against his torso in a beautiful reference to the day they met and the first time he felt that magnetic attraction inevitably pulling him towards her.

''So. Much. Better,” he manages to whisper between grunts and raspy moans, surrounding her abdomen with one of his arms to keep her in place, close to his chest, sacrificing penetrating her as deeply as he would like but without caring in the slightless because he knows, she is quickly reaching her orgasm. He can feel it in the way her walls contract around his cock, in the beating of her heart in her throat against his hand, and in how her hands reach for anything, trying to support herself; in this case, his arm around her, nails scratching his skin.

''C'mon baby, cum for me.'' He groans, refusing to fall headfirst to his own orgasm because he doesn't plan to finish before her. Under other circumstances he would have done it, he has never been the kind of generous lover who thinks of his partner's pleasure before his own. This woman is breaking some old habits and patterns just being the way she is. And he doesn't care at all.

A few more thrust, the lack of enough oxygen in her lungs and that wonderful pressure on her clitoris, and (Y/N) explodes in an orgasm so strong she begins to breathless moan Buggy’s name over and over again like a mantra, which obviously feeds his ego so, so much, it ends up sending him over the same edge, moaning her name under his breath, resting his forehead on her shoulder, hugging her body tightly as they ride their climax.

                                        …

''Told you I would make you beg'' he cracks a devilish smirk, wrapping his right arm around her shoulders when he finally lies on the mattress.

''Yeah'' she giggles, although sarcastically, recovering by the second, enough clarity to recompose her own ego. ''You also told me you would make me find the One Piece without going to the Grand Line and I cannot see it anywhere yet.''

What a subtle way of asking for a second round, he thinks to himself, clearly pleased -instead of offended- for the way his smile stretches even more, looking intently at her.

“You're right.” He would have liked to lie on the bed for a while, getting back some energy and attack again, but damn him if he ever dares to reject a provocation as bold as that one. He wouldn't forgive himself.

Getting out of bed almost as quickly as he lay down a few minutes ago, Buggy cracks his neck from side to side, and taking one of the chairs next to the table in the room, he turns it in the air, leaving it pointing towards the girl.

He then sits down, leaning on the backrest, relaxed, exhaling an erotic, slow sigh as he exaggeratedly separates his legs in a clear invitation for her to come closer and sit on them.

"What did you say the other day? About liking a man with his entire body, capable of fucking you in his lap and making you scream his name?"

[mari-the-bimbo]

your last hc with dorm mate geto has me crying

can we expect part 2?

Dorm mate Geto: Just friends pt. 2

A/N: I put ya’ll through misery for long enough 😂 So here you go, enjoy! 💗💗

Entering the dorm felt darker these days. It’s been a week since the talk with Geto, and you’ve been avoiding him since, spending most of your evenings in the uni library. And unlike the usual Geto who would’ve sought you out by now, he avoided you too, fuelling your worry that he never cared anyway.

As your entered the dorm, you noticed the small yellow light emitting from the kitchen. It couldn’t be Gojo, as he doesn’t know how to cook, so it could only be the raven haired man himself.

You quietly made your way past the kitchen to the corridor leading to the bedroom, not creating any noise that’d raise attention for him.

“So friends don’t even say hi now? That’s new”

You stopped in your tracks at his snarky comment. And although that wasn’t new for Geto, it lacked the teasing element his remarks usually had.

You sigh, deciding not to pay any attention to it, “sorry I’m tired” you muttered an excuse to keep the peace, but you should’ve known better.

“Tired from what? Avoiding me?” He spoke, still not looking up from the drink he was stirring. It was always intimidating when he spoke like this, because despite his sharp words, he kept his same calm tone, making him unpredictable.

You roll your eyes, frustrated from the audacity of the same man who broke your heart first.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me” he scolds half heartedly with a frustrated sigh.

You ignore his latest comment “You’ve been avoiding me too, so I don’t know why you’re acting so butthurt” you hiss.

“You told me to stay away from you, I’m simply respecting that” he replies.

You furrow your eyebrows, confused at how he managed to twist your words when you made it so clear. “I-“

“Is there someone else y/n?”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

He pauses before forming his sentence, maybe because he was scared of the answer. “I mean.. is there another guy in the picture? Someone you like better?” he said, voice almost cracking.

“No” you reply.

He nods his head slowly, almost as if he’s trying to process what you just said.

“Then why did you reject me so harshly?”

You stand dumbfounded again. Reject him? Is he forgetting how he was a two faced man who was flirting with other girls?

“Reject you? Have you ever considered what you did to me?” You raise your voice, but your voice actually breaks unlike his.

Now it was Geto’s turn to stand dumbfounded. His face marked with confusion and anxiety, dark hair strands framing his face adding to his dishevelled look. He seemed unable to recall what he did wrong, you almost felt bad. Gosh, what a waste of time, you should’ve never even stopped to listen.

You simply shake your head before turning around to leave, until you’re stopped by a large hand enveloping yours.

“Get off me” you snap.

He didn’t react to your demand. Instead his dark eyes bore holes into the back of your head. He silently pulls you closer by the hand and you struggle to fight against his strong grip.

“What’s wrong doll? Come here and tell me” he says softly.

His cold facade slips and he came back to his usual self, always so soft when it comes to you. You feel your heartbeat increase at his invitation with sweet words and his large warm hands. And even though he broke your heart, some part of you wanted to believe he does care about you.

He keeps pulling you backwards towards him until your back finally hit his muscular chest. You try to push away but his large hands grip your much daintier shoulders to turn you to face him.

“What’s going on between us doll? Why won’t you tell me?” He pleads, you can tell he’s growing desperate by his grip on your shoulders.

He could he be this stupid? How could he act like you caused this when he was the one who didn’t like you back, the one that led you on? How are you in the wrong for feeling hurt?

The thoughts turned into despair, despair turned into angry tears welling up in your eyes, you tried to blink the tears away but Geto caught it with his thumb. You quickly recoil from his touch making him sigh, you turn away from him to avoid his dark prying eyes.

“Why don’t you like me?” You finally ask through quiet sobs, “why pretend you like me when you flirt with prettier girls at parties?”

You watch Geto’s face turn into one of despair himself, before slowly shaking his head. “No no y/n it’s not like that, it’s because I th-“

“Oh of course it’s not like that Geto! You just fuck around with other girls for community service right?” You say sarcastically through the tears, resentment and heartbreak mixing together. You couldn’t even get yourself to stop.

“No y/n you’re not listening to me it’s-“

You watch his brows furrow in annoyance, you wondered if his patience was running thin, but you knew he’d never take it out on you.

“What excuse could you possibly have? You’re so full of yourself that’s why you like leading me on while having other girls and-“

“It’s not like that okay?! You’re the only girl I like! I gave other girls attention because I knew my feelings were one sided!” He finally yells.

You stare at him with wide eyes. Finally feeling brave enough to let the tears fall down your cheek. You watch his shoulders slump as if a weight was finally took off his shoulders. He reaches out to you again but his time he holds your face in his large hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me? why didn’t yo-“ but your sentence was cut short by Geto’s lips touching yours, you gasp as you feel his lips press against yours, moulding perfectly, effectively stealing your breath away.

You both slowly pull away from each other’s face, your face still in Geto’s hold, in fact, your whole body was supported against Geto’s muscular one.

You stare into each other’s eyes until Geto’s adoring gaze falls into your lips, his thumb wiping your saliva away. Your breathing gets heavier as you inch closer to Geto’s perfect warm lips, until you are rudely interrupted by your white haired friend.

The main door open with a drunk Gojo appearing. “GUYS YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHO I SAW AT THIS PARTY TONIGHT” he tells in excitement, the alcohol in his veins making him completely oblivious to his surroundings.

You and Geto have already pulled away from eachother by the time Gojo staggers into the kitchen, you sigh as you help your drunk friend sit and Geto smiles to himself as he makes a hot drink to sober Gojo up.

“BUT HE CALLED ME AN ABINO RAT!!! BUT APPARENTLY I WENT TOO FAR BY SAYING HE PROBABLY DUNKS HIS BISCUITS IN WATER BECAUSE HIS DADDY NEVER CAME BACK WITH THE MILK?!”

You nod along to your friends nonsense, until you notice Geto give you a cup of hot chocolate. You look up to the handsome man and notice his lips moving.

“We’ll talk later doll” he mouths before winking.

[slutt4ellie]

Fated Hearts Start With Fire

PT3 - Unfolding Bonds

masterslist

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 4 // PART 5 // PART 6

Moving to a new city is tough, but it’s even harder when your roommate is a dick.

Summery - Yours and Ellie’s connection has become a bit less hostile, but regardless a friendship hasn’t formed? Until..

Warnings -> Starts off in Ellie’s POV / Alcohol usage / Drunk!Ellie / Reader is dating someone! 🙃 / Lots of kissing / A LOTT OF TENSION. / SLOW BURN. / Eventual smut / (Lmk if I missed anything Else!)

WC: 3.5k (ik it’s short 😔)

(Not proofread)

DAILY CLICK 🇵🇸

(Ellie)

“Invite her!” Dina whines as she sits beside Ellie on the couch.

But Dina saying these two words is already sprouting unwanted anxiety throughout Ellie.

The reason being because it’s been about a week since Ellie came out of her bedroom with dry tears and red eye’s plastered all over her face. As she kept her face in Dina’s neck without even attempting to make eye contact with you.

And to say she was embarrassed would be putting it lightly.

The first reason is because every since the whole crying incident, you and her haven’t fought once! Which happened to be extremely fucking rare.

Even when you first moved in, Ellie and you only had quick back in fourths, not a conversation where you learn about each other?

So this being said, Ellie was fully taking that as you being pity.

Plus! there’s been moments where Ellie would want to drop the feelings and make another snarky comment towards you but the simple thought of you bringing up her entire breakdown was quickly dragging her from that shitty idea!

And for the second reason you guys haven’t had a proper conversation, it’s really just been hurtful words. (Manly from Ellie’s side). Side eyes, really all the above.

But never a proper fucking conversation..

So she has no actual intentions of inviting you to a club with her, Dina, and Jesse. Despite Dina’s protest.

“Yeah no.” Ellie shakes her head, eye not peeling from the tv desperately trying to avoid Dina’s brown eyes staring at her.

“Ellie it breaks the ice! You guys literally haven’t talked!” Dina sighs shaking Ellie’s shoulder trying to get her eyes away from the tv.

“Because we’re not friends!” Ellie says now finally meeting Dina’s brown eyes.

“You’re roommates?!” Dina groans.

“I’m not talking to her about it dude!” Ellie sighs, she rather run away from forming any kind of relationship with her roommate because last time-

“She’s not Cat El.” Dina sighs out, regretting it because Ellie stands up.

“I never fucking said she was Cat! I said we weren’t fucking friends!” Ellie says looking at Dina following up her sentence. “Fuck you and Jesse are constantly acting like i’m a piece of glass that’s gonna shatter!”

“Ell-“ Dina try’s to get out a word but Ellie shakes her head.

“No- I get you guys care but-“ Now Dinas the one that cuts her off.

“Me and Jesse just think you’re pushing away the idea of being friends with her, because she’s just like Cat all over again.”

Ellie cringes at that comment and just rubs her hand down her face.

Because it was true..Partially?

You were all to similar to Cat and that’s why Ellie came off so hostile since the beginning. You were like a mirror of hers and Cats situation. Which Ellie didn’t like.

Cat ending up becoming a new tenant just like Ellie, and it just so happened they got the apartment together.

Ellie and Cat were simply platonic, at least in the beginning. Ellie was talking to someone and Cat had a girlfriend at the time.

Ellie knew all of this because they were originally friends, just two normal roommates, no romantic feelings attached.

So when the whole friend thing was something you and her lacked.

It gave some fucked up comfort to Ellie.

Because it didn’t take long till Cat and her girlfriend broke up and the talking stage Ellie had formed into nothing.

Which led Ellie and Cat to become something more.

And trusting cat last time..Ellie knew where that left her. She doesn’t want that whole fucked up part of her life to repeat.

She doesn’t want to form a relationship with you. She just wants you two to be roommates.

Not fucking friends.

“Dina i’m not ev-“ Ellie’s hears the front door open lightly and her sentence immediately stops.

She sees you with a windbreaker and a pair of jeans, you also had a pair of wired headphones plugged in your phone.

And thank fucking god, because without the earbuds you may have possible heard the conversation which was literally about you just a mere 3 seconds ago.

While on your hand you instantly noticed the 2 pairs of eyes rested on your figure and you pull out your headphones assuming they are going to say something.

“Hi..?” You say taking off the windbreaker and resting it on the coat hanger. The fact it took a solid 10 seconds till Dina finally said some words also happened to worry you.

Because why the fuck were they staring at you like they had something to say??

“Hey!” Dina says all to excited based off your presence. You start to think maybe they do want to actually tell you something.

You see her and Ellie share a glance. While looking at Dina, you can see Ellie in the corner of your eye. She’s lightly shaking her head and you finally noticing them making split eye contact.

Just as you assumed Ellie was going to finally share a few words Dina talks.

“Me and Ellie were wondering something actually!” As Dina finishes her sentence you hear Ellie let out a sigh.

“Yeah?” You look at Dina then Ellie. “What’s up?”

“Do you want to come out to a club-with me Dina and Jesse.” Ellie’s voice sounded externally monotone, like not excited at all.

It sounded extremely forced, but you tried to ignore it, I mean at least she talked to you considering this week has been filled with a huge wave of silence.

You assumed life would have been perfect if Ellie just put a sock in it, and would finally just shut up, at least that’s what you would’ve said a few weeks back.

But now that she literally doesn’t talk the apartment was only quiet.

Like sometimes you’d hear Dina and Jesse come over but half of the time Ellie seemed silent other then simple chip in’s.

You felt like you broke Ellie? Like she was just going to stay sad and silent..?

Which for some odd reason was unsettling? Not because you actually liked Ellie, but at the end of the day she seemed tougher then you? So how could you break her from a sigular sentence.

Either way you snapped out of your thought and returned to your words. “I-I would love to…but- Mias coming over tonight s-“

Ellie ends up cutting you off and waving her hand dismissively.

“F-fuck yeah forget about it-“ Ellie says looking at Dina and they share another glance. You can see Ellie’s face now has a light tint and you feel bad.

I mean you doubt she actually wanted you to come, you saw how Dina’s eyes lit, and hers..well didn’t!

Basically making you come to the conclusion it was Dina’s idea.

but you turning it down, you knew that was probably embarrassing, way more embarrassing then the whole asking part.

And after that moment it was probably only 30 minutes till they both left to meet Jesse.

Ellie leaving for the night actually offered you a lot of comfort, because Mia was coming over.

You and Mia have went on a total of 2 dates since your kiss last week, which she just so happened to ask you on both of them. Considering you were to nervous.

You didn’t know what to do when it came to relationships, like when it was appropriate to ask someone to be your girlfriend.

You didn’t have experience in this field so you just prayed Mia would ask you first, because beside the simple dates, you guys have been getting closer in different ways!

Not anything crazy! Shit like going all the way was currently off the table. So it’s really just been kissing and touching from the waist up, which was reciprocated on both ends!

You liked Mia a lot, and you took a safe guess and assumed she liked you! So when you texted her that your apartment was empty and she was able to come over, you were excited for what the night had in mind.

It also didn’t take long till there was a pair of knocks on the front door of your shared apartment.

You quickly hopped off the couch and you walked to the door.

You’re met with Mias blue eyes and a soft smile. “Hi..” Mia says leaning in and pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Hi!” You say back excitedly, moving your hand to lightly rub Mia’s cheek with your thumb. “Was the walk okay?”

Mia smiles and nods. “Yep! It was okay!” Mia says shrugging then talking again “It would have been faster if you just lived on campus.” Mia nudges your shoulder lightly.

Mias been talking with you about possibly moving on campus, the main reason being because of no other then Ellie.

It’s not like you talked to Mia about Ellie because that’s extremely weird, but after the day when you two first kissed and Mia was greeted with “People are desperate now!” that left Ellie’s mouth and was 100% directed towards you, she wasn’t being secretive about her dislike to Ellie.

Mia thinks she has a shitty personality and selfishly she not exactly wrong, Ellie went through shit but these previous weeks shes been practically insufferable. Her being silent was your only break.

So she’s brought up the point of maybe going to campus. And moving into one of the dorms, realistically you didn’t feel like meeting a new roommate. And already told her living with Ellie is probably the cheapest price you’re ever going to get so she dropped it…Slightly..?

You did know behind the jokes there was some truth behind the words she was saying, but you laughed them off.

“Will you pay for me?” You tilt your head and smile which earns a laugh from Mia. She also quickly shakes her head.

“Have I gave you the wrong impression that i’m rich?” Mia says walking into the apartment her eyes still on you.

“Wait what! That’s the only reason I went on dates with you??” You say pretending to be shocked about this “new” Information.

Mia laughs and kisses you again mumbling a “Ha Ha.”

