#anyway. these is such a stupid non problem i need to grow the fuck up

[opennwindows]

If you can, could I request BEN Drowned fluff / smut headcanons like about himself, with his headcanon age, hobbies, facts, what he is into or would like & want in a relationship, and what he would be like with a gamer girlfriend/ s/o?

If ya taking requests rn still?✨😇😊💖

Ben Drowned general + NSFW hcs

A/N: yes!! absolutely. i love getting to talk about how the pastas do their pastaing in my mind. i have so many headcanons for everyone that im excited to share!! also sorry i forgot to include the gamer gf part but i don't think it would change a lot of what i wrote!!

btw sorry for fucking dying i have been busy 😭😭 but no one worry i will still continue to work on requests!! if anyone has any marble hornets stuff they wanna request i will zoom you to the front of the queue so fucking quick. anyways enough of me yapping.

cw: 18+ nsfw, toxic relationships, crying kink,

GENERAL

ben is mentally and physically 22, but he can be quite emotionally immature at times. when he died he never stopped growing and maturing, his soul was just stuck in limbo. think like the worst waiting room ever.

he's surprisingly tall, standing at about 5'9. he's lanky but not bone thin. could easily get pretty far in a fight without his ghost powers.

the link costume only appears when he’s in his ghost form. so for example, when he’s messing with someone on their computer he’ll appear as the canon BEN we’re most familiar with. when he’s just chilling in his physical body, he mostly wears beat up hoodies and sweatpants.

contrary to popular belief, ben's not the hardcore gamer everyone thinks he is. sure, he'll play some overwatch or whatever when he's bored but he honestly just prefers to watch tv and browse the internet. understandably REFUSES to play any zelda games. if you were trapped in a video game for decades would you ever wanna touch it again? exactly.

ben loves to draw little comics and troll (see: horrifically traumatize) people online. god forbid you get into twitter beef with this man because he will crawl through your monitor at 3am and leave you with a crippling fear of technology. dude thinks it's absolutely hilarious. a true knee slapper.

lowkey has a sugar addiction. will slam down 4 cans of pepsi in one sitting. he's very lucky that he's basically a ghost because the kidney stones would be plentiful.

ROMANTIC

you know that guy with the blown out speakers in his car, lives off of energy drinks and burnt blue razz ice elfbars, swears aphex twin is the modern mozart and works on the grill at your local wendy’s? yeah thats ben. or at least would be him if he was still human.

“why would you need a chair, my lap is literally right here babe.”

would absolutely wear your skin if given the opportunity. not in a weird way. he’s just EXTREMELY touchy.

he needs someone who is significantly more organized and motivated than him. he can go almost a week without showering and it should honestly be considered biological warfare when he tries to smother you with affection during these episodes.

after awhile of you guys dating he LOVES the idea of y’all showering together. he has a fear of water and while showers aren’t too much of a trigger, your presence helps ease his anxiety.

favorite pet names: bro, dude, dawg, babe, bitch (non derogatory)

not really a romantic but he tries his best. a perfect date for him is just getting some takeout, watching youtube, talking about stupid shit and play fighting. if you want something more traditional or extravagant then he’ll oblige to make you happy but those types of dates make him feel quite suffocated and nervous. try to save those for special occasions.

now let’s talk about his problems because just like the other creeps he is ANGSTY.

he’s probably the most emotionally stable and healthiest of the group but he definitely still has his toxic traits, after all this man is a ghost that mentally tortures and kills his victims through manipulation.

ben would never ever get physical with his partner no matter how enraged he is but he absolutely is the type to do some mental damage when he gets carried away. ben drowned? more like ben gaslighted.

the type to say some shit that would keep you up for years and then kiss you the next morning like the argument never happened. he finds it easier to ignore problems than to actively talk and fix them. you’re gonna have to teach him some important communication skills or else you’ll grow to resent him after all the bottled up rage.

a bit too brutally honest and blunt for his own good so if you have thin skin the relationship would fall apart pretty quickly. he wants someone who can drag him twice as hard as he dragged you. bonus points if your insults are consistently funny as hell.

please watch anime with him and discuss it. he would propose on the spot, especially if you play with his hair.

pro player tip: if you want him to clean his disgusting room, help him and make it fun! he just needs a little push and motivation at times. and being around you makes him want to get his shit together.

big fan of late night make-out sessions. i’m talking like 45 minutes straight of just slobbering on each other’s faces with tongues down throats. if you don’t want his hands running over every inch of your body then you’ll probably have to chain him to the wall.

NSFW

okay. so he’s a little inexperienced with his hands. he’s just a slow learner. be vocal with him about what you like!!

ben's about 7inches and slightly skinnier than average but he will have you seeing stars in record time. the dick game is no joke. he tends to go fast and deep most times.

i can see him being a switch in the idgaf-as-long-as-i’m-fucking way. dude will go with the flow and will try mostly anything.

definitely one of the least aggressive pastas during sex. he has sadistic tendencies but he’s more of a edge/overstimulate you until you cry versus a beat the shit out of you and rip hair out of your scalp type. he’s pretty vanilla given his occupation.

despite his love of roasting the fuck out of you on a daily basis, the only words that come out of this man’s mouth is heavenly praise. he looks at you like you’re the most gorgeous being on the planet and he’ll let you know it.

he loves to whisper praises into your ear while you ride him.

he's more of a receiver than a giver when it comes to oral. he'll absolutely spend hours between your legs if given the chance but nothing beats the sight of you on your knees and teary eyed with his length in your mouth.

he can be a bit of a head pusher but just let him face-fuck you every now and then, hearing his loud moans will be worth it.

did i mention how much of a crying kink this man has? you guys could be on round three and if he stares at your teary eyed fucked-out face for longer than 10 seconds he'll immediately get hard again. you'll have to beg him to give your poor body a break.

he's also into choking but only if he's the one doing it. if you try to restrict his breathing he'll panic and the mood would get ruined.

[msfantasy-anime]

Something Stupid

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Summary: you see a Deku on TV with Uravity. Jealously ensues

Warnings: Some smut, swearing, confessions, angst, heartbreak

Part Three - Masterlist - Tip Jar

“Fans love seeing Uravity and Deku on call together.”

“How could they not? Their chemistry is so good! Surely they’re dating.”

“Rumour has it that the two started dating during their studies UA.”

You stare at the large screen in the cafe watching two drama presenters reading off fan theories of Deku and Uravity.

Footage shows alternating images of Uravity floating Deku to a medical bed and caressing his forehead with that look in her eyes that Deku is blind to.

But you see it all to clear.

That look of adoration, desperation, longing, need, want in her eyes.

The pathetic way she looked up at Deku with so much yearning churned your stomach with anger.

You remind yourself that you have both been humping like rabbits for months, he wouldn’t have any stamina left for anyone. He’s begged for you, groaned his thanks for you and held you close to him at the end of every session.

So why does this prickle your skin with irritation?

Uravity is just some stupid love sick hero.

But that’s the problem isn’t it?

Your so uncomfortably far from Deku.

The realm of hero and villainy wedging you two apart, making it highly unlikely anything more would grow between you both. Uravity gravitates within Deku’s world. Uravity is a safe choice, the only choice. If it came down between you two, what other option is there?

What does it matter anyway? It’s just sex.

Sadness creeps over you, heart clenching uncomfortably in your chest.

At what point did it make you feel bad that you aren’t more important? Since when did you feel desperate to be more?

Staring down at the cafe table, locking eyes onto Deku’s diary. Without a moments hesitation you pick up the small book and flick through the pages to see his schedule.

16th June, dinner with Ochaco at Miki’s Diner.

Bullshit.

Bull fucking shit.

He was going to see her today.

Dinner with just Uravity, by themselves, alone, together.

Well, you were just going to have to fix that. You’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t have a single drop of cum left in him to share.

———————————————————————————

Deku looked pretty fucked out as is.

Cum dripping down your sticky thighs as you continue to ride his thick cock. Drool dribbles down the side of his mouth as you hoaxing him onto his third orgasm.

“Fuck Deku I love the way you look right now!” You moan making Deku wrench a loud groan remaining a limp spread under your brutal riding.

You’re too dick drunk to hear the front door of Deku’s home creak open.

“Izuku? I hope you don’t mind I came early. I’ll just wait for you in the living room Kay?” The voice calls. You look down at the delirious boy, to consumed by your gummy walls and soft claps to hear the voice wringing through his home. “Izuku did you hear me?” She calls again.

You flip your self onto your back pulling Deku on top of you. Without having to say anything, he lines himself up and slams himself between your heavenly folds chasing the high he was so close to having before. “God Deku you feel so good, I love how good you make me feel.” His face softens hearing your sweet words wash over him.

“Izuku, call me Izuku.”

“Izuku, baby, please, feels too good. Mh gonna.” His palm clutches tightly around your waist hearing his name slip off your lips, he begins to rut his pounding hips into your tantalising walls. Overwhelmed by the intense sensation, you clench around his shaft and throw your head back gasping as the waves of an orgasm wash over you. Opening your eyes you see non other than the love sick girl herself stare through the crack of the bedroom door, horror closing in on her features, she looked distort, she looked heartbroken, she looked impossibly defeated.

“Fuck!” Izuku grunts spilling the last of his seed deep within your delicious cunt. He collapses on top of you kissing sloppy open mouth kisses into your neck and up your cheek. You watch as the girl runs from the scene, slamming the door on her way out.

“Izuku, that girl you work with saw us…” You say awkwardly making Izuku pause mid-kiss.

“What?”

“That girl your work with … Uravity… I just saw her standing at the door- she just left.” Embarrassment coats him, the kind of embarrassment you feel when your parents catch you in an act you wouldn’t want them to see.

“I’ll- I’ll text her.” He stammers awkwardly fumbling with his phone. Sighing at your sweet helpless boy, you slide your hand on top of the device and pull it away from his grasp.

“No Izuku- she looked upset. It’d be best if you talk to her.” He shifts uncomfortably, pawing gently at your thighs.

“Uh- it’s just so awkward.” He moved to sitting up against the headboard. “She also admitted she had romantic feelings-but I turned her down Y/n, so please don’t worry.” His words bring you on a roller coaster of emotions. Relief at the reassurance, comfort in knowing the truth and guilt. This shouldn’t be bringing you comfort. This is just sex. He is a hero and your a villain, this would never work.

“Why would you do that?” You ask almost desperately, almost sounding longingly.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s because I love you.” His words fall flat on your ears. Surely he was mistaken. He must be too caught up in your ravenous rendezvous to know the difference between love and lust.

“Don’t. Don’t say something stupid.” You snap, but Izuku remains unwavering at your sudden shift in mood. He need not speak another word. Instead he pulls you into his chest and presses a soft kiss into your temple and begins to caress your back in those slow intoxicating circles he always draw.

“It’s okay Y/n, just accept my love. Don’t push me away.” Melting in his hold you let his words sink into you.

But you can’t allow this.

Your life was a mess, you were a villain the stole relics and returned them to their rightful owners at a large cost.

You weren’t good.

You were bad.

Deku was pure light that shone brightly onto the world which reached the darkest of places.

It was so nice to finally bask in the light of which you had longed for.

It was beyond pleasant to finally be important to someone. For them to see the best in you, for them to acknowledge your flaws but push you to doing better. Being better.

You can’t do this to him.

You can’t ruin his life.

Tear welling up in your eyes you rip away from his comforting hold.

“You - can’t.” Was all you managed to say as you gathered your clothing and bolt out of the room.

[willowshadenox]

The Other Daughter of Lady Dimitrescu

Chapter 1: Infant?

Summary: A human infant was found in the year 1998. What will ever come of the child when Mother Miranda finds her alone in a basket in the village when she pays a visit? What happens when she decides to show the four houses of her discovery? What will happen when the four houses meet the infant? What if Mother Miranda were to offer them custody of the infant? ***I don’t own any of Resident Evil Village*** ***I don’t own any of the pictures unless I say*** **All I own is my character and maybe a few other things I may add**

AO3 Link

An Eastern European village. It was a cold day. Every villager prayed to Mother Miranda for them to be safe. Yes, she heard them perfectly well, she didn’t care for them in the least. Again, at the meeting of the four lords, they still acted like children. Spoiled. Mishaps. Failed experiments. All unfit to be my daughter’s host. That’s all Miranda could think of them as. 

“If you don’t mind my children, I must take my leave… important business I must take care of… Don’t do anything you may regret when I get back…”

“But Mother Miranda! Heisenberg brought this upon himself! He dared to bring his forsaken creatures near MY castle. Something must be done!” Said, Lady Dimitrescu seemingly trying to persuade her opinion. Unfortunately, she didn’t care either way. She waved her hand in dismissal.

“Do what you must but all I order is that there is no bloodshed between the four of you. I’m off.” With that, she left.

“Why must I be placed in the same crowd as you three?”

“Hey! Not like I wanted to be grouped with you either, but you know we have no say in the matter. So, you better stop with the shit or there will be problems…”

“Oh! How hilarious you truly are, child.”

“You want to say that again?!”

“Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!”

“Shut the fuck up you stupid doll!”

“Ha! Seems that you can’t handle a simple ruse out of a doll… How childish.”

The arguments continued. Non-stop. They finally decided to stop arguing, though that was only because Heisenberg let up in the end appealing to Dimitrescu’s demands knowing there was no point in fighting her but not without slurs being thrown at both parties and the spectators. They all went back to their seats and waited for Mother Miranda to return and dismiss them.

During the dispute between the houses, Mother Miranda disguised herself as a traveler passing by trying to find another candidate as a host for her daughter. On she went, passing by villagers and the shrine they go to worship her. Seems to be currently in service she was just about to leave when she heard a cry of what she thought to be an infant.

She began the search for where the noise was emitting. It appeared that no one cared for the noise. As she walked the noise continued to grow louder.

Finally moving into a clearing, there lay a basket in front of the Maiden of War. Miranda grew curious as to why there was a basket in the middle of the village, why hadn’t anyone dared come forward to claim the child? As she moved closer a voice of a villager cried out, “Don’t touch it! We have no clue where that thing came from.” Before she could ask, another villager spoke, she stopped momentarily, then continued toward the basket. 

“Can it! Someone not from around these parts left the poor thing thinking that someone here would be kind enough to take it. The guardian seemed upset about the decision but left anyway.” She finally stopped in front of the basket, looking down she could see small outlines of hands and could hear wailing emitted from under a pink blanket that was covering the infant. After a moment of contemplation Miranda spoke. 

“If I may ask… Why hasn’t anyone taken the child?”

“We would need Mother Miranda to make that decision… This child could be a bad omen for all we know.” As they continued the conversation Miranda gently removed the blanket to find a small baby girl with a note.

Name: Your decision

Born: December 10th, 1998

“If you are reading this then I thank you. Please take care of my child, I apologize for leaving her behind. She deserves much better. I hope she is given much joy with you.” 

After reading the note she looked back at the infant. “So… You were recently born… A couple of weeks… Very interesting…” The baby continued to cry until Miranda placed her hand on top of their head. The infant began to calm down only left with a tear-streaked face. 

“Very well then…” Miranda covered the infant with the blanket once more and lifted the basket into her hold. She began to leave, that is until the villagers began to speak with her. 

“H-hey! Wait! We don’t know what that child could do! I don’t suggest you take it!”

“You seem very adamant. Were you by chance the one who brought the thought into the rest of the villagers' pathetic minds that this baby could lead to the demise of this village? If anything, you are to blame, not a baby that hasn’t committed any sin as of yet.” That shut them up quickly. Miranda continued to walk on until she was out of sight from the villagers. She shifted to her normal appearance and looked down at the child once more to find it staring back with puffy innocent eyes, it closed its eyes and fell asleep not a moment later. 

“We must tell the four houses of you, shouldn’t we?” Only a mumble in response. With that, they disappeared.

Miranda reappeared at the meeting and looked at all four of them.

“You all seemed to have figured out your problems.”

“Mother-”

“SILENCE!” As demanded, they all kept quiet. A wail erupted from the basket being held by Miranda. She looked frustrated; she had just gotten the child to be comfortable with her. It was silent except for the wails of the child. Shock and confusion rolled off of the four lords in waves. Lady Dimitrescu was the first to speak.

“Mother Miranda is that?…”

“Yes, it is. Unfortunately, she does seem afraid now. Care to try and calm her down?” Silently, Dimitrescu put her cigarette holder down and walked to the basket and unveiled the infant. The babe was a sight for sore eyes in Dimitrescu’s opinion. The liveliest pair of blue eyes she’d ever seen. The moment she touched the child an electrifying feeling shot down her arms and went through the rest of her body. She couldn’t move for a moment, when she refocused, she found the child examining her as well, after a moment the baby began to cry once more. She lifted the babe into her hold and began calming her.

“Oh, hush now. There is no reason to cry. A young lady should never cry but stay strong and collected.” The baby slowly stopped crying and yawned in exhaustion. 

“I wanna see! I wanna see!” The child seemed to be frightened of the loud demands and began sniffling once more threatening to spill more tears.

“Beneviento, I do suggest that you stay quiet. If this baby cries again I will hold you responsible and make you pay.” She began lightly dandling the child to calm her down, it: being very effective that the child calmed down once more in Alcina’s embrace. 

“Oh Ha Ha. Are you already getting attached to the thing?”

“Quiet, child! It is a matter for me to know and for you to keep quiet and move along with your day.” She turned away from him to keep the babe out of his view.

“Huh. Well then, Mother Miranda I was wondering if I could see the child as well…” A growl could be heard from the countess in annoyance and slight anger still holding the babe. “Don’t give me that shit! I asked Mother Miranda and whatever she says goes!” Before he could argue more Miranda held up her hand to silence him. She then looked at Dimitrescu.

“Alcina…”

“Yes, Mother Miranda?”

“Let the child decide…” Alcina looked reluctant but relented knowing that there was no choice in the matter. She slowly turned to face him, staring down at the child in her arms as the child stared back, she started to move the girl towards him. That was until the baby figured out what she was doing and began to wail once more and reached her arms out for Alcina.

“Why you little-” Heisenberg immediately became infuriated and annoyed, holding out his hammer, giving Alcina the thought he was going to attack. In response she brought the babe with a secure hold to her sternum and drew her claws out, seething at Heisenberg. The baby of course was still crying. Alcina’s attention was brought back to the child in an instant, retracting her claws in the process.

“Hush now. I won’t let you go. No need to cry. Hush.” 

“Looks like you have grown attached-”

“Quiet, Heisenberg. As I said before, move along.” He growled at this and began to draw closer to them, scaring the child even further. 

“ENOUGH!” They all stopped in their actions. The child even became quiet in fear but was immediately comforted by Alcina’s gloved hand gently brushing the back of her head protectively.

“Mother Miranda. If you don’t mind me asking, what is her name?”

“She doesn’t have one. I found the child in front of the Maiden of War statue.” Alcina was about to speak once more but Heisenberg cut in.

“How about we ask what the child wants to be named? I’m sure it will answer.” He stated, dripping with sarcasm.

“The child can understand you; you do understand that don’t you?”

“Tch. Yeah. Right, all it does is cry.” A grunt was heard, and they all turned their heads to the child who was seemingly glaring at Heisenberg. He smirked, “Aw. Now you're growing a set of balls on ya? Ha! Don’t waste my breath.” The baby in response grumbled lightly, that was until a hand began rubbing her back. 

“Yes, I know he is very annoying, but you must ignore that. Just retain your air of joy and ignore the fowl man, Camilla…” The sour expression faded to one of confusion on the baby’s face, that was until she figured out who Alcina was talking to and the expression on her face turned to one of joy.

“Camilla: ‘A legendary warrior maiden’ huh?”

“Karl, I say it sounds fitting, especially from where I found the child. As you suggested, let the child decide.” Mother Miranda said finally deciding to cut in. 

“Enough talk! I wanna hold it! I wanna hold it!” Said the doll holding her arms for the baby. The baby gripped the neckline of Alcina’s dress, and she laughed lightly at the child’s actions. 

