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ghostedgwen · 2 months ago

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under that attitude | j.potter

note : I'll have you know it was very funny to take breaks from writing this to create rollercoasters on my roblox theme park tycoon that I managed on the side, I cannot just do one thing lately - at least it was productive

warnings : some angst and a lot of overthinking, pining, misunderstandings (only a bit), two dumb idiots avoiding their feelings, idiots in love, a whole lot of fluff despite the denial

You were always good at keeping secrets - especially the one about your Legilimency. No one could know, because you didn’t have a solid prediction of how the wizarding world would react to that information. But everything changes the day you hear the truth behind his insults - the way his heart stutters when you argue, the desperate, half-terrified way he wants you. 4.9k words

. . . Like, I want you, bless my soul, and I ain't gotta tell him. I think he knows.

Like how most depressing things are, it was worse at night.

The castle breathed in the dark - long, slow sighs that rattled through stone and bone alike - and it was then, in the hush between curfew and dawn, that the voices were loudest. Not aloud. Never aloud. In your head. Flickering, always uninvited.

You leaned against the cold wall outside the Slytherin common room, your head tipped back, eyes closed. The torches burned low, sputtering against damp stone. Somewhere down the passage, you could hear the slow drip of water, the groan of ancient pipes. Familiar sounds.

The other ones - the ones that weren't supposed to exist - you kept locked tight behind your ribs.

You hadn't meant to become a Legilimens. Hadn't studied it, hadn't even known the word when it first happened. It had just. . . started. It started as barely audible whispers at first. At eleven years old, you'd thought everyone heard them - snatches of feeling, flickers of thought that didn't belong to you.

It wasn't until second year, during a Charms duel, that you'd understood: when your opponent raised her wand and spat a hex - and you had already known she was going to - because you had heard her panicked mind scream "Left - aim for her left!" before she ever moved.

You’d dodged without thinking. You won without even expecting an upper-hand thanks to hearing her thoughts and you’d walked back to the Slytherin huddle under curious eyes, your skin cold with the realization that something was wrong.

There were rules about things like this, from everything you have read so far.

Legilimency was dark magic in most people's eyes - an invasion, a violation - a talent reserved for those who couldn't be trusted. Monsters wore polite faces. Mind readers didn't get second chances.

So you told no one. Not even your dormmates, whose secrets you could taste sometimes when they laughed too hard.

And most days, it was fine. Manageable. If you stayed guarded. If you didn't look too closely. It only slipped when people were loud inside - when their feelings boiled over and the world around you blurred at the edges and suddenly their thoughts weren’t behind their teeth anymore, but bleeding out into yours.

You hadn't meant to overhear anyone.

But here, in the long velvet dark of Hogwarts, the mind had no walls.

Potions was a war zone on a good day. On a bad day, when the Gryffindors shared the clasroom with Slytherins, it was mutually assured destruction. Why the professors allow for this inter-house collaboration was beyond you, if there was a house the snakes mildly respect other than themselves - it would be the Ravenclaws.

You sat at your usual table near the back, carefully slicing a bundle of valerian roots, pretending not to notice James Potter throwing glances your way like hexes. He was always known to prank Slytherins, and you were not straying his radar with how you competed on the pitch often.

You anticipated it but still braced yourself for impact.

"Careful, ____," he drawled loud enough for half the room to hear. "Wouldn’t want you brewing up something - oh, I don't know - illegal."

You didn't even flinch, you saw the insult coming a mile away and barely rolled your eyes at how lame it was.

"Touching concern, Potter," you murmured, not looking up. "Planning to report me to the authorities or just desperate for my attention again?"

A few Gryffindors snickered. Lily Evans shot James a warning glare over her cauldron. He ignored it with practiced ease, an amused smile playing at his lips.

He strode closer, arms folded, the portrait of a boy who’d never been told no. Which is funny given how he's very much like a spoiled pureblood heir, only his robe colours were different.

You neglected to point out how great he would be in your house, he’d thrive alongside the other snot-nosed pureblood brats.

"Just making sure the dark wizard training program’s running on schedule," he said, smirking. "Be a shame if someone as - what's the term? Frighteningly competent - wasn't putting in the hours."

You looked up then, meeting his gaze coolly and that was when it happened.