You kiss her back a smirk still present on your face.

Both of your kisses are needy, different then other ones you shared which tended to be softer.

It made you a tiny bit panicked, so you pull back a little. Not pushing away from Mia just making space between your lips.

“Do you want to watch a movie.” You say letting out a nervous chuckle having Mia laugh.

“Yeah we can?” Mia nods intertwining her fingers with yours.

So that’s all you guys did at least for a little. When Mia got to your apartment the sun was just setting and now it’s completely dark, it’s been at least 2-3 hours since Ellie and Dina left and you assumed they’d be back soon enough.

So you also came to the conclusion Mia would be leaving soon enough.

And she must have too. Because she finally said the words you’ve been desperately waiting for.

“So..I was wondering if maybe you wanna-“ Mia seemed surprisingly nervous despite her having previous girlfriends which she told you about. Either way she spat it out. “Do you wanna be my girlfriend..like officially”

Mia clears her throat and smiles.

You didn’t know what to say. You’ve never had someone you liked actually like you back, so hearing words which you’ve been deprived of since you starting gaining feelings for people felt so refreshing.

And you must have taken awhile because Mia talks “F-fuck was I reading it wrong-“

It was basically a perfect mirror of when Mia first kissed you.

Instantly panicking because of your lack of response.

This time you kiss her fast and shake your head while pulling back. “No-no I want to be your girlfriend-! I wanted to ask you but I literally didn’t- like know how-“

This time it’s Mia kissing you before you can finish your sentence.

And just like that the thoughts of her leaving soon left your head.

Mia’s leaning you back on the couch kissing your lips, the side of your cheek, then jaw, and finally neck.

And the idea of going all the way, now surprisingly doesn’t seem all that scary..

Mia looks back up at you and talks her hands meeting your jean button. “This okay..?”

You can’t even get a word out so you just nod.

You can feel your jean button undo and your fly be pulled down slowing which felt like some sort of teasing.

You feel the jeans slide to your ankles and by that point it’s clicking what the fuck is going on. Right after the jeans hit your ankles there’s a light kiss on your clothed clit. And a soft whimper leaves your mouth.

There was so much new sensations in a few minutes and you wished you could have processed it better but then there was a few knocks. Knocking you out of the “trance” you were just previously in.

And just like that the lights inside you head flipped back on, because you still have a fucking roommate who was most definitely going to be back soon. And you let all that shit leave your mind as soon as you got kissed.

The colour flushed from your face immediately and Mia immediately sits up helping you pull back up your jeans.

Once your jeans are back on you fixed your shirt and walked to the door opening it.

Your eyes are met with Jesses, Dina’s, and glossed over green eyes that belong to no other then Ellie.

She’s clearly drunk, but you unfortunately can’t get out any words before Dina can.

“Are you blushing?” Dina chuckles as Jesse and her hold up Ellie.

“No!” You quickly rebuttal shaking your head and just a few seconds after you feel a soft hand on your waist. Mias warm body is sat right beside you.

“I should probably get going, I have early classes” Mia gives you a tight lipped smile, you know her intentions of leaving are completely reasonable you just wished she could stay longer.

“Okay..just-“

Mia smiles and kisses your cheek lightly. “I’ll text you. Let you know I got back safe.”

Mia realizes how awkward it is now that 3 people just saw her kiss your cheek. Either way she gave everyone an awkward bye.

And just like that she was gone.

It was just you Jesse, Dina and Ellie.

“So!” Dina says awkwardly.

“We have morning classes and our apartment is sorta across the city?” Dina says tilting her head.

You almost instantly get what Dina’s trying to say, she’s leaving a drunk Ellie, with no other then you.

“W-what the fuck no! You two got her drunk?” You say shaking your head.

“Pleasee!” Dina says moving her hands in a praying position.

“I am not drunk!” Ellie says slurring over every word. As she leans on Jesse.

“Dina..” You groan, you meet Ellie’s eyes and she smiles at you. Which ironically is probably the first time you’ve seen her smile, nonetheless towards you.

“Can she walk?” You ask moving your hand to pinch the temple of your nose.

“Uhm yes!” Dina nods and smiles.

“Fuck fine? But you actually owe me.” Once you finish your sentence Dina nods and smiles hugging you quickly.

“Thank you!” Dina says quickly

“Thank you.” Jesse smiles at you.

Both of them wave at you as they say thank you once again. And now it’s literally just you and Ellie, left completely alone.

Another annoying factor is that she could apparently walk, but needs to fucking lean on you as she stumbles over every single step.

Her arm is slung over your shoulder and you guys are both silently walking down the hallway. Till you see Ellie’s room.

You haven’t been in Ellie’s room, not once, and not so surprisingly you didn’t actually care.

Every time you were near Ellie it was like walking on eggshells, so avoiding her room was usually purposeful.

But when you open the door your welcomed with a twin bed, that’s covered with a green duvet, she has a few guitars which you were actually aware of considering you heard her playing all throughout the day. (And OFTEN night..)

Her room represented one of a teenage boys who’s never been in the radius of a female..

It was nerdy which had a chuckle threaten to rise outside your lips, for someone who is was constantly mean to you it was funny to see she had dinosaur stuffed animals and literal posters of space on her wall.

Ellie continues to stumble but you sit her down on her bed. She starts to lean down on her bed but you shake your head.

“Stay up” You say looking around her room talking again. “Where’s your dresser?”

Ellie yawns and hesitantly sits up. “Umm- In the closet” Her voice is still slurring, Dina and Jesse had a tendency of getting Ellie plastered.

You open her closet door and look at the draws before turning back to her. “Which one has your like- pyjamas?”

Ellie stands up again, literally almost falling face flat.

But in a quick reflex moment you grab her wrist and pull her up as she also uses her strength to stand up.

Ellie’s hand finds your waist, and this was simply because in a flash she just needed more support in order to stay up.

Your face goes red and Mia flashes through your head.

You clear your throat and she pulls her hand right off. For a split second you saw panic in Ellie’s eyes, with a slight mix of awkwardness.

Even though she moved her hand off your waist she points at the one third off the bottom

“It’s third-from the bottom.”

“You literally could have just stayed sitting instead of almost falling.” You smile looking at Ellie and her eyes look back at you.

“I want to pick my own!” Ellie smiles.

You look at both Ellie’s eyes. And in a weak moment Ellie’s eyes trail eventually giving a glance to your lips.

You quickly turn your head trying to ignore everything that just fucking happened. She’s clearly fucking drunk.

“Pick then!” You say taking another side step from Ellie trying to create some much needed space between the two of you.

Ellie pulls out a pair of back shorts and a white long sleeve.

“Good?” You look at Ellie and she follows up with a nod.

Since Ellie was drunk she didn’t think twice to start to peel her layers off, and luckily for you she had a few so you didn’t actually see shit.

You quickly turn to face Ellie’s closet door.

To say you didn’t except anything of this would be underplaying the whole situation. Plus you’re now starting to regret accepting Dina’s stupid request to take care of a drunk fucking Ellie.

You stayed turned around facing Ellie’s door for about 1-2 minutes before counting to 20 and turning around, you know just to be safe.

Ellie was dressed now. And her previous clothes are now on the floor.

She yawns once again and looks at you.

“You good?” You say since she’s not talking.

“Just tired..” Her eyes seem heavy and you nod.

You pull Ellie’s bed cover over so the blankets are half open, allowing Ellie to have room. She gets the sign and walks to her bed sitting then sliding her legs over.

“I’m older then you?” Ellie smiles again as she leans her head back on the pillow.

“Mhm?” You say tilting your head looking at her trying to understand what she’s getting at.

“Just funny” Ellie laughs and talks. Her slurring is a bit more clear compared to the slurring mess she was just 10 minutes again.

“Why?” You look back at her and again her eyes happen to be trailing over your face taking in your facial features.

“You’re literally tucking me in..” Ellie’s voice is soft and you know you should get out of her room. Because everything is feeling a bit to much. Like your grazing on the lines of your previous “friendship” if you could even call it that.

“Night Ellie” You say going to the door of her bedroom.

You hear a slight “Hm..” and it’s followed by a little “Night..”

After you shut Ellie’s door your faced with your own. You want to process what just happened, try explain why Ellie looking at you like that. felt weird..?

The idea of you and Ellie being friends started become all less foreign.

Because the feeling of roommates was fading, and the possibility of being friends was forming..

AN -> PART 3! ikkk this part is so extremely short but I swear it’s for the plottt 😭

Gonna be so real i don’t have a full layout for part 4? but!! I know how I want the story to end so probably 2 more parts after the fourth one!

I know this part probably wasn’t that good but i’m building tension so yeahhh!

Tysm for reading! 🫶🏽

I can’t even put in to full words how much I appreciate the nice comments I get each time I post, and it makes the whole experience of writing so much more enjoyable so tytyty 💕💕

(except part 4 in a week or 2) 😚

((I will aim for a week but since I don’t have a full layout idk))

Taglist - @a-little-bit-of-everybody @bready101 @shiimer @boobdrug @amberputh @macaroni676

(lmk if you wanna be on taglist)

[altarrot]

LAMB TO SLAUGHTER.

ao3 issue.

synopsis: a malevolent enemy resides in the dead depths of the forest during dusk, as the warnings come and go through, but said enemy was never anticipated to be so enrapturing. authors note: making my first fic on tumblr on the predator and prey trope because like... why not

[ ♡ ] pairing: killer!simon "ghost" riley + fem!reader

[ ♡ ] genre: smut, sexual content

[ ♡ ] warnings: unprotected sex, innocence kink, soft!mean!ghost, slight taunting, loss of virginity, overstimulation, mild degradation, pet-names, dirty talk, corruption kink, age difference, oral sex (fem!receiving), sex in a forest, slight knife-play, slight breeding kink, possessive sex.

PART 1/2 | PART 2

Living in a small, unpopulated town; there was no doubt that scandals got around through other people’s mouths easily, including potential myths. Serial killers. Sightings of extraterrestrial entities. A great majority of it was falsehood and just something to possess a rise out of the community. Although, serial killer scandals were no joke compared to entities; which is what has been circulating throughout the small town for the past couple of weeks, some supposed serial killer inhabiting the local forest.

Despite there being masses of locals and officers released on a search into the forest on a daily, there was no success in locating the whereabouts of this fallacy. Worrisome spread like a plague and increased in size by each passing day, like some sort of rise of a satanic panic. Your parents, already had been plagued by this rising anxiety, warns you of staying inside all day, keeping the doors nailed shut. A single hunting rifle was granted to you, but never used; guns were something that you’ve never learnt to use, even though your father was a huge thing on hunting. (Even when you were a little girl, you declined the offer of hunting).

Of course, you would be like the average human caught in the spider’s web of this situation; terrified, fearing for life — but you just weren’t. You were more curious than anything, completely, and utterly curious to the murderer.

So at the stroke of midnight, your parents secured in their beds with rifles at their bed-side tables, you undid the lock of the back door — pulling the wooden panel open by the knob, and allowing yourself to be exposed to the outside. Conveniently, your house was pin-pointed right where the forest was, it was practically apart of your backyard. You were hesitant at first sight, trembling and enthralled by hesitance, but you soon gave it up.

Your blood ran cold in your veins as you made your steps down the porch steps, through the fielded weeds, and into the sea of forest. The more steps you took, the deeper you found yourself in the vast region of darkness, leaves of the overhead trees with little cracks of your only source of light; a faint glow of moonlight in which hung from further than the trees. Your surroundings were silent except the crunch of a fallen tree branch or an unusually heavy breath that drew from your mouth, the atmosphere was unnerving.

It was completely idiotic of you to venture out into serial-killer territory with only a simply, frilly dress of lace clothing your body from the wind. A compact switchblade rests in your fist, now noticed with a dull blade but you considered it decent enough to stab a person out of self-defense. Taking notice, your heartbeat hammers in your chest more irregularly. It swells and puffs up, making it harder to breathe in some ways, though you push through and squint your eyes at the shadows to push on.

Stupid. Stupid and brainless is what you were. You had no purpose in even proceeding with a haphazard goal. Maybe it was because you wanted to prove some bravery, make up for the times you were too coward to spend your childhood hunting and touching animal carcasses. Bravery was something you lacked and wanted to prove as something you could change, something that could be converted into something useful.

Yet, you pursued your hollow journey, swearing to yourself that you could feel eyes scorching — stalking every single one of your movements. The fictitious thought got a rise of goosebumps lining up your arms, beads of sweat forming at your skin. Although, you convinced yourself none of it was real; just another fragment of your imagination, something to frighten you to death. You drift further away into the area of woods, your curiosity striving to pave its away through your fears.

Your jaw clenches at an abrupt sound from behind. It’s a combination of crunching on dead twigs and a pale breathing — though, you’re not really sure if there was an accompanied breathing or if it was just a factor of fear acting up. You swear you’re on your last bit of sanity, about to stumble away and lose your mind right in the middle of a horrific-looking forest.

Unfortunately, there was no fear factor acting up, and it was proven when the crunch of leaves surge in speed right up the spine behind you. You’re granted no time to make a break for it or even react when a blade is pressed into the pulsing bunch of your neck, body staggering right into a larger, more towering one.

As you look up into the upper-half of the obscured silhouette, you can only make out two baths of darkened eyes which were highlighted in the luminesce of the moon. He had eyes without a face, veiled with a balaclava imprinted with features of a skull, and pale skin smeared with blotches of tar-like paint around the eyes. Edgy, but in this scenario with a blade to your neck, horrifying. You struggle to release from the man’s grasp but it’s no use when he’s made up of pure muscle, strength at levels of insanity.

“What’s a sweet, little girl doing out here at midnight?” his voice is raspy, deepened with an accent. Your heartbeat is set at severe rates.

The man holds you against him; one of his brawny arms is wrapped fully around your chest while the other is occupied with the knife. He’s a monster, you thought, barbaric for the sake of blood and other violent needs. Splatters of dried blood are visible through the holes of his mask on his skin, some of the droplets not so visible on the blacks of the mask. You pause with your struggles, stiff with the only gestures of your up-and-down chest.

“Are you going to kill me?” your words come out as an unexpected shushed whine.

“Kill you?” he said, with an almost chuckle, “Why would I bring myself to kill such a pretty thing like you?”

Relief swamps your nervous system, nearly calmed with his response. You were too naive, you gave it too quickly to facile words that could easily be frauds of the real, brutal thing. Turning back and escaping was certainly an option; it wasn’t an easy one but there could be some figured way to achieve it. However some buried, sadistic identity was telling you to stay with him — let him have his way with you, deprive you of your innocence, be something useful and obedient.

Your survival instincts were dropping like dead flies, that sadistic identity dominating those instincts. Strangely enough, you were establishing some sort of comfort in him, some portion to fill in the complete void of desolation. A pre-arousal starts to stain your cunt, panties sticky, and dressed thighs feeling limp about to give out. His breathing is heavier, as if he’s as desperate as you were, his posture adjusts. Now, you’re straight stood against his chest, eyes half-lidded and arousal felt between your inner thighs.

There’s a pulsating, overwhelming beat at your cunt; heat rushing to your face and body overturned in a fever-ish trance. He resumes with sharing a strict eye contact with you, taking notice of your doe eyes which twitched every so often.

“Your burning up, honey,” he said, observing your bare skin which smoldered under his gloved hands, “Wonder why.”

You nod your head in a disagreeing motion, not wanting to surrender to your repressed feelings, but you had a gut feeling he could tell; a fusion of sexual need, desperation, and dread which fogged in your two eyes. There wasn’t even an effort to try and hide it away from him, you just let it exhibit out like some showcase to the public eye.

“Can’t even tell me why, it’s because you’re needy, huh? Your panties all stained and sticky just because of me, getting off at knife-point.” he said, taunting how vulnerable you appeared underneath him, “You just want me to ruin this little pussy, don’t you? Needed someone to please your sticky cunt?”

God, you can’t even fight back, not at this point.

Whimpers fall from your lips like the leaves of the trees, lips red and wounded from constantly biting at them. Your eyes brim with small tears, edging to fall from position, “Please, need it so bad…”

“Shh, don’t worry, angel.” he coos, moving in sync with you towards a tree stump; pinning you to the object with the knife now tucked in his jeans. He gropes at your breasts through the flimsy fabric before hooking your thighs in a hold, lowering himself to his knees as he places your legs on his shoulders. “Is this what you want, love? Want me to make your tight pussy feel all better?”

Bobbing your head, you motion in agreement and mumble inaudible pleads. He smirks to himself behind the mask in satisfaction, bundling up the skirt of your dress till your soft panties — all sticky with arousal down your thighs — were exposed to the cold public. His thumb massages at the wet stain at the front of your panties, hips swaying in a poor effort to obey the press of the digit. He uses his empty fingers to clasp under the waistband of the cloth, dragging it down the two limbs you stood on, and pooling it down at your ankles.

You find yourself shivering on your laid back; lower-half entirely bare and only protected in a rip-able piece of dress. Your folds seem to gleam along with the natural source of the moon, cunt clenching around in vain.