“There, there little Camilla. No need to go to such lengths.” The said baby looked back at the countess’ face and placed a small hand on her cheek. Alcina smiled from the action and moved her hand to cup the side of Camilla’s face. She then frowned slightly knowing that Mother Miranda would want the child back.

“Mother! Do you think I could use the child as an experiment for you?” Said Moreau. Alcina’s head snapped to him in an instant, she sneered at him in anger forever suggesting that. She then felt a little hand rub her cheek softly to calm her down. She moved her attention back to Camilla and smiled softly at her efforts. 

Miranda contemplated it though. Maybe I will be able to bring back Eva… She then turned to Alcina holding the baby. Seems the babe has already grown attached to her as if she were her mother… “Alcina… Hand me the child…” With much reluctance, Alcina did as asked, unfortunately though Camilla began to cry. Even as Miranda was trying to calm her down but to no avail, Camilla began struggling more trying to reach out to Alcina.

“Camilla, behave. Mother Miranda was the one who found you at least appreciate the generosity she has given you.” The baby immediately stopped struggling but still fussed. That was all Miranda needed to know.

“Alcina you may have the child back.” She said, holding the child out for Alcina to take. “No experiments will come to the child unless Alcina permits it…” Alcina bowed her head slightly in gratitude, her attention moved to the child now in her arms once more. “That being said… you will be in charge of the child.” 

“Understood,” Alcina said without hesitation.

“With that, you are all dismissed.” Miranda then vanished once more. The other Lords looked pissed, to say the least. 

“Why the hell wasn’t it a majority vote? Give me the damn child. I’ll be sure to take care of it.”

“No! No! No! No! I wanna take care of it! Show it all the fun things you could do with dolls!”

“I want to experiment on the child to help, mother.”

“ENOUGH! The child is in my care and as she is in my care you are not to come one step near her if your motives are atrocious. I will treat her as I do my other daughters now that being said I will not be against cutting you all down where you stand. Understood?” Without hearing if they agreed or not, she left the meeting to her castle. Oh, what adventures little Camilla would bring to Alcina and her daughters at Castle Dimitrescu.

[dgtor-writes]

(I ADORE tumblr because only on here have i had a user dm me to rave about a comment i left on their junker queen post and then after a long exchange on here exchange discords with me so we can rave about her writing)

(I like Twitter because we can have a similar-ish experience, but it stays in the replies and stops after 7+ tweets)

Anyways, STOP SAYING JQ AND MAD MAGGIE ARE THE SAME. They may have similar aesthetics and designs but wildly different arcs.

As previously explained, Mad Maggie is Māori New Zealander, which is super specific to her story and informs her character greatly. Junker Queen is a tan Australian with her skin color having very little influence on her story outside of showing she’s been in the sun a lot. (Personally I head-canon her as a mixed First Nations woman but that’s neither here nor there).

Both characters have their own writing flaws and virtues but that’s more a reflection of the writing team and there’s gold if you know where to look.

Mad Maggie is amazing. I’ve seen fans write her off as “crazy for the sake of crazy”. Which is just… so wrong?

Margarita Kohere’s madness is a duly faceted. She holds real, burning rage at the occupation of her homeland, and the one person who claimed to stand by her who left to seek his own dreams of glory. And her mental state is reflective of the trauma she’s endured from said occupation. She’s had to be tough as nails and even bloodthirsty to secure the autonomy and freedom of her people and do things that are morally dubious. She isn’t deranged for shits and giggles, she’s traumatized and aggressive to achieve what she views as liberation in a system determined to paint her as a villain as they takeover her home and brutalize her people. It’s there for a reason and integral to who she is.

On Junker Queen’s end she’s so cool. But there’s fans who write her off as a “dumb jock muscle mommy” which is also so wrong?! Like where are you people getting these?

(It’s the voice lines, I blame the voice lines)

Odessa Stone is aggressive yes, and her voice lines in game seem somewhat childish, but not even those reflect an unintelligent she-brute. The tough-as-nails attitude, similar to Maggie, is a product of her environment. In the Wastelands, might makes right and keeping your place in that hierarchy relies on having a level of physical superiority that can be enforced. She learned this lesson young being kicked out her home at a very young age and (presumably) losing her entire family to the radiated desert sands. Someone like that grows to understand how valuable power and the numbers to back it up is. Especially in her WL short, she is shown to be intelligent, empathetic, and a team player. The people of Junkertown lover her for a reason. She spared the lives of the former king’s lackeys and even took a hit to the face for one of them. In the art at the end, she’s shown to bring not only order, but stability and prosperity to Junkertown. She doesn’t hold herself apart from the other junkers but exercises her authority when/where its needed. She’s shown to have a great knack and intelligence for battle (as seen in her LoJQ short and the WL short) where she’s taken on a ridiculous amount of rogue omnics and slaughtered them, while utilizing non-lethal force against her human opponents in the reckoning. She’s not even remotely stupid or particularly bloodthirsty and the throwaway line about making widows and not eating her veggies got y’all fucked up.

(Honestly a bigger part of the problem is overwatch not letting their “heroes” kill in their shorts, and she’d been allowed to, she’d have been consistent at the very least from short to game but i digress.)

Overall, they not the same, neither of them suck, and they’d probably be besties if they knew each other irl. PERIOD.

[h-pelessly]

June Reads

When You Left Me Speechless by Jess Christine (9/10) I loved this book so much. Most ARC reads are good enough, but they don’t make me feel anything. But this one was so cute. Not only did I enjoy it because it made me realize what I wanted in life, I loved Poppy and Logan’s story as well. Poppy is independent and wants to focus on school, so I kind of see myself through her. Logan’s a teacher, and the whole profession makes me swoon. The thing I didn’t love about the book is the FWB aspect, but other than that, I loved how patient Logan is with her. Poppy was mostly the iffy one in the relationship, but her concerns are valid. And she had a past where she let a man stand in the way of her future/education so she’s valid. The FWB aspect was unnecessary in my opinion because I feel like they were so enamoured with each other before that. The conflict in this one was stupid, but parents do unruly things for their children so I get it. I loved this one.

Our Secret Game by Janisha Boswell (7.3/10) This book wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. The characters (found family) interacting with one another bothered me because how are you acting like this in your twenties but like I’m here for the romance which is there. Nora, which is a stupid name like how are you going to tell me this is a young adult? You can’t. Anyways, is trying to get over her ex for months, which is understandable, but like six months? Insanity like she’s still so mad like please have some maturity. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been led on or cheated on or anything? So she fake dates her best friend, who she has always thought was annoying which didn’t make sense to me. How are you claiming he’s your best friend when you act so much better/different with your girlfriends? He, Wes, is not your best friend!! Do not lie to me. But also, the girls are such bad friends like Cat is so engrossed with her bf like I get you had your book and moment, but your friend needs you???? And Elle or whatever the fuck her name is left Nora with her ex when it was clear she, Nora, was uncomfy??? Like i don’t care if u are uncomfy. If you guys are as good as friends as you claim, don’t leave her in moments of stress? Nora and Wes fake date, but it’s to Wes’s benefit because he’s always been in love with Nora so he is sweet. But also, Wes has STRONG family and individual problems. I don’t think it should’ve been resolved that quickly or a relationship could’ve fixed it. Anyway, I had iffy feelings about Wes. He was sweet and romantic, but also, like you need to grow up and realize you need help. I don’t think they should’ve ended up together. They are cute and stuff, but like Nora only gets with him due to forced proximity and her horniness. Wes deserves her, but he doesn’t need a relationship right now. I do love this was POC written and had an Asian non-MC.

Don't Let Her Stay by Nicola Sanders (6/10) This was an audiobook that I nearly DNF'ed. I wanted something like Freida McFadden bc her books are so easy to digest, but I didn't want to finish all her books so I decided to give mystery/thriller books a chance. I hated this one. It was so slow, and the gaslighting was INSANE. This woman marries a rich man, has a child, moves far in the countryside with him. Then, his daughter from another marriage visits, and weird stuff happens. False, it wasn't weird. It was just a kid fighting for their dad's love or whatever. The kid, Chloe, is 20 and calls her dad "daddy", is nasty to the wife, is creepy to their child or whatever. Everytime the wife tells the husband, he gaslights her as well as the half child or whatever. Anyways so they end up killing the husband because the wife is manipulated into thinking he is why his late wife, Chloe's mom, is dead, but it turns out that it was Chloe all along. I hated the characters so much. This book was honestly a waste of my time.

Her Wicked Plan by Hannah Jo (8/10) I really enjoyed this book. I didn't know if I'd be into it, but the blurb and tropes seemed interesting as an ARC reader. I love Veronica and the insane asylum. I love how much character Veronica had, but Leo on the other hand... he's... something. He was annoying and a little whiny bitch, but when he's with Vee, I suddenly can stand him. Leo is the voice of reason and whatnot but like he's also an overthinker and needs to be a little more professional (or vice versa, but make up your damn mind.) And the spice?! Oh lord. Makes me think unholy things I want to try. The ending definitely fucked me up. Even though it's expected, it still took me by surprise like how was she able to fake it that much? Granted, she is a patient at an asylum and pleaded mental insane, but that freaking hurt as a romance girlie. But could I have liked it if that ending didn't happen and they got their HEA?

Wrecked by Lauren Asher (7/10) This has been the best one so far out of her Dirty Air series, but the tension is so immediate and the same, it's repetitive. Like I don't feel anything at all. I've come to the realization that F1 is a hot sport, but the way it's written makes you expect it to be a hot sport and them as celebrities. Maybe because she also admitted Lewis Hamilton, a real life F1 driver, was Jax. It's weird, but I mean besides the look, it shouldn't be like him. Unless it is then it's weird. Elena surprisingly had a very heavy and dark background for being a sunny character. Jax did as well, and to find out he has the disease just killed me like this man is going through it. I also hated the way Lauren wrote about his anxiety and then it's just forgotten. Overall, the better book out of the other two with heavy characters, but some parts bored me so much.

Overtime by Mari Loyal (9.5/10) I actually really liked this one. I thought I liked the first one, but this one felt so much better. Maybe because it seemed like the perfect book for someone who I read growing up (since the first book was 5/6 years ago and Aran, the MMC, grew up.) The tension and angst made me giggle so much, and the FMC was such a cutie pie who struggled to love herself because she surrounded herself with people who didn't love her for herself. She's also an author so that made me love her so much more. The way this book was a clean romance/closed door one, but it had me giggling and kicking my feet so much. I also loved the fact that more hockey is on page in this one. Like are you just writing about it because it's hot or because you know it? I love tutor x jock trope so this was definitely right up my aisle. I'm so proud of Mari Loyal.

The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelidas (7.5/10) I throughly enjoyed this audiobook. It was long and out of my comfort zone, yes. But I did love how detailed the author goes into psychotherapy and just the therapy aspect of it. Long story short, Alicia shoots her husband, Gabriel, and is placed in an insane asylum instead of jail because she goes silent. Theo wants to figure out why so he works as her therapist. I thought it was super weird how invested Theo was to Alicia's story at first like I know it's like a celebrity death/murder in a small town, but this dude was too obsessed like let it go!!! To find out he's behind why she killed her husband like that made so much sense. But the fact that he tried to drug her after he got her to talk again. I'm so fucking confused. Anyways, it was a good book, but I'm not too keen on the genre.

The Reluctant Roommate by Angela Casella (6.8/10) It wasn't horrible, but I didn't have a fun time reading it. I just got so bored reading it and it felt so long for no reason whatsoever. I got this for free during a SYK event, and when reading the tropes, I was interested, but it's part of a series. Technically it's a standalone, yes, but I believe the best way to read it is in order to feel the character development and to grow an attachment to them. Literally they were just characters on a piece of paper for me, and like the characters had zero chemistry. Like how are you going to tell me that he's been in love with her since he was six because he brings her a cup of water??? I love the FMC's sassiness, but in this case, it made her extremely childish because again, the author expects you to know her personality and doesn't explain it well in this book. Don't even get me started on the fairy godparents aka the PI investigators. Who the FUCK do they think they are? Like this bitch Nicole does some good or at least helps her out and expects her, the FMC, and literally everyone else to bow at her feet. She was so infuriating. Idk, this book was just not for me.

[ditzdove]

Ok so this is just me rambling but i need to talk to someone about this even just some randos on the internet anyways I hate how we perceive non human beings in fiction and in real life.

Things such as gods, vampires, etc. Usually these beings look down on humans and humanity as a whole, their entire philosophy is that humans are beneath them and are the scum of the earth thus are not worthy of their time.

Which is one is incorrect and two is just plain stupid, because if these beings have spent billions of years or ions observing humans watching them grow and explore and discover and they still can not find the beauty in humanity then maybe they’re not looking hard enough. Yes humanity has its flaws but so does everyone other species.

And yes humans have done fucked up things on a cosmic scale but they’re are humans who are trying to fix those problems. Whenever I read a fic on vampires and the vampires are lamenting the fact that humans are horrible or are lesser to me it just sounds like a old rich white dude who’s never seen the beauties of creation or the diversity of culture in humanity.

Whenever I see a god state that they have no love for they’re creations I find it sad because who are artists if not gods in their own right and do they not love their own creation, and yes many artists are embarrassed or ashamed of their first work but they don’t hate it because it’s something they put love and care into something that they will hold dear to them and if a cosmic being can’t find some small joy or love out of its creation then why was it created.

Not only are these view points annoying I think they’re pretty self deprecating because why do people think everything in the universe looks down on us like yes you are flawed but you are beautiful because you are flawed. Most gods aren’t benevolent sweethearts and vampires aren’t just sexy sad boys. Theses characters are just as flawed and fucked up as us.

[starrgaziinggg]

BEGIN AGAIN | hwang hyunjin

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hwang Hyunjin messes with your head, unknowingly, for over a month. Until you can't take it anymore.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Growing up with Chris Bang as your best friend had it's perks - a permanent bodyguard, a shoulder to cry on... and seven other boys who also became your best friends as you grew up together.

Week in, week out, your routine stayed the same. Study, go to class and patiently wait to attend your regular Friday evening home cooked meal with your friends. You just couldn't wait to graduate and start working, to rid yourself of exams and finally start earning some proper money like the boys.

Desperate to put some light back into your mundane, studious life, Chris forces you to start blind dating. Two miserable dates down and ready to murder the man, someone completely unexpected appears and makes a mess of your orderly life.

And a mess he does make.

|fake dating|friends to lovers|slow burn|non idol au|

chapter seven

You woke up the next morning to a siren going off. You sat up, bashing your head off the top of your headboard and with wide, panicked eyes, wondered why they had brought the Purge to South Korea.

Okay, that was really over dramatic. It was just your phone alarm ringing over and over right beside your ear. You swore, looking at the caller name and answering the call.

"Jisung? It's so fucking early and it's Sunday. What could you possibly want," you answered the phone call by saying. Clearly you were the opposite of a morning person. You hated being woken up by anyone.

"What an excellent way to answer the phone! I'm doing great, Thankyou!" He said in his usual cheery voice. As you listened you heard someone talking in the background sounding stressed.

"Cut the crap, what's going on," you said, wanting him to get to the point. You waited for his response, but instead heard him should to whoever was with him.

"Yah! It will be fine! Sit down and shut up," he said to whoever he was with. "Sorry about that. Lino is freaking out. Basically, Da-Hye is on holiday, so they were already not coming in to work today, so Lino got Jeongin to cover for them. But now Bitna has food poisoning so she can't come in, and

In-Su caught a bug from those stupid feet fish that eat all your dead skin. So, Jeongin Minho and I are the only people available to run the restaurant because all his other useless workers are refusing to cover the shifts."

You rolled your eyes.

"What time do you want me to come in for?" You ask, and you can hear the glee in Jisung's voice.

"Ten am please! Thankyou, love you," he said. Then he directs his words to Minho. "See, I told you our friends would come in clutch. Quit your whining, okay!"

"Okay, okay, I'll be there. Bye, dumbass," you say as you hang up the phone.

You genuinely didn't mind covering shifts when Minho needed you too. After Changbin and Jisung started working for Minho's parents restaurant, you and Jeongin started to work there when you were needed a couple months later. You already ate there a lot anyway, and it was easy work since Minho and his parents were great bosses. There were four of Minho's parents restaurants across South Korea, and one of them was owned and run by Minho - the one closest to where you all lived. This was the one you had all worked at.

It was 9am, so you set an alarm for 9:30 and went back to sleep, getting as much rest as possible before your shift. When your alarm went off, you got up and started to get ready. You were lucky your uniform was still in tact and had been washed since the last time you wore it. All you had to wear was the company's polo shirt and a pair of leggings.

It was only a ten minute walk to the restaurant and you couldn't be bothered paying for an Uber so you just walked. You arrived bang on ten o'clock to Jisung cleaning the restaurant.

"Hey! Thanks for coming in, you saved me. Lino was driving me insane," he said to you, giving you a hug as you walked in.

"It's not a problem. Sorry I was such a bitch on the phone," you apologised.

"Don't worry, we all know what you're like when you get woken up abruptly. I expected nothing less," he laughed, finishing up wiping the tables. The restaurant didn't open until eleven but Minho liked to make sure everyone was ready before opening. At that moment he walked through and gave you a grin.

"Hi," he said, drawing out the last syllable. "Can you come through and taste this for me? Jisung is useless."

You laughed as Jising flipped Minho off and you walked through to the back, where the kitchen was. Minho had two chefs and they usually did the cooking, but he often helped. The restaurant wasn't huge - it only had around twenty tables - so he didn't have heaps of staff.

He had been making some sort of soup, and he took a spoon and held it up to your mouth. You took it in your mouth and tasted what he'd been making. It tasted delicious, as you were excepting.

"It's amazing, Minho! Personally I would add some more spice to it, but that's just my taste," you say to him, giving him a thumbs up.

"That's actually a good idea," he says, deliberating it. "You're annoying when you're right."

You rolled your eyes and jumped up to sit on the countertop. Minho used to scold you for it, but he'd given up after a while. You took a cloth and started cleaning the cutlery that had just come out the dishwasher. A minute later Jeongin arrived through the back door with a grin on his face. His work uniform was far too small for him now and clung to his body.

"Oh my god, Innie! You've been working out more haven't you," Jisung said, walking to the back through the swing door. He started feeling his biceps and Jeongin moved his arm away.

"Hey! Leave me alone," he said, coming over to stand beside you and helping with the cutlery.

"You're all grown up now! I remember in school when you would run to me because of the other kids but now you'd be fighting them all on your own," he continued. Jeongin faked punching the air and you laughed. You remembered how Jeongin was picked on and teased a lot in school. Kids could be really horrible, but it made Jeongin toughen up a lot and he would always tell you and the boys how grateful he was to have you all as friends.

You all got to working, cleaning up the restaurant and sorting out bookings for the day. Since you'd all helped out working there since you were kids, you knew how to do pretty much everything, so it was easy to just get stuck back in after you hadn't worked there for a while.

People started arriving dead on eleven, and you began to serve tables. There were a fair few regulars that you remembered who were excited to have you serving them again. You enjoyed the familiar atmosphere that came with working at the restaurant. Minho wasn't uptight by any means, and you, Jeongin and Jisung were good workers so it just flowed well. Your favourite part about working there was the friendly banter you had with the boys. Take now for instance; you'd been working for a couple hours and Jisung had taken your playlist off of the speaker system and put on his own songs, singing along to them with Jeongin.

"The customers don't want to hear you screech like a cat, Hannie," you said to him as you placed plates down for a table. "Sorry about him, he put too much sugar on his weetabix this morning."

"Oh don't be sorry, it's so fun watching you kids have fun together," one of your regulars laughed.

"You're just jealous because you don't have the voice of an angel," Jisung retorted.

"Yes?" Jeongin said towards Jisung, polishing a glass.

"What?"

"Sorry, I just heard you talking about my voice," Jeongin smiled cheekily. You laughed and Jisung stuck out his tongue. Jeongin actually did have a lovely voice, but he was far too shy to ever use it properly.