The world shifted - not outwardly, not visibly - but inside your head, the way it always did when someone's emotions rose too high and their mind got too loud. And James Potter, his mind was practically screaming at you, demanding to be invaded.

James's smirk stayed fixed on his face, not faltering even when your sharp gaze held his - full of mockery and bravado.

But beneath it, like a crack in the ice, you heard:

"Look at her. Smug. Brilliant. Bloody hell, she's so pretty it’s infuriating."

Your knife slipped, slicing too hard through the root. You caught yourself enough for anyone to not notice the stumble - steady hands with no visible flinch - but your heart jumped painfully against your ribs.

Stay calm.

Stay normal.

Outwardly, you quirked a brow. "If you spent half as much time on your coursework as you do worrying about me, Potter, you might actually pass your exams."

More laughter. A few Gryffindors - Sirius Black among them - hooted loud enough to make Slughorn look up from his desk.

James flushed slightly, his smirk faltering before he masked it with exaggerated affront.

You went back to your valerian root, slicing with vicious precision, pretending your ears weren’t ringing with the echo of his mind’s betrayal.

He hated you, he said. You were rivals, he said.

And yet.

"Bloody hell, she's so pretty it’s infuriating."

You didn't even want to think about what else he might be shouting inside that head of his.

You just had to survive the rest of class without cracking first.

The library was supposed to be a safe place - for you. Just you and the books and the quietness, somehow people's thoughts are quieter here. They get too focused that your abilities were not being demanded by their thoughts.

Low voices, scratching quills, sound of parchment - no loud Gryffindor boys itching for a fight. No accidental mind-reading incidents. Just quiet.

Or it should have been.

You hunched over a thick tome on advanced defensive charms, trying and pathetically failing to focus. The words blurred, your mind replaying Potions over and over.

'Look at her. Smug. Brilliant. Bloody hell, she's so pretty it’s infuriating.'

You shook your head sharply.

"No," you muttered under your breath. "No way."

Maybe you'd misheard. There was absolutely no way, the lack of sleep from slaving over N.E.W.T.s and the nearing Gryffindor vs Slytherin Quidditch match was getting to you, taking its toll. You convince yourself that was all.

Maybe James Potter didn't actually think you were. . . that.

You sank lower in your seat, dragging a hand across your face.

You had rules about this. You never took strong flashes from someone and assumed they were true. Minds were messy, complicated things. Thoughts didn't always mean anything.

Still. You started noticing it.

The next day in Charms, you caught James looking at you across the room, chin propped on his hand, staring. When you met his gaze, he immediately dropped a book on the floor and made a big show of retrieving it.

Later, walking down the corridor between classes, you heard him before you saw him - laughing too loudly with Sirius, knocking shoulders with Peter Pettigrew, and the second he spotted you, his whole posture changed. Straighter. And then, predictably, he opened his mouth.

"Watch it, snake," he called, as you passed.

You rolled your eyes and kept walking, but your fingers twitched at your sides. Because even though his words were full of spite, his mind had been humming loud enough to burn:

"There she is. Merlin, she’s - "

You cut yourself off before the thought fully formed. You didn't want to know.

James Potter was many things - loud, insufferable, reckless - but he couldn't actually like you.

Could he?

You buried yourself deeper into your books, trying to drown out the noise - both outside and inside your head.

But the thing about secrets was: they had a way of refusing to stay quiet for long.

The air still smelled like grass and almost-rain when you cut across the pitch, broom slung lazily over one shoulder.

You’d only come to watch - Slytherin practice had ended hours ago - but somehow you’d found yourself lingering, pretending to study the Gryffindor formations. Pretending not to watch a certain messy-haired idiot loop the sky like he owned it.

You should have left.

You should have.

Boots scuffed behind you. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

"Well, well, well," James Potter's voice drawled, closer than you expected. "Didn't realize Slytherins were so obsessed with Gryffindor athleticism."

You snorted, not bothering to face him yet. "Don't flatter yourself, Potter. I was studying your mistakes."

He caught up easily, falling into step beside you as you made for the gates. His hair was still damp from flying, sticking to his forehead. There was a smudge of mud across his cheek, and he grinned like he hadn't a care in the world.

"Sure you were, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt - but your heart stuttered.

Because even before it hit you fully, you could feel it - the swell of emotion, bright and reckless, practically leaking out of him.