“Fuck, honey, I’m going to ruin your pretty cunt so bad.” he said, his fingers branding touch into your thighs, bottom-half of his face exposed to pink lips and pale skin. “Ghost.”

“Huh?” you ask, absent-mindedly, astray.

“My name. Call me that when I ruin you.”

Ghost then wraps his naked lips around your cunt with no more words, sucking at the flesh, savoring the sweet taste. Your body convulses for a second before being nailed down to the wood of the stump, physically feeling yourself being ruined by the town’s most wanted. Squirming, releasing a variety of whines into the atmosphere. His fingers soon join the ministrations of his mouth, the two fingers pumping up inside of you, sending you into a condition of euphoria with the immense pressure.

Throwing your head back over the edge of the stump, you spread your legs further apart for him, bathing in the nature of his fingers and mouth smacking at your cunt at the same time. You grip at the top of his mask, the black cloth stretching with elasticity. A symphony of angelic, erotic sounds hum from your lips as his mouth gives pleasure at your clit. Ghost grunts occasionally, muffled right into your delicate features. A strain in your stomach warns of your closing orgasm.

Your hips practically ride his tongue in careless movements; doing so until the tension in your stomach climbed up steep heights until it reached the top, letting go — fucked-out and overtook with euphoria while his fingers thrusted through your sensitive cunt.

“Ghost…”

“That’s a good girl, so good,” Ghost said, extracting his fingers and lapping at the arousal that stained them. “All nice and stretched out for me, yeah? You want me to fuck up this innocent pussy?”

“Please,” you whimper, narrowing your eyes through the absence of light to peer at him, eyes doe and watery — unknown to what you were pleading to.

“Don’t worry about it, doll,” he stated, “It’ll feel good, I promise. I’ll breed your cunt, ruin you for every other man,” Ghost strokes your face with a gentle significance, “Would you like that?”

You swipe your tongue across a bitten lower lip. “Want that, I’ll be all yours, tear me apart.”

“That’s right, angel,” he said with a sharp breath, hands of veins coming to unfasten the belt that held up his jeans, the combination of his pants and briefs sliding to his ankles; his cock was erect, rigid right against the black tactical jacket he wore. “You’re all mine, and I’ll ravage you as much as I want.”

Empty-headed, you extended both your arms out to his face, caressing it, as you rammed your own lips into his. He tasted of a faint tea, and flavors of vulgar nature, he was heaven. His hands rest at either side of your waist while yours rest at his divided face — the lips of a murderer on yours were so immorally pleasant to hunger at. With an inclined figure over your stow figure, he parts his lips from yours and composes himself right between your thighs, fingers holding down onto the skin.

Ghost pushed lined his cock with the entrance of your cunt; he sheathes himself into you in a quick, single move of his hips. You whine, clenching around him in fluttering flickers, taking the time where he wasn’t moving to give a try at adjusting to both his length and bulk. His eyes stalk into your body, keeping them pinned on you as he starts off slowly, growing to be increasingly fast.

“That’s it, you’re okay, love,” he breathes out, “Keep clenching around my cock, just like that.’

You’re moaning his name like a verse. The blends of skin-on-skin, masculine grunting, and feminine moans were like a pitch-perfect harmony of raw lascivious.

“So angelic, baby, such a pure little thing.” Ghost grunts, “Such a whore for my cock, she likes having her sloppy cunt fucked by a killer, doesn’t she?”

You rapidly nod, tears streaming in rivers across your cheeks, down your neck. Having him inside you was the most divine thing you could’ve experienced, so cherish-able and unforgettable. He was some kind of angelic entity, casted by the looks of demonic circumstances, much like Lucifer. His lips meet at the fleshy base of your neck, teeth stabbing at the skin, soothing over the impacted wounds with the muscle of his tongue.

His thrusts are near-animalistic, pounding through your walls like a starved man, feeling him right at your cervix. You never thought you could get so defenseless, so yearning for a man of his nature. Some blood stains the skin of his cock, a symbol of loss, no longer the pure he says you are. But that could only mean you truly did belong to him.

“You going to let me come inside you, honey?” he asks, “You’ll never be alone again, I’ll always be a reminder of the first man you’ve fucked.”

“Yes!” you squeal, “Come inside me, make me yours.”

And with a few more stinging, godlike thrusts, the stance of his hips are pressed right up against your swollen cunt, the warmth of his seed felt splattering your walls — right as deep to your cervix. He remains in place, slouched over and heavy-breathed, you’re grasping at the chances of air into your lungs. You feel him twitch inside of your overstimulated cunt, earning him a small number of additional whines from your vocal chords.

Some of his come, along with your arousal, leaks out you and stains your inner thighs in a white; his cock is painted in the same shade. You’re both left to sound like panting dogs. (Having fucked like two creatures out in the wilderness, which was, substantially, exactly that.)

Ghost parts away, a last whine trailing off at the loss of him making you feel so full. His torso tugs with more breaths that were in progress of being caught; you’re giving him a latent smile — one of a drunk’s, no teeth bared, just lines of your lips. It’s abnormal. You weren’t supposed to show a man of homicide such endearment, passiveness — unless under the influence of some kind of Stockholm Syndrome — that was impossible, only having met him as of tonight.

“Such a pretty girl,” he said, reaching for back for the knife and sliding the blade in a caressing motion at the side of your face, “Like a lamb — I’m so obsessed with you.”

With his knife, handled in a solid fist, embracing your flesh — littered with imprints of your face pressing into the bark of the stump — he drew the metal of the blade to your collarbone. Some of the bone stuck out like an overgrown root in the ground, most of it just plain skin. You’re stuck in a vision of ecstasy, left incompetent at the hands of him; so all you really can do is grant him the consent of him to touch you, wound you up, kill you, earn up to his title.

A shiver crawls up your spine when the edge comes into contact with your cold, nude skin. Fear drowns in your cold veins, awaiting the possible death that could send you lifeless in a matter of seconds.

But to your own revelation, there is no flash of red, or a blistering puncture of skin in the contour of his weapon — only a minimal blistering. When you angle your head to look for the source of the slight burn, there’s a crimson puncture right above your breasts, deep enough to bleed; shallow enough to not cut at the bone or exhaust blood to the point of inevitable death. Gaping up at him through your languid sights, a rare tenderness occupies his distinct eyes; almost humane, incapable of brutality. He’s still situated between your spread thighs which are support at his waist, the material of his jacket sticking to your sweat-lustered skin.

There’s a strange intimacy shared between the both of you; with his body found in position between your thighs and hands — that abandoned the knife back into his pocket — latching themselves at each side of your hips. His fingers were pressed in a bruising, modest touch. As Ghost inclined himself back down your body, his visible lips press kisses to your forehead that drifted and continued on at your neck. You release a noise from your chest, circling your arms around his chest in a sort of hug, a hand brought up to his head and guiding him to your lips instead — deepening out a kiss that was more passionate, messier than before.

“You should’ve killed me, like all the others.” you confess at his lips.

He gathers one last taste of you before pulling away, still kept close and leaned down. Silent, he observes you and the confession which lingered in the air, possibly choosing wisely on how to answer it.

“You’re special,” he states, “Angelic, docile — nothing that I’ve come across before.”

[mellowcherryblossomblaze]

Trolls: Band Together TV Series (Idea) Part 2

NOTE: AGAIN, NONE OF THIS IS OFFICIAL, JUST SPECULATION. BUT IF ANYONE WANTS TO WRITE FANFICTION BASED ON THESE IDEAS, FEEL FREE TO DO SO.

Trolls: Family Harmony: Season 2

It's A Troll-A-Bration!: Poppy and Branch visit newlyweds Gristle and Bridget as they celebrate Troll-A-Bration. Viva tags along to prove she can put her fear of Bergens behind her, but struggles to keep her anxiety in check.

Physical Hair-apy: Floyd's hair has become weaker following his time in the diamond, so Synth and Smidge help him build his strength back up in the Hairnasium. But Floyd becomes frustrated with his lack of progress, worried he may never fully recover from his trauma.

Down The Creek: Branch is shocked to learn that Clay has formed a friendship with Creek, but reluctantly decides not to say anything. It is only when Clay gets a glimpse of Creek's true colors that he realizes the negative impact his 'friend' has on his little brother.

Cloud Pleaser: While visiting Bruce on Vacay Island, Branch learns that a vacationing Cloud Guy has been annoying his brother all week. So Branch bravely decides to keep Cloud Guy busy for the day so that Bruce can get some work done.

Fast-Friend Matching: John Dory enlists Poppy's help after realizing his prolonged time in the wilderness has hindered his ability to socialize with other Trolls. So Poppy sets him up on a series of 'fast-friend matches' to help him get back in the friend-making game.

Date Night: After realizing they've never had an official date together, Poppy and Branch try to have a romantic dinner alone, but they both keep getting distracted by other tasks and Trolls.

Queen For A Day: Poppy comes down with a bad cold, so Viva decides to take over her responsibilities as Queen until she's better. But she quickly realizes that keeping up with Poppy's daily activities is harder than it looks.

Vocal Range For Trollings: After learning that Floyd used to be a music instructor in Mount Rageous, Branch suggests that he take a job as a teacher for the younger Trollings.

Classical Clay: Clay becomes fascinated by the Classical Trolls' lifestyle, so he tries to hide his Pop tendencies and go full Classical to win their approval. But Demo eventually helps him see that the Classical Trolls have become more open-minded to other genres.

Check-In: Poppy is overjoyed to have a surprise reunion with DJ Suki after running into her and King Trollex at Bruce's restaurant. As DJ explains how her stay in Techno Reef has been, Poppy seeks Bruce's help when she worries that she and DJ have begun to grow apart.

Caved In: Stranded in the forest during a rainstorm, Branch and John Dory take shelter in a cave for the night. John Dory gets a glimpse of his little brother's survival skills, and Branch learns more about his older brother's past when he shares a story about their mother.

How Are You?: Poppy spends an entire day helping her friends with their problems, while unknowingly letting some of her own fears and insecurities slip out. Too caught up in work to notice, it isn't until her family intervenes that Poppy discovers that she's been ignoring her own feelings for longer than even she realized.

[charlottecutepie]

☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton)

Summary: He was a likeable middle-aged man who had wonderful children, his dream job and a beautiful wife. He never blamed himself for his own actions, or to be more exact, he never thought about their consequences.

author note: Ive been thinking for a very long time whether I should publish this fic here. this is my fav fic I wrote for fnaf, I especially like the way I portrayed William here. so please, if any of you would like to see this story here, can you leave a comment? It’ll help me to understand. I’m just unsure if I should post this fic here :’’)

tags: darkfic, unhealthy relationship, angst, smut with plot, p in v, dubcon, oral sex, rough and gentle sex, daddy kink, blood play, knife play, fear play, hurt/comfort, violence, gore/murders, child abuse, follows fnaf lore, moral and physical abuse, virginity kink, anxiety disorder, age gap, daddy issues, unreliable narrator, hallucinations, hidden pairing, William is sick, psychopathy, unhealthy narcissism

Chapter 2.

Chapter 1. Thoughts

Chilly spring night. Light wind and rain. It's so fresh outside that the opposite effect appears: you feel as if you are suffocating from excess air. Outside is your favourite smell of wet grass after the rain. Light smile appears on your lips, and you carelessly go out on the porch of your house, looking at the beautiful view in front of you.

At such moments, everything around seems to be a part of you, you feel some kind of connection with nature and this world. Peace, tranquility, two things what you lack in life.

Today was a bad day. Maybe tomorrow will be better? Tomorrow will be the same. And when will it be better? Does this hell have an end?

Your head is filled with bad thoughts. It feels like every day is getting a little worse than the previous one. You never understood why you deserved such treatment from your father. It was as if he was doing everything so that you wouldn't feel like his daughter. He never even called you that. Something bad happened in your family every day, mom and dad always argued, and you always ran into your room in a state of panic, anxiety. What if father does something to her? That's what happened a few years ago. When you called your aunt in tears, begging her to come, because your father broke your mom's leg and beat her to a concussion. You could have been next if your aunt hadn't arrived on time. That evening, the picture of father changed dramatically in your little child's head.

“Father” means something cold, something cruel. The one who can punch, beat, shout, scream. Abuse.

You live with this thought to this day, but the only thing that has changed is that now there is no father anymore. He died a month ago, which was a shock to your whole little family. You hardly remember what happened exactly on the day of his death, but you clearly memorised your mother who cried all night because she knew well that the only one who could work to feed the family was her husband.

And now, because of this husband she cannot find a well-paid job, because he took care to provide her with a serious disability. And you're too young to work, first you must finish school and university.

Your skin was covered with goosebumps, you went back into the house. Passing by mom's room, you made sure that she was asleep and went to your own one.

Tomorrow is another day.

…

June 22.

“Y/n, breakfast is ready.” you heard mom's voice from the kitchen. Telling her you'd be coming soon, you headed to the bathroom to comb your hair and wash your face.

On the dining table you saw a plate with your favorite breakfast. Pancakes with honey, it couldn't not make you happy. You smiled and sat down opposite your mom. Woman was in a joyful mood.

“Good morning, dear, how did you sleep?” she asked gently, examining your face expression. That's how your conversation started, about everything and nothing at once. She told something about her plans for today, for a week, about her friends, about how one of them gave birth again. You just enjoyed her monologue, sometimes nodding and shaking your head. It was nice for you to see a sparkle in mom's eyes, it was something strange and unique for you, but warming soul. “I absolutely forgot that soon is your birthday!”

“Oh, really? If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have remembered…” you answered in confusion, fidgeting in your chair and twitching your leg. For some reason, the mention of your birthday made you uncomfortable. Probably because it will be your first birthday without your father. After all, when he was alive, you never really celebrated it. The maximum that was — sweets that your mother gave you in secret from him. You wonder what will happen this time?

“How are we going to celebrate?” Mom asked, smile on her face.

You looked at the floor, nervously fiddling with your shorts. You scratched your head, trying to think of something, but no idea came to mind. Your thoughts are empty again.

“It's your 18th birthday… We need to celebrate it well somehow.” for a second she paused, before looking at you with cheerful face. “Oh… Mr. Afton!”

Your eyes widened in surprise, because after the funeral, your family stopped communicating with Afton family.

“Mom, what are you up to?” you frowned. To be honest, you always got shivers running down your spine from his name, because your last meeting was at that cemetery, on the day of your father's funeral. Memories have entered your mind, forcing you to remember your last dialogue with Mr. Afton.

After the burial itself happened, you ran away from the crowd away. Your heart was racing like crazy, trying to jump out of your chest. You sat down on a wet bench, covering your face in hysterics. Tears streamed down your cheeks, dripping onto a puddle under the bench.

“Young lady,” a low-pitched male voice called you out of hysteria. “Everything is okay? You've been sitting here for hour.”

You opened your eyes and raised your head. Next to you was standing was a tall, middle-aged man with dark brown hair, dressed in black trousers and a jacket. He leaned towards you, holding an umbrella over your head. His face seemed painfully familiar, but because of the hysteria, you couldn't remember who it was.

“Oh god, Y/n? I didn't recognize you, little one. Why are you sitting here all alone?” he smiled broadly as he sat down next to you on the bench, still holding the umbrella for you. “Your mom is looking for you, she's so worried. Her beloved girl is lost.”

You recognised this man. It was none other than William Afton. One of your father's friends, he often came to visit you, and your family also visited him. You were embarrassed by ignoring his questions because you didn't know what to respond. He's been staring at your face the whole time.

“Come on, princess, I see how cold you are.” with these words, he took off his jacket, putting it on your shoulders. “I understand how hard it is for you, honey.”

You haven't received so many nicknames from any men for all your 17 years of life. Never, not once. His voice at some point began to seem more comfortable and soothing. Because of all the surging emotions, you burst into tears again in front of him, no longer hiding your face. William, not wasting a minute, threw umbrella and took you in his arms, so that your face was hidden in his chest. His cold hands stroked your hair, soothing you, calming you. It may have looked strange from out of context, but you really needed support in such hard moment.

“Don't cry, Y/n. You'll be fine, little one.” he talked and talked endlessly, but because of your own tears and sobs, you ignored everything, only burying your nose in his chest more.

“He's the owner of a pizzeria! Do you want to celebrate there? I'm sure he'll give us a discount in honor of such an event.” her smile never disappeared for a second. You were already beginning to doubt at how real her emotions were.

“Are you sure? We don't have much money anyway…”

“Never mind, I want you to finally have the best birthday, dear.” she winked and got up from the table, putting the plates and mugs in the sink.

Your lips curled at the thought of having to see William again.

[tasteleeknow]

HELLO STRANGER. PART ONE.

pairing: minho ft. hyunjin x fem!reader genre: smut, angst, fluff, soulmate!au. enemies to lovers. jealousy. pining. unrequited love. content: 18+ minors dni. word count: 7k

summary: after watching everyone around you pair off with their soulmate, you finally get your turn. a slow burn strangers to enemies to lovers soulmate!au with jealousy and angst and smut and suffering (and softness ofc).

series masterlist & taglist ♡ pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

♡ series masterlist

mention of death (a recurring theme, not a main character). mc has anxiety. mention of body insecurity.