"I'm truly embarrassed for you both," you say as you go back into the kitchen. Minho was cleaning up, preparing to close the restaurant for lunch break before opening up again later. He always made you all lunch when you worked all day, and right now he was making noodles for everyone. You grabbed some chopsticks and sneakily took some from the pot.

"Hey! Wait until your break, it's only an hour away," he said, swatting your hand away. "Are they causing a ruckus out there?"

"Would you expect anything less from them?" You asked, your mouth full.

The last hour of your shift before lunch passed by really quickly and it wasn't long until the four of you were sitting at a table and eating lunch yourselves. Jisung sat beside you, with Jeongin across from you and Minho beside him.

"I feel like I've asked this a million times recently, but how was your date last night?" Jeongin asked, looking at you intently. The two other boys turned to look at you. You debated on what to say - you'd almost totally forgotten about your night last night. It almost felt like a fever dream.

"So, funny story about that. Chan decided it would be hilarious to set Hyunjin up as my blind date," you said and the boys eyes widened. "At first I was raging at him but then we just ended up having a nice dinner together. But after that, I met this guy at a bar and we got to talking and I think im going to start seeing him."

The lie just slipped out so easily, you surprised yourself. Minho did that upside down smile thing and nodded his head, whilst Jeongin and Jisung just smiled.

"Interesting," Minho said. "What's his name?"

"I'm not telling you anything about him yet," you said, quickly trying to cover up the fact that there just was no man. "I don't even know if it will work out, so no point in making him a household name for no reason yet."

You were relatively pleased with how you had navigated the conversation, and the boys seemed to drop the topic fairly quickly. They had started talking about something else when you saw you had received a text from Hyunjin.

CEO MR. HWANG

What's your plans for Saturday?

Princess

None atm. Why?

CEO MR. HWANG

Fancy watching that movie w me

You know the one we're

seeing on Sunday

The horror

I want to watch it before

we all go together

Princess

In preparation ?

I mean sure

Kinda smart

Means Seungmin won't make

fun of you again

CEO MR. HWANG

Exactly 🥲

I'll pick u up around 8 : )

You couldn't help but giggle at his texts. Despite his height, he was the biggest baby of the group. He couldn't handle horror or gore at all, and practically died every time he saw it. It was hilarious (and adorable, but you'd never admit that out loud). You'd all made a plan to see the latest horror in the cinema on Sunday, and clearly Hyunjin was shitting himself.

You looked up to see all three boys staring at you.

"What's hilarious and adorable?" Minho asked slyly. Fuck, you'd definitely just said that out loud.

"Nothing you'd be interested in. Anyway, shouldn't we be getting cleaned up for the evening shift?" You said, taking everyone's bowls and making your way to the kitchen. Conversation easily avoided.

The rest of your shift went by fine. Clumsy Yang Jeongin smashed only two glasses, and Jisung almost cut his hand trying to tidy it, but other than that it sailed by rather smoothly. But you honestly could not stop thinking of one thing.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Since he had been brought up in conversation, he had annoyingly occupied your mind. Why was he so eager to take you out? Why did he seem to act different than he ever had before? Did he only see you as a friend still?

You had a million questions running through your mind, but you knew one thing for certain. Every time you thought about that date last night, your heart beat a little faster and you could not stop the smile from forming on your face.

And it was killing you.

You and Hyunjin had been friends for a really long time. You knew so much about him, you'd seen him at his best and at his worst - so why were you starting to feel this way now? Was it just a stupid crush on your attractive friend? Or something more?

"You're daydreaming again, idiot," Jeongin said when you were locking up after your shift had ended. He had offered to give you a lift home, so it was just the two of you left to lock up. When you locked the door, you put the keys in the locked letterbox for Minho to use tomorrow.

"Sorry," you said, following behind him to his car. "I guess I'm just not really with it at the moment. Got too much to think about, and the incessant noise outside my apartment just does not help. I have a mock exam tomorrow, as well, which is what we fall back on if we fail the exam. I've studied so much for it I think I'll do well but if I get a shit sleep tonight I'll flunk it."

"You're more than welcome to stay with me and Seungmin tonight if you want to sleep well before your test," Jeongin said instantly, unlocking his car for the both of you to get in and set off home. "You can sleep in my room and I'll either share with Seungmin or sleep on the couch."

"I can't ask you to do that," you said, shaking your head with a pout. Your friends were far too kind to you.

"You're not asking, I'm offering. Don't say no, or you'll be more annoying than you already are," he said with a laugh. You huffed, but caved in and thanked him. You stopped at your apartment to grab some pajamas and your things for your mock exam tomorrow and, as expected, the workmen were back at it. Jeongin had gone up to your apartment with you and widened his eyes at the noise.

"Damn, I didn't think the noise was this bad," he said, waiting for you to get your belongings together. "I understand why you've been so grouchy recently, this sucks."

You stick your tongue out at him.

"See? Everyone's been like, 'stop whining, it's not that bad,' but it's literal hell. I've tried everything - ear buds, asmr, blaring music, but I literally need silence to have a good night of sleep."

He nodded in understand and you both went back out to his car once you'd got your stuff ready.

"You're lucky you have the bestest friend in the world," he said as you start driving towards his and Seungmin's shared apartment. "What would you do without me, hm?"

You smiled at your friend. Even with all the crap going through your head, Hyunjin filling your thoughts and the lies and the dating, you knew you could always count on Jeongin to keep your spirits light hearted. You were almost polar opposites; he hated physical affection, you loved it. He could be loud and boisterous, often acting like a child who'd eaten too much sugar, and you were shy and reserved, only being extroverted when surrounded by your best friends. He was very emotional and often took things to heart, whereas you had built a wall around your emotions long ago.

Yet, despite your difference, you worked well together as friends. It had always been extremely platonic between you both, though. Jeongin was closer to being your little brother more than anything. You arrived at the apartment a couple minutes later to find Seungmin watching tv on the couch.

"Hi baby bread," he said without looking towards the door, using Jeongin's childhood nickname. Then when he saw you. He smiled. "Oh hey, are you staying here tonight?"

"Yeah, if that's alright with you. Got a mock exam tomorrow and the workmen are in full force tonight."

"Not a problem. Except you will definitely need to sleep in Jeongin's bed, because I spilt tea all over my sheets earlier and I had to strip my bed, so I've only got a blanket and a soggy bed," Seungmin said and you couldn't help but laugh at him. Such a classic Seungmin thing to do.

"Yeah, I've already said she can sleep in my room so I'll just take the couch," Jeongin said. You gave him a pout but he just rolled his eyes at you. It was only around ten pm so you got changed into your pajamas and slippers and joined Seungmin on the couch to watch the show he was watching. Jeongin joined you both after a couple minutes. You snuggled into them both, and they accepted your physical touch without much thought. Those two were the absolute worst when it came to skinship, even with the boys, and it took them the longest to get used to your physical touch. But once you had all matured, they didn't mind it so much and didn't bother fighting you off. Well, most of the time.

You stayed like that for a while, sandwiched between the two boys, until it got late and you went through to Jeongin's room to sleep. You would never tell him, but you actually loved the vibe of his cosy room and his bed was ten times more comfortable than yours, and you ended up sleeping like a log that night.

CHAPTER EIGHT HERE!

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy II

SYNOPSIS: college AU. Armin, your brilliant tutor, invites you over to his house for some studying. Naturally, you're nervous and he seems to be giving you a reason to be.

PAIRING: SCUMBAG!Tutor Armin x FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: half edited, noncon/dubcon, fingering, non-penetrative sexual content. gaslighting, manipulating,

A/N: really need the motivation to write again and I've been slacking on my multi-parters so here's a somewhat highly anticipated one. Armin fuckers, this is for you. non-Armin fuckers, I hope this converts you

WORD COUNT: 2.0k

II. I.

“You’re not paying attention.”

You feel his voice right by the shell of your ear, and the proximity nearly makes you reel back in surprise but you manage to catch yourself.

“S-sorry” You apologize, wishing you didn’t stutter.

The thing is you’re just really out of your element. This is the first time you’ve been to Armin’s house for personal tutoring, and it was hard to focus on the material when his presence was so distracting.

It wasn’t like you were fantasizing about him or anything [well…]-you always tried to banish those thoughts as soon as it came. But still, being alone with an attractive boy with a disarming charm was causing some jitters. You felt like a shy middle schooler, on edge and jittery.

The last tutoring session in the library when he [basically] called you stupid plagued your mind. The memory of him feeling up your thighs lived in your head rent-free.

“Let’s take a break.” He sighs. Your heart drops at the noise of disappointment but you suppose it’s what you deserve.

You push your laptop lightly aside on the table, the bleak light straining your eyes, and ask for the bathroom. You just wanted to freshen up and be alone for a few seconds. The bathroom is meticulously clean, something even you knew was unexpected for a boy. You looked at yourself through the spotless mirror, scrutinizing every flaw.

You sigh, fiddling with your dress collar. Why you had tried dressing pretty for a boy so out of your league, he may as well be in Mars--you didn’t know.

When you return, there is a tall glass of lemonade waiting for you.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

It’s a simple gesture that makes you blush so you thank him earnestly. Like the gentleman he is, he assures you it’s no problem. Not wanting to prolong the awkward silence, you compliment his apartment, “This is a really nice place. So much light and space.”

You’re babbling but he engages you regardless, and you two are mindlessly discussing the benefits of living at off-campus housing over dorming. His words are pleasant but there’s a sinking feeling within you as you notice he’s bored. Or maybe distracted was a better word.

“So, do you have a boyfriend? Or anyone you’re seeing?”

You nearly choke at the question uttered through a buttery voice.

“Oh um, not really.”

“Not really?”

You made a mental note to answer in definitives. Armin seemed the type to snuff out anything he reasoned as half-truths.

“No. I uh, don’t have a boyfriend.” And then you clarified a pin-drop later, “And I’m not seeing anyone either.”

The blond hums a playful tune that’s vaguely nostalgic.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

You don’t understand the point of this line of incessant questioning, and can’t calm your heart rate.

“I-um, I don’t-“

Taking one look at your serious face, eyes rimmed with worry and cheeks pink, he laughs. It’s a startling sound like bell chimes.

“Relax. I just wanted to know if you had any experience.”

The sentence flies out of your mouth before you can even ponder it: “What do you mean by experience?”

It’s not his fault if he can’t hide the feral grin that crosses his mouth right at that moment. You can’t discern his expression as you’re staring at anywhere but him, so you don’t notice the uncontained excitement that glimmers in cerulean eyes.

“Let’s move to the couch. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

You think about saying that you’re fine wherever you are and didn’t really feel like changing positions, but he’s already striding towards the couch. So you start packing up the materials, before a clear voice calls out to you, “It’s okay. You don’t have to bring all that. Just bring your flashcards.”

You hoped that wouldn’t mean he’d quiz you, but that’s exactly what he meant to do.

“Law of diminishing returns.”

“Wait! I know that one!” You brightly exclaimed, “ Uhh..it gives way to the catch-up effect which means poor countries tend to grow more rapidly and they’ll one day essentially catch up with wealthier economies.”

The blond ran his hand through his hair before sighing. You could feel your heart drop. You were sure you were right. Was your answer wrong enough to cause exasperation?

“Stick with the formal definition next time. I didn’t ask for the theory based on the law.”

You pouted, and Armin couldn’t help but relish in how eagerly you sought his approval, like a puppy performing tricks to appease their master.

“You should sit closer. Can you even see the word?”

You moved closer to him, knees knocking into each other. He looks down at the completed set.

“Well, you didn’t do as bad as I expected.” Ouch. But maybe he meant it as a compliment?

“But,” the corners of his mouth curled, “I’d say you’re still struggling.” Never mind.

“T-this is a new chapter though. I don’t think we’ve even gone over it in class.”

Blue eyes narrow, and you wonder if he’s going to give the well-meaning spiel about how staying ahead was the only way to keep up. That mantra may work for someone with high ambitions and an extremely good work ethic but you were no well-oiled machine. You had other classes too!

“Why are you so defensive?”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the question, spoken so softly and casually, you almost miss the disdained lilt.

“Oh uh-“

“Listen to me. I quizzed you so I’m able to assert your skill level. And your response to my assertion is that it’s something you haven’t gone over in class yet. Do those things relate to each other at all?”

Meekly, you shift your attention to the rug.

“Answer me.”

“N-no”, you squeaked.

“And what have I always told you? The only way to keep up is to-“

“Stay ahead.” You finished, “I’m sorry, I just-“

“Did I say you could interrupt me?”

You could feel the blood rushing to your ears, unsure when the atmosphere had shifted. Your heartbeat was beating rapidly and you could feel your body go warm.

He sighed, and placed a hand over over your folded ones, squeezing your palms.

“You know I’m just looking out for you right? It almost feels like you don’t care-“

“No!” You exclaim, “I-I do.” Heat pools into your cheeks once you realize your grave mistake, “I-I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

The blond smiles radiantly and it nearly melts away all of your worries…until he opens his mouth to deliver another damning remark.

“You know, with your looks…you don’t really even have to graduate. Maybe choose an easy major and then get some rich husband to take care of you.” There’s a distinct lack of humor in his tone as if he wholeheartedly believed every word he was saying.

Your eyebrows furrow in blatant confusion, and in the back of your mind, danger signs are flashing at the back of your head. Your thighs are growing warmer. Oh no, this could not be happening right now.

“That’s what most girls’ dreams are anyways.” He inspects his spotless nails, “You chose this class because Ackerman’s attractive right? That’s why his class has such a high drop rate…silly girls join, not understanding how harsh of a grader he is.”

You open your mouth to defend yourself but the next inflammatory remark he spews almost sends you to shock, “Though I bet, if you got on your knees for him, you’d be getting an A on those finals.” He laughs as if he was saying something particularly amusing, an undercurrent of spite coloring his words, “You wouldn’t even need me as your tutor.”

There are a million things on the tip of your tongue but no voice to speak them out. You want to ask him why he’s been so weirdly invasive, what his weird hang-up with professor Ackerman was, and of course, the casual sexism was really throwing you in a loop. Still, you have no doubt Armin could beat you to a bloody pulp several times over in a verbal lashing, and your mind was too fragile to deal with this.

You’ll sign up for a new tutor or better yet no tutor. You’ll get over your social anxiety and join a study group. You’ll go to all of Professor Ackerman’s office hours. Anything had to be better than this. You’re giving yourself this pep talk in your head but there’s no denying that your legs feel warm, and the self-improvement speech is withering away in your mind as it seeks to instead process how Armin fucking Arltert is touching you right now.

He pins you against the cushions, one hand locking both of your wrists. You’re shaking but your pupils are blown out wide.

He smirks, “There’s an excellent stress reliever for studying you know.”

You limp in his hold but the cocky attitude behind his words brings you back. You thrash under him, earning an annoyed growl from the blond.

“I’ve been so fucking patient with you, you know? Planning out your study guides, sharing my notes with you, proofreading homework, going over the mock exams—don’t you think I deserve a little compensation?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

He's right. He's right. Armin actually has done so much for you. Maybe it was too easy to take for granted because of how efficient he was, and how he acted like it was nothing. But right now, nothing really was everything.

He smiles. Yeah, this is who you were. Add just a little bit of pressure and you crumble. That flash of bravery from before was nothing but a petulant outburst from a child who didn’t know any better.

Armin coos, “Isn’t it a little embarrassing to be a virgin at your age?”

With unbridled precision, while he’s still holding your lower body down with the weight of his legs, he unbuckles his belt and ties it around your strained wrists. Red fills your face, and like always, you’re struggling to find the right words to respond. To say anything at all. Most of all, you can feel a wetness building at your core.

“I know the way you look at me, you know.” He kisses the dip of your neck, slender fingers splayed from under your shirt, “I know you’re into this.”

And because he is a scientist who must have evidence to back up his hypothesis, his hands find themselves under the waistband of your floral skirt that you foolishly wore, pushing the cure pastel underwear aside. You’re writhing in his grasp but maybe not as much as you should be, but it’s not your fault your movements are sluggish right?

“You have such a funny habit of not deleting your windows and keeping your bookmarks open.”

You freeze.

“This entire time I thought you were some prudish virgin even though you dress like a whore. Someone with who I had to be gentle. But all that fucking porn you read? Nasty. Is that why you need help in this class?” He punctuates slowly, "Because you're wasting your brain for something else?"

Immediately, you remember how you left your laptop on the table. You remember how many times he used your computer to double-check the notes, and you trustingly let him, forgetting that despite deleting your tabs, the hidden windows of steamy erotica were not yet erased out of their existence. Embarrassment violently paints your body.

He doesn’t wait or care for your response as he starts a vigorous assault on your clit with his slender finger, rubbing up and down in a vicious manner. The second finger prods at your entrance, feeling a tight cavern despite the amount of slick collected. Your eyes roll back in pleasure-is this what being with someone is like?

Stop. Get a hold of yourself. Why are you so fucking horny right now? It doesn’t matter what Armin said about you or how he called you out for the fiction you’ve read, because this is real life. But Christ, it’s Armin, the boy you’ve had a crush on since the moment he explained to you what a marginal abasement curve was. Stupidly handsome Armin with a gentle voice and too-blue oceanic eyes. Stupidly handsome Armin who coerced you into being under him.

You’re so fucking warm and tight, and Armin can’t wait to sink himself inside of you, can’t wait to humiliate you further. With nimble fingers he untied the ribbons of your dress like you were a Christmas present, groping your soft mounds and marking up your collarbone with teeth and tongue. Crystalline tears roll down the side of your face. You really shouldn’t be crying when you’re this wet.

“So fucking funny how you can’t look at me in the eye when we have a conversation but you read the filthiest fucking smut I’ve ever seen.”

taglist: @candy-hime

[diamond-coral]

Bargaining Chip

Hello! This is my first time posting on Tumblr ever:) I pulled this one-shot from a fic I posted on AO3 a few months ago but the plot is irrelavent and I changed it from first person to second as well as some details so it can be read as a stand alone. There’s some plot from the actual story but you really don’t need to know it at all.

There might be a few errors, especially because I changed the entire point of view and converted it to present tense from past tense so sorry:) 

Loki manages to get his hands on you and exchanges you and your body for his ticket to independence from the Avengers. Bucky gets to go first.

Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters included: Loki, and a little bit of Tony, Steve, and Thor

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY!!! SMUT (NON-CON TOUCHING, FORCED ORAL SEX (m receiving), KNIFE THREATS, DARK! AVENGERS, BUCKY’S AN ASSHOLE IN THIS, DEGRADATION, BASICALLY FORCED PROSTITUTION) READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

You awake in the passenger seat of your own car with only foggy memories of you and your partner before everything had gone dark. Your mission from the CIA...breaking and entering the motherfucking Avenger’s facility and managing to escape...you were so close. If it weren’t for him. In your haze, you look to see who could possibly have the audacity to be driving your car, and there sits Loki, the God of Mischief, who you had only scene on the news, driving one hand and inspecting something in his other.

“Good evening my lady. Sleep well?” he mocks without taking his eyes off the item in his hand which upon further inspection from you looks to be... a red leash?

What the hell?

“I do hope you like your outfit,” he continues. “I think I assembled quite the get up for you.”

Looking down, you let out a muffled scream that was cut off by a strip of duct tape. Your hands are bound in your lap, but that isn’t what horrifies you. It’s what’s underneath them. You take into account your bare legs, fully on display, with a black dress leaving little to the imagination. The top half is just as horrifying with it’s plunging neckline. Your legs end with a pair of strappy gold heels that ensures any chances of running away to be futile while your upper arms are adorned in golden bracelets accented with emeralds. Whether the emeralds were real or fake, you could care less. You have bigger problems to worry about.

“What the fuck?!”

Is what you try to say, but the gag only makes it come out as a mangled ball of muffled murmurs. Though the chuckle Loki lets out implies he understands your enraged speaking attempt.

“You, my dear, are going to be a bargaining chip. I heard about your little escapade at the Avenger’s facility last night. Impressive, I must say, but my brother and his little hero posse had been looking for you relentlessly after that. They are practically obsessed with catching the women that managed to break into their high security building.”