And then you heard it:

"If she knew what I really thought of her, I'd die. I'd let her hex me if it meant she'd touch me."

You stumbled.

Just a little. Just enough that you hoped he thought you tripped on the uneven ground.

But inside? There is absolute chaos brewing in you.

You recovered quickly, shooting him a scathing look, but James only laughed - like you were the most amusing thing he'd seen all day. Given the track record of his thoughts, there might be some weight to that.

He ruffled his already-ruined hair and gave you a wink that nearly made you want to hex him on principle.

"Careful, snake. Wouldn't want you falling for me."

You scoffed. "As if."

But your mind was spinning.

Because it was real. All of it - the glances, the smirks, the insults that were less venom and more cover.

James Potter didn’t hate you. He hated how much he wanted you.

The night was unbearably still, the only sound the quiet ripple of the Black Lake against the shore. You sat by the water, your knees drawn up to your chest, staring at the moonlight dancing on the surface. Your breath came in slow, measured patterns, but inside, it was chaos.

You liked coming here to help calm yourself - the sound of the soft ripples of water, the loneliness of it all as the moon shone brightly. Finally, it's quiet - truly quiet.

No person around whose privacy you could invade.

You had never wanted to know what others were thinking. You had never asked for this. But it had happened. You were a Legilimens.

And now, you knew too much.

James Potter likes you. He wants you.

The thought shouldn’t have had the power it did. It shouldn’t have twisted inside you like this, leaving you cold and unsettled. But it did. And you hated yourself for it.

You could still hear his voice, taunting you in Potions, the insults he threw your way. "Dark wizard in training," he'd called you, his words sharp and cruel. But it wasn’t his words that hurt, was it? It was the thoughts beneath them.

"Bloody hell, she's gorgeous when she's angry."

You froze, the echo of those words still too fresh, too sharp.

But you couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t let anyone know as it would open a pandora’s box of undesirables you dared not explore outside the wee hours when your head feels like it might cave in on itself.

Legilimency was a curse. It was rare, dangerous, and feared. Wizards who had been caught using it had been cast out, exiled to live on the fringes of society. Families had been ruined, careers destroyed.

And worse - those who could read minds were feared. There were whispers about what those with the power could do with it. How easily they could manipulate people. Control them.

Or perhaps the articles and books you have read were just laying it on very thick, making a spectacle out of something that was out of what society considered ordinary but you couldn’t risk it.

As a Slytherin, it was in your nature to always preserve yourself. Your well-being came first, so every action is well thought-out for your benefit - including hiding your ability away in shame.

People don't take kindly to having their minds read, the mind is one very powerful thing - a vast vault of secrets. You could very well weaponize people’s thoughts and secrets against them.

You’d keep quiet. Keep pretending you didn’t know. Even if it gnawed at you from the inside. Even if every part of you screamed to just tell him, to confront him, to understand what the hell was going on in that arrogant Gryffindor head of his.

You swallowed hard, standing up and brushing your hands off on your robes. The weight of your secret settled like lead in your chest.

You’ll pretend. You’ll keep it secret. And maybe - just maybe - you’ll survive.

Because that is why the hat sorted you to wear green robes, because you were not the type to grab James Potter by his tie to confront him and demand some explanation for the things he thought about you.

You walked back toward the castle, the darkness wrapping around you like a cloak. The sound of your footsteps on the cobblestone echoed in the quiet night.

The cauldron before you is bubbling with that familiar greenish glow, steam rising like smoke. Your fingers are quick, precise - just the right amount of crushed powdered moonstone, stirred counterclockwise, steady, controlled.

James Potter is sitting across from you, as always, only this time he's making a show of it. His elbows are planted on the table, chin in his palm, eyes fixed on you. And that smug expression. The one that makes your insides twist.

"Look at her. She’s so - "

You shut the thought out. It is your absolute misfortune that he settled on sharing a table with you when the Professor demanded some inter-house collaboration for today’s class due to Dumbledore’s insistence.

It doesn’t matter. You have a potion to finish.

But, of course, James never misses an opportunity to make you hate him just a little bit more - if hate is truly what you have been feeling.

“You’re stealing looks at me, _____. Thinking of what unforgivable to use, eh?”

You barely hear the words, your mind too focused on the process in front of you. But you hear the tone. You always hear the tone. And that’s enough.