“I’m so happy for you, Mina. I-I really am.” 

Your roommate was engaged to her soulmate. She’d woken you up at 2am, flicking your lights on and jumping up and down on your bed until you’d roused enough to comprehend what she was saying. A little over a year ago she’d gotten a notification—the person that suited her more than anyone else on earth had been found. 

“She’s been trying to do it for weeks, apparently. She kept chickening out,” Mina giggles as she fiddles with the ring on her finger. “Isn’t it pretty?” she says, holding it out for you to inspect. 

She’d shown you many times in the 20 minutes she’d been sitting cross-legged on your bed. You indulge her, taking her delicate hand in yours to take another look at the admittedly very pretty ring. Her joy was a little overwhelming, you’d been so low for so long. 

It was only a few months after Mina met her soulmate that your boyfriend met his. He’d lied to you, signing up for the matching service behind your back. When he’d left, you’d signed up yourself in your anger—as if it could do anything to hurt him back. He didn’t care. 

Neither did you, not anymore. You watched the people around you pair off, so distracted by their own joy not one of them had asked you about your lack of it. Then, a few weeks ago you’d received your notification. You’d stared at your phone screen, trying to comprehend the reality of it. All you had to do was acknowledge the match and agree on a time to meet. Then… you’d be one of the happy ones? You’d thrown your phone onto the bed, ignoring it until you were forced to pick it up again. You hadn’t told anyone since. 

You look up at your friend again, her cheeks rosy—likely from a mixture of wine and excitement. “Mina?”

“Mm?” she responds absentmindedly, not looking up from her ring. 

“I-I got my notification…” Her eyes snap up to meet yours. “...a few weeks ago,” you finish. 

“What?! Who are they?!” she squeals, falling forward to grab your hands in hers—flapping them up and down. 

“I don’t know, I didn’t respond.” 

She drops both your hands onto the bed, eyes wide. “What? Why?”

“I…don’t know. I’m scared, I guess.” 

She shuffles up to sit beside you against the pillows. “Ya know, I was scared at first too.”

You look up to her face, she’s looking at her ring again. You remembered the first week after she got her notification. She’d been so bouncy and overwhelmingly happy, you don’t remember her being nervous at all. “You were?” 

“Mm, I know the whole idea is that you are supposed to be perfect for each other. But… what if I was the exception? What if I wasn’t enough for her? It felt…like such a huge thing to live up to—being someone’s perfect person. I just wanted to be enough for whoever it was I was going to meet.” She reaches over to take your hand. “Then I met her…and that all felt so silly. She was everything and I knew that even if I wasn’t enough for her yet, I'd do everything to make sure I was. She made me wanna be the best person I could be and it…was a lot—but in the best way.” 

“I don't… know if I’m ready to be the best version of me.” 

“That’s the point, even if you aren’t. They’ll help you. Besides, what if they need you to help them be the best version of them?”

“I’m not sure I could help anyone with that…” 

“Just try? Yeah? I’ll be here,” she says, squeezing your hand gently. 

You look over to your nightstand where your phone is charging. You couldn’t really bear to look at it these days. Mina nudges your shoulder. You reach over to grab it. She’s quiet as you open the app. Your heart races as you enter times you are available to meet, hesitating over the final button that confirms your agreement. You look down to Mina’s hand on your leg, the delicate ring catching your eye. You take a deep breath, then hit confirm. 

Three weeks and they haven’t confirmed a time. Whoever they were, they clearly didn’t want you. You knew it was silly, to be upset about something you’d done yourself. Maybe they just had the same insecurities you did? Mina was busy with wedding preparation, you didn’t blame her for being distracted. She was happy and you were happy she was happy. Everything was fine. 

“What about these?” Mina says, pointing out some blue carnations. The only other time you’d been in a flower shop like this was when you’d bought some roses for your anniversary with your ex. 

“They’re pretty, are you definitely going with blue then?”

“Mm,” she confirms, “blue and purple.” She wanders away again and you trail behind, fiddling with the chain dangling off your phone case. “Haven’t heard back?” she asks. You pause briefly, it’s the first time she’s asked in over a week. 

“No.” 

“They’re probably panicking like you were.” 

“Yeah,” you mutter. 

You’re a little out of it as she leads you around the store—fiddling with the chain the entire time. The loud ring of a notification startles you, a small squeak leaving your lips. Mina looks up at you as you flick your phone to silent, you must have absent-mindedly flicked it while you were fiddling. You look up to meet her eyes. 

“Check it,” she prompts. 

“It’s probably nothing.” 

“Check it,” she repeats. So you do. He’s confirmed to meet the next day. Just like that. Mina snatches your phone from your hands. 

“Tomorrow?! Oh my god,” she says before shoving your phone back in your hands. “Confirm you’re going.” 

“I’m going…” you mumble, staring down at the screen—attempting to process it. 

Mina’s laugh breaks you from your daze. “Yes, you’re going. Come on, let’s go pick your outfit.” She grabs your arm, pulling you from the store. 

You hardly sleep that night, spending the entire next morning cleaning your apartment—attempting (and failing) to distract yourself from the anxiety stirring in your chest. Your small cat brushes against your leg as you bend down to clean her tray. 

“Hey, baby. You might meet a new friend soon, hm?” She meows at you. “Mm, I know. It’s scary for me, too. We’ll be okay, I'm sure they’re nice.” 

A clap of thunder makes you jump. It had been storming all night. Usually storms relax you but apparently not even that could calm you now. “Gonna shower now,” you whisper to your cat, stroking her fur one last time. 

You’d been putting it off, showering. You didn’t feel like looking at yourself. You didn’t consider yourself a particularly insecure person, most of the time you managed to stay pretty neutral about how you looked. You were fine. Right now though? Every negative thought you’d ever had was stirring to the surface. You couldn’t help pausing just before stepping into the shower, twisting back and forth to inspect yourself in the mirror. You’re fine. 

You struggle to close your umbrella, shoving the handle into your stomach so you can push it down—eventually managing to collapse it fully. It’s still pouring. You’d closed your eyes the entire bus trip, listening to the rain and attempting to settle your nerves. You weren’t particularly successful. You rest your hand on the wall, steadying yourself—your empty stomach growling as you gather yourself. This is fine. 

You look up at the revolving door. A girl walks out with a huge grin on her face—giggling to herself as she passes you. Clearly her meeting went well. You suck in a deep breath, the fresh air helping a little. Then, shoving the umbrella in your bag, you head inside. 

The receptionist hands you a clipboard and a pen and asks you to wait for someone to collect you. It makes you feel like you’re at a dentist appointment. Not great for your nerves. You settle yourself in the corner to read the forms. You expect a disclaimer to cover the company's ass; terms and conditions. It’s a little more than that. Your leg bounces as you scan the pages, pen tapping against the clipboard. 

Customers retain the right to withhold personal information from partners and discontinue communication at any time. Security is present on the premises. You read a paragraph about a wristband each person can use to signal for security discreetly. Why would anyone need that? You realise you're chewing on the pen. Crap. You look up to see if anyone has noticed. You can’t read anymore. You feel like your entire brain is consumed with trying to keep it together. You scribble your name at the bottom of the last page and head to the desk to hand it back. 

“I’m—I’m done with this.” 

“Oh, good. Felix will take you through now,” the receptionist answers, pointing to the blonde man holding a door open for you. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and heading over. This is fine. 

“Good morning, I’m Felix” he greets. His voice is calm and his face bright. You can see why he has this role. 

“Morning.” 

He holds the door for you as pass then leads you down a long hallway, turning to speak to you. “Nervous?”

“A little,” you say, offering him a small shaky smile.  

“You’ll be fine, promise. I’ve worked here awhile and never seen anyone leave without a big smile.” He stops at a cupboard built into the wall, pulling the door open. “Could you hold your hand up for me? Just wanna check your size.”

You offer him your arm and he wraps a small smartwatch around your wrist. “Perfect,” he mutters to himself. 

“This is to call for security?” you ask. 

“Yeah, just press this button on the side. It won’t make a noise. They won’t know you’ve called.”

“Why…why would I need this if everyone always leaves with a smile?” 

“I’m sure it was suggested by a lawyer at some point, just a precaution.” Your hand shakes a little as he secures the strap for you. “You’re okay,” he says, obviously noticing your visible nerves. 

You’re okay. 

“I’ll take you to your room now, okay?” he asks, voice gentle. You look up to his face, counting a few of his freckles as you take a few slow breaths. 

“Okay,” you say after a few seconds. He smiles then turns and leads you through a door to another long hallway. This one has many doors along each side, each one numbered. You count them as you go. He finally stops at door 14. “This is you,” he announces. He doesn’t open it, just turns and looks at you—clearly waiting for you to prepare yourself. 

“Are they… in there already?”

“Mm, we stagger arrivals. He’s been here about 30 minutes.” 

“He?”

“Oops, spoilers,” he says, offering you a playful smile. 

You offer him a weak smile in return then turn to the door only to freeze, staring at the door knob like you had never seen one before. Felix waits patiently at your side. “What if he doesn’t like me?” you mutter under your breath. 

“You know how long I’ve worked here?” Felix says in response, apparently ignoring your question. “4 years,” he continues. You look from the doorknob to his face. “I’d say about 80% of the people I lead to one of these doors ask me some variation of that question.” 

“And they leave happy?”

He smiles and nods. “Mm.” 

You grab the doorknob, ready to get on with it. “Felix?” 

“Yes?”

“Thank you, really.” 

“No worries,” he says, “you’ll be fine.” 

You smile at him one last time and take a deep breath, pushing the door open. A chair scrapes across the ground and you look up to the man standing at a table in the middle of the room. You suppose, he’s yours. You wonder if he thinks you’re disappointing—if you’re not what he expected, what he hoped for. Felix places a gentle hand on your shoulder, helping you enter the room—the door closing behind you. 

The man holds his arm out, gesturing to a lounge along the wall. You suck in a breath, only just realising you’ve been holding it. 

“I saved you a seat,” he says, the first to break the silence. You suppose that was something like a joke, you’re too nervous to offer anything playful back. So instead you hurry over, dropping your bag to the ground as you collapse into the soft couch cushions. He sits himself at the other end, space for another two or three people between you. There’s two water bottles on the table. You should say something. Your name. Name’s are good. You fail to meet his eyes as you introduce yourself, reaching for the bottle instead. 

“Minho,” he offers in return. You look up at him, a nervous smile on your face. He’s pretty, too pretty for you. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. You’re overdressed. 

“Hi,” is all you manage. 

“Hi.” 

“Have you… been waiting long?” 

One corner of his lips curves up. “No, not long.” 

He doesn’t seem nervous at all. Why had he waited three weeks to respond if he wasn’t at all like you? “Ah, that’s good.” 

“Nervous?” he asks, nodding to where you were twisting the cap of the bottle on and off repeatedly. You place it back on the table. 

“Yeah, sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He stands, walking over to a bookshelf. “Do you wanna play a game?” 

“A game?” 

“They have a bunch here. Uno?” 

“...sure.”  

He pulls the deck from the pack as he makes his way back over. “You know how to play?”

You huff out a half laugh. “Uno? Yeah.” 

He smiles. “Just checking. The only thing I know about you is your name and that you like yellow.” 

You look down at your yellow sundress. You had stood out amongst the crowd on the bus, everyone in dark raincoats and jackets. It wasn’t cold, just wet. Your cardigan was enough. “I… It’s my favourite colour, yeah.” 

“It suits you.” 

You look up. He’s focused on dealing the cards. “Thank you,” you say, just above a whisper. 

He flips a card over on the small coffee table and grabs his cards. You exchange small talk as you go. Your ages, what you do for work, if you have any pets. You talk about your cats a little, the first commonality you’ve discovered. You figure you’ll latch onto them whenever any come up, maybe more so than with any other stranger. The unspoken knowledge that you are supposed to be ideal for each other makes it feel like more is at stake. Instead of risking merely an awkward interaction with a stranger, you are both risking… well… your future happiness together. 

He seems kind. Maybe a little reserved, but so were you. You get the feeling he’s holding a lot back, like he’s not entirely here. You wonder if his anxiety just presented differently to yours. 

“Do you live alone?” he asks, slapping a pick up 2 on the stack. You slap one on top, looking up with a small smile. “Got me,” he says, returning your smile and then picking up 4 from the deck. 

“I have a roommate: Mina. What about you?” 

“Hyunjin. Met him at dance lessons years ago, he stuck to me like a leech.” 

“So he loves you?” 

He looks up from his cards, eyes flicking across your face for a moment before he answers. “Mm, I guess he does. Are you close with Mina?” 

“I’m gonna be her maid of honour.” 

“Ah.” He moves a few cards around in his deck. “Is she… with her—I mean did they meet through this?” He gestures to nowhere in particular with his cards, like he can’t speak the word soulmate. 

A small knot of anxiety reappears in your chest. It had eased without you realising, returning now. 

“Yeah, they met a year ago,” you answer. 

“A year? That’s quick.” 

“I guess.” You watch him continue to fiddle with his cards. “It’s your turn,” you prompt. 

He looks up at you. “Right.” Then leans forward to grab a card from the deck. 

“Is Hyunjin… has he met his?” 

He places a colour change card down gently. “Green,” he announces quietly. You expect him to answer your question, but he doesn’t. So you take your turn. It isn’t until you’ve both had two more turns each that he speaks. “He hasn’t.” 

You get the feeling you’ve said something wrong. You fiddle with your cards, realising you’re guaranteed a win. You look up at the man next to you. Is he a sore loser? You know nothing about him at all. You finish the game, looking up at him to see his reaction.

“Well done,” he says calmly as he begins to collect the cards, stacking them into a neat pile. You tuck away another tiny puzzle piece you can use to put together this person who was supposed to be your soulmate. 

You look around the room, desperate to find another activity to save you from any awkward lulls. A big wooden chest catches your eye. You leave him to finish putting the cards away, wandering over to the mysterious chest. It looked like something that would be full of pirate’s gold. You bend down to lift the lid, conscious of the man appearing at the bookshelf next to you. It’s heavy and his hand appears to help you pull it the rest of the way up. 

It’s full of clothes. Costumes and props. You pull a witches hat out, lifting it onto your head and smiling at the man next to you. He smiles back then retrieves a big sunflower hat. “Put this on, it matches your dress.” You drop the witches hat back in the chest. Then, before you can take it from him, he gently lowers the sunflower hat onto your head. You readjust it, feeling your cheeks warm as he bends down to search through the chest again. 

When he stands he has a big red clown nose on. The serious expression on his face makes it all the funnier, drawing out a small laugh from your lips. “Try squeezing it,” he says stoically. You reach up, squeezing the red nose between your fingers. It squeaks, a lot like a dog toy. His mouth curves up a little in one corner then he pulls it from his nose, holding it out to you. 

“You try.” 

Your fingers brush together as you take it from him, a shiver running down your spine at the contact. His eyes on you as you attach the nose to your face makes you nervous. When you look up he wastes no time squeezing it, the high pitched squeak pulling the first actual laugh you’ve heard from him. You join him, the contagious quality of his loud laughter getting you more than anything else. 

By the time you’ve exhausted the large chest of its treasures your stomach hurts, collapsing onto the floor as Minho pulls a big pink bow from his hair. “No, leave it!” you gasp out through your laughter, reaching out to wrap around his wrist before he can drop the bow into the chest. He joins you on the floor, his leg brushing against yours pulls your awareness to your hands. You pull back quickly. 

He stretches his legs out, leaning back on his palms as you both catch your breath. It’s quiet for a moment. It doesn’t feel awkward. Your mouth tugs up at the corners at the revelation. “Why’d you take so long to respond?” he asks, bringing you back down to earth. A heaviness settles over you immediately. 

“I uh…just wasn’t ready,” you answer, pulling a flower crown off your head. Your heart races in your chest as you prepare your next words. “You…took awhile as well.” 

He pulls his legs to his chest, arms resting on his bent knees. “I wasn’t ready either.” 

“You’re ready now?” 

He’s quiet, eyes flicking between yours. Then he stands, offering you a hand up. You make sure your dress stays down as you let him pull you up, his hand warm in yours. He pulls you up effortlessly, fingers brushing together as he releases you. “Would you like to come over for dinner?” he asks. 

“I… Yeah, sure.” 

He walks over to a backpack under the table, pulling it over his shoulder. “Great, I think Hyunjin might be home tonight but he’ll probably stay in his room.” 

“Tonight?” 

He looks up at you. “Yeah… that alright?” 

“Ye-Yeah.” 

“Did you drive here or…?”

“Bus.” 

“I can give you a lift home?” He says, eyes dropping down to his phone as he types something quickly. “I’ll pick you up later. Gotta get a few things for dinner.” 