Loki takes a sharp turn into a parking garage, narrowly missing the wall. You squeal as your precious car runs over the curb.

“I forgot how much I hate mortal transportation devices. But Stark had to build this tower in the middle of New York to feed his ever-growing ego and now I’m the one that has to rely on a car to get me there,” he grumbles while pulling into a parking space. He takes a deep breath once the car is parked. “Now, I’m going to remove that gag out of your mouth, and if you scream, I will peel your skin off of your body in the slowest, most painful way imaginable. Understood?”

You nod frantically and he rips the tape off, extracting a whimper from your now stinging mouth. You open your mouth for him to take the wad of cloth out that was under the duct tape. As he extracts it, you snap your mouth shut in an attempt to bite him, but he’s quick to evade and grabs your jaw harshly.

“What did I say before?” he seethes. 

“You said not to scream. I didn’t scream. Now let go of my face.”

Loki roughly throughs your face to the side, letting go, and looks around the surroundings of the car, probably checking for any unwanted onlookers.

“Out of the car. Now,” he orders and you hastily oblige using your bound hands to open the door.

As you shut the door, you catch a glimpse of your own reflection and grimace. You look like a hooker. Aside from the skimpy outfit, your hair was pinned up and intertwined with gold strands. Your makeup is done as well. Sultry eye shadow and dark red lipstick.

“I didn’t know the God of Mischief was a makeup guru,” you jab.

He ignores you and harshly pushes you forward. “Walk.”

“Where’s my partner?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Loki replies. “She has other uses than the one I currently need you for.”

“And what use am I needed for?”

“I already told you. By the gods, you mortals are stupid. You are to be a bargaining chip, (Y/N).”

Your blood runs cold. “How do you know my name?” you ask.

“I know everything about you. Including your peculiar abilities.”

You stop dead in your tracks.

“Now, don’t worry,” he adds. “As amusing to me as it would be, I have no interest in enlightening the Avengers to your secret identity. As far as they will know, I am simply giving them the criminal that broke into their compound.”

“And what’s in it for you?” you ask as he guidesyou into an elevator.

After pushing a button, he goes to fix his dark green tie. “Clever girl now aren’t you?”

“Answer the question.”

“How about-no?” he muses and a soft ding resonates through the elevator.

The doors opened and, for a moment, you forget the predicament your in. Inside was the most beautiful penthouse you had ever seen. The opposite wall was made entirely out of glass allowing a view of the New York City night skyline. Everything little piece of furniture each looks as expensive as your car, but your focus becomes drawn to the minibar. The Avengers were all sitting there, laughing, and most were obviously drunk.

“Here James, try some of this,” Thor booms.

Bucky makes a face. “Why would I drink something from another planet meant for Gods?”

“Jeez Buck it’s the only thing that can get you and I drunk,” Steve slurs and claps Bucky on the shoulder. “It’s your birthday. Live it up a little.”

Bucky hesitates before grabbing the flask Thor offers him and throwing his head back, downing the flask in one go.

Loki seems to have enough of the party scene as he clears his throat to interrupt them.

“Gentlemen-”

Before Loki uttered another word all the Avengers clambered from their seats to grab their weapons, but their intoxicated state just makes it a comical sight. Captain America falls over in an attempt to reach for his shield below the table. Tony Stark’s iron man mask smacks him over the head as he fails to turn in time to catch it on his face. Sam Wilson chokes on his drink and falls backwards off his barstool in shock.

“I come bearing no ill tidings.” Loki spread his arms.

“Then why bother coming at all?” Thor growls, shifting his hammer to his right hand.

“I’ve come to make an offer.”

With that, Loki snatches your wrist and throws you towards him and the other men. You stumbled in you stilettos and let out a yelp as you land on the floor looking up at the 5 present Avengers: Thor, the Winter Soldier, Captain America, Iron Man, and the Falcon. They all look down on you with perplexed looks etched onto their faces.

“You guys have been so caught up and stressed about finding your security breaches that I was generous enough to do some finding myself,” Loki explains.

“And how do we know you didn’t just pluck some prostitute off the street?” Caps eyes rake up and down your body.

Loki scoffs. “Always the skeptic captain. Does this answer your question?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flash-drive.

Tony snatches it from his hands. “Jarvis, what’s on this drive?” he asks, holding the drive up to a scanner in the glasses he’s wearing.

“It appears to be the files you have been collecting the 2 vigilantes you have been tracking and-.”

“Okay thanks J!” Tony interrupts quickly before Jarvis could spill any more information. He proceeds to storm up to your cowering and kneeling form that hadn’t dared move and harshly grabs your jaw.

Jesus, what was with these men and your poor, bruised jaw?

“Why would you possibly need this information?” he asks calmly, but his eyes are feral. He studies you and his brows furrow. Did he manage to piece it all together that you were the alleged vigilante they had been hunting? He lets go of your jaw and throws you back on the floor. “What business do you have looking for them?”

Looking for them? You let out a sigh of relief.

“None of your business,” you spit.

“Anyways,” Loki continues, and the drive suddenly disintegrated in Tony’s hand while reappearing in Loki’s. “I will happily hand over this seemingly important information along with the girl for you to do with her as you please, but…” He pauses. “Only if you stop tracking my current whereabouts.”

“And why would we do that, Loki? You’re dangerous,” Steve notes.

“I was dangerous,” Loki interjects. “I have been a good boy haven’t I? I would like to lead a normal life without you imbeciles tailing my every move. If I slip, Thor here will know within the second if I’m involved with anyone wrong doings, won’t you brother dear?”

Thor grunts at that statement.

“Besides, Stark’s satellite can track any magical energy if I use it. Which I won’t.”

“Fine. Now hand over the drive,” Tony snaps and holds his hand out.

After Loki drops the small gadget into Tony’s hand, he hauls you up and spins you around to face him.

His voice is quiet and low. “Be glad I didn’t tell them about my plans for you friend. It would be a shame if they found out about her abilities...and yours.”

He spins you back around to face the 5 men whose eyes were now raking up and down your body. “Easy on the eyes isn’t she?” Loki mentions, hands falling on your waist making you squirm. “You know, I almost considered keeping her for myself. Her exotic beauty is that of a pleasure maiden on Asgard.” Your struggles are invigorated at his implications. “Enjoy your whore.” And with that, he gives you one final shove before vanishing.

It’s silent for half a minute before one of the men speak up.

“Alright who wants to take her for a spin?” Tony asks, clapping his hands together. “I vote the birthday boy gets first dibs. Huh, Buckaroo?”

You blanch at the idea. Were they really going to go through with what Loki wanted? What happened to the valiant heroes you saw on your screen?

“Wait Tony, you can’t be seriously considering Loki’s suggestion?” Sam Wilson sounds surprised.

Tony shrugs. “Why not, Birdie? It’s either this or high security prison and I don’t think she wants to rot in a cell.”

“She is standing right here and would rather rot in hell than do what Loki had in mind,” you hiss.

“Well it’s a good thing we weren’t asking for her opinion,” Tony says.

“Tony’s right, Sam,” Steve adds slowly. “We bust our asses out there. We deserve something nice.”

“Day after day we save this pathetic world, and no thanks are given. Just everyone saying what we did wrong. We should’ve left the world to fend for itself after they tried shoving those ridiculous accords down our throats,” Thor murmurs

Sam raises both of his hands up in defense. “Fine. Do what you want with her. I’m gonna head out.” And with that he leaves. Your heart sinks, watching the only glimmer of hope, your knight in shining armor, walk out the door. Your self-pity party is cut short by an arm snaking around your waist.

Bucky Barnes, trained assassin, mass murderer, and now current Avenger, puts his face in the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, sending shivers down your spine while you stand frozen like a deer in headlights. “What do you say, doll? Wanna finish what we started the other night?” His hand on your waist slowly drifts down to your ass.

You stomp your heel down on his foot eliciting a groan of pain. “Last time I checked, you were in the dirt, and I was driving away that night after a successful robbery. There’s nothing to finish.”

He moves quickly as he rips your hair out of what’s securing it up, using the opportunity to tangle his hand into the roots and drag you away to a separate room. He wrenches open and throws you in, leaving you to stumble and trip. A searing pain on your forehead signaled that you hit your head.

“How about we use that snarky mouth of yours for something better hmm?” His voice is ice cold with malice as he grips your hair and yanks you up.

You cry out in pain, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he sneers down at you. Hearing the sound of a belt unbuckling and pants unzipping, you shut your eyes.

A tear escapes, cascading down your face, but his thumb gently wipes it away.

“Open your eyes, doll,” he coos.

You shake your head and screw them shut even tighter.

“I said...OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES!” he roars and your eyes fly open only to see his member sticking out of his slacks right in front of your face. He’s almost fully hard as precum dribbles out of the tip. “Good girl,” he praises. “Now, since you can’t seem to keep your snarky mouth shut, let’s put it to better use. How bout that?”

You don’t move, and he sighed as you look down to the floor. You hear some shuffling, a small click, and suddenly something cold and sharp is pressing under your chin, tilting your gaze to his steel blue eyes.

“Let’s try this again.” He pushes the knife harder, digging it a little deeper, but not enough to draw blood. A knife. This dirty bastard has a knife. “Suck. My. Cock.”

Pushing all your pride aside, you direct your gaze to the task in front of you. Bucky lets out an approving hum and the knife is removed from your throat. You swallow before opening your mouth and dragging your tongue from his base to the tip before wrapping your lips around him and sucking lightly.

Bucky was no slacker down there, you had to give him that. You ease your mouth down his shaft and his head tilts back.

“Oh fuck that’s it,” he moans. “Take my dick down your throat.” He grunts. His metal hand fists your hair to push your head down, sliding a few more inches into your throat. “Oh-that’s a good whore,” he breathes.

A gag is torn from you and you slap your hands against his thighs to imply you couldn’t take much more. Bucky’s only response is another grunt as he jams the rest of his length down your throat leaving your only intake of oxygen to come from your nose which was now mashed right above the base of his thick cock. As quickly as he pushed you down before, he pulls you back off by your hair, letting you go to wretch, gasping for air and freedom. A strand of saliva still connects from his tip to my lips.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He snags your hair again. “Open wide, slut.”

You do just that and he begins to fuck your throat at his own pace, sliding his entire length down every time. Tears brim at your eyes, not just from the lack of oxygen, but the humiliation of the moment as well. The time passes much too slowly for your liking, minutes dragging on for eternity, before he begins to reach his climax.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” His cock twitches in your mouth.He holds your head with both hands as he releases straight into your mouth, warm thick strands of his release coating the back of your throat. He pulls out  with a pop and smirks down at you. “Good little sluts swallow” he orders.

You glare up at him, making a show of not doing anything.

“Well?” he demands and raises a dark brow.

You spit his own climax onto his expensive shoes.

“Why you-!” He raises his hand, getting ready to send a smack to your face.

“Barnes!” A female voice comes from the doorway as the door flies open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

There stood none other than the Black Widow.

[ramen-rambles]

Bottom Bitch

Kinktober Day 1: Sex Toys

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Warnings: 18+, tw: drugs, weed/marijuana, sex toys (double edged dildo, vibrator), scissoring, anal, rimming, spit play

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: Quarantine fucking sucks. And unfortunately, your boyfriend’s birthday just so happened to be in right in the middle of this pandemic. With the end of the world seemingly drawing near, you suggest to do something you two have never done before. Who knew that Oikawa would turn into such a needy bitch when he was high? 

A/N: Ahahahaha I’m sorry I haven’t written anything since February LOL. And also, I’m sorry for randomly disappearing for literal months. Uh, please accept this as an apology… I feel like I’ve been a little rusty but I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy Kinktober! 

♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。.

Today was July 20th! Which means that it was Oikawa’s birthday. 

Every year, you and your boyfriend usually did what every couple did to celebrate. A cute date, a nice dinner, a rough fucking — you know, the works. But this year you two ran into a bit of a problem. Unfortunately, due to the mandated self quarantine orders, you couldn’t really do that. But you still wanted to make the most of the situation. 

Just before all the non-essential shops temporarily closed, you were able to make a stop at your local dispensary. You figured that since it seemed like the end of the world was drawing ever near, why not indulge yourselves in some of mother nature’s best gifts? 

The hardest part of this whole thing wasn’t even the fact that you were stuck inside for Oikawa’s special day, no, the hard part was going to be convincing him to get high with you. He knew that you smoked. For fuck’s sake, all of his friends did too. During your high school days, the Seijoh third years were notorious for blazing it up (Matsukawa and Hanamaki, especially). Even as adults, there were times when you would all find some free time just to have a relaxing smoke sesh and catch up on each other’s lives. As they say, old habits die hard. 

So, you wanting to get stoned was no surprise to him. He, on the other hand, was not an avid participant. 

Currently, the two of you were laying down in bed, watching whatever was on television, not that you two were really paying attention. Your mind was more occupied on how exactly you were supposed to bring up this little idea of yours. Getting Oikawa to agree to anything was hard enough as it is, let alone something that seemed so out of his comfort zone. 

“Hey, happy birthday again, Shittykawa. I love you so much, you know that?” You said, looking at him lovingly and nudging him on his side, placing a sweet kiss on his lips. 

“Who are you, Iwa-chan?” He scoffed. “But I love you too, baby. And you know you’ve greeted me almost a million times today, right?”, eagerly returning your gesture.

“I can’t help it! I’m sorry that our usual birthday plans got ruined because of this stupid quarantine. I wish I could make it up to you.” You pouted, looking up at him with pleading eyes. 

“I have a couple of ideas that would more than make up for it,” he teased, grabbing your ass before giving it a loud smack, “but have you got anything in mind, princess?” 

“I actually have something in mind that I really wanted to do with you…” 

“Oh? And what could that be? You going to let me eat that cake of yours?” He said, sitting up on his elbow, with a shit-eating smirk plastered all over that pretty face of his. 

“Well… I was actually hoping that we could get high today… You know, since it seems like the world is ending and all.” You said, nervously scratching the back of your head. “I thought it would be fun to celebrate your birthday in a way we’ve never done before!” 

You sounded doubtful. You had a feeling that he was going to refuse, but his answer came as a surprise. 

“Okay, deal.” 

Did you hear that right? Did he just agree with you? Did your stubborn boyfriend say yes, with absolutely no hesitation?

“R-really!? Wow, I didn’t expect you to be so on board with it! I thought I was going to have to convince you way more.” You cheered, hands wrapping him in a tight embrace. 

“Whatever, it’s not like we can go anywhere anyways. Might as well go wild!” He said with a smug smirk on his face. 

You excitedly hopped off the bed and ran towards your closet, grabbing the goodies you bought. You had bought quite a few products — some edibles, a couple prerolls, and a brand new wax pen. 

“Jesus christ, how much shit did you buy? You must have spent a fortune.”

“Money is no object when it comes to you, Tooru. Also, you don’t really do this kind of thing, so I just wanted us to have some options. In all honesty, I didn’t even think you’d say yes to doing this.” 

“Well, let’s get this party started, princess.” 

You smiled eagerly and laid out all the products in front of him, “So, what do you want to try first? Birthday boy gets to choose.” 

He immediately went for the wax pen, taking a long drag and inhaling the smoke, making sure to keep it in his lungs for a bit before grabbing the back of your head, and forcing your lips to part open before he exhales the smoke into your mouth, as if he was an expert at it. For someone who didn’t do this often, he sure as hell didn’t look like it. 

“Someone seems a bit excited, huh?” You teased, before crashing your lips together in a heated spit swapping session. 

You made your way on top of him, mouth never leaving his, running out of breath as he starts sucking on your tongue, drool spilling out the side of your mouth as it dribbles down onto his face. 

“Fuck. You nasty bitch, you just spit all over my fucking face.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you breathed, “you act like you practically weren’t drinking out of my mouth just a second ago.” 

The both of you consistently took turns taking hits off the pen. Inhaling and exhaling the delicious smoke as if your lives depended on it.  

The two of you started feeling the effects of the drugs get to your head. Lightheaded. Spinning. Intoxicating. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted to feel more. No, you needed to feel more.

You went for the edible and shoved the cookie into your mouth, leaving half of it hanging out. You fed Oikawa the rest of it. He took it willingly, watching a shiver go down his spine as he shuddered from the bitter taste go down his throat when he swallowed. “That tastes like shit. How the fuck do you eat this crap so often?” You let out a small giggle, admiring how cute his inexperience was. “Oh calm down, it shouldn’t take long for you to start feeling it kick in.” 

“So, c’mon birthday boy, let me take care of you.” 

You started kissing over his jawline, licking and letting your teeth bite down on the soft skin of his neck. You nuzzled your face closer, leaving marks and bruises painted all over him.

You continued straddling his waist, your clothed cunt rubbing ever so slowly against his growing erection. Teasing, dragging out the sensation of his cock throbbing over your slit, feeling yourself get more and more drenched with desire. “Are you doing okay, Tooru?” 

“I feel so fucking good. You make me feel so fucking good.” Hearing him sound so desperate and needy caused your cunt to clench. “F-fuck, can you suck my cock, princess? Can you do that for me, please?” You had never really seen this side of him before, but the tables were turning and you were more than willing to give him what he wanted. 

You pulled his shirt up, making your way down his torso, licking and kissing all over his toned abs, sucking on his sensitive little nipples. You slipped your hands under the waistband of his underwear, stroking his hardened cock. You quickly rid him of all his remaining clothes. You followed suit. Now, with the both of you completely naked, the fun was just about to start. 

Gently, you licked a stripe along his head paying close attention to the prominent veins that adorned his massive length. His cock was already dripping, the head beading with his precum. Spitting on your palm, you languidly stroked him, watching his toes curl and a small moan slip out of his mouth. You looked up at him and his eyes were screwed shut, he used his free hand to find purchase on the back of your head. Fisiting your hair, he moved it to the side to make sure he got a good look at how well you sucked his cock. He pushed you further down his length, causing you to gag as he hit the back of your throat. 

You could tell he was close, but just before he could finish, you pulled away. “Shit. Fuck. W-why’d you stop?” 

Aw. He sounded so disheartened. 

“Get on your hands and knees, baby. I want to try something new.” You said with a devilish grin on your face. He looked hesitant at first but his head was spinning so much that he just did it with no resistance. 

You roughly pulled his ass up in the air, your small hands spreading his cheeks apart, exposing his tight, puckered asshole. You let your spit pool in your mouth, teasingly letting it string in between your lips before allowing it to drip over his ass. You circled the pad of your tongue around his rim, prodding it slowly in and out of his tightness. Continuing your assault, you sneaked your hand in between his thighs, stroking his cock every time you pressed inside of him. Oikawa’s hands were fisted into the sheets and his face looked hot to the touch, a red tint glazing all over his body. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, and rubbed your thighs together at the ideas that were brewing in your mind. You reached underneath your bed and grabbed your box full of sex toys, pulling out lube, two vibrators and a thick, purple, double edged dildo. The look of Oikawa getting off to having his ass ate made your cunt pulsate with lust, and so the mere thought of him having him stuffed with a toy had your head fucking spinning. You wanted nothing more than to make a wreck out of his pretty little ass. 

Oikawa was still face down on the bed. His mouth was hanging open, panting heavily as he tried to control his breathing. He was so blissed out, his head seemed to be somewhere in the clouds. 

“Tooru, hey, are you okay? Lie down for me.” You squished his face in between your fingers to get his attention. When he finally turned to you, you could tell he was high beyond belief. “Mhm. Just feeling weird. It feels like the room is both spinning and still at the same time.” He huffed, moving onto his back, resting against the soft satin sheets. You giggled at how he turned into such a needy little boy, practically begging to be fucked into absolute senselessness. 

“Look at me, baby.” You brought one end of the dildo up to your mouth, slowly sucking it off as if it was Oikawa’s cock fucking your mouth instead. He could feel his dick twitch at the sight in front of him, his asshole involuntary clenching thinking about how it might feel to have it inside him. Inching closer to him, you held the dildo in between the two of you and guided the other end of the toy up to his lips. Parting them slowly, he began copying the same movements that you were doing on the other side. Pulling away momentarily, “Shit. You look so fucking hot when you suck cock, baby” you say, letting your free hand roam down to his hardened nipples, pinching and tweaking them, illiciting small moans to escape his lips while he choked on the toy in his mouth. 