You don’t look up from your potion, but the words slide out of your mouth like a reflex, sharp as ever. “What’s your problem, Potter? Can’t keep your mouth shut for one class?”

The words are meant to sting, meant to remind him that this rivalry isn’t just one-sided. But as you snap at him, the air thick with the tension of old wounds, your own mind is buzzing with something far worse.

"Merlin, she smells amazing."

The thought - completely out of nowhere slams into your mind like a train. Your hands falter for a second, a stray drop of essence splashing over the edge of your cauldron. You curse under your breath.

But that’s nothing compared to the way your heart jumps in your chest.

"Stop thinking about her like that, Potter. Just focus."

It’s like his voice is in your head - no, not just his voice. It’s his thoughts. His internal struggle, raw and unfiltered. And it’s all about you, as if all the time spent learning at Hogwarts were useless when all he could think about was you, you, you.

You almost choke. Almost spill the entire potion.

But you don’t. You manage to keep your face cool, eyes fixed on your cauldron. You won’t let him see the effect he’s having on you.

James doesn’t see the way you flinch, the way you want to scream and laugh all at once. He doesn’t know that you can hear every stupid, misguided thought racing through his head.

He’s still talking, probably making fun of you, probably insulting your potion-making technique. But inside, it’s all just a blur of "please don’t notice", how good you smell and "how is she this good at everything?"

You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep pretending you hate him, when his equally-annoying voice spouted compliments and confessions in your head. Like he was right by your ear screaming them.

But you have to. Because you know. You know what he’s thinking. What he really thinks about you. And it’s driving you mad - as much as he is driving himself mad.

"She’s making it look so easy. Stop it, James."

You don’t flinch this time. You just keep your hands steady, your face calm, pretending like none of it’s happening. Pretending like the weight of his thoughts isn’t burning through your skin, making you want to dunk your head into the boiling cauldron.

It’s maddening. And you’re beginning to wonder how much longer you can keep pretending you don’t know.

The Quidditch pitch was alive with energy, the roar of the crowd drowning out all other sounds. Gryffindor versus Slytherin - the match everyone was waiting for, one that had your Quidditch captain on everyone’s rears all semester.

The teams soared high, the Quaffle exchanged between players as they raced towards the goalposts. It was fast, furious, and wildly competitive.

You gripped your broom tightly, eyes locked on the Quaffle as you swerved past a Bludger. You were focused, focused enough that you could almost tune out everything else - everything, except for him.

Merlin, despite the heat and chaos of the match, you could still hear him through them with how absolutely loud he was as if he was projecting his thoughts to you on purpose.

James Potter, the Gryffindor starchaser, was on the opposite team. The moment you locked eyes, he flashed that insufferable grin, like he’d already won. He was always cocky, always loud. But this time, it felt different. There was something in the way he was watching you.

"Watch out, snake!" he shouted, a taunt just loud enough for everyone to hear as you flew past him.

You didn't flinch, too used to the hostility. Instead, you focused on the Quaffle, your eyes scanning for an opening. You threw it, perfect precision, straight through the left hoop. Score. The crowd erupted into cheers, but the sound felt distant compared to the pounding in your ears.

But there it was again. His voice. Not in the air, but inside your head.

"She’s so good at this. Bloody hell, how does she do that?" James’ thoughts interrupted everything, like a crashing wave. "She moves like - like she was born to fly. Makes me want to just - "

You clenched your jaw, trying to force the thoughts out of your head. This was bad. So bad. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t block out the next wave of thoughts that flooded your mind.

"I want to snog her senseless."

It hit you like a jolt to the chest. You had to swallow the sudden rush of heat in your throat. You didn’t dare look at him, not with the intensity of what was going on in his head.

The game was still raging on, but your focus was slipping. You were just trying to keep it together, trying to pretend this was normal - that it didn’t matter that James Potter, the James Potter, was thinking about you like that.

He wasn’t just mocking you any more. His admiration was clear, cutting through every insult and joke. It made everything ultimately worse.

You caught another pass - biting the insides of your cheeks, dodging a Bludger, and went for another shot. But now it wasn’t just about the game. It wasn’t about scoring or winning.

It was about trying to control your emotions - when everything in you wanted to break the rules. To reach out. To tell him what you were hearing.

But you couldn’t.

Because the last thing you needed was for him to find out just how much you felt the same.