“I can get the bus.” You’re not sure why you turn him down. 

He looks up at you, brows furrowed. “You sure? It’s probably still raining.” 

“I like the bus.” 

He steps towards you and you hold your breath as he reaches towards your hair, picking out a pink feather—a remnant from your dress up session. “I’ll pick you up at six?” he asks, close enough that your eyes fix on the freckle at the end of his nose. Your soulmate has a nose freckle. Soulmate. 

“Six,” you confirm, voice a little breathy. 

“I…told Hyunjin you were coming and he showed…a lot of interest. He might hang around, sorry.” Minho warns as he steps up to his door. 

“I don’t mind.”

“He’ll keep you company while I finish up with dinner, anyway.”

“Alright.” 

You follow him into his apartment, taking in your surroundings as he leads you to the living room where a boy with short blonde hair sits at a small table on the floor. He jumps up as you enter, a wide grin spreading across his face as he approaches. 

“You’re here,” he greets you like you’re old friends, like you were here for him and not the man standing beside you. You offer him a friendly smile. 

“I’ll leave you two to chat for a bit, i’ll be done soon,” Minho says before backing up towards the adjoined kitchen. You catch him giving his roommate a pointed look and then he turns, leaving you alone. 

Hyunjin gestures to a cushion on the floor by the table, sinking back down to resume his position on the other. He pushes aside a notebook and as he closes it, you catch a glimpse of some sketches. “Can’t believe you’re finally here,” he says, propping his elbows on the table to gazing at you like you’d put the stars in the sky. 

You drop your eyes to the table, feeling a little overwhelmed by his intensity. “Uh, I—I can’t really believe it either. It’s a lot.” 

“Did it go well today?” 

“Um…I think so. Minho hasn’t said anything?” 

He looks to the kitchen then leans over the table so he can lower his voice. “He’s not particularly talkative. You may have noticed.” 

“He…seemed a little reserved but so am I. I don’t mind.” 

His plush lips curve up in one corner. “So it was a quiet session then?” 

“Not…exactly. We played dress up.” You look down at the table, smiling a little to yourself at the memory. Hyunjin is quiet and when you look up at him again he has a soft smile on his face. You drop your gaze to the table, his closed notebook catching your eye again. “Do you draw?” 

He sits back, pushing the notebook in front of you and flipping it open. “Mm, you can look if you want.” You flip through the pages as the boy across from you sits quietly. They’re mostly sketches of people, a few watercolours scattered in. You pause on a page of a silhouette, turned away—hair falling over their face. It makes you sad. You close the book, sliding it gently back across the table. 

“They’re…really good.” 

“Thank you. Do you like art?” 

“I like it. I can’t do it.” You look over to the kitchen, wondering if Minho was an artist. You hadn’t asked. 

“He’s not an artist,” Hyunjin says, like your thoughts are written across your forehead. “I know how it feels…all of this—it’s terrifying.” 

“You—You know?” 

He smiles sadly just as a loud crash comes from the kitchen. “I’ll check on him,” he says, standing and leaving you there at the small table. You take the opportunity to wander around the room, attempting to gather as much information about the man who was supposed to be yours. A small jingle draws your attention to a cardboard box in the corner of the room. A small cat is curled up inside, lazily licking at his paw. 

“Hello baby,” you coo, crouching down to stroke his soft fur. “I have a friend at home who’d love to meet you.” You scratch his chin, the cat lifting his head so you can get a good view of his collar. No name tag. “What’s your name, baby? Which one are you?” 

Minho had mentioned his cats earlier. You’d forgotten their names, too anxious at the time to retain information properly. You look back to the kitchen. Hyunjin hadn’t returned. You lean down to kiss the purring cat on the head and then head towards the kitchen, freezing when you hear the two men arguing—clearly attempting to keep their voices down. 

“I did this for you,” Minho’s anger comes through his voice clearly, despite it being practically in a whisper. “I could lose Sana over this.” 

“Shhhh, keep your voice down,” Hyunjin scolds. “Why are you acting like this?” 

“Like what?” 

“Angry.” 

“Because I’m working my ass off to cook for a stranger when I’d rather be with the girl I fucking love.” 

You stagger back a step, kicking a cat toy across the hardwood floor. The men go silent, alerted to your eavesdropping. Hyunjin appears in the doorway, catching you as you take one more step back. 

“I’m—I—” you stutter. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, spinning and rushing for the door. 

In your rush to snatch your bag from the small table your shin comes into contact with the sharp corner. The pain snaps you out of your panic as you drop to the floor, clutching your leg tightly against your chest as you rock back and forth. He loves someone else. He didn’t want you. He loves someone else. He lo—Hyunjin appears in front of you. 

“Show me,” he says gently. You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You wish you could pass out, just leave the next hour of your life to a clone of you. You can’t do this. You need to get out. You stand abruptly, grabbing your bag from the table and rushing for the door. Hyunjin hovers around you as you shove your feet into your shoes, heels hanging over the ends. “Let me drive you home,” he says, the gentle touch of his hand on your arm snapping your eyes to his. You’d felt comfortable with him since the moment you’d met. He felt safe. You don’t look over his shoulder properly, merely glimpsing Minho standing silently out the corner of your eye. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” he says, offering you a small smile. He opens the door for you and you fight the voice in your head that tells you to turn around, to take one last look at the man you’d thought was yours. 

Hyunjin is quiet as you both walk down the stairs. He’s quiet as he unlocks the car and hands you his phone with the maps app open. He’s quiet as he drives you to your apartment. When the car is parked and the engine is off, you’re almost afraid to break the silence. You do it anyway. “Thank you. I know–I know we just met but you’ve been…very nice. I’m—just thank you.” 

“Can I come in?” 

You turn to look at your door, then back to him. “I—”

“Just wanna make sure you’re alright…and explain things a little.” 

You’re not sure if you want things explained. You feel like collapsing into bed and crying until you pass out. The adrenaline has well and truly worn off, you're too afraid to look at your leg. You’re sure it’s bleeding. “Alright,” you mutter, opening the car door and stepping out on your good leg. You start hobbling towards your door as the sound of the car locking goes off behind you. 

“Can I help?” Hyunjin asks. 

“I’m fine. It’s fine.” 

Mina isn’t home. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or disappointed. You’re not sure about anything. Hyunjin digs out your first aid kit after listening to your directions and joins you in the living room. He’s quiet as he cleans you up. It’s only when he closes the first aid kit that he speaks. “I don’t know how to say this without… without sounding like I’m trying to say I have it worse. I’m… just trying to explain this whole thing. Okay?” 

You nod, emotionally drained. 

“She died. My soulmate. I don’t know if Minho said anything,” the corner of his mouth pulls up into a sad smile. “I can’t imagine he would.” 

“You don’t have to do this.” 

“I do. Just… let me, please?” You sit back, giving him a slight nod. “She—It was… it was the day we were supposed to meet,” he stands up, placing the first aid kit on the table and then sitting next to you on the couch. You don’t know whether to turn your body towards him or give him all the space you can. You stay completely still. “I’m telling you this because I want you to understand why I did what I did. I… encouraged him because I love him like a brother and I want him to be happy. I need him to be happy and you’re—you’re the thing he can have that I can’t. I need him to have you.” 

You can’t help looking at him, turning your body slightly as you try and find a position for your leg that doesn’t hurt. “He doesn’t want me.” 

“He doesn’t know you.” 

“I don’t think he wants to know me. He loves… someone else.” 

“He’s infatuated with a girl he’s known for years. She doesn’t feel the same way. She sleeps with him because it’s easy and he’s there. It’s not… it’s not love.” 

“I’m sorry. About what happened to you. I—I can’t imagine…” you stand, forgetting about your leg and stumbling a little as you catch your footing. He stands quickly, arms outstretched to attempt to catch you. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t want me. I can’t—” you cover your mouth as your voice wobbles, not wanting to cry in front of someone who was essentially a total stranger. 

“Can we exchange numbers?” he asks. “If you ever want to get coffee or… anything…” 

You collapse back onto the couch, digging through your bag so you can hand him your phone. Part of you wants to send him out the door and never see him again, breaking off any connection to Minho entirely. But then, the other part… it wants to hold on, to take Hyunjins hand and beg him to keep you. To help you convince Minho to want you, to love you. When he’s finished he hands it back, a heavy silence falling over the room. 

“I’m not sure… if I'll want to keep in touch,” you say eventually. 

“I won’t contact you. Just… message me if you ever want to talk or meet, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You have to tell me… please?” Mina says as she lays a blanket over your lap. She passes you the mug of coffee she’d made you. “Please?” she asks again. 

“He didn’t want me. That’s it,” you say before blowing over the surface of your coffee and taking a small sip. 

“It doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he want you?” 

You shrug. “He found someone better.” 

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“You said that.”

She’s quiet for a moment. You imagine what she must be thinking. Pity, probably. Her poor friend. Dumped by her boyfriend and then dumped by her soulmate. “You can’t give up. He’s—He’s yours.”

You lean over to place your mug down on the table. “What am I supposed to do? Bother him until he decides to give me his attention? I’m not begging someone to want me, even my soulmate.” 

“Just speak to him. You haven’t even given him a chance to talk about it.” 

You pull the blank up over your shoulders, tucking your chin into the soft warmth. “What if I cry?” you whisper. “I don’t… want to cry in front of him.” 

Your friend leans against you, laying her head gently against your shoulder. “You’re brave. You’ll be okay. If you do cry and he judges you for it then he’s an ass.” 

“I don't… think I can. Not yet.” 

“Alright,” Mina whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Mario Kart?” 

“Morning,” Hyunjin greets, a warm smile on his face—like you were two friends meeting for a casual chat. You look around you, at the other people sitting around engaged in their own conversations. You wonder if they have their soulmates. 

You’d given in, messaging your Minho’s roommate only a week after rushing from his apartment. Minho hadn’t contacted you at all. You wished you were strong enough to let him go, but you weren’t. So here you were, attempting to form a connection with his roommate because you were too cowardly to message the man himself.

A hand waves in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance. “How have you been?” Hyunjin asks. 

“Is that a polite ‘how are you’ or are you actually asking?” 

His plush lips curve up into a small smile. “I’m asking.”

“I miss him. I don’t even know him and I miss him.” 

“Mm, I get it,” he says, tipping sugar into the iced coffee you’d ordered for him. 

“Has he.. said anything?” 

He wraps his hands around the cup, tipping it back and forth a little. “We’ve… not really been talking. We had… a conversation that night and not much since then.” 

Minho was really that angry at his friend for making him meet you? You look down to your empty cup. “Right.” 

“He’d like to meet you.” 

“Would he really or is this another set up?” you mumble. 

“I didn’t force him. To meet you.” 

“That’s what it sounded like.” 

“I think… this is something he should talk to you about.” 

“Alright.” 

“You’ll meet him?” 

“Not yet.” 

Hyunjin twirls his straw around, playing more with his coffee than actually drinking it. “Would you like to come to a gallery with me? There’s one near here.” 

“I have to go to work soon,” you say, watching as he drops his eyes to his lap. “But I can tomorrow?” 

His eyes meet yours, one corner of his mouth lifting a little. “Alright.” 

It becomes a regular part of your schedule, visiting galleries with him. Once a week, at least. He gives you a tour around the entire city's art scene, opening your eyes to a whole world you’d never bothered to explore yourself. He’s kind, easy to open up to and he doesn’t bring up Minho unless you ask first. It’s nice. It’d been weeks since you’d seen Minho. He hadn’t said anything.

“She was an artist, apparently,” Hyunjin says suddenly, eyes fixed on the large portrait you’d been appreciating. You think he means the woman in the painting at first but when you look at his expression, it’s obvious he means his soulmate. He hadn’t brought her up since the night in your apartment, after he’d finished cleaning your blood from your leg. 

“Do you know much about her?” 

“Her family invited me to the funeral. I kept in touch with her brother. He… told me about her,” he says, moving each arm behind him so he can lean back on the long bench you both sit at. A couple walks past you, more engaged in each other than the artwork around them. You’re both quiet as they pass. “If she was here, and I had the chance to know her—” 

“I know,” you say, cutting him off. “I know. But… what if it’s not… everything people say it is. What if it’s a placebo effect? We all think this other person is perfect for us and so they are. We convince themselves they are.” 

“Maybe. Does it matter?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“Because clearly it isn’t working on him.” 

He turns his body towards you, leaning closer. “Will you talk to him, please?” 

You sigh. “Okay.” 

“Really?” 

You lift his hand from where he’s gripping his own thigh, intertwining your fingers. “I like you, Hyunjin. I like spending time with you and… if this will make you happy… I’ll do it.” 

“It will.” 

“Is he home now?” 

He grins, pulling you up from the bench. 

“You warned him?” you ask, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. 

“Yeah.” 

“He… he wants to meet?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Promise?” 

He huffs out a light laugh. “I promise.” 

“You’ll be nearby?”

“Cafe across the street,” he says, pushing you gently towards the steps to his apartment. “Now go. You’re okay.” 

You trudge up the stairs, begging your body to be calm—to hide the anxiety coursing through your entire frame. You knock on the door before you can change your mind, sucking in a deep breath as it swings open. 

“You came,” Minho says, brushing his hand through his damp hair. He stands to the side, holding the door for you. He looks calm, as always. His lack of anxiety during your first meeting made sense now. He didn’t care like you did. He was doing a favour for a friend. You hesitate, turning back behind you to the coffee shop where Hyunjin waits. This is fine. You step through the threshold. 

“Do you want a drink?” he asks as you sit down on one of the cushions at the small table where you’d first met Hyunjin. He’s hovering by the kitchen, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than here with you. 

“I’m fine.” 

He rocks back and forth on his heels for a moment then joins you at the table. You wait for him to speak; to explain. He taps his nails on the wood, the only sound in the room for a minute or two. 

“I didn’t… want to hurt you. You seem nice,” he says, still tapping on the table. 

You seem nice. Not exactly how you expected your soulmate to feel about you. 

He flattens his palm against the surface of the table, then continues. “Has Hyunjin told you about… what happened? With his—” 

“Yes.”

“He’s been here for me through a lot. I owed him this.” 

You clench your fists in your lap, struggling to contain the sharp anger that bursts in your chest. You take a deep breath before speaking. “What about me?” you say. His brows furrow, like he doesn't understand what you have to do with any of this. Your nails cut into your palms. “You did ‘this’ as a favour to him. What about me?” 

His palm curls into a fist on the table. “I don’t… owe you anything.” 

“You don’t?” 

“I don’t know you.” 

“That’s the thing though, isn’t it? You don’t know me and you never wanted to know me. Hyunjin wanted you to try. That’s what he wanted from you and if you didn’t want to do that you owed me the courtesy of telling me. Instead you strung me along for weeks and then when we met didn’t say a thing about being there against your will.”

He’d taken 3 weeks to agree to meet you. You’d done the same, but he’d done it because he didn’t care. You did it because you cared too much.

“I had… to sort some things out before I could agree to meet you.” 

“What things?” 

His eyes drop to his phone, sitting on the table between you. “I needed to explain it to someone.”

He means the girl. The girl he loves instead of you. "That's what you were doing for 3 weeks?? Fucking her?!"

He looks up at you, brows raised. He scoffs, snatching his phone from the table and standing. "So what if I was? And don't act like I fucked you over, you took just as long."

You grab your bag, jumping to your feet. "I was questioning if I was good enough for you! I was sitting around feeling shit about myself and the entire time you were fucking the girl you love."

"You're acting like I was cheating on you,” he throws his hands up in the air, then points his phone at you. “I had no fucking clue you existed."

"You did though, you knew I existed. You just didn't know my name or my face."

"Same thing."

"No, it's not. You knew I was waiting for you. That I was thinking we were it. That we were meant for each other—”

"Maybe we're not,” he says quickly. 

Both your chests are rising and falling rapidly as you catch your breaths. You step around the table slowly, moving closer towards him. He takes one small step back as you press your finger to his chest. It’s still rising and falling quickly, his breath mingling with yours. “You’ll regret letting me go. You don’t deserve me,” you warn, just above a whisper. His warm breath brushes against your skin and then his eyes drop to your lips. He takes a large step away from you, mouth pursed tight. 

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[oneatlatime]

The Guru

Happy 2024 everyone and welcome to the first time I managed to type 2024 without first typing 2023! Oh and also a write up of The Guru. That too.

Me too Iroh. Me too.

So Zuko is riding high on that post-crisis 'time to get my life together' buzz that, similar to 3 am life plans, should absolutely not be listened to. Wonder how long before he crashes and burns? There's literally 2 episodes left, so I'm guessing one and a half?

Poor Sokka. My boy's got anxiety.

I don't know if it's a monk thing, an airbender thing, an Avatar thing, or an Aang thing, but I envy his complete lack of nerves.

How is Appa ok with them splitting up for a week after JUST getting them back?

I paused in a funny place. Have bonk-eyed Appa.