“As much as I love seeing you suck on that pretty toy, I know a place to put it that’ll make you feel real fucking good.” Taking the dildo out of his mouth, you slide yourself down towards his lower half, spreading his thighs apart to see his hole that glistened with your spit, and his cock that oozed precum. You pressed wet kisses along his length, tongue stroking his balls, allowing yourself to slither over his perineum, causing him to writhe underneath your touch. You brought your fingers up to his mouth, collecting saliva around your digits before gently pressing them against his tight hole, slowly inching them deeper and deeper inside of him. 

He winced at the intrusion, making his face contort in pain. But surely, that burning sensation of you prodding your slim fingers inside his tight hole began morphing into a euphoric pleasure. He let out a small moan, bringing his fingers up to his lips and biting down on them to suppress the noises that were coming out of his mouth. You paused what you were doing to him to look up and whispered “Aw, c’mon baby, don’t be like that. I want to hear all those pretty noises you’re making while you act like such a little whore.” 

“So be louder for me, sweetheart” you snickered sinisterly as you continued your ministrations on his overly sensitive hole. 

If you weren’t high earlier, then you definitely were now. The effects of the marijuana elevating your sense of reality as the two of you drift into a state of pure fucking bliss. 

You started feeling more impatient, more needy. You needed to get off and you need it now. And Oikawa felt just the same. The look on his face was confirmation of that. Panting heavily, drool escaping the side of his mouth, and wet tears decorating his red cheeks — he looked like he was about to cum without even trying. 

With no delay, you grabbed the dildo and the lube from the side of the bed and began to slather the cold fluid over both ends of the toy. You positioned yourself in front of him, placing one end up to his tight rim while you lined the other side against your dripping wet pussy. You hadn’t even realized how wet you had become because you were so focused on Oikawa — you didn’t notice that your cunt was practically leaking all over you. 

“Haaah. Look at you, baby. Your pussy is begging to be stuffed. So wet for me. So fucking b-beautiful.” Oikawa shuddered, his speech slurred as he was still utterly fucked out because of your incessant teasing from earlier. His words caused your cunt to clench, your eyes closed as you shakingly breathed out, “Please, T-tooru…” 

You started to ease the toy inside of Oikawa — slowly but steadily sliding the thick purple dildo into his stretched out hole. He flinched as you finally got half of the toy into his ass, letting out a sinful moan as the head involuntarily hit against his prostate. “Ah, f-fuck! That felt so fucking good. Baby, please…” 

His eagerness sparked a flame within you, and so you hurried to shove the rest of the toy inside of your own hole. You let out a sigh of relief as your pussy was finally getting some much needed attention, after being neglected for so long as you focused on pleasing your boyfriend. 

You started to move slowly, rocking back and forth against each other as the two of you got used to the sheer size of the toy that connected the both of you. To help ease the pain, you grabbed one of the vibrators, held it up to Oikawa and said, “Here you go, baby. Put it against your cock and show me how you make yourself feel good.” 

He took the vibrator from your hand and followed your instructions like a good boy, letting out a loud whimper as the strong vibrations on his cock made his head spin. As he let his sense of control run loose, he started rutting faster against you as you placed your own vibrator on your sensitive clit. This caused the toy to simultaneously hit your g-spot and Oikawa’s prostate, and so the two of you both let out a loud moan together. 

“F-FUCK! Tooru — shit. That feels so fucking good! Go faster, I need it so bad. C’mon baby, please, I need you to make me cum!” You panted, circling the vibrator faster against your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the orgasm that you craved so much. 

“Oh fuuuuck, princess.” Oikawa moaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he ditched the vibrator and tightly wrapped his hand around himself so he could fist-fuck his weeping cock. 

A collective string of “shit” and “oh fuck” escaping your mouths as the two of you rutted against each other faster and faster, the dildo pounding in and out of your tight holes — each thrust causing the tip of the toy to slam against both of your sweet spots at the same time.

“Fuuuuuuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!” Oikawa groaned as he stroked his cock one final time before he came hard all over himself, his chest painted white as his cum came out in hot spurts.

Seeing your boyfriend’s blissed out face was the final push you needed to set yourself over the edge. Your cunt clenched down on the toy as you came with a loud whine, your juices squirting out of your glistening pussy — making a slick mess all over your thighs and on Oikawa’s lower half. 

You were so spent that the whole world felt still, the both of you trying to catch your breath and recover from one of the most intense orgasms you two had ever had. 

As you came down from your highs, you slowly pulled the dildo out of your abused cunt and Oikawa’s gaped asshole, lazily leaving the toys on a mess of sheets. 

With what little ounce of strength you had left, you got on your knees and crawled up next to your boyfriend. After grabbing a tissue and gently cleaning up the mess you two had made together, you placed gentle kisses along his shoulders and collarbone, wrapping yourself up in his embrace. 

Now, whether it was the drugs or the intensity of his orgasm, Oikawa looked like he was about to pass out. And honestly, you felt like you were about to knock out too. Not that you could really blame him. 

“Hey, wake up, sleepyhead.” You whispered quietly, gently poking Oikawa on the cheek to nudge him awake. You might have been used to handling your high, but Oikawa was still inexperienced when it came to these kinds of things.

“Did you have a good birthday this year?” You asked him, as if you didn’t already know what he was going to say.

“Hi, baby~ Of course I did! I feel so goooood right now! Best birthday everrrr!” He said sheepishly, a tiny grin spreading across his face as he let out a breathy chuckle. 

You decided not to question him anymore, knowing he was too far gone to answer anything coherently. 

“I love you so much, Tooru. Happy birthday.” You whispered to him before the two of you began dozing off into dreamland. 

♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。.

[johnny-freaking-silverhand]

Keep Fighting Part 2

Johnny Silverhand X fem!V/reader

Part 1 HERE

Warnings: talk of death and hopelessness, alcohol use, smoking.

Summary: Johnny keeps his promise to show you why you should keep fighting, ending the successful night in an unexpected way. 

“Johnny...please. Can we just go home?” 

“Just one more. Then we can get out of here” 

You sighed but picked up the shot glass, tilting your head back and emptying it, cringing slightly as you placed it back down on the bar. The bartender raised an eyebrow at you, silently asking if you wanted another, but you shook your head and thanked him. 

Apparently Johnny’s idea of showing you what in life is worth fighting for meant forcing you to go to a bar and take a few shots. You had to admit that it took the edge off, you’d give him that. 

“Can we go now?” you asked Johnny. Obviously not speaking out loud, you didn’t need the strange looks you would get for that. 

“Yes” he nodded. 

“Thank G-” you almost let out a sigh of relief but you were cut off. 

“But...” 

“Ugh!” you let out an audible groan, luckily not attracting the attention of anyone else at the bar. 

“We can leave but we’re not going home” Johnny told you, amused by the annoyed expression on your face. “My rules, remember?” he cocked an eyebrow at you.  

“..fine” you sighed, pushing yourself away from the bar and heading for the door.

-

After following Johnny’s directions around Night City, all while complaining and asking where the hell he was taking you, you found yourself on an accessible rooftop. Just the two of you, or just you? Hell, you didn’t know anymore. 

You sighed, leaning forward with your elbows resting on the concrete wall, overlooking Night City. It looked nicer from up here. Down on the street, all the bad was right in front of you, up here it was drowned out by the bright lights. 

“Fuck, I used to hate this city, wanted to see it burn...still do, really, but shit, V...it’s staring to grow on me in a way” Johnny spoke up, his confession making your face scrunch up in disbelief. 

“How?” you asked, looking at him, confused and curious. He despised Night City, how could it start to grow on him? 

“You didn’t hate it. Sure, you didn’t like it but you called it home. You weren’t angry at it, and I guess you taught me not to be either” he shrugged. 

“I don’t believe that” but the more you thought about it, the more you began to believe it...just a little. You had noticed that he had been significantly less angry and snarky than when you first ‘met’ him, in fact the two of you had had some rather sincere moments. 

“You want to become something in this city, to leave your name behind, and I want to help you do that...but you can’t give up now” Johnny watched you, looking for some sort of reaction, but you were just looking out over the city, looking like you were thinking about something. 

“It all just seems so...hopeless” you admitted quietly, not tearing your gaze away from the neon lights. 

“It’s not, and even if it is, we still fight it until the end. Together” it was rare to hear Johnny Silverhand sounding sincere, but that’s exactly what you were hearing right now. 

Finally looking away from the city, you looked at the man, who was already looking at you and waiting for your response. “...together” you nodded. 

The two of you just looked at each other for a moment, thoroughly aware of the thickening tension in the air. “Now, for my sake, will you have a fucking smoke?” Johnny asked with a huff, ruining the moment but managing to make you laugh. 

“I’m dying anyway, right?” you asked playfully, reaching into your back pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. 

Johnny watched as you lit the cigarette and brought it too your lips, taking a drag. “That’s the good stuff” Johnny groaned in relief as you exhaled the smoke, making you laugh again. 

“You have a problem, I think you should cut back” you joked, earning a small chuckle from him. 

“See, you’re looking better already” Johnny knocked his shoulder against yours, perhaps a little too roughly but it still made you smile. 

A moment of silence passed between you both, the two of you watching the neon lights as you smoked for the both of you. 

“Hey, Johnny?” you finally spoke up. He hummed, telling you to continue. “Thanks” you whispered. You don’t know how he did it, but he came through on his promise. 

“Anytime” Johnny assured you with a small nod. 

“Of all the dead rockstars...I’m glad it was you I got stuck with” you told him, being sincere even though it sounded like a strange joke.

“Me too” the two of you smiled slightly as you looked at each other. 

Johnny seemed to be thinking about something and just as you were about to return your gaze to the city, he turned to you properly and moved closer. He couldn’t take the cigarette out of your hand, so he took hold of your hand instead, guiding you to put out the burning cigarette by stubbing it out against the wall before dropping it off of the edge of the building. 

“Thought you wanted a smoke?” you asked quietly, curiously watching his movements. 

His other hand, the non-metal one, lifted to your chin, his thumb and forefinger holding your face in place. Before you could question him, Johnny lent down and his lips met yours. 

Despite your surprise, you returned his kiss. The hand on your chin slipped around to the back of your neck and you wrapped your arms around his neck, his metal arm wrapping around your waist and his hand pressing against the small of your back to hold you closer. 

Only earlier today the two of you had learnt that you could actually feel the other’s touch, and now you were running your fingers through his hair as he kissed you. All things that seemed impossible only this morning but had been thought off of the past couple of weeks. 

Pulling away from the kiss, leaving you slightly breathless and flustered, Johnny was smirking. “You must look real stupid right now...” he teased, making you frown in confusion. “...making out with the air” he chuckled but you just rolled your eyes at him. 

“You’re still an asshole, Silverhand” you muttered, trying to hide your light blush as you pulled your arms away from around his neck. 

“And you love it” he winked. 

“In your dreams” you scoffed, folding your arms and resting your elbows back on the concrete wall that separated you from the ledge of the rooftop. Johnny gave you a quick, charming smiling before joining you.

Johnny had done it, managed to change your mind over the course of the evening and fulfilled his promise. He reminded you of what life had to offer, what was worth fighting for, and reminded you that you didn’t have to fight alone.

Little did either of you know, it would only be the next morning when you would receive a message from Takemura, informing you that he found a new, promising, lead on how to help you.

[novelconcepts]

Not sure if it’s Drabble worthy. What if Peter and Rebecca don’t die and therefore Bly doesn’t need a new Au Pair. Do Jamie and Dani still meet somehow?

There is a woman in the pub. Not, strictly speaking, an oddity--there are people here every night upon Jamie’s return from the manor. People with drinks and conversation, taking up space she doesn’t have the energy to deal with. 

This woman, though. This woman is strange simply because she isn’t. Because there is a look about her, too normal, too put-together. Because her eyes are too bright, and her hair too shiny, and she is--most important of all--not of Bly.

Not Jamie’s problem, either, she thinks, pushing past the woman’s table with little more than a glance.

Blue eyes, she registers. Blue eyes, catching hers for a bare moment. 

Jamie keeps walking.

***

The woman is back again. Still looking a bit too clean, a bit too bright to be allowed in a smudgy place like this. She’s seated at that same table, nursing a drink with her eyes on a book, and she is...

Just a woman, thinks Jamie, whose day has been marked by Miles’ attitude and Flora’s perfectly splendid’s, and whose head is in all honesty ringing just a bit more than she can stand. 

She could use a drink tonight. Could use a bit more than a drink, really--could use a long rest, a long break from memories of Peter fucking Quint moving about the house like he owns the place. Tonight, she’ll settle for the drink. It’s cheaper than therapy, easier than talking to Hannah or Owen about the whole business. Certainly easier than cornering Rebecca, pressing her toward sense.

Problem is, there is a woman in the pub. 

At her table.

She drinks at the bar instead and finds her eyes searching out that woman’s face in the mirror. Finds herself coming back time and time again to the curve of the woman’s cheek, the angle of her nose, the way she bites the edge of her thumbnail as she turns the page. 

Her eyes never raise, never seek Jamie’s in return, though Jamie is certain--judging by the insistent tap of one boot under the table, the fidgety quality of her fingers around her glass--she knows she is being watched. 

***

The woman, she supposes, has nowhere else to be. What must that be like? What cart must have overturned, tipping her onto the pavement of Bly, to this pub, to this dark corner of the world? 

Jamie can remember all too well what it feels like to have nowhere to be. To just stumble into whatever place will hold a person up. This woman, with her tailored blouse and her hoop earrings, doesn’t much look like Jamie had, living that sort of life. But what does Jamie know?

Blue eyes. Shiny hair. Very little else.

Jamie has taken in a drink every night this week, less for the value of the alcohol, more out of curiosity. Could the woman really be here each time she walks through the door? Could this same woman always set up shop at her table, alone, peaceably making her way through a battered paperback?

So far, survey says yes. 

And the week has been long, it’s true: Rebecca, growing agitated as tensions between Peter and the rest of them wind ever-higher. Last night, Hannah had gripped her steak knife as though considering plunging it into Peter’s thigh. Tonight, it had taken every ounce of Jamie not to take a swing with the expensive wine bottle he had produced from thin air. 

Deserve better, chick, she’d thought as Rebecca had soothed Peter’s glower with a kiss. You have to see that. 

Rebecca, predictably, does not. 

Jamie, sitting here with yet another drink, watching the strange woman at her table in the mirror, isn’t sure who she is to talk. 

***

Someone is trying to talk to the woman tonight. Someone--a bulky man in his mid-thirties who Jamie has already marked as endless trouble--is trying to take a seat at the woman’s table.

Jamie watches with hackles raised, glass poised at her lips, waiting. The woman looks like the sort to make polite conversation, to smile warmly, to find herself in a bad situation before she realizes. Not that it’s any of Jamie’s concern. Not that Jamie ought to be making noise in the pub above which she sleeps. 

The man is leaning across the table, his huge hand reaching for the woman’s book. His grin is sloppy, his eyes ale-muddled, and when he moves toward the woman’s hand, she recoils. Glances toward the bar. 

Glances directly at Jamie. 

Hell, thinks Jamie tiredly, because this isn’t the way. This is never effective, never wise. Keep to yourself, keep your bloody head to your own bloody business, that’s the trick. 

The woman’s eyes are so goddamned blue. 

“Saved me a seat, I see,” Jamie hears herself say, cocking her hip against the man’s chair with a fuck out of it smile. He squints up at her, clearly trying to piece together some bleary vestige of memory. 

“You’re,” he slurs, “upstairs.”

“Seem to be down among the locals tonight,” Jamie says cheerfully, and gives him a single jerk of the head in warning. He frowns, pushing himself clumsily to his feet. 

“Borin’ conversation anyway.”

Jamie watches him go, raises her glass to her lips, smiles when he shoots a dark look over his shoulder. She does not look at the woman, not until she hears a soft voice say, “Thank you.”

American, realizes Jamie. 

Mistake, realizes Jamie.

“Hang a jacket over the seat next time,” she suggests on her way back to the bar. “Dissuades the stupider ones.”

***

The woman buys her a drink. 

She seems, Jamie notes with some alarm, to have registered Jamie’s schedule. How Jamie seems to walk in around eight every evening, her shoulders tense with a day’s battles still hanging tight. How Jamie has long given up trying for her usual table, sacrificing it in the name of pretty blonde Americans. 

There is a drink waiting for her--her usual, though in a place like this, it isn’t hard to guess. 

“That one,” the bartender--tonight, a fiftyish woman with a smirk--says, and points exactly where Jamie expects. She glances over, finds the American with her own glass raised. Eyebrows arched. Head gesturing for Jamie to come on over.

Mistake, she thinks again, even as she’s obeying.

“Wanted to thank you again,” the woman says, as Jamie hovers beside the second chair. There is, she notes, a denim jacket tossed over its back.

“Not a problem.”

“Sit?” the woman suggests, and Jamie finds she can’t locate a reason not to. She settles awkwardly, trying not to dislodge the jacket, all-too aware of the filthy floor beneath her boots. 

“Really don’t think,” she begins, but the woman is saying something. She blinks. “Sorry?”

“Dani,” the woman says again, touching a hand to her chest. “Dani Clayton.”

It’s a bad idea, Jamie thinks distantly, because the woman is so goddamned pretty, it hurts. She’s pretty, and she’s smiling, and there’s something about her eyes that makes Jamie’s pulse do tricks she hasn’t entertained in years. 

“Jamie,” she replies, and allows the woman to clink a half-finished glass against her own. 

***

Dani, as it turns out, actually works here. 

“Just started,” she says, almost sheepishly, when Jamie makes blustery noises of surprise. “On the early shift. Just to have something to keep me busy, until I figure something else out.”

She’s in England, she says, on a sort of personal retreat. A finding myself sort of adventure, she adds with a laugh that rings in Jamie’s ears like the best kind of music. 

“Better places to do it in,” Jamie points out, “than a hole in Bly.”

Dani shrugs. “I like it. The people are nice, mostly. And it’s quiet.”

“Home wasn’t quiet?”

Dani doesn’t answer. Dani doesn’t seem to like to talk about herself all that much, Jamie is noticing. She likes, instead, to talk about the town--the strangers, the clients, the newness of it all. She’ll talk about the beer, about the book resting at her elbow, about the weather. Most of all, she asks after Jamie.

“Not much to tell,” Jamie says--a lie, if you go back far enough, but honest enough for now. “Groundskeeper, over at the big house down the way.”

“What does that entail?” Dani, unlike most, actually sounds interested. She is the oddest bird, Jamie thinks, and is startled to find a sense of light affection behind the notion. 

“Gardening, mostly. Keep up the grounds, like I said--minor repairs about the house, too. Make sure everything keeps moving.”

“You like it?”

“Love it,” Jamie says honestly. Dani smiles. 

“That’s what I want. Something I really love. Thought for a while it would be teaching, but...”

“Kids,” Jamie says. “Take a lot out of a person. That why you’re here?”

Dani thinks on it, seems to step right up to the edge of a reply before changing her mind. “Couldn’t be at home anymore,” she says instead. It’s a non-answer, Jamie recognizes. A too much truth answer. 

“Fair enough,” Jamie tells her, and doesn’t push.

***

“So--he lives there?” Dani is three drinks in to Jamie’s two, her hair falling across her forehead as she tries to piece it all together. Jamie shakes her head. 

“Nah, not most days. Hannah, she lives there--full-time, I mean. And Rebecca, she moved in couple of months back. Kids love her. Quint, though, he’s...” She can’t find a nice way to put it. Isn’t sure why she’s even bothering. “A cockroach. Hard to kill, harder yet to wish away.”

“Sound like you’ve tried,” Dani says with a faint smile. Jamie shrugs.

“Waste of everyone’s time. He’s Henry’s fuckin’ lapdog. Long as he’s pulling at the leash, we all just need to make do.”