You were unsure how to process the realization that not only is James Potter besotted with you, but you liked him back. You, the Slytherin chaser who he exchanged insults with on a daily every Potions class was just as besotted.

It is truly a doomed plot written out for some sick god’s entertainment watching you run around like a headless Hippogriff.

So here you are, ending up yet again in the black lake during wee hours, escaping the castle undetected yet again. It is the only place that could truly calm you down when even your own ehad gets too loud.

Unbeknownst to you was the Gryffindor hiding under an invisibility cloak, watching you. His eyes studied your face that seemed much more softer in the dead of night, how all the frown left you and all that remained was your features all bare.

He felt the strong urge to reach out, but that would reveal the fact he followed you. He noticed you leaving the castle on the map, and out of concern snuck out to follow you under the cloak. He knew the dangers outside the castle walls, he just wanted to make sure you were safe.

He did not expect to invade your privacy as you looked out into the lake like a person who had the entire weight of the world. He wonders just what could be going on inside your mind, wishing he could peer into it and maybe, maybe he could take some of that weight off.

He gripped his wand, feeling defeated.

He can’t even let you know how much he worries about you, how much he wonders about you - because that would be confronting the fact he has fallen for the enemy. That he would be going against his beliefs.

James Potter is an idiot. And he wanted nothing more than to snog you but instead he always resorts to insults, failing to do right by the bravery prided by his house.

You couldn’t hear his thoughts under the cloak, so you remained unaware of the boy watching you with so much love in his eyes that you were two hopeless idiots dancing around it.

“Merlin,” you breathed out exasperatedly. James Potter is not someone to lose sleep over, you knew that much should be true but nothing is working. No essay on Ancient Runes could distract you enough.

The school year was nearing its end. Despite yourself, you still managed to dodge out of confronting your feelings for one annoyingly-persistent Gryffindor and made it through passing your N.E.W.T.s with flying colours.

You had a decent set of “O” and “E” from your results, not getting anything less than Exceeding Expectations. Your parents are satisfied, not that you have ever failed them. Being a Slytherin is basically being bred for perfection.

Your academics and pureblood duties were already weighing on you but then -

“Oi, snake!” right.

James Potter is that one itch you can’t quite scratch enough to get rid of. A very handsome itch with a perfect set of teeth, that is.

“Sod off, Potter,” you roll your eyes as if following a perfected script by now, “I have better shit to do than deal with your childish antics.”

He frowned, something about the way you said it alerted him. There was no bite from that, all he heard was the exhaust from your voice as if you had forced those words out of you. He wanted to ask if you were okay, he thought it.

Before he could ask, you already gave an answer.

“I’m bloody fine,” you scoff. “Since when did you care?”

His frown deepened, impossibly so. He hadn’t asked it yet. You heard his confused pool of thoughts and your mistake began to dawn on you, you look at him, panicked and backed away before he could get another word out.

He must have called out your name, you weren’t sure. So you just made a run for it to avoid whatever he was about to say.

He ran after you, not bothering to entertain Sirius’ confused inquiry as he watched his best mate chase after a Slytherin. He didn’t think it was anything James needed backup with so he only watched, nudging Remus next to him who also watched.

“What do you think that’s about?” Sirius asked, face unreadable.

Remus let out an amused chuckle. “That, mate, is young love blossoming.”

Sirius gagged, which was the reaction Remus anticipated, wording his phrase that way. “Prongs and that snake?”

“Blimey, you are bloody clueless.”

James had managed to catch up to you before you could turn and see the dungeons common room. Grabbing you by your wrist and pulling you back so you could face him, he called out your name again but your heart was too loud.

“Can you stop running away?” he asked, barely raising his voice. “What’s wrong?”

You turn at him, glaring. Tugging at your wrist to free it but he was not letting you go, you let out an exhausted groan and you only paused when a look of worry painted itself over his features as he watch you struggle out of his grasp.

“____?” he called out, his voice impossibly soft when saying your name that it almost made your knees buckle.

You blink at me. “Say you hate me,” you tell him and you wanted so badly for it to also be echoed in his head.

“What?” he couldn’t explain your actions and it was worrying him beyond belief. You could almost feel your eye twitch at him.

“Say you hate me,” you tug at your wrist, “and mean it, Potter. Fucking say you hate my guts, and also think it in that thick skull of yours.”