I love them comparing heights. What do you want to bet that that guy on the right was one of the youngest allowed to go fight, and Sokka made a big deal about how they're almost the same age and surely that means he can go too, right?

A lot of these Southern Water Tribe people have dreads or braids. That's neat.

Bato's arm is still messed up. That's some good continuity.

I've found the source of Katara's cheek bones. I guess Sokka takes after his mum.

Ok I know this is a really emotional moment (and it is! Sokka's spent two seasons earning this!) but my brain fixated on the furs and briefly thought they were sky bison pelts.

"It's been a difficult week for me." This guy thinks the Kyoshi Warriors are there to provide him therapy. Someone please just crown the bear instead.

He just gave away literally every relevant plot point AND outlined how to make sure all these plot points don't succeed. Crown. The. Bear.

Maybe if these generals spent less time playing with their giant model Earth Kingdom and more time general-ing, the war wouldn't suck so much?

Pretty.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE the designs, the colour palette, the music, the sound design of this air temple. I love everything about it. If I had the chance to live anywhere in the Avatar universe, it would be here. Even in its ruined state it's such a refreshing contrast to the claustrophobia of Ba Sing Se. I can feel the freshness of the breeze through the screen.

"A spiritual brother of your people" an adult perspective on a near extinct culture! What a resource!

"and a personal friend of Monk Gyatso" an old as balls perspective. He's got to be at least 130.

Anthropology cul de sac time: this guy is so valuable as a resource on the Air Nomads. There's probably parts of Air Nomad culture that Aang can't ever accurately talk about, because he was a kid when he left, and there was almost certainly stuff that the adults kept to themselves, or only shared with the older Air Nomads. This Guru doesn't seem to be an Air Nomad himself, but there's a good chance that there is knowledge that he has, that Aang doesn't. Aang should be nerding out more about this. I'll do the nerding out for him.

Aang just breezes right by that Gyatso name drop like it's nothing. Huh.

Oh hey Toph. I'd forgotten she was in a box. Tweedle dum and Tweedle dumber really are quite the pair. What's their plan for keeping her fed and watered? Actually, these guys apparently don't know that maps exist, so it's probably never occurred to them that humans need sustenance. They'll rock up to the Bei Fong estate with corpse Toph and wonder why they aren't getting the reward money.

Mai gets called out in-universe for shopping at Hot Topic.

Ty Lee's buttering up of Azula is getting less and less subtle as the season progresses. It's a testament to Azula's lack of awareness that she's hasn't noticed that, and that Ty Lee can get away with it.

Azula's right that it's an extraordinary opportunity. The King gave them quite literally every piece of info required to overthrow his kingdom in a 25 second conversation. I can't blame her for taking advantage of such an easy win.

That's a very effective unimpressed face. And a very impressive beard.

It's funny to see a spiritual concept from the real world pop up in a show that includes things like bending and giant fish possession. The mention of Chakras kind of sticks out. They couldn't invent a Avatar universe version?

"Once you begin this process, you cannot stop until all seven are open." Well that doesn't feel like foreshadowing at all.

This episode should be called "Aang's self-care Journey." It's about time the kid had a me day that wasn't avoidance-based.

Fear: Losing Katara - makes sense. Losing control of his powers via fish possession - makes sense. The Fire Lord - makes sense. But the Blue Spirit? He helped. Doesn't make sense.

Guilt: Running away - makes sense, although I thought he'd worked through that with Katara in the storm. Nuking that idiot General's base - makes sense, but boy did he quite literally ask for it.

This guru is saying some wonderfully accurate, and realistic, things. I love that he's not taking the Katara route of denying anything is wrong. He's going for the acknowledge, then heal route. And yes, it's unfair of me to compare the emotional maturity of Katara to a century+ old spiritual expert.

I'm going to ruin the immersion here and point out that Sokka's dad's voice actor voiced a bunch of characters in season 1. He's doing an excellent job, but couldn't they get a unique voice for a character that's so important (albeit offscreen) to Sokka?

That's an incredibly roundabout way of avoiding pointing out that the Southern Water Tribe are active participants in a bloody war. Sure, we can show multiple characters with visible scarring from horrific burns, but heaven forbid we imply that the Southern Water Tribe sinks ships. The parameters for what is and isn't appropriate on this show sometimes make no sense.

"Aren't you listening? I said the rest of you men get ready for battle." He hasn't seen his boy in two years, but fifteen minutes in his company and he knows exactly what needs to be said and how. That's some top tier parenting. Dad of the year. Dad of the century. Only decent Dad in this show that isn't technically an uncle.

"Follow your passion Zuko, and life will reward you." Great advice for your eight year old audience. Also a great way to end up unemployed.

Positive Sokka creeped me out a few episodes ago. Now positive Zuko is freaking me out too.

Pretty.

Back to Chakras! Shame: Burning Katara - makes sense. But that's it? To have the inner peace of mind of a twelve year old who's somehow only ever done one thing that he's ashamed of.

Is there anyone in the earth kingdom who isn't stupid? Once again wondering at the network's standards. Visible burn injuries are fine, but Mai can't say 'Shut up." It's got to be Shush up. Although I do seem to recall of brief time in the early 2000s when Shut Up was treated as a curse on par with Shit or Fuck. Maybe that was just at my school.

Chakras again! Even for a show that often has an A, B, and C plot, this narrative is ping ponging around a bit much.

Grief: nothing major, just a whole nation. Makes a horrific amount of sense. but I don't buy that he can get over grieving the whole world as he knew it by thinking about his crush. That's way too high a pedestal for Katara to be placed on.

Lies: Not accepting he's the Avatar. Interesting that not accepting that he's the Avatar and not accepting that he's a firebender are two different problems.

I see you reusing the opening credits footage. Your blue filters can't fool me.

PRETTY

Illusion: So we're relearning what we learned in The Swamp. Aang's probably the person currently alive least likely to believe in the rigid separation of the nations anyway. This doesn't feel like an illusion he's subject to?

The way this episode dances between its narrative threads is so great. It's all woven in so beautifully. And this makes perfect sense! Toph's spent her life secretly doing things excellently that everyone says are completely beyond her capabilities. Life has taught her that the statement "you are not able to" doesn't apply. Of course immutable laws of bending physics are treated with the same respect as an adult telling the champion of the Earth Rumble that she's can't earthbend beyond breathing exercises. If you told her that humans can't fly, she'd figure out how within the week.

Plot collision incoming.

Interesting that Katara initially recognises Zuko by his voice rather than his scar.

I'm pretty sure that Zuko and Iroh don't know about the whole brainwashing thing, but wouldn't it be hilarious if Zuko introduced himself to Katara as Joo Dee, and his uncle Joo Dee, welcome to the Jasmine Dragon, can I take your order? That would throw Katara into one hell of a moral quandary.

Katara being framed as the solution for Chakra number four comes back to bite Aang, as she's the problem in Chakra number seven. I knew that pedestal was too high.

I've changed my mind. This episode should actually be called "Half a dozen reasons why everyone should just learn to keep their goddamn mouths shut already."

So is anyone going to let Zuko and Iroh know that they're now in immediate danger and need to leave, like, yesterday?

I think the Guru is going for the whole 'if you love them, let them go, and they'll come back to you' thing. Don't cling, in other words. But for the sake of the plot he's suddenly lost his ability to explain Chakras in a way that makes them seem like the logical thing to do. The only clunky bit of this episode so far.

May I introduce you to our Lord and Saviour Toph?

"I am the greatest earthbender in the world." Yes. Yep. Yeah. That's now a quantifiable fact, and it's correct. Look on ye mighty and despair. She's even got Bumi beat.

Earth Tongue Running is a bit wonky looking but it covers a crazy amount of distance.

What's the range on Toph's earth sense? Can she sense what direction Ba Sing Se is?

I hope those two idiots' horse bird is ok.

"You don't know how much this means to me dad." He does. Very much so.

Every word out of this guy's mouth is precision engineered to make Sokka feel like a million bucks and I for one think it's about time someone built him up. Also, seeing this makes me realise how few good parents there are in this show. It's a trope of kids' adventure shows that the parents fundamentally can't be there, but I also think it's a commentary on yet another thing that this war has messed up.

Hey look! Being a man is knowing where you're needed the most, and right now that's in Ba Sing Se, protecting your sister! I love narratives that tie their themes up with a pretty bow on top.

This is Azula laying a trap, right? Which means that Katara squealed to someone about the exact location of Iroh and Zuko's tea shop. Don't like the implications of that.

Photos taken seconds before disaster.

Final Thoughts

This episode was a lot! I mean that in a good way! But I felt a bit like the Maxell Blown Away Guy, the way I kept getting assaulted by yet another plot thread. Don't get me wrong, this isn't a criticism. I think the switching between plot threads and the amount of info in this episode worked 99% of the time. But I'm kind of in awe at the balancing act the writers pulled off and I'm sort of sitting here blinking a bit trying to fit all this stuff in my head. I'm probably going to forget half the stuff I wanted to talk about in this write up, so here goes nothing.

Given the Azula reveal in at the end of last episode, I thought that this would be the episode where the shit hits the fan. I was wrong. I'm glad I was wrong. An episode of set up is required and is nice breathing room, even an episode as busy as this. And I got to leave Ba Sing Se! But this does mean that next episode is going to be calamity after calamity.

Aang and his Chakras: I'm fascinated by this guru. I hope he comes back. That brings the total number of people who were alive before the war started up to three: Aang, Bumi, Guru Patik.

I'm impressed that the run through of the Chakras rarely felt like an info dump. The onion and banana juice thing didn't work for me, but I'm sure it worked for people in the target age bracket. Kids love burp jokes.

So many shows sprinkle in tragic backstories for flavour and then never have them influence the character in the present. It was a nice contrast to see a show take a whole episode to tell Aang "yeah all that sucked. It's ok to feel down about it. Here's how you move forward."

Sokka and his dad: Love it. Love it so much. I love seeing Sokka built up, and he definitely deserves it, but I wonder if this is the reward for a character arc well done, or the set up for a character arc that's about to start? Is his dad's praise his prize for crossing the finish line, or is it so he's built up with farther to fall?

I loved seeing more of the Southern Water Tribe. I loved the fashion. There's a lot of variety in accessories and variations on a few basic elements like those knee guard things. I loved their hairstyles. I loved how cozy and communal that command tent felt. I loved their ships. I wonder how often these guys work out, that they can make loading ramps that are presumably deployed and stashed out of the way frequently, out of whole logs rather than planks. I have a bone to pick with the child-friendly sea mine. But it provides a good set up for a dad joke, so I'll let it slide.

Zuko and Iroh: Of course the one time Zuko is allowed to be in a good place, it's so that he and Iroh both have farther to fall when the inevitable happens. Poor guy just can't catch a break. I'd be mad at Azula for the party crashing that I'm assuming she'll do next episode, but it's been established that Zuko has all nice things taken away from him as soon as he gets them, and I can't blame Azula for being a tool of the universe.

Azula & Long Feng: Azula's acting in Long Feng's prison cell was miles ahead of what Long Feng was doing in front of the Earth King, so I'm wondering if Long Feng has bitten off more than he can chew. Also: conspiring with the enemy to bring down your own city just so you can reinstall yourself as the power behind the throne that will presumably cease to exist as soon as the Fire Nation takes control? That is both treasonous beyond description and an incredible case of shooting yourself in the foot. What's Long Feng's plan here?

Toph and the Dunderheads: it says something about the consistency of Toph's characterisation from her introduction onwards that she breaks the universe this episode and my reaction was "that's neat." It's obviously a huge moment, but of course Toph can do that. Toph can do anything. More importantly, Toph knows that Toph can do anything, so Toph routinely does do anything, especially things she shouldn't be able to do. If you had asked me a few episodes back which character would be most likely to fundamentally redefine bending, I would have said Toph, since she's already fundamentally redefined bending with her earth sense sonar vision.

Also Toph just breaks stuff. Things that come into contact with her cease to function as intended and instead function as Toph requires. Look at the two idiots: both successful business owners, one also a successful hoodwinker of the richest family around. But they come into contact with Toph and their brains take an extended vacation.

Katara & the Generals: this plot was more like an extension of Azula's plot than its own standalone thing. You can't blame her for spilling the news about Zuko and Iroh to someone she honestly thought was Suki. Not much else to say about it, although it's cute that she asks for a table for two at the tea shop. Momo gets a chair!

I like that there's a theme this episode of things going wrong despite the best intentions. No one's acting maliciously here apart from the Antagonists. The Earth King is having an honest chat with people he thought were friends. Sokka vouched for people he honestly thought were the Kyoshi Warriors. Katara shares information about a presumed threat with people she honestly thought were her allies. You can quibble with the wisdom of some of these decisions, but there were all done with good intentions. The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry and all that. It brings to mind that Star Trek quote about how you can do everything right and still lose. And this set up is going to hit harder when whatever goes wrong next episode happens. And something will go wrong. A few months ago I figured that the Season 2 finale would be a triumph, but all signs are pointing towards a tragedy instead.

This episode was visually stunning, the soundtrack in the Air Temple sections especially was very evocative, and I applaud the minds that could juggle that many plot threads at once without dropping any. This one is definitely going on my rewatch list.

[wanderingsoul6261]

Gif credit goes to userbeaufort

IM SORRY-PART 2

Part 1 below

James Beaufort x Reader

I'm sorry! I meant to have this out sooner, but I got distracted. My anxiety had been an ass this week so just bear with me. I do have more fics with James to write, so do still continue to expect more!

Synopsis: part 2 to I'm Sorry. Reader talks to Lydia and apologizes to James for her actions.

Warnings: nothing other than a few swear words. Mostly the f- word

------

It had been weeks since Y/N had left James standing where she left him after they kissed underneath Maxton Hall. She had avoided him as if he had the plague and was going to get her sick. She had even gone as far as even being more distant with Lydia, and that hurt her much more than avoiding James. 

The few times she had brushed Lydia off had left her friend looking hurt and confused, wondering to herself what she could have possibly done to warrant Y/N's behavior towards her. It took Y/N all but a week before she came to her senses and apologized to Lydia, but when Lydia asked what happened and why she did it, she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, because she did, as it was all tearing her inside out, but she just didn’t know how to go about it. She wasn't sure if Lydia would hate her afterwards for kissing her brother. Y/N knew she could always confide in Lydia, and Lydia has made that plenty clear. However, with something like this, Y/N wasn't quite so sure as to how her friend would react. 

Did Y/N love James? Absolutely. Did she regret the kiss? No, absolutely not. If anything, she had enjoyed it and had hoped it had continued even longer than it had. She had actually thought about the kiss alot. And even if no words were spoken in the moment that James and Y/N had kissed, she knew that every single bit of feeling and emotions she had for James was poured into that kiss, and a part of her told her that it was likely the same for James. There was no way he didn't feel the same way as her, and yet, here she was, treating him as if she never met or knew him. Which also hurt her more than another could imagine, and yet she still continued to do it. 

Y/N continued to avoid James in the hall. She avoided eye contact and any and all other contact he had attempted to make. He sent text messages and made phone calls, leaving voice messages when she wouldn't answer. He had made attempts to stop her in the hallway to talk to her in which she had brushed off and walked away from him. Every single time he had stood in place, while many other students watched, wondering what to do, his heart breaking more and more each time. This went on for several weeks. 

And then he stopped, and it was like a switch had been flipped. 

James had turned cold towards her, reverting back to the way he was before he had started to like her, before he had fallen in love with her and had vowed to do anything and everything for her. Before she had become what his world revolved around. 

Y/N took notice, and she had undoubtedly and rightfully so, hated herself for it. James didn't deserve the treatment he had received from her. She should have confessed to Lydia about what had happened between her and James. 

He gave her the same treatment that she had been giving him and she couldn't even be mad or upset. It was her fault. 

James scowled at her, made remarks about her lack of money and everything she wouldn't ever have because of the lack thereof, and anything else that he knew would hit their mark. The angered and hurt looks he had given her could level an entire room, an earthquake that could cause so much devastation, but yet, the destruction was only centered on one single person. 

Her. 

He had acted like an asshole towards her and Y/N would be the first to admit that she deserved every last moment of it. She had evidently broken his heart, and now he was making her pay for it. 

The only person that didn't agree with anything Y/N received from James, was Lydia. It had often led to heavy and loud arguments between the twins, causing tension between the close siblings, but yet, Lydia still didn’t know what happened to make the two behave in the ways that they were. It was a mystery, and it was one that she had so desperately wanted to solve.

—-

“What happened?” Lydia asked. “Are you ever going to tell me?” Y/N was sitting a bench, a book in her hands when Lydia walked up to her. She spared a glance at her friend, growing nervous once again at the question Lydia was once again pestering her with. 

“What do you mean?” Y/N took the stupid route, her eyes back on the book. But she wasn't reading it. She couldn’t focus on it, her eyes reading the same paragraph over and over as she never fully grasped the content of it. It didn't matter that she read the words in her mind. Lydia also knew this, mostly at the fact that not once did Y/N turn the page. 