Dani mulls this over with the interest of someone who has not a single face to put with any of these names. “Rebecca really likes him, huh?”

“Likes him. Stuck into him. Not much of a difference.” Jamie leans back, pouring the remainder of her drink into a single swallow. The idea of it, of Peter’s hands on Rebecca’s waist at dinner, still makes her stomach sour. “You ever just--you ever meet someone who is like a human pair of handcuffs?”

Something flickers in Dani’s eyes. She nods once. Jamie sighs.

“That’s Quint. Fucker never met a woman he didn’t try to win--and I do mean win. Like a prize. Like women are little more than trophies to be locked behind glass.”

She watches Dani rub absently against her lips with the back of one hand, unable to tear her eyes away until Dani says, “I don’t understand.”

“It’s like,” Jamie begins, trying to find the best way to explain, “like he thinks she’s property, right? Like he thinks any choice she makes without his say-so is a fucking--”

“Not that,” Dani says quietly. “I mean I don’t understand how people can do that. To each other. When they say they love--I mean. It’s the wrong way around, isn’t it? Trying to own someone out of love? You can’t do it. That’s...they’re not...”

“They’re opposites,” Jamie finishes. Blue eyes skip up, hold hers, don’t so much as waver. Dani’s lips turn up at the corners, her head giving a single nod. 

“Yeah. Exactly. How do people mix that up?”

“No idea,” Jamie says, and swallows against the clamor of her own heart.

***

Peter tried to pick a fight this afternoon, out among the roses. Would have succeeded, Jamie thinks with no small amount of shame, had Miles not been lurking just behind him, watching everything.

She is vibrating when she reaches the pub, every motion just a little more exaggerated than she likes. She slams down into her usual seat, hands clenched into fists against the table. 

“Bad day?” Dani asks, sliding a plate toward her. Half a sandwich, carefully set aside as if for Jamie all along. 

“Not great,” Jamie agrees. She softens, looking Dani over, reading the tension behind her smile. “Look like you can say the same.”

Dani glances over her shoulder, eyes finding the mirror behind the bar and darting jerkily away again. “Hard to explain,” she says. 

“Do you want to?” Jamie asks. Dani’s eyes land on her with all the abrasive surprise of an explosion. Jamie taps light knuckles against the tabletop. “Just sayin’. If you want to get it off your chest--”

Dani shakes her head. “It’s...really hard to explain,” she says, almost apologetic. “It--it makes me sound...kinda crazy.”

Jamie has never met someone who looks less crazy. Someone who holds herself with such steadiness, though her hands are twitchy and her smile doesn’t always reach her eyes. 

“If you want,” she says, knowing she will, in a moment, let the moment slide. “I don’t mind.”

There’s silence between them, a great comfortable swell of it that shouldn’t exist in a small pub, on a night like this, between two women who barely know one another. Jamie lets it ride, taking a bite of sandwich, watching Dani read her expression with tentative interest.

“I had a fiancé,” Dani says at last, and Jamie feels something in her stomach turn over. And then a second time, when Dani adds, “He died.”

“Dani. I’m so--”

“He died,” Dani says, staring grimly ahead as though trying with everything in her power not to glance toward the mirror again, “and I had just--I had just told him I couldn’t--”

She hesitates, pressing her face into her palms. When she lifts her head, her eyes are blazing. 

“I’d just broken--up with him. Broken the engagement, broken the whole--because he wasn’t what I--and then he died. And sometimes, I...I...”

Jamie waits. Dani sucks in a ragged breath.

“I see him. Sometimes. In mirrors, mostly. In--and it’s insane, I know, but I can’t stop.”

“S’why you came here?” Jamie guesses. Dani nods. 

“Crazy, right?”

Jamie shakes her head slowly. She’s not much for ghost stories, for fairytales, for dreams made flesh. Loss, though? Grief? Missing who a person was, who they could be? Those aren’t the marks of a crazy person. Those are just...

“Sounds like a rough time,” she says, and lets herself reach across the table. Dani’s hand is soft beneath her own, and she is suddenly too aware of her own callouses, of the skid against Dani’s skin when she turns her hand over and squeezes Jamie’s fingers in return. 

“Thank you,” she says softly, and looks once more toward the mirror. Jamie watches her: the tension in her brow, the way her eyes seem to narrow. “I think I...needed to tell someone. Finally.”

She’s still holding Jamie’s hand, even as she turns the subject to the day’s customers, to Jamie’s plans for tomorrow. She’s still holding Jamie’s hand, and doesn’t even seem to notice.

***

There is a fight, but it isn’t Jamie who starts it. Isn’t Jamie who finishes it, even. 

Jamie is only stupid enough to step in the middle. 

“Your eye,” Dani says in greeting, standing briskly up from the table. Jamie, who is aware she is no longer bleeding, aware that the glass thrown could have done significantly more damage on a less-fortunate occasion, waves her off. 

“Bit, ah. Messy at the house tonight.”

Bit messy is a gentle way of putting it. In truth, it had been a horrorshow: Hannah already furious with Peter for having barricaded Rebecca in the bedroom all afternoon, Peter furious with Owen for having enlisted Rebecca’s help with dinner, Rebecca wound tight with the rising pressure of a situation primed to go bad for days. When the glass had been thrown--by Peter or by Rebecca, Jamie still can’t say; she suspects it had really slipped from a gesticulating hand, regardless, given momentum by a moment of frustration more than genuine violence--it had been the bomb they’d all been waiting for.

Rebecca had stormed off to her room. Peter, out of the house. Hannah had collected the kids, both of whom were sobbing, and Jamie had pushed Owen’s helpful hand away and cleaned her own wound. 

“Theater,” she says now, aware of Dani’s eyes on her, of the abject concern in Dani’s face. “S’all it was.”

“Not good for the kids,” Dani says quietly. Jamie sighs.

“None of this is good for ‘em. Miles, he keeps...picking up shifty habits from Quint, and Flora’s enamored with the whole rotten mess. Thinks it’s romantic.” Jamie shakes her head, winces when her head rings back in answer. “Like there’s anything fuckin’ romantic about the way he talks to her.”

Dani is quiet a moment. She reaches across the table, presses her fingertips very gently to the place along Jamie’s brow where the glass had landed. 

“Lucky it didn’t break,” Jamie murmurs, almost unaware of leaning into Dani’s hand. “Shouldn’t have gotten in the...”

Dani is gazing at her with eyes too blue, an expression too meaningful. Jamie reaches up, closes her own fingers around the hand gingerly exploring her brow. 

“I’m okay,” she says. “Really.”

Dani seems not to believe her. Dani, whose palm slides across her own, thumb working a swipe along Jamie’s skin. 

“Do you,” she begins. Clears her throat. Tries again. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

Dani nods.

***

She leads Dani upstairs, and even as she’s unlocking the door, she thinks, Mistake? This is, she knows, the kind of thing a person can’t take back. The kind of give that can’t be explained away. 

Dani has not stopped looking at her since leaving the pub. Dani has not let go of her hand. 

Dani, she is sure, feels it, too. 

She’s aware of all the bits of the flat that feel wrong when set alongside Dani Clayton: last week’s shirt tossed over the back of the sofa, last night’s cup on the counter, last month’s dust painting the bookshelf. All the little merits of a life lived alone, she thinks. If she’d known--if she’d planned--it would look different.

Not much different, maybe, but enough.

Dani is looking around with an expression Jamie can’t read. It isn’t unease, or polite interest, or even amusement; it is, Jamie thinks, genuine awe. It is, Jamie thinks, a hunger to belong. 

She’d fit in, she catches herself thinking, watching Dani walk slowly around the flat with the faintest smile at her lips. In that house, with the rest, maybe better than I do. She’d fit right in.

“This is yours?” Dani asks, not gesturing at any one thing in particular, and Jamie nods slowly. 

“Serves its purpose.”

“I’ve never had this,” Dani says. Her eyes linger on Jamie’s face, and she adds hastily, “A place of my own. It seems...quiet.”

“It is,” Jamie says, and wonders if there isn’t more to it. If I’ve never had this is reaching for more than four walls and a bed Dani wouldn’t have to share. 

***

They don’t really talk about it, as Jamie’s flat commandeers the pub’s place in line altogether. Sometimes, Jamie even finds Dani seated on her steps, book propped upon on her knees, waiting patiently to be discovered. It never feels like expectation, Jamie notes with feelings too big to look at for long. It only ever feels like Dani, warm smile and easy hand accepting Jamie’s for balance, has belonged here all along.

“D’you ever just,” Jamie begins, cutting herself off before the rest of the words can spill out. Dani, curled on the sofa with a blanket half-tucked around her, furrows her brow. 

“What?”

“Feel like someone was always there,” Jamie finishes after a moment’s deliberation. It’s too much, probably, but she walked in on Peter and Rebecca screaming at one another again, and Flora spent the whole day in a sulk, and Hannah’s got a weariness around her eyes Jamie doesn’t like. Maybe it’s just a day for too much. 

Dani doesn’t seem to think it’s too much. Dani is nodding.

“Like you don’t even have to introduce yourself, really, because you remember them from another life. Yes. Yes, I’ve...felt that.”

It’s romantic rubbish, Jamie wants to say, something out of one of Flora’s story-time adventures, but the words seem to settle along her skeleton like she needs them. Like they’re offering some kind of strength she didn’t realize she was lacking. 

Dani is gazing at her, her expression fixed and unblinking in a manner that should be off-putting, and Jamie finds herself pulled irresistibly in. Finds herself leaning across the sofa, her thigh pressing to Dani’s, twisting at the waist to face her head-on.

“I’ve never,” Dani says softly, though her head is inclining, her lashes fluttering against her cheek. 

“Don’t have to,” Jamie replies, though her blood is singing, her fingers itching to delve into thick blonde hair. 

“But we could...” Dani is an inch away, and Jamie wants nothing more than to close the gap. Wants to take something for herself, for once, something soft and warm and easier than it ought to be. 

She hesitates. Flexes her hands against her own knees, resisting the urge to grab for Dani’s shirt. 

“Dani, I don’t want to--”

Dani is leaning back, nodding feverishly. “Right. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry--”

“No, listen.” She allows herself this, one hand reaching for Dani’s fingers, unfolding the instinctive fist she’s made. “I'm not...people don’t make sense to me. Understand?”

Dani shakes her head, puzzlement spreading over her impending humiliation. Jamie closes her eyes. 

“There’s a lot to it, and if...if you want to hear it all sometime, I’ll...but for now, just know that people are hard for me. Exhaustive. Complicated. They ask too much and they return too little.”

“Even me?” Dani asks, eyes shining, and Jamie smiles grimly. 

“Even you. Even me. Everyone, understand? But sometimes I still want...”

Dani waits. Dani, who never hurries Jamie anywhere. Who never tries to argue Jamie into a corner, or tells Jamie she needs to be kinder, or sneers for Jamie to get out of her way. Dani, who only sits on Jamie’s sofa, watching Jamie with an intensity no one else seems to possess. 

“If you do,” Jamie says, almost helplessly, letting one hand brace beneath Dani’s elbow. “I want--”

***

Some people--some women--kiss to escape. To flee from their lives, to hide inside Jamie’s hands and lips and fleeting desire. Some women kiss to build up armor: to convince themselves they really are brave enough, even for a night, to be someone else. Some women even kiss to shame themselves, because the memory of Jamie on their skin will rise up at unexpected moments and make them feel something, anything, even if it’s terrible. 

Dani doesn’t kiss like any of those women. 

Dani kisses like she wants. Simple and steady and nothing more. Like she wants to be kissing Jamie, wants to be learning Jamie, wants the want of it as much as the thing itself. There is no shame, in the way Dani kisses her. There is only breathless excitement, Dani moving across the sofa to press tight to Jamie’s frame along the cushions.

“I’ve never,” she says again, only this time, she’s curling the words into the underside of Jamie’s jaw. She’s letting them spill across Jamie’s skin from within the loose grip of Jamie’s arms, her hands wound tight in Jamie’s shirt, her voice jittery with anticipation. 

“If you want to stop,” Jamie begins, and Dani is shaking her head, kissing her neck, murmuring against her in such a way, Jamie can’t help but shiver.

“It’s what I--it’s right. The right way.” She lifts her eyes, and Jamie can’t help but grin at the joy reflected back. “I’ve never done it the right way.”

Jamie wants to know what that means, what the wrong way was, but it doesn’t seem a question for now. Now is just Dani, the one golden light untouched by a bleak day, the one bright spot after a tattered house Jamie doesn’t really belong in. Dani, who sighs against her lips, smiling, like she’s never been so happy to kiss someone. 

She’s waiting for Dani to reel back, to gasp, to mention the fiancé again--but Dani only presses in closer and lets her mouth linger against the thunder of Jamie’s pulse beating along in her throat. Dani only finds her lips with such a sound of relief, Jamie can do nothing but grip at her back in response. 

Have we done this before? she thinks with feverish uncertainty. Have we been here before? Dani is new, each press and slide of fingers along her skin calling forth unexpected sounds, but Dani is also right. Like meeting someone and knowing they were meant to be in your story the whole time. 

“You’re sure?” she asks, though Dani is gazing down at her with such obvious desire, it makes her stomach clench. 

Dani, in answer, kisses her as no woman has ever kissed her, and Jamie lets herself fall. 

***

Dani is still in her bed come morning. 

Dani is still wrapped around her, naked skin and rapturous smile, and Jamie thinks, How can I be so happy, when the rest of it is falling apart?

“All right?” she asks, half-expecting the awareness of the previous night--of their slow stumble across the flat, of Dani’s shirt over her head and Dani’s hands cradling Jamie’s skin--to crash in around them both like a bad dream. Dani only wriggles against her under the blankets, face pressed to Jamie’s shoulder. 

“Yes. Are you?”

No one has ever asked that, Jamie realizes dimly. Not even the first girl she’d ever loved, the one who had taken Jamie by the shoulders and kissed her hard enough to hurt. Jamie, who had only been preoccupied with the sense memory of a moment like that, with the teeth buried in her bottom lip and the hand cupped between her legs, hadn’t much cared at the time. 

Now, though, with Dani looking at her this way, she can’t imagine being with someone who doesn’t ask. Who doesn’t trail the tips of their fingers along her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck, and smile like they knew all along they were needed here. 

“I’m glad,” she hears herself say, morning rasp tracing the words, “you stayed.”

Dani is still beaming when Jamie kisses her, the implication of I am, too buried in the gentle press of her hand against Jamie’s cheek.

“Are you going to be late?” she asks a little while later, when there’s fresh sweat on her breast and Dani is gulping air against her neck. Dani shakes her head, dusting light kisses across Jamie’s skin. She swallows, laughs, groans when Dani finds a particularly pleasant spot in the hollow of her throat and sets to exploring it properly. “Keep doing that, and I will be.”

And would that be so bad? To leave the house for a day. To pretend like it isn’t all imploding around her, a little family divided by one man’s arrogance. Like Jamie doesn’t feel, more and more each day, as though she is the odd one out, the seventh wheel amid three solid pairs.

Dani, still teasing the clench of her stomach with curious fingers, says, “Guess you should go, then,” and Jamie thinks no one has ever said as much to her with less pleasure. No one has ever sounded quite so inclined to keep Jamie close. 

“I’ll be back,” she promises, and Dani--spilled across her sheets like she was placed by some grand wish--grins all the wider.

***

Rebecca spends the day in silent fury, tears running down her cheeks. Hannah spends it trying to keep her lips pursed around I told you so-shaped phrasing. Owen spends it in the kitchen, head down, and Jamie spends it teaching the kids how to properly weed out a garden, just for the distraction of it all.

Peter, they tell her, is gone. 

Peter, they tell her, left last night. 

“Gone where?” Dani asks when she pushes into the flat that night to find her still here, wrapped in one of Jamie’s favorite shirts and a pair of shorts. She has spent the day, she says, feeling intrusive, feeling as though she ought to be somewhere. Jamie, unable to explain the ease with which she does it, only leans in to kiss her slowly. 

“Here,” she says. “Meant to be here.”

As for Peter--she doesn’t much care where he’s skittered off to. Good fucking riddance, in her opinion. 

“Rebecca probably doesn’t agree,” Dani says, folded onto one of the sparse kitchen chairs with bare feet and a worried expression Peter doesn’t deserve. Across from her, Jamie sighs. 

“Maybe he’s got the right idea.”

Dani tips her head, waiting, and it strikes Jamie that this is an already that doesn’t make much sense. Like the comfortable silences, Dani’s capacity to already understand when she needs to talk something out, when she needs to come to a matter on her own terms without being rushed along, is a thrill. 

“Been thinking,” she goes on slowly, giving voice to thoughts she’s been batting around for months, “maybe I’ve outstayed my welcome, as it were. At the house. With the others.”

“You said you loved it,” Dani points out. Jamie sighs.

“Love the work. Love the people, some of ‘em. But there’s something about it--something about being bound to the place that feels...”

Suffocating, she doesn’t say. Like trying to walk against the wind. Like a clock ticking down.

“Been thinking for a while,” she says instead, “about moving on. Traveling some. Can find good work for my hands anywhere, can’t I?”

Dani doesn’t answer. Dani seems to recognize this is Jamie’s future to parse out, Jamie’s thoughts to sift through. Dani having spent a night in her bed is not qualified to deter or convince her. 

“It can be lonely,” she says, when Jamie goes quiet. “Traveling without a destination.”

“You’ve been doing it,” Jamie points out, smiling a little, and Dani looks almost embarrassed. 

“Seemed the only thing to do, at the time. If I had to do it again...”

“You’d stay home?”

Dani laughs. “No. No, absolutely not.” Her hand slides across the table, tangling with Jamie’s fingers. “But...I don’t know that I’d do it alone again. If I didn’t have to.”

Jamie says nothing, the words revolving around and around between them. It’s too early to say it, she thinks. Even if she feels as though she’s known Dani far longer than these few weeks, these spare bundles of days spent talking, laughing, kissing, it hasn’t been long enough to say a thing like this. 

Dani is watching with serious eyes, with a strangely calm expression, and Jamie wonders if she can see it in her eyes, the thing she is deliberately not saying out loud.

***

She expects to find Peter back again the next day, but his absence is etched into every inch of wallpaper like a smoke stain. Rebecca seems to be moving in slow motion, going about the business of teaching the kids with very little investment. Hannah and Owen exchange concerned looks over the lunch table, and Jamie--who had enjoyed a languorous morning with Dani in her entirely too-small shower--finds herself thinking again of this house, how good it is at building pairs of people. How, without her pair, Rebecca seems lost. How, without Jamie around each morning, Hannah and Owen seem to be revolving ever nearer to one another. 

And maybe that’s for the best, she thinks. Maybe it’s like science, like the simplicity of an atom. Maybe without Peter holding her to the structure, Rebecca will ultimately bounce off again, vanish into a space built for, instead of around, her. Maybe Owen and Hannah will finally speak of quiet lovely truths they’ve been dancing around for years. Maybe it will all balance out. 

“Where are you off to next?” she asks Dani one night, the two of them curled close in bed. Dani, who had been drowsing against her shoulder, raises her head. 

“Kicking me out?” There’s a smile on her lips which, when paired with the genuine edge of worry in her voice, makes Jamie’s heart hurt. 

“No, I--I mean, I know it’s...early. And you can say no. Please, by all means, say no if you--”

“Ask,” Dani interrupts gently. Jamie sighs. 

“I’m going to call up Wingrave. Let him know he’ll be needing a new groundskeeper for the autumn season. I can’t...”

Keep listening to the walls breathe around me, she doesn’t say. Keep watching Rebecca mope, and the kids checking every window for Peter fucking Quint’s reflection. Can’t keep still in this place that only ever wants a person to stay the same. 

“I can’t,” she repeats solidly. “I was wondering if you’d...if you wanted...”

It’s been a week since opening her bed to Dani Clayton, and a week is nothing. A week is barely a breath, in the grand scheme of things, but there are feelings Jamie can’t bury once dug up. Certainties she can’t turn from, once looked in the eye. There is something about the way Dani exhales across her skin in her sleep, about the way Dani kisses her with open abandon when Jamie touches her, about the look in Dani’s eyes when she thinks Jamie doesn’t see. A week in her bed. A month in her life. 

Sometimes, she thinks recklessly, you know it’s worth trying for.

“If you wanted the company,” she says finally. “Not even forever, if you didn’t want--”

“Forever’s a long time,” Dani replies, though she’s smiling. Heat winds its way up Jamie’s neck, settling between her shoulder blades, at the small of her back where Dani’s hand seems always to grip tight around her shirt. 

“It is. Yeah.”

“Start smaller?” Dani suggests quietly, even as she’s pressing close, one leg sliding between Jamie’s beneath the sheets. “Only, I knew someone once, who demanded forever. It...didn’t work out.”

“Smaller,” Jamie agrees, relieved. Dani smiles against her lips, each kiss a little longer, a little more wanting than the last. “Little at a time, maybe.”

“Company would be nice,” Dani answers, and then she’s kissing Jamie for real, pressing Jamie into the sheets, and Jamie doesn’t care that the summer has been a mess of other people’s feelings, that the house is a cataclysm of old ghosts and unpleasant exhumations, that people are rarely worth the effort sunk into them. Jamie doesn’t care about anything just now except the distinct sound of Dani’s laugh in her mouth, the distinct pressure of Dani’s fingers against her heart. 

A woman in her pub. An event built of a dozen tiny accidents, a dozen roads taken without expectation of consequence. Maybe in another life, Dani would have chosen the next village down the way. Maybe in another life, Jamie would have been too wary to meet her eyes. Maybe in another life, Rebecca would never have come to teach those kids, Peter would never have made a misery of that house, Owen and Hannah would have built a love in Paris to put them all to shame. Other lives. Other roads. 

In this one, Jamie dreams of adventure, of a soft hand tucked into her own, of blue eyes and a brave little grin, and thinks, Half the fun, isn’t it? Never knowing where you might land. 

[mrsmaybank]

Apocalypse - Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader

“You’re finally taking Cinema and Literature.” I felt him smile against the skin of my shoulder. He said it so casually. As if my underwear weren’t on his floor and the room didn’t reek of last night’s sex and Absolut. 

CONTENT WARNINGS: Semi-Graphic Descriptions of Sex, Alcohol, Language, Implications of fighting/angst, toxic relationship

A/N:  You can’t tell me that little collage isn’t exactly what it would be like to date college Matthew. He was the embodiment of NYU Film Major. Looked fucking hot doing it too. Cigs After Sex is the soundtrack to your relationship, by the way. Listen to Apocalypse here.

-----------------

NYU TISCH SCHOOL OF THE ARTS 

9:05 AM - Saturday, August 26, 2000 Sophomore Year 

 It was early Saturday morning. I was naked and petrified. Bare back faced to Matthew Gray Gubler. I didn’t know if he was awake, and if he was what the hell would I say. I hoped as soon as he realized the naked girl in his bed was me he’d kick me out. Save me the shameful, deer in headlights bra collecting exit.  I prayed he would tell me to leave so I just....would. I heard pillows and sheets rustle, and I just hoped he just did what was best for the both of us. 

Tell me to leave Matthew. 

Like always though, we were absolutely not on the same page. 

“So..” His big hand slid over my hip from behind me, his palm gently forcing me back onto him, “You’re finally taking Cinema and Literature.” I felt him smile against the skin of my shoulder. He said it so casually. As if my underwear weren’t on his floor and the room didn’t reek of last night’s sex and Absolut. 

“Yeah.” I answered. His short finger nails dug into his hips as his chest met my back. Neck craning over me. I shuddered and he noticed. 

“You like it right?” It was a painfully obvious double entendre and I couldn’t figure out either of the answers. The Cinema and Literature professors unconventional teaching methods were a circulating debate at NYU, but fucking my ex AND staying the night the first weekend back on campus was indisputably wrong. Problem was I really enjoyed both. 

Wet lips began to pepper equally wet kisses on my neck. My ability to move or speak was stripped. It was embarrassing really; I couldn’t focus or function when he touched me. Matthew liked that. A lot. Somethings never change. 

“Your opinion on Scorsese?” His hands traveled through sheets and onto the bare skin of my chest. I sucked in a deep breath and looked him in the eye for the first time since last night. He had a cocky, stupid hot smile on his face. His hands slipped under me and I knew I was gone so I looked away. I didn’t want to see what he was thinking. This was so incredibly self destructive. We were swiftly undoing all the slow healing we’d both already done. 

My brain spun all its gears at once to get out an answer while his hands practically methodically massaged my boobs. The feeling was the best kind of familiar. “You value my opinion?” 

A hand made it’s way to my face, pulling it to his so that we could look at each other again. “Always did.” His voice was soft with sincerity that affected me more then I would’ve liked it to. 

God, why? Why did things end the way they did? Why did....Why was.... Just why? There were so many whys, way too many fucking whys. Just tell me why, Matthew, please. 

Then he kissed me, and it felt like time didn’t exist anymore. 

Your lips, my lips 

Apocalypse

Time was like that for awhile, non-existent. The only thing that existed and mattered were the lips attached to mine and the torturously clever hand in between my legs. He stroked me with such tender care and affinity, I almost forgot we’d exchanged “Fuck you” more times then “I love you”. My breath got heavier and my moans got louder. I’d always meant the “I love you” more then the “Fuck you”. 

“Come on pretty girl, come for me.” The strokes and rubs of my clit and insides got more intense as his mouth nibbled at my earlobe, “I know you missed it.”

“S-shit!” And like that, I let go. I gave him what we both wanted too badly for our own good. 

He got up first. I tried not to look as he dressed himself, but I couldn’t help it. He manipulated all of my senses, vision included. My eyes couldn’t leave him and he smiled when he noticed my shy stare. 

“I was surprised when you said Hi last night.” He said, absent mindedly zipping his fly. 

“It would’ve been weird if I didn’t.” I responded, forcing myself to say it plainly. 

“Not really, all things considered.” He rummaged through still unpacked boxes, “You need a shirt?” It was cheeky and unappreciated, but I still took the offer. 

It was brown and striped, a personal favorite back in the days of cuddlefucking and PDAs in front of all of our friends. This boy was too clever. He tossed it to me before putting on his own and laying back down. I shimmied the shirt on. It smelled like his detergent and the butterflies in my stomach were having a field day. 

“I uh--I annotated the first lecture if you want it.” The sentence coming from him was uncharacteristically low pitched. He’d run out of things he could say without one or both of us choking up. 

“S-sure.” I nodded, “That’d be help-” 

There was a pounding on the door, and instantly in my chest. 

“C’mon Gube! It’s first Saturday back! We got Bloody Mary’s and chicken wings calling our mothafuckin’ names!” It was Danny. Matthew’s best friend, my dormmates friend, all of my friend’s friend, and obviously, MY friend. It was the worst possible person to be knocking on the door right now.

“Gubler, you bitch!” He laughed, “I know you’re in there man.” 

I was silent as a mouse. We could play this off. He’ll leave eventually. 

“Well motherfucker, I’m coming in! Rick gave me his key. Hide your dick if you’re jacking it!” 

Fuckin’ Rick. His dormmate. Didn’t know much about him other then he had good weed and definitely was not here last night. 

I was frozen in fear and Matthew’s hands wiped his face and then didn’t leave. They were trying to hide a smile. I was absolutely horrified and he was slightly amused. One word. Typical. 

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.” Danny’s jaw had swung open when he entered the room and saw what was happening. 

His best friend and the ex-girlfriend he’d probably, no definitely, proclaimed extreme hatred for were sharing a bed and clothes on a Saturday morning. 

“So like.... is it exactly what it looks like?” Danny tried and failed miserably to stifle his laugh when he saw my face. 

“Shut your fucking mouth and get out.” I practically screamed. Thankfully, he listened. 

I was seething. At myself, at Matthew and at fucking Danny for being such a goddamn jackass. 

“Hey..” Matthew rushed to calm me down but I hissed at him before he could touch me. 

I launched myself out of bed and scrambled to get my things. “Phone, keys, wallet...what am I missing?” I muttered to my stupid, hungover, fucking mentally exhausted brain. I was answered with shimmery fabric peeking from behind a sheet. “Dress.” 

“Here.” Matthew threw me some basketball shorts. I didn’t thank him. 

Without a word, I was out the door. Fuck. 

-----------------------

The walk back to my dorm was pitiful. I scurried down the halls with dress and heels in hand, in clothes that were so evidently not mine, receiving mixed looks I didn’t have the brain capacity to decipher. I just wanted to cry.

I laid down in my freshly unpacked dorm, and there were two very distinct scents. My dorm mate Lo’s soy linen candles and my regret. 

This kind of regret was laced with confusion and animosity and anger, and as much as I wanted to ignore it, there was a growing feeling of longing. Longing for Matthew and the way those skinny ass arms felt wrapped around my waist. 

I couldn’t think about it for too long though, because Lo and her girlfriend, Jen were now in the doorway. Donuts and coffee in hand. God didn’t hate me so much after all.

“Give me one, right now.” I snatched a chocolate glaze from the box. 

“You good?” Lo laughed and Jen gave me a look. 

Shoving the donut into my face, I figured the best way to do this was bluntly. Danny was going to tell them within the hour anyway. Swallowing, I started rambling immediately. “I fucked Gubler last night.” I took another bite and kept talking with my mouth full, “Woke up and--Shit.” Sprinkles were falling everywhere. “He fucked me again.” I opened my eyes wide, “With his fingers.” I sighed, “They’re so long and--” 

“Do NOT finish that sentence.” Lo interrupted. “Girl, why?” 

“You think I fucking know why?” I threw myself back on my bed. “I barely remember what happened last night. All I know is where I woke up.” 

“You’re fucked kiddo,” Jen said patting my head. “You get your bag, babe?” she asked Lo. 

“Yeah,” Lo came out the closet and gave me a kiss on the forehead, “Sleep well my child.” 

They were gone and so was my ability to not let tears stream down my face.  There was a light knock on my door. If it was Matthew I think I would scream. 

-----------------

Thank you for reading. 

[lunaekalenda]

I'm sorry for sending yet ANOTHER request, I just love your writing so much 😭

What about Soulmate AU where you can feel the pain your soulmate feels?

The reader is Zeke's soulmate even though she's from Paradis and with the Scouts, so she definitely feels the pain when Levi decapitates Zeke (he killed Zeke before the rumbling begins).

(I was thinking of this as platonic levi x reader? The Soulmate thing is with Zeke just to be more dramatic 😂)

hiii!! omg thank you so much! also your ideas are really cool, and i’m really happy to see your user on my requests!! <3 i hope you like it <3

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

❁ levi x reader, zeke x female!reader (kind of ??)

❁ death, spoilers from the manga, blood, again swearing against zeke lol, canon violence, non canon events!!!! btw sasha is alive because sasha <3

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

You feel small punctures on your hands. Again. It’s been a whole day feeling them, as if you are squeezing needles in your hands. It was harmful and really uncomfortable, but when you looked at your hands, they were smooth, without a cut. 

“That’s because is your soulmate who’s getting hurt there.” Hange told you, once you found them out of their tent. They were holding a book, and Moblit was following them, carrying some more. Hange looks at you, their gaze low, looking directly to your hands. “Anyway, whoever your soulmate is, is probably making you regret all your training period.” You laugh. You were specially headstrong during the training. It didn’t care how many times you fell or how many wounds you got. You kept training and fighting without a break. Maybe your soulmate felt all that pain too.

In the other side of the map, Zeke Jaeger is crushing rocks with his hands. The little fragments of broken rocks make cuts on his hands. He clenches his jaw and throws them, hitting some enemies. He feels Porco’s titan fast steps behind, probably trying to break the machines. Also Pieck’s fighting near him, as usual. He feels all his body tired and the blood in his hands is starting to get dry. But he keeps fighting. Maybe that’s why destiny made him your soulmate.

Sometimes, you can’t even differentiate if you’re feeling bad or if he is the one feeling bad. Your bodies are connected in a way that even biology can’t explain. But, considering that you never met - or so do you think.- it's kind of weird. Having a soulmate wasn’t rare, half of the population has it. You’re meant to find each other and be together. You walk back to your barricade, thinking about it. Maybe he’s one of the Corps soldiers. Someone who might be very resistant to pain. Someone strong and...

“Oi, have you seen Hange?” Levi asks. He’s in front of you, and he has some books in his hands. It seems like he’s helping Hange as well. You look behind you, where Hange was a minute earlier. They're gone.

"They were here a couple of seconds aho, but I guess they moved..." You saw Levi was looking behind him, to a table full of books. You guessed that all those heavy books were the ones Levi and Hange were moving. You take some of them as well. "It's not necessary..." he says, but you're taking four books now. Walking again towards him, you look around, searching Hange and Moblit.

"Didn't they told you were they are moving the books?" Levi sighed before clicking his tongue.

"That four eyes... They didn't say anything about it because I told them to leave the war room free for new reunions, so they moved all theyr shit." he says. The books are heavy and he has been holding them for a time now, so he's kinda edgy. He walks towards a tent in the sand, near the one where the Special OPs squad sleep. Connie was out of the tent, looking at the sea. Behind him, Sasha was taking care of a bouquet of white roses.

Pain hitted you like a train, literally. Zeke's body was so tired that the train hitted his titan's legs, making him and you feel the pain. You fell, crying of the high level of dolor. Levi left the books near you, on the floor, and Sasha and Connie walked fast toward you. You were there, feeling like your legs got crushed. Levi took your boots out easily, and, looking at you for consent, raised your pants to the knee. Your legs where perfect, as always. You couldn't stop crying. Even when Levi, a total hater of affection and physical contact, started to massage them carefully. Sasha took some cold water from the sea on a jar, and put the cold metal jar on your muscles, trying to ease the pain. Connie gave you potable water.

In Marley, Zeke was also feeling a lot of pain. His legs were totally crushed and smashed because of the fucking train. He knows that his human form will repair his muscles once he's out of the titan, so that's why, searching Porco's company, he leaves the titan's body. Porco covers him while his intern muscles get easily cured. In Paradis, your legs start to feel a bit better, and you're able to feel something more than pain on them. Something like the smooth touch of the Captain. Levi keeps massaging them, doing little circles and looking at you.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks. You nod. "What happened?"

Since everybody respects someone who has a soulmate, Levi is not different to the rest. Once he knows that you have a soulmate, you'll have 0 opportunities with him. Even knowing that he probably doesn't feel the same for you, having that little unknow will play at your favor. If he does feel something, you'll just ignore all the pain your soulmate is giving you. After all, you two are people with different lives and nothing more than a stupid bond between you. You have no affection towards him because you don't know who he is, to begin with. And, also. maybe the feelings you have developed for the Captain doesn’t let you think about any other person. 

At least from now.

“Yes, yes. Thanks, Captain.” he shakes his head, as if he was saying that you shouldn’t thank him. 

“Your pain has been increasing lately, doesn’t it?” he asks, in a whisper. It’s normal for him to care about you, after all you’re one of his soldiers. You move your legs. They just feel heavy, but the pain has been gone. “You should rest here a bit. I’ll call Connie . He’ll make you company while the meal isn’t ready.”

Levi lefts the tent quick. You have been here stuck for months now, after you killed all the titans left in the island. You know there’s a bigger enemy than the colossus humans that killed a lot of your comrades and friends. You remember once the pain was so bad, like if someone had cut your arms and legs and then just put a thunderspear on your abdomen. And it exploded. You were conscious of every single organ of your body. You were unable to walk for a week. Your soulmate was really fast healing, so you have the belief that he is a titan. No doubt.

Ha, you’re bonded with a titan shifter. What if that one is the one that Levi promised to kill?

You shake your head when Connie enters.

“Oh, wow, you look better!” he says. You smile at him and he sits near to you. Connie is basically your best friend here, and he was always trying to make you feel better. 

“Yes, I’m feeling way better.” you answer. Connie gives you a glass of water, “Thanks.”

“Your soulmate must be having fun, doesn’t he?” Connie and Hange were the only ones you told that you’ve probably a soulmate, but lately, the magnitude of the pain that man has to resist was a really obvious indicator of your bond. Probably, the Captain also knows it just because of intuition.

“He definitely is. for sure.” You say, after drinking all the glass. Connie puts it on a near table. You let out a sigh. “Y/N, listen, maybe you should tell the Captain. Like, he’s the Captain of our squad. What if your soulmate looses an arm and you fell in the middle of a battle?” But you don’t want to leave the Corps. They are your family, your most treasured ones. 

“But I don’t want to leave...” you whisper. Connie sighs and looks at the front, through the window.

“You don’t have to leave. Just work here, as a healer, or...”

“I want to fight. With you all. I don’t want to make Levi lose another soldier. We’re just seven on his squad. He needs all the people capable to follow his pace.” It was true. Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Connie, Sasha and you, with Levi, are the most capable soldiers of the army. That’s why all of you are in the Special Ops squad. 

Later, Jean brought you the dinner. It took you a bit to start to train again, and time passed. Eren announced the rumbling, and Levi told you all the plans for the mission. 

❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁

"Just execute the plan. We just have to stop the rumbling, even if that means killing Eren." The plan made all your comrades uncomfortable. Specially the ones that suffered with him all this time, those who saw him grow and express his ideals. That’s what you were thinking when, time later, you’re fighting hand to hand with the squad. Titans are everywhere and you only can see blood and hear screams. Jean is near Pieck and there’s a weird sensation growing up in your chest. Like if you knew what was about to happen to your soulmate. Levi was behind you. A big stalactite can be seen, at a figure seems to be on top of it. A blonde boy you met, knowing that he was a shifter. You can see him from Falco's titan's back.

Maybe he is your soulmate?

If someone kills him and your supposition is true, that means you’ll be in problems. 

Levi looks at him, his gaze full of anger. He goes near him, using the ODMS and, taking out his blades, before you could react, he decapitates him.

You felt like your soul was about to leave your body, how your head hurts so much that it seems like it was about to fell off your shoulders. You can’t breath and your lungs seem to stop working. Levi comes back and found you screaming of pain.

“y/n!” he yelled. Taking you with him, he puts you again on Falco’s titan back. You search his eyes, lying down on the soft back of the titan.

“He... was m-my... soulmate.” Levi opened his eyes with horror.

“I’m so sorry, I... I didn’t know that.” he says.

“I didn’t either.” You say, but your voice was breaking because of the pain screams. You hold your head, like if you wanted to avoid it from getting parted away from your body. It hurts so much.

Levi holds your head softly. Your neck feels really bad, but it is starting to heal slowly.

“Sorry.” he whispers. “I didn’t want to hurt you in any way.” It was okay. No one knew that Zeke, the man that he promised to kill, was your soulmate. So it was not his fault. Your face is full of tears, but you show him a little smile.

“It’s okay. After all, we weren't mean to be together.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a better man.” he says, while Falco keeps flying.

I hope so, you think, while his warm hands caress your hair, trying to make all that pain disappear.

[choco-mark]

20 April ♡ ✹ ☾ boyfriend!jisung

a part of the Quarantine Diaries!!

You pressed a hand down lightly on your boyfriend’s shoulder briefly, holding yourself up as you dried his wet hair with a towel. Jisung was just staring at you the entire time, completely disregarding all of your words as he focused on the beauty that was your face. But when you had put a slight pressure on his shoulder, he visibly flinched, letting out a soft grunt that didn’t go unnoticed to you.

“Did that hurt?” You asked, concerned as you pulled the towel off his head. He shook his head, making you skeptical until you touched the same area again with your fingers, pressing down hard enough to feel the huge knot as he winced, face scrunching up. “Oh god, babe, no wonder it hurts, that’s a massive knot.”

Your fingers found both his shoulders, rubbing slow circles into the area to feel how hard he had built up, probably from the non-stop dance practices. Jisung’s eyes shut in pain as you groaned out a little, shaking to push your hands away. “Baby stop, that really hurts—”

“Sit on the ground,” you said, yanking his arm as he looked up at you from his position on the bed, confusion spreading on his face. “Jisung, you’re too tall for me, and I’m going to get those knots out whether you like it or not. So please, sit on the damn ground.”