She was stuck on that page, meaning Lydia had gotten the cogs in Y/N's brain working and thinking about what had happened between her and James. Now if only she would talk to her about it. 

“You know what I mean, Y/N. You and James. One day you guys are talking and hanging out like you’ve known each other since childbirth, and the next day, you are treating each other like you’re puppy was kicked! ” Lydia made a daring move, hoping her friend would forgive her, and snatched the book out of her hand. Y/N didn't do anything though. She sat there, defeat showing in her posture. Y/N only knew that Lydia would continue to ask her what happened, which had meant that James never told her, not that he probably wanted to, and Y/N didn’t blame him. She broke his heart and made a fool out of him. It was best she finally said something, no matter if James would be mad at her or not. Y/N was tired of leaving her friend in the dark, and she was sure that Lydia was tired of being in the dark. 

Y/N picked at her fingernails, a sigh escaping her lips as her eyes flickered over the tiniest imperfections in the ground. Little divots from where the ground had been worn away. A bug scittering across the ground. Grass peeking up through the cracks. 

Lydia sat down next to her and Y/N still refused to make eye contact. Lydia put her book back into Y/N's hands, in order to keep her hands occupied and stop her from picking at her fingers. It was a nervous habit of Y/N’s that Lydia had picked up on not too long after they had become friends. 

“James' actions are warranted.” Lydia scoffed. 

“I highly doubt-”

“We kissed the night of the donation gala and then I left him standing underneath the hall and have been avoiding him ever since.” Y/N cut her friend off, still avoiding eye contact with her. Lydia went silent. 

Was this it? Did Lydia hate her now for what she did to her brother? Is this the end of their friendship? Y/N had turned slightly away from Lydia, ashamed of herself and what she had done. She truly hated herself for this. 

“Why?” The question had quite honestly caught Y/N off guard. She didn’t expect it. If anything, she had almost expected Lydia to leave her right then and there and understand why James was treating her in the way that he had been. 

Y/N sat in silence. She loved James, so it wasn’t as if she had not liked him or regretted the kiss. If anything, she knew that if she didn’t want to kiss him, James wouldn’t have done it. They both wanted to kiss each other, that much was true.

“I was scared. Terrified. Petrified. Any other synonyms of ‘scared’.” Y/N finally turned to look at her friend. Lydia was staying. She wasn’t going anywhere and Y/N had used this to soothe her worries. “You’re my friend, Lydia. He is your brother. I thought if you found out we did anything, no matter what it was, that you’d hate us. You’d hate me. Or maybe you would see it as something that would get in the way of me and you.” Y/N went over every single reason why she was scared. Anyone else probably would have told her to stop and tell her that it was okay and that they wouldn't have thought of anything in the way that she was. Lydia did do that, don’t get that part wrong, but she listened fully to what Y/N had to say. She wanted to understand Y/N and her thoughts so that she could better understand why she did what she did. When Y/N was finished, the two sat in silence and Y/N thought that maybe Lydia would take her chance to leave now. 

But she didn’t. She stayed, and after a few minutes of silence, she spoke. 

“I wouldn’t have hated you. If anything, I was wondering when it would happen. You guys looked at each other the way a young child looks at a puppy.” Y/N smiled at the poor analogy. She looked down at the book in her hands. Her smile turned into a frown. 

She got thinking about James and about how he might have felt, and she felt completely and utterly disgusted with herself. 

“How was James?” she asked, but she already knew the answer. 

“Honestly?” Lydia asked. They both knew that once Y/N heard what she had to say, it would only make Her feel even worse than she already did. Y/N nodded. 

“He didn't sleep or eat a lot. Often found him up pretty late. James was hurt, really hurt. I tried getting him to talked to me-” Y/N started to drown out Lydia. Not because she didn't want to listen, but because she went back to thinking about James. She wanted to, no, she needed to fix this. Y/N had to make this right with James. 

Y/N stood up abruptly. She hurried off to find James. 

She looked everywhere she could think of, Starting with the places where she knew for a fact that he would possibly be. Which was probably half a dozen places and so she had spent a good half hour trying to find him. 

Y/N was growing restless. She hoped that he didn't go home yet, but if he did, Y/N knew that she could always just text or call him. However, the likelihood of him even answering was slim to none, and she didn't blame him. 

But she found him, and kicked herself in the ass for not checking the lacrosse field sooner, because there he was, in all his James Beaufort glory, practicing with Alistair, Cyril, and the others. 

It definitely wasn't long before someone noticed her, and pointed her out to James. He had turned around, his eyes peering out from behind his helmet, the headwear masking any emotions that might have been present on his face. 

He had watched as she stood on the sidelines. Waiting. Watching. She nervously picked her fingernails, her eyes looking Slightly red from a distance, as if she had been crying, which she had been. 

After leaving Lydia to find James, tears flowed down her cheeks, as thoughts ran a hundred miles per hour in her mind. Memories, good and bad between the two of them, know how hurt James had bad, her guilt, and so much more. She was drowning in it all, barely breathing as James finally started to walk towards her. He pulled his helmet off, tossing it to the ground with his gloves once he was a few feet away from her. And as she watched him, he didn't look too pleased.

When he finally came to a stop in front of her, he opened his mouth to say something, but Y/N beat him to it. 

“I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I shouldn't have left you beneath the hall. It was a stupid thing for me to do because I like you but I was scared because I'm friends with Lydia-” She took a deep breath, her voice cracking as she continue to nervously pick at her fingers. “- and I wasn't sure if She would be happy if she found out we kissed. I shouldn't have treated you the way that I have been.” James listened as she rambled. A part of him couldn't be mad at her. Yea, he had hurt at her avoidance, always asking why she did what she did, and a part of him told him to continue to stay mad at her, but as he watched her now, nervous, guilt, her own form of hurting, he couldn't bring himself to do so. 

So he did the next best thing he could think of. 

He grabbed her hands to stop the picking, before she did it to the point where she drew blood. Then he pulled her close, his lips slamming against hers, shutting her up. She let out a surprised gasp as whistles and whoops and hollers could be heard behind them. 

Y/N leaned into the kiss, tasting the saltiness of her tears and when the two finally pulled away, James wiped away said tears. He searched her eyes, kissed her forehead, and then pulled her into a hug. 

“I get it.” He whispered. “It hurt, but I get it.” James pulled back to look into her eyes again. 

“It wasn't fair to you. And I feel guilty that I caused you to hurt because I was the stupid one.” 

“I don't blame you for your actions because of your emotions. You realized you’re mistake. We can put it behind us.” He said. His hands came up to her face, cupping her cheeks, and she leaned into him.

“How can you still love me after all of this?” She asked. 

James gave her a soft smile. 

“Oh sweetheart.” he pressed another soft and gentle kiss to her lips, one of his hands falling from her cheek to her waist, pulling her against him. When he pulled away from her again, so that their lips were barely brushing against each other, He whispered. “I never stopped loving you.” 

----

taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @sillyfreakfanparty

[tomssexdoll]

hey chat hear me out on this thought ok😈. so like any era of blonde bill and he convinces reader to do a photoshoot w/ him but it’s like sexual idk how to describe it. bill sitting in a fancy chair and reader sitting in his lap, facing him. or reader on their knees looking up at bill who’s out of frame and his hand gripping their chin and the only way you know it’s his hand is cuz of his tattoo HAAHAHHDURRR and then when they both go home, bill fucks reader into the oblivion. thx queen 😍🙏

YESSS

My little model

PAIRINGS: Bill 2015? x Female reader CONTENT: SMUT SYPNOSIS: Bill finally convinces y/n to do a photoshoot with him, but not just a normal photoshoot, a lewd, sexy one with suggesting poses, he gets super turned on seeing her in all the sexy lingiere and when they get home they get freaky ofc A/N: meowing to thisphoto WARNINGS: dom!bill, sub!reader, p in v (riding), sucking d, fingering, description of lewd outfits and poses

Bill has been trying to convince me to do a lewd photoshoot for weeks now, I've kept on saying no because it was so awkward doing those kinds of poses in front of so many people, what if they got leaked to the press? He had asked me about 10 times to which I had rejected but this time he convinced me.

His excuse was that I'd look so sexy and what if he needed photos of me when he was away on tour? I sighed and finally agreed, he was super happy and called the place, booking a photoshoot.

The day of the photoshoot came and I was super nervous, what were they going to make me wear and what poses was I gonna do? Was I gonna look bad on camera? Bill could sense my anxiety and held my hand tightly, rubbing his thumb over the skin. I looked up at him and he smiled softly, giving me a reassuring look.

As we arrived, we were greeted by 3 photographers and some lights people, the head photographer ushered me to a table, showing me the lingiere. I had a good feeling about this place, it was really fancy and the lingiere had been newly bought, in their packages. I stared in awe at the silky and lacy sets beneath me.

"Pop this one on first and then we'll do your makeup honey" he smiled, handing me one of the sets. I happily walked to the changing rooms, changing into the lingiere. I gasped in the mirror, it was a 2 piece lacy black set with pink bows and suspenders connected to lacy thigh high socks. I looked so slutty and I knew Bill would eat this up.

I walked out, careful so Bill didn't see me and got my hair and makeup done. I snuck onto the set and watched as Bills eyes widened, his breath hitching. I smirked and got into position.

He was on a fancy kings type of chair, covered with red velvet material, Bill was wearing baggy black shorts with a black flannel and nothing undernearth, exposing his delicious abs.

I got onto his lap, facing towards him, his hands flew to my ass, cupping both cheeks gently. The photographer approved everything and I turned my head to look at the camera, the camera clicking and taking the photo, lights flashing slightly.

Before I could get up Bill grabbed my arm and pulled me down onto his lap again, snaking his arms around my waist and whispering in my ear, "you're so sexy..look what you're doing to me baby..." he pulled me further onto him, his erection pressing into my ass. I gasped and smacked his hand "Bill not now!" I scolded him and he winced as I got up, getting into another position.

The next position was me bent over his lap, his hand resting on my ass and my hand resting against my cheek. His erection poking into my chest.

After a few more sets of lingiere and positions we finally made it to our last one, but it was nothing compared to the others. I had a small lack lacy thong and nipple covered in the shape of hearts. This was Bills idea and he had permission to take the photo. I got on my knees and Bills hand gripped my chin, making me look up at him.

When he took the photo I grabbed the camera, looking at it to see how I looked, but the only thing I could focus on was his hand, he grabbed my waist and pulled me closer "see how my hand is the frame, if it ever gets leaked everyone will know whose it is and who you belong to" he whispered softly, his hot breath against my ear, I bit my lip and looked up at him "let's hope it doesn't get leaked" I sighed and walked back to the changing room, changing back into my clothes.

As I finished the head photographer gifted us all the lingiere I used, Bill smirked darkly, we thanked the photographers as they told us there'd be copies in the mail and digital ones emailed to Bill.

Bill raced to the car, dragging me with him and shoving all the outfits in the back, he grabbed my hand and grazed it over his aching cock, "fuck..that was torture baby..you were so sexy" he bit his lip, cock painfully throbbing in my hand as I palmed it over his shorts.

"Can't wait to go home..fuck.." he mumbled and fumbled with the keys, starting the car and speeding back home. As we got home he dragged me in, shoving me onto the bed.

"Put any of them on..please..fuck.." he groaned, I picked one of the packages, it was called a bustier, it had pink velvet material covering my torso completely and leaving a little strip of lace that covered the underwear area, he whined as he saw me in it again, grabbing me and sitting me on his lap.

"Such a naughty girl..teasing me like this.." he pushed his pants and boxers off, revealing his hard, throbbing cock, precum leaking at the tip. He groaned and gently stroked it, my heat burning up as I watched him.

"Please..put it in me.." I whimpered, hovering my clothed heat over his length, he smirked and moved the panty part to the side, rubbing his tip teasingly on my clit, "don't tease!" I moaned softly and digged my nails into his arms.

I slowly sat down onto his cock, my pussy engulfing it completely. He stretched me out so good, the pain becoming pleasureable. "Fuck..so good" he rolled my eyes back, holding onto my hips tightly.

I started to slam my hips into his, riding him roughly. He let out whoreish moans, nearly ripping off the lingiere as he tried to let my tits out, "ah ah! gentle!" I grunted, he chuckled "sorry baby, i'm excited" he grabbed my tits roughly as they bounced up and down.

He latched onto one of my nipples, sucking roughly and softly biting, causing me to yelp. He smirked at my reaction, continuing to teasingly bite on my nipples, I picked up my pace, his cock slamming deep into my pussy, hitting my g spot deliciously.

"So sexy..all mine.." he mumbled onto my tits, slobbering all over them and leaving small hickeys on my chest and neck. I wrapped my arms around his neck and continued to bounce up and down on his cock, his length sliding in and out of me so smoothly.

I felt tension building in my stomach, "fuck! g'nna cum!" I whimpered, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck, his cock ramming into my hole and abusing my sweet spot.

"Cum for me schatz..be a good girl" he whispered in my ear, slamming his cock into me, helping to meet my thrusts. I felt the tension finally let go, my orgasm crashing down.

As he felt my pussy tightly clench around his length he groaned loudly, shooting his cum into me deeply, coating my insides white. I panted and fell forward onto his chest, him also falling backwards.

We layed there for a bit, then he grabbed my almost limp body, turning me around and shuffling back onto the bed. "Let me fuck my cum into you, hm?" he nibbled on my earlobe, I nodded and spread my legs, feeling his hand slither down to my wet pussy, 2 digits entering slowly.

He was knuckle deep and thrusting harshly, pushing the cum back into my pussy because it threatened to leak out. I moaned as his fingers curled against my g spot.

The overstimulation start to build up slowly, usually we rested for a while before doing something else but this time Bill was desperate for me. His fingers slid in and out of me so perfectly, they were once slender and long but now were a bit thicker, making it feel even better.

I looked down and watched as his tattoo filled fingers disappeared into my pussy, his and my cum making squelching noises and they mixed together, like he was stirring a potion.

I held onto the sheet tightly, his hard cock pressed against my back as I took his fingers so well. "Such a good girl for me" he moaned into my ear, his thrust becoming more brutal, fingers pounding into my tight cunt and hitting my g spot so perfectly.

I started to feel the overstimulation get more noticeable, "Bill..too much..can't..handle.." I threw my head back and whimpered, "cmon baby..just a little more" he mumbled reassuringly, I nodded lazily and felt my orgasm chase closer.

My pussy clenched around his fingers again, I let out a high pitched moan before cumming all over his fingers, my body shuddering. "Such a good girl..see you did it" he smirked and retracted his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and licking all the slick off.

"Get up baby and get on your knees..that photo is still driving me fucking crazy" he ordered and I obliged, slowly getting off my bed, my shaking legs falling to my knees on the cold, hard floor.

Bill stood up and hovered over me, his cock standing so perfectly, aching and waiting for me to suck it. I grabbed it with one hand and softly pumped it, then popping it in my mouth and softly sucking, feeling the buldging veins on my tongue.

I swirled my tongue on his tip, eliciting a low moan out of him. He grabbed my hair and pulled on it softly, guiding my mouth onto his cock. Bobbing my head up and down at a cruel pace, making me gag on his cock.

"So good..fuck.." his head lolling back, I moaned on his cock, saliva building around my mouth.

He looked down at me again, our eyes meeting, full of lust and desire. I felt the tension build in his cock, twitching and throbbing. I smirked and continued to suck him off, his hand his tangled in my locs.

"Fuck!" he cried out and held my head with the both of his hands, shooting his cum into my throat. I choked a little and swallowed, he slowly pulled out and tapped my chin, signalling for me to open my mouth. I obeyed and stuck out my tongue, showing him I swallowed everything. He grinned and picked me up, taking my lingiere off and placing me into the shower.

"Let's clean up and go check out those photos, I can't wait to see them" he chuckled as we both washed all the cum and sweat off ourselves.

After the shower we rushed to the computer, clicking on the email and opening the file. As the photos generated Bill stared in awe, my eyes widened at the quality and how sexy I looked "fuck..I look so good" I covered my mouth with my hand, shocked.

"You look fucking sexy, i'm gonna have a fieldtrip with these photos on our next tour.." he tapped my ass softly.

E/N: this is one of my favourite fics i've written, the idea is so good

[writinginthetwilight]

It started on the stairs - Part 3.

Eddie Munson x Awkward! Neighbour! Reader

Chapter warnings: strong language, shit parents, idiots in love, pining, fem reader, awkwardness, fluff, slight angst.

Author note: Thank you so much for love on the last chapter it means the world, this is the last part and I really wanted to get it out on Christmas but it wasn't meant to be. I hope you all had a lovely day celebrating if you do and a lovely day in general if you don't. Enjoy.

Part 1 Part 2 Masterlist

As December crawls in your anxiety around Eddie has dimmed to a low murmur, used to the flirty quips by now or the way he would pull your feet into his lap as you watched TV. It still makes your body heat and butterflies erupt inside you but it was just Eddie. Touchy feely and flirty Eddie.