“Okay! Okay! Sitting!” he moved down on the ground, leaning against the bed. You threw him a throw pillow shortly after, telling him to sit on it as you knew he would complain about his butt hurting soon enough.

Jisung immediately leaned back into your crossed legs, his hair flopping backwards as he gave you a lazy smile. Your heart melted at the sight, squishing his face for a moment that he pouted in annoyance, but then smiled again, completely and utterly whipped for you.

“Okay, babe, I’m gonna need you to take your shirt off,” your words faded away with confidence as you said it, pushing his head forward to avoid showing him your flustered face. “I mean—just for this, I can’t really—”

Yeah, but before you were done stammering, his shirt was already off and in his lap, waiting for you to begin your murder massage. Your hands wrapped around the grooves between his shoulder and neck, thumbs pressing into his blades as you started your job.

Jisung let out a string of painful sounding moans, making you worried every five seconds until the feeling seemed to have softened. You moved a little bit to the center, massaging the skin of his back before you realized you couldn’t get any lower, making you purse your lips.

“Can you lay on the bed? Like, tummy down?” He threw his head back into your lap, the smile growing again goofily as he took another glance at your face. “Hey, listen! Don’t just stare at me, babe!”

Jisung just chuckled, getting into the position you wanted as you sat beside, thinking he looked like a dancer fish out of water. His body was so flat, you thought he could beat a shark in a marathon for best body. “Stay still, okay?”

You contemplated for a few seconds on how the hell you were actually going to massage him, but the problem was solved when you just decided to fuck it, and sit on his back. It took you a bit of thinking and a ‘should I ask him’ until you remembered you were his girlfriend and the two of you had been dating for a year previous, so it was safe to do so.

But your boyfriend didn’t think about it, mainly because he was too busy enjoying your hands to take in completely that you had put all of your weight on him. For a second, he thought you had fallen, and he whipped around, sending you toppling to the ground.

“I told you to stay still, stupid!” You looked up at him from the very hard floor, your butt suffering horribly from the crash. He looked apologetic, trying to offer you a hand but you dodged it, climbing up yourself and firmly planting yourself on his back. “Now stay fucking still, babe. I’m trying to help you.”

“That kinda feels good though,” he commented, grabbing your ankles suddenly as you shook from the contact. “You should sit on me often, I like this.”

You giggled a bit, going back to your work as he relaxed under your touch, his eyes fluttering a bit as he failed to stay awake. The feeling was so calming to him, laying down completely and utterly in your control, nearly drifting off from the circles you were rubbing into his back with your warm fingers.

The knots in his back weren’t nearly as bad as they were in his shoulders, but with every movement you made, it decreased the tension that had seemed to have built up for literal years. Reached over, you squeezed his arm slightly, feeling the tightening of his muscle under your palm.

You assumed he was asleep at this point, considering from his unresponsive movements as you continued to work out all of the knots. Jisung deserved it though, he had been working endlessly for the comeback regardless of the fact that there was a worldwide crisis going on, and you couldn’t be more proud of him.

Your fingers travelled up to his neck, massaging a little softer so you didn’t crush his windpipe as you moved up to his head, rubbing his temples. You were practically laying on top of him at this point, and you were concerned that he was going to wake up, but he never did (thankfully).

But in less than a second he was awake when Jaemin very loudly burst through the door (well, it was his room as well), startling the both of you as you shot up straight. His eyes widened at the two of you, gasping dramatically. “You—why are you sitting on my child?!”

“Jaemin—” Jisung started with a low voice, slightly groggy from the sleep that was just rudely stolen from him. But Jaemin moved closer with a loud step, nearly rattling the entire dorm. “Hey—what the fuck are you doing?!”

Jaemin’s arms were under yours, attempting to pull you off of your boyfriend as Jisung turned around in his position, holding onto your ankles. You yelped as you felt yourself hovering in the air, trying to slap away the older boy’s hands. “Jaemin, put her down!”

“RENJUN WE HAVE A CODE BLUE!” His voice rang off the walls and into your ears, nearly making your eardrums burst from his echoing voice. “Renjun, you piece of rotten shit, where the fuck are you?!”

“Put my girlfriend down!” Jisung said annoyingly, his voice growing louder in rage as he continued pulling at your legs. You felt like you were the rope in a tug of war, yet you were sure you were going to be in two pieces when they were done. “Jaemin!”

Renjun came in shortly after, clearly annoyed that he was rudely interrupted from whatever he was doing until he saw the situation at hand, his eyes growing in size at the sight of your terrified face. “What—the hell are you two doing?”

“Jaemin’s trying to murder Y/N!”

“Murder her? You little munchkin, I’m saving you from her unholyness! I should take you both to my holy virgin society and cleanse you both of sins! Or, you know what, I’ll take you one at a time, you can’t be trusted around each other!”

Renjun sighed, holding the bridge of his nose before he waved away at Jaemin. “Jaemin, put her down. Jisung, let go of her. You guys are gonna pull her apart like rotisserie chicken, c’mon.” The two boys finally let go of you, letting you stand up on your own feeling like you just gained height from all that stretching. “Okay, now you two, apologize to each other.”

“Why do I need to apologize to him?!” Jisung asked with an incredulous look, holding at hand out to Jaemin as he looked at the other boy. “He just stormed in and tried to steal Y/N from me, I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“You’re not wearing a shirt!”

“Is that an issue?! You’ve seen me naked hundreds of times, stupid!”

“Take that back, you fetus!”

“Okay!” Renjun stepped in between the two boys, pushing Jaemin away from the younger one in slow intervals, making him sit down on his own bed. He looked from you to Jisung and then Jaemin, and sighed. “Y/N, you mind telling me what happened? Since these two can’t seem to get through anything without going at each other’s throats.”

All eyes were on you now, making you flush before you glanced over to your boyfriend. It didn’t really seem like something you had to explain to anyone, mainly because it was none of their business but you didn’t really have the guts to speak to his older members like that. Just when you opened your mouth, Jisung cut you off.

“Renjun, she doesn’t have to tell you anything.” He said, a little quietly as he looked away from him. “Sorry, but it’s not really any of your business.” Renjun looked shocked to hear the words coming out from the youngest member’s mouth, looking over at you as if you condoned it as well, but your eyes were also on the ground, completely embarrassed.

“Hey! Renjun’s older than you!” Jaemin piped up from the other bed, making Renjun looked back at him with a stern look before tugging on his arm, pulling him towards the door. “Wait—”

But the door was already shut and they were gone, leaving you and Jisung in the room alone. He slowly slipped his shirt back on over his head, looking over at you watching him silently. Jisung knew that you were the kind of person to get flustered very quickly, just like him, but he was used to Jaemin’s antics anyway.

You had moved in not that long ago with the rest of the boys, and Jisung had been raging war with Jaemin on trying to get either him to move out, or for him to get one of the empty rooms of the dorm. Yet he never seemed to win all of the fights, forcing him to sleep on the ground as you took his bed, since Jaemin didn’t allow the two of you on a bed together.

Jisung was pretty sure you’d rather move back in with your friends, but since the quarantine started, you definitely couldn’t. It was nice to see you all the time, but he couldn’t help but feel bad since Jaemin picked on the two of you constantly.

“Y/N,” he grabbed your hand, pulling you closer to him until you were safely tucked in his arms. You held him back gently, softening a little under his touch. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, are you okay?”

You gave a little hum against his chest, sighing from the way you remembered Jaemin bursting in on the two of you as if you were doing something wrong. “I don’t think he likes me, Sungie. Maybe I should leave.”

“N-No, please don’t say that. I know he overreacts a lot but I promise it’ll get better, just bare with him a little longer, please? I don’t want you to leave, Y/N, we won’t be able to see each other.”

Yeah, but maybe it was better that way.

[wolfstar-supremacy-innit]

"Tell who?"- Part 1

Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Alternatively:

The Marauders are in their 6th year at Hogwarts, it's New Year's Eve and Remus writes a New Year's resolutions list. Sirius finds it the next day. The story is written from Remus' point of view. It's wolfstar and lighthearted. Kinda inspired by this fanfic.

This is part 1 of the story. I will be posting the other parts separately here and also the full fic on ao3 (I will link everything when it's done, check this post for that in some time). Warnings: underage drinking and smoking, mentions of anxiety disorder.

Enjoy! :)

Part 2 Part 3

Remus sat on the windowsill in the 6th year boys’ dormitory rolling a cigarette with magic. Well, trying to. He carefully placed the tobacco and filter on the small paper and tapped it with his wand, but half of the contents plopped out. The spell needed perfecting, obviously. Remus had picked up the habit of smoking socializing with some muggle kids back home during that summer. He knew it was stupid, but he had thought it looked cool. Later, he also found out he quite liked the lightheadedness that followed smoking a cigarette quickly. And some more time after that, there was a boy at school to try to impress, but that's a little embarrassing to admit. A nicotine addiction was surely well on its way to becoming a reality, but Remus didn't like to think about that. And anyway, with the war looming over everyone's head, who cares if a 16-year-old werewolf is addicted to nicotine? The problem was that cigarettes were expensive and Remus didn't have a lot of money to spare, so he resigned to rolling as it was cheaper and lasted longer. With some practice, he'll be able to assemble them with magic effortlessly anyway.

"Hiya, Moony," James said, walking into the room, "you're not getting ready?"

"Yes, I am." Remus pointed at his cigarette rolling arrangement, although James was probably referring to the fact that he wasn't dressed for a party.

It was the 31st of December. The four of them were staying at Hogwarts for the entirety of the holidays, given that the full moon had been on the 26th. Well, that was the excuse they gave their parents. The real reason why they hadn’t gone to the Potters after the 26th, where they usually spent the Christmas holidays, was that Sirius had stumbled upon a flyer for a gig and party occurring in Hogsmeade that Friday. James and Sirius were ecstatic, but Remus was pretty apathetic towards the idea of going. With his crush on his best friend and all. In fact, he had been trying to steer clear of settings in which he was sure Sirius would look particularly, well, hot. However, there was a flaw in his thinking, he had realised. Day by day, Sirius was beginning to look extraordinarily hot to Remus in every setting, and there was nothing he could do about it.

When Sirius had arrived at their train compartment at the beginning of that school year, Remus was very, very confused. Sirius had run away from home and spent the majority of the summer at the Potters, but in the two months, he had changed profoundly. Although they had been exchanging letters the whole summer, nothing could've prepared Remus for the feeling of panic bubbling up in him when Sirius had stepped through the sliding doors. After finally being released from his family's clutches, the freedom and eagerness to express himself had been immediately evident. Sirius had let his hair grow out longer than usual, past his shoulders, messier and curlier, but all the better looking (if that was even possible). He'd gotten taller and his shoulders broader, his muggle clothes sitting flawlessly on his lean figure. He’d looked cool, to say the least- chunky black lace-up boots, black trousers, a small silver loop earring in one ear and, of course, a black leather jacket. Remus had been perplexed and silent the whole train ride. What is wrong with me, he had thought. It wasn't envy or disapproval. It was excitement for his best friend's joy after years of trauma, of course, it was. But what the hell was that lump in his throat and the inability to look Sirius in the eye? Later that week, as Sirius had stepped out of the bathroom with his shirt hanging loosely around his neck exposing his prominent collarbones, Remus had realised with a sinking feeling that it all impossibly resembled a crush. A crush on Sirius?? I am so fucked, he had thought as he swallowed a lump.

In the following months, Remus had been desperately attempting to push his feelings into the deep dark depths of his mind and just forget about it. Still, as it turned out, Sirius' natural charm and charisma were impossible to look past. He would casually sling his arm over Remus' shoulders on their way to class or wink at him when James said a sentence without picking up on the innuendo of it. And it made Remus' heart jump out of his chest. On top of all that, Sirius was, in all likelihood, the most handsome bloke in the whole of Britain. So much so that talking to him made Remus' stomach twist with nervous energy most of the time. Anxious talking to my best friend of five years... He felt completely off his rocker.

In the present time, Sirius threw the dorm door open, stepping inside with Peter following and Remus jumped a little. "Lads," he said rubbing his palms together, "tonight's the night. We're getting plastered!"

"No," Remus said, still struggling with the cigarettes, now resolving to roll them manually. He wasn't very keen on his big mouth outrunning his drunk brain as it so usually happened after a few drinks. And now he had a dangerous secret to keep...

"Oh come on, Moony! This is our night off the chain!" There wasn't much Remus could say no to with those big grey eyes looking into his. Before he could say anything, Sirius asked: "Mate, could you roll me a few?" He had picked smoking up from Remus, of course. Sirius had said it looked "wicked" and “punk rock”. Remus was more proud of that than he was willing to admit.

"Sure," Remus replied.

"Cheers." Sirius winked at Remus and his stomach flipped. "Right. I'm going to get ready. We gotta clear off when I get out," Sirius said disappearing into the bathroom.

Remus successfully rolled up enough cigarettes for him and Sirius and placed them into his case. Oblivious to James' and Peter's conversation, Remus contemplated how he would survive the night. He'll have his cigs and the music, he concluded. He'll be fine.

He changed into his teal sweater and dark jeans and plopped onto his bed, gazing into the wooden board above him for a while. He sighed. In a few hours, 1976 would die and the illusion of a new slate in the form of a new year will be born. Remus was aware it was silly, but he liked creating little lists of goals for himself for the following year. They were never anything revolutionary, just a couple of small and realistic things he would like to accomplish. He thought about it for a few moments, then reached into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out some parchment, ink and a quill. He wrote:

1977 New Years resolutions:

1. Get mum that record she's been talking about for months now

2. Master the cig rolling spell

3. Improve on non-verbal magic

4. Complete that muggle reading challenge Lilly and I compiled

Sirius then came out of the bathroom dolled up and with very discreet lines of black eyeshadow around his eyes. The parchment and quill slipped from Remus’ fingers. The deep grey now stood out even further than usual. "Should we get a move on, then?" Remus rolled on his bed, pressed his face into the pillow and groaned softly, pretending it was because of his reluctance to go. He didn't know how many more of Sirius' little surprises he could take before his head imploded. This was clearly one of those times Sirius would look just exceptionally fucking fit.

"You're wearing that, Moony?" Remus picked his head up to look at Sirius, not being able to suppress the disappointment that was creeping up.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, you wear sweaters every day, don’t you? This is a party we’re going to!” Remus sat up and peered at him silently, allowing himself to take a better look at the eyeshadow that suited him wonderfully.

“Where did you get that?” James piped in, finally noticing Sirius’ make up.

“Borrowed it from Marls. Now, Moony, let’s see...” He started rummaging through his wardrobe and emerged with a dark grey shirt with a band logo on it. “Here you go, mate.” Sirius held it up for him to look at, then tossed it on the werewolf’s bed. Remus loved that shirt, especially because it was one of Sirius’ favourites.

“It’s December,” Remus said, but excitement was swirling in his stomach at the thought of wearing Sirius’ clothes. “Well, wear your coat.” He flashed Remus a smile. As the other boys started pilling their belongings into their pockets and putting on jackets, Remus reflected on changing into the shirt. Then he did it, quickly. Heat rose swiftly up his neck and cheeks at the realisation it smelled like Sirius. It felt like he would melt into the carpet any second now. Maybe he could allow himself to simmer in his infatuation just for tonight.

“Looking good.” Sirius smiled at him in the mirror as Remus checked himself out. The blush intensified.

The four boys crept down hallways using the Marauder’s Map to avoid Filch and the teachers and made it safely to the One-Eyed Witch Statue on the third floor. Sirius and James were practically skipping down the secret passage leading to Honeydukes. Even Remus felt a little giddy, but that may or may not have been because of the shirt. They arrived at the pub without hindrances and made their way inside. The place was loud and crowded as they pushed their way to a round wooden bar table. There were decorative lights of different shapes and sizes everywhere as well as tiny glass lanterns with magical flames flickering inside. The atmosphere was bewitching.

“Right,” Sirius clapped his hands, “what’re we drinking?”

Remus wanted a Butterbeer, but it was decided on his behalf that he would be having Firewhiskey. After all, Sirius was now of age and this was his first opportunity to take advantage of it. And so, Remus was coerced into his first glass of alcohol. He downed it quickly when the first girl approached Sirius. This was nothing new, of course. He was showered in attention from girls at school all the time. What was different now was that it gravely bothered Remus. However, Sirius paid no attention to the lady and instead turned to Remus to ask for a cigarette. Sirius smoking was a work of art; Remus could testify to that.

After the first drink, it was no trouble following up with more and the boys wanted to try weird sounding beverages from the menu. Thick, white smoke covered their table when James brought over the Simison Steaming Stout. Later, Remus had a shot (or three) of something called Checker’s Quick Everclear which made him inexplicably snap his fingers a few times after swallowing it. It was incredibly amusing and enough to get him rather half cut. After that, things became somewhat fuzzy. The band was fine, so they danced and drank and Remus felt just swell. It could’ve had something to do with Sirius ignoring the girls or plainly the amount of alcohol in his blood. By the time people began counting down from ten, Remus had half lost his ability to comprehend what was going on. He caught sight of James hugging Sirius when the clock hit midnight as the two of them shouted: “Happy New Year!” A couple seconds later Remus felt hands around himself and realised James hugged him next, yelling the same words, frankly a bit too close to his ear. It seemed that James was either holding his drinks well or just hadn’t drank that much. Sirius’ eyes, however, were half-closed, Remus noticed, as he moved to embrace him. It was just a smidge underwhelming. Remus was numb all over and barely felt the touch of Sirius’s arms over the colossal spike of adrenaline that flashed in his insides. He likely held him tighter than necessary and reluctantly pulled away when Sirius did too. Their cheeks brushed briefly in the process. When Remus looked at him, Sirius was smiling. His hair was messy, lips full and smooth. The eyeshadow hadn’t moved. Remus almost leaned in, but chose to just smile back instead. I have a secret to keep. Big secret. Scary secret. He slyly avoided hugging Peter (who was really sweaty) as his stupid, drunk brain kept repeating: Big. Scary. Secret. Secret. But he had already forgotten what was so confidential. He was really fuckin’ pissed, wasn’t he? Remus sniggered to himself.

Sirius and James wanted to go to the dancefloor and Peter followed them. Remus, however, wasn’t quite sure he could stand very well without having a table to hold on to once in a while. So he stayed put, fetched a cigarette from his case, lit it with his wand and leaned on his forearms on the table. Reveling in the fact that that he was allowing himself to feel all his forbidden feelings tonight, Remus observed Sirius in a manner he hoped was subtle. Sirius was dancing with his eyes closed, smooth, controlled movements, face tilted upwards. Christ, Remus banged his forehead on the table, why does he have to look like that?! It felt strangely pleasant, so he stayed in that position for some time. His head was swaying lightly and he got an inexplicable urge to laugh.

“Alright, Moony,” a voice brought him back to reality. Remus forced his head up.

“Splendid,” he said. Sirius smiled at him.

“We got any more fags?”

“Yup.” He pulled out the case out of his back pocket and handed it to Sirius, just as he asked: “Having fun, Moony?” Remus’ mouth stretched into a stupid, crooked smile.

“Oh, I’m having a brilliant time.”

“Good.” Sirius struggled pulling his wand out of the pocket of his tight-fitting (Sigh...) jeans. Remus brought his own wand to the cigarette hanging from the other boy’s lips and produced miniature blue flames. Sirius sucked in the smoke, held it briefly, then exhaled. “Cheers.”

Remus downed whatever it was leftover in James’ glass. Then his mind blacked out. The next thing he was aware of was being dragged up the stairs by James to their dormitory. “You’re a miracle,” he mumbled, thinking how James could have possibly snuck him through the castle in this state without getting caught. James laughed softly.

“Okay, Moony.”

Remus plopped on his bed face first and let out a long, loud half-sigh, half-groan. He heard Sirius laugh from his own bed. “Nooo, we’re not getting plastered tonight! No waaay,” he said in a teasing voice. Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Part 2 Part 3