You had been so sure that something was going to happen at least a dozen times, but it never did, like when he came back after Thanksgiving.

Spotting you on the street outside your building he'd dropped his duffle bag and crushed you in a hug so tight that it made you let out a squeak into his chest as he laughed into your hair. It had turned silent as neither of you seemingly wanted to let go only for him to break it first apologising and hiding behind his hair before quickly saying he needed to get unpacked. Leaving you wide eyed and breathless.

So you shoved down the longing, kept it tidied away in the centre of your chest for when you were alone and watching romcoms or twisted in your sheets at night.

As Christmas hurtled towards you, you'd felt an odd sense of relief as you made plans to head home. Something to get excited about, people who you hadn't seen in almost a year, something familiar. That's not to say most of the lead up was spent without the metal head.

Eddie's feelings towards Christmas were made readily apparent as December wore on. He didn't hate the holidays he had stressed, just the whole ‘bullshit fake happy commercial aspect of it’.

Spiralling off into a rant as you looked down at him from the top of a ladder while he passed you gaudy foil streamers for you to hang, you nodded along pausing once you were finished to take in the tinsel and glittery lights that adorned every corner. Holding back laughter as he looked at you fumbling his words, he didn't begrudge anyone else's joy, he just wouldn't be participating.

But days later as you stared out over the city, kaleidoscopic lights glittering in windows and over rooftops, silent tears ran down your face and you weren't sure you would be participating in that joy either.

You weren't going home.

Your mom had called just a half hour earlier, excitedly explaining they were going to Hawaii, and told you to book a flight, like you didn't work for minimum wage barely managing to scrape by. You'd spluttered and explained that you couldn't, you had already spent a relatively small fortune on presents and only had enough left to make the drive home. Besides Christmas was in two weeks, indignation rising you'd asked when they were going to tell you.

All syrupy sweet faux sincerity she reminded you it was you who had chosen to move so far away. You could hear your dad arguing in the background asking to speak to you as your mother hissed about how they weren't buying your ticket. You didn't want to hear it. Told them it was fine you'd had so many offers anyway, that it would save you the gas bill. To have a great time.

And thats how Eddie found you, knocking on your door joint and snacks ready bouncing on the balls of his feet. Feeling the air leave him as you open the door.

“There she is.” he breathes as you silently throw out an arm to let him in. Your room smells of candles and clean washing, it makes him heady, he doesn't notice the lack of decorations lining the walls or the missing shades your string lights would be casting around the room.

“So I got jerky.” He says walking into your small narrow kitchen and unloading snacks “Before you say it, I'll sit on the floor when I eat it so you don't have to gag and make a scene” he turns and you give him a smile that doesn't reach your eyes and a bite of panic immediately spreads through him.

“Hey you okay?” you dip your head but he can see the puffiness around your eyes and you scrunch your nose turning away from him.

“ I'm fine”, he notices then your naked Christmas tree in the corner and the string lights that have been unplugged and he rounds you quickly, you won't look at him.

“y/n?” he leans into you trying to catch your eye and you curl in slightly. You hadn't moved away from him like that in months before he had learnt that he was clearly a little much for you. He takes a step back, eyes darting over you.

Your shoulders sag and his heart aches when you finally look up at him, sighing heavily as you walk your way over to the couch, curling your knees up by your chin.

“I'm not going home for Christmas, it’s stupid. Barely anyone's there anymore but I don't know.”

He sits down gingerly next to you, arm over the back of the sofa head laying heavy on it, watching your profile as you sit glassy eyed. He wants to pull you into him, reach out and run his hand over your cheek. But he doesn't, instead he concentrates on the way his knee is pressing into the meat of your thigh close enough without scaring you.

“Not stupid, you could still head back?”

You pick at the hole in your sweats and shrug, “I told them I had plans, made a big deal of it”

“Do you?”

You give him a deadpan stare and he can't help the way it makes his lip quirk up, you lean over and take the joint sticking out from behind his ear, lighting it and letting out a plume of smoke as you let your head slump back

“It will be fine, I'll drink wine and watch TV” You look over to him and he gives you a grimace. The throw pillow hits him square in the face, and he collapses back dramatically in an attempt to see you smile. When he peeks back up you're still just staring up.

Just say it, just say it come on Munson just fucking say it.

“Well, I mean, I'll be here” he sways forward and your head tips lazily towards him.

“I thought you were heading back?”

He adjusts sitting a little closer to you, plucking the joint from your fingers and taking a hit, smoke sneaking out the edges of his mouth as he talks “Get a bonus if I work at the shop Christmas Eve and the day after, can't really pass it up.” it's not a lie, he just hadn't wanted to see that sad face you'd pull if he told you he was spending it alone.

“Whatya say? Won't be a three course meal or anything, but fancy slumming it with me?”

The grin you give him makes all the air leave his lungs and fuck hell never go back to Hawkins again if it will keep you looking at him like that.

You spend the night talking over plans, food, drink, films and old traditions you could try. Reminiscing on the rose-tinted memories that only childhood can provide. Calling it a night when those stories of nostalgia fade into heavier ones that have stuck to your adult bones.

The following two weeks go past in a blur, long shifts tending to increasingly stressed out customers and nights spent pouring over Eddie's present sitting on your living room floor surrounded by craft materials.

Your schedules had fallen out of sync, as you picked up extra shifts and he worked late into the evening. The one night he'd come over to hang out you'd turned to find him crashed out on the couch before you could even ask if he wanted to order food. Waking him as gently as you could, that tidy place in your chest yawned open as he lazily blinked at you with a sleepy smile on his face and you reluctantly cut the night short.

You missed him.

So as your Christmas Eve shift ends you practically sprint home, spending the evening elbow deep in pie mix and sugar cookie dough, putting the finishing touches to his present before finally crawling into bed. Flour in your hair and sugar cookie dough stuck under your nails as you drift unconscious, bone tired.

It meant you woke on Christmas day a little later than you planned, flustered you spent an inordinate amount of time getting ready. Wriggling in and then out of pantyhose and tops that show a lot more cleavage than your usual movie night attire, until every surface in your room is covered in rejected items. You finally relent, pulling out the soft cream jumper adorned with snowflakes you had been living in for the past few weeks, leggings and a cheap felt santa hat that barely squeezes over your head.

At his door, balancing a pie and a tray of cookies in your hands, with bags that clink hanging around your wrists you're relieved at your choice as he opens the door. Dressed in red plaid pyjama bottoms and a blue cable knit sweater he looks like he could be on a Christmas card besides the halo of dark hair, and you both laugh at the sight of each other. He flicks the bell on the end of your hat before grabbing the bags from you and leading you inside.

You stop within a few steps, awe struck by the sight of multicoloured lights and plastic foliage lining the walls, you walk without a word towards them, a mixture of nails, hooks and scotch tape holding them up and your eyes prickle at the sight of the small tree sparsely decorated with mismatched baubles on the kitchen counter.

“What's this?” You say spinning to face him, he just shrugs from his place in the kitchenette, rocking from foot to foot. “You took yours down.”

You stride up to him wrapping your arms around his neck, and you feel his arms squeeze around you. “It's not much, my friend Robin dropped in and helped.”

“ Thank you.”

There's that pause again, and your the one to break it this time, rubbing at your eyes and peeling off the saran wrap off a plate of cookies, “As requested vanilla and the tiny silver balls that hurt your teeth”

You spend the day eating dessert, and the best mac and cheese you've had in your life, drinking homemade Irish cream with too much whiskey all in front of the TV. It’s cosy, slowly drifting closer together to the centre of the couch with every bathroom break or refill, eventually, he sits and drops a present in your lap. Shiny gold paper and so much tape you struggle to open it, Eddie eventually getting impatient and going to retrieve a pair of scissors in the end.

“No!?” You say as you finally see the cover, it's leather bound with indentations of characters and trees ‘Grimms fairy tales’, you laugh, grinning like a fool remembering your rant about their stories relevance to modern horror, on that first Halloween night you'd spent together.

“I love it. Thank you,” You lean over to hug him, the couch dipping as gravity presses you into him. He smells of that spiced aftershave and coconut shampoo, it makes your tipsy brain dizzy.

“Okay my turn” you say shake evident in your voice as you hand over the neatly wrapped present, he takes his time unwrapping and as it appears you can see the confusion on his face until he finally sees the hellfire logo, looking at you quickly before hastily ripping the rest of the wrapping away.

You had painted it with silvers and blacks to look like a wrought iron gate with the helfire logo at the centre and almost lost your mind papermarcheing it to make the details raised, the fact that you ever had the patience for this as a child is mind-boggling.

He looks up as you sit chewing your thumb.

“Is this?” He unlatched the buckle which closes it, opening the DM screen fully, pockets clips and appearing.

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it? Did you make this?”

“Yeah, I mean it's just, paper mache” you laugh “There's that place you like with the paint for your models and I went to look and thought maybe I could buy something but nothing seemed” You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat at the way you were about to gush about him.

“This is fucking awesome”

“Yeah?” You grin, popping a flap so a felt box unfolds. “I thought you could roll here", you can feel him watching you as you explain each pouch and flap, his eyes never leaving your face.

“I feel bad about the book now, shit” he's so close you can feel the breath on your face.

“Shut up.” your hand runs down the embossed cover. “It's perfect.”

When you look at him he looks like he's about to say something but instead reaches for the pile of movies holding up Scrooged “Fancy a bit of Bill Murrey?”

The day dwindles into the night, food and drink runs dry and you can feel your eyes getting heavy as 1 am approaches.

When you say you need to leave it's a slow-moving departure, the silence loud as you collect your things.

“Thank you for today.”

He waves you off, “I just threw up some plastic and made” he glances up and suddenly looks flustered “Pasta, you did most of the work” his words are quick and he's moving you through the door before you can see what it is.

“Oh okay, I'll see you Tuesday?”He nods and you lean in for a hug when something hits you in the face. You jump apart squealing and brushing yourself down scared whatever it was is still on you.

Eddie's eyes are cartoonishly wide as he stares at the offending item which now lies limply on the floor, you lean down to see a small sprig of plastic mistletoe lying there and pick it up, when you look at him he's still staring at it in your hand, face rapidly turning pink before looking at you.

“Huh, shit yeah that's, my friend Robin. You've met Robin. She helped me decorate, I said that right? And we got a shit tonne of stuff and it was in the bag and its meant to hang somewhere I said it was creepy but she said it wasn't, but the only other door was the bathroom and that's fucking weird so I put up here and it was the end of the tape with that weird cardboard bit on and it obviously didn't hold.”

He's red in the face gesticulating wildly, throwing his arm out and you can't help the amusement in your face as you touch it against his chest, halting his rambling, a long exhale leaving him.

He squeezes his eyes closed, taking it with a nod.

You watch him look down to the mistletoe, an angry little frown on his stupidly pretty face, and you were moving before you gave yourself a chance to back out.

Hand on his cheek moving his head and catching his lips softly. Your heart pounds in your chest, palms clammy against the slight stubble of his cheek and, he's not kissing you back. Reality slows for a beat too long so you pull away. His eyes are wide and he's just looking at you. You feel sick and are fumbling away to grab your bags as quickly as you can.

“I'm sorry, that was, the mistletoe and I just thought, it was stupid, not that kissing you would be. But I. ”

You don't see his chest heaving, fist closed so hard around the mistletoe it's leaving an indent in his palms because you're quite literally running away from him down the dark red hallway, heartbeat pounding in your ears, tears stinging your eyes and blurring your vision as you reach the stairs and, your pulled back.

Stumbling, large hands turn you around and he's there, cupping your face as he kisses you. Eyes scrunched closed and teeth knocking, noses pressed awkwardly together and you gasp clinging to his shirt.

You find your balance again and rearrange, the puzzle pieces finding the nooks where they fit as you kiss him back, lips moving quickly against each other as you find your rhythm. His arm drops around you to pull you in and you feel like you're about to burst and be carried away through the air vents.

When your hands come up to grip his hair he lets out a strangled sound from his throat and pulls away panting. It's silent as you look at each other's faces, breath mingling from kiss swollen lips as his thumb traces your cheekbone, you're sure your knees are going to give out at any moment.

You jump as a loud cough comes from behind you, both turning your heads to see an irritated man standing on the steps below. You step out of the way, Eddie's hand still firm between your shoulder blades keeping you pressed to his side as he throws an arm out to wave the man past.

His face comes down to yours again before the man has even cleared the hall.

“Can I keep kissing you?” it's almost urgent the way he says it and you nod quickly. “Thank fuck.” his mouth captures yours again softer and slower this time and you smile into it.

“Shit” he murmurs against your lips and you can't help the laugh that bubbles out of your chest breaking you apart again “Merry Christmas Eddie”, he bites his lip before kissing you firmly once leaving you giggling “Merry Christmas sweetheart.”

[kuroosdumbslut]

Hi, how are you ?

Can you plesse wtite fic where snape survive the war(because someone, maybe his fem best friend save him) but he disapear from wizardind world, because he is sick of that and why not… and after many years the see each other? End is up to you. Thank youuu ❤️

//Of course! I'm sorry it's taken me nearly a year to get to this request, life has been throwing me curve balls every few months. I hope you enjoy this!//

When the dust settled after the battle, everything was eerily quiet. You couldn't help but frantically search around, but you noticed one person missing. The one person you were hoping to see almost immediately after everything was said and done. The tight feeling of dread crawled up your throat and with burning, aching feet from the battle, you ran. Ran until you remembered one of the few places Severus had shown you.

You'd known him since you both were in school, and he was someone you considered to be a close friend. The Shrieking Shack, an old, abandoned building in Hogsmeade said to be haunted or cursed, was the only other place you thought to look. Many years ago, just before he disappeared for a few years in his late teens and early twenties, Severus had brought you to the shack as a place to smoke weed a bit. Back then, you both were more rebellious. It was a safer place to be than anywhere in the castle, mainly due to the lack of nosy professors sniffing around for troublemakers.

You knew his trauma with the place as well, and Severus had a horrible habit of frequenting trauma-filled places for him. A quick floo to Hogsmeade and you were running again, searching for the rundown shack. When you finally found him, you were horrified to find him bleeding out on the floor, his neck deeply bitten from what looked like a snake. "Oh my god...Severus...!" You wasted no time in running to him, sliding to the floor immediately and realizing several things. Number one, venom could definitely be present and number two, he lost so much blood. Digging around in your pack, you thanked your lucky stars that you thought to bring a supply of blood replenishing potions and bezoars for the battle. You shoved a bezoar into his mouth, helping him consume it, then began feeding him blood replenishers while you wrapped and applied pressure to staunch the bleeding. Luckily, McGonagall removed the apparition boundaries for the battle and with a firm grip on him, you apparated back to the castle just in time for Madame Pomfrey to hustle him into the critical area for proper treatment.

It took Severus over a week to come out of the coma. You weren't even aware he was in one until Madame Pomfrey said he was awake finally. You were anxious to see him again, but when you got to the infirmary, he was gone. "Poppy? Where's Severus?" Anxiety was clear in your voice, fear beginning to grip you again. Poppy tilted her head, looking concerned. "What do you mean? He said he was off to talk and visit you. Did he not?" You shook your head, looking confused and fearful. What happened to your best friend? Where had he gone? And most importantly...was he still alive?

After 2 years, you feared the worst had happened. He must've ran off to die on his own terms, as he used to promise when he had smoked a bit too much in his youth. It wasn't until the third year of him being missing that you saw him again. You were in your flat, tending to your few plants while you were cooking when a knock sounded from your front door. "Just a moment!" You called out, putting a stasis charm on the food to prevent over cooking or burning. When you opened the door, however, you couldn't stop the tears and anger from bubbling up. There, in all his glory, was Severus Snape. His hair was more greyed, his forehead wrinkles were becoming more prominent, and his neck was severely scarred. "Severus. Tobias. Snape. Where the fuck have you been?!" Severus winced a bit, knowing he probably deserved that one. "I...I had to find healing away from the wizarding world..." Severus whispered. His voice was quieter than you remember...rougher. "And you didn't think to let me know you were alive? For two and a half years? Do you have any idea how depressed I've been, thinking you're dead somewhere and I'd never see you again?" Severus looked down at his shoes and whispered, "I...I'm so sorry, I don't...I don't have a good excuse for you..."

In that moment, though, as angry and frustrated as you were, you still yanked him inside and brought him into a near bone-crushing hug. "Never EVER do that shit again. I thought I had lost my best friend." This was new to Severus. Forgiveness. He was used to being seen as a vile, evil man who said the most heinous shit. Instead, here he was in his longest friend's home being forgiven and held as if he mattered. 'I suppose I am important...to them at least,' Severus thought to himself. He startled when you responded, "You're damn right you're important to me." Ah. He had forgotten he taught you Legilimency. Cheeky thing...using his own tools against him. "Stay for lunch. Please. I think we have much to catch up on, Sev." In that moment, Severus was so glad he gathered his courage to come see you. And he was even more grateful for your forgiveness.