“Merlin, ____,” James sounded desperate. “What is going on with you? Lost your wits after N.E.W.T.s?”

You felt unbelievably angry at this moment but it was more directed at yourself than him. Though he thought it was aimed at him, so he threaded carefully. Slowly letting go of your wrist and it dropped limply at your side.

“Yeah, Potter, totally went nuts after the exams so I’m demanding you express your hatred for me,” you remark sarcastically, he did not appreciate it one bit. “Just say it.”

“No,” James replied right away sternly. “You are losing it.”

“How can I not?” You point angrily at him.

“____ - “

“You say one thing and you think another,” there was no going back now as the tears welled up in your eyes, all his confusion left him and all that was left was worry. “I can hear you, your thoughts.”

All the words he knew left him. Jaw slackened, he remained standing in front of you, unable to say anything. All this time, you heard him - how? That doesn’t really matter, his head is now replaying every thought he had of you.

Fucking hell.

Fucking mumbling, bloody hell.

“I didn’t mean to, I know it’s your privacy and I wasn’t going to - “ you cast your eyes down, afraid to see how disgusted he’d look when he realizes what you were confessing. “I couldn’t control it.”

James allowed a beat to pass, just a pregnant pause between you two as the hall remained empty, much to both of your delights. Then finally, he found his voice. He cleared his throat, afraid his voice would crack.

“You mean - you’ve heard all my thoughts about you.”

You managed to smile despite the tension, “Yes, including wanting to snog me senseless,” you saw the smile tug at his lips. You still refused to meet his eyes, “Your mind is very loud. I couldn’t shut it out even if I wanted to.”

James surprised you by what he did next - crossing the gap between you two which you had expected to keep growing until he was impossibly out of reach. Instead he closed in on you, capturing your lips in his and he did right by his words -

You felt like he was stealing every breath away with how he kissed you like it could explain everything away. You kissed him back, finally allowing yourself to do one brave thing and confront your feelings instead of swallowing it all down.

His arm wrapped around your middle to pull you impossibly closer as he continued making your head lighter and lighter and only when you tapped in surrender did he pull away. You were heaving, breathless as you eyed him all bewildered.

“You -”

James Potter managed a smirk with swollen lips. “Snogged you senseless, didn’t I?”

“You twat.”

end. masterlist

#james fleamont potter #james potter #james potter marauders #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #marauders #marauders era #hp marauders #marauders x reader #harry potter marauders #harry potter marauders era

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klemen-tine · 1 year ago

Text

No Prince Charming

(Batfam x Mom!Reader)

Anonymous asked:

Hello, I really like your work.

I saw that you have an open request, so I want to share an idea that has been sitting in my head for a long time.

Reader married Bruce for convenience. (In my head, the reader is a woman, but I'll leave it to your taste) The wedding takes place shortly before the appearance of the first Robin. Bruce and reader have a cold relationship. Reader comes from the wealthy population of Gotham. Therefore, reader is well educated and intelligent. So after a while, when Dick already appears, reader understands what her husband does at night. But reading doesn't say anything about it or hint at it. The reader doesn't want to get involved in any of this, it scares her. And although the reader is planning a divorce, she takes care of all the members of her new family. And although she is neglected in the family, the reader becomes a parental figure for children. But the children won't admit it. When Damian appears, the reader doesn't say a word to Bruce. But Damian treats reader very badly. And that becomes the trigger. The reader slips Bruce the divorce papers.(not to mention that they are getting divorced, since Bruce is likely to protest) and when Bruce signs them, he leaves the estate, leaving the divorce papers and the wedding ring on the bed when no one notices. And only then does the family realize what they have done with their neglect of reader. Their yandere trait is waking up in them and now they need to somehow find their reader.

Sorry if it's too much.

And I apologize for the English, I am writing with a translator

❤

Warning: Non-consensual drugging, not descriptive sex. It's just mentioned, no details. Hinted at Dick's trauma with his sidekick.

It was a marriage of convenience. That's all it was. Bruce Wayne knew Y/N L/N since childhood, and while they weren’t close, Y/N was the only one who never treated him any differently after his parents were murdered. Maybe it's because her own father was murdered, and she understood that sometimes the greatest support was to act like nothing changed.

Fast forward to young adults, Bruce Wayne was now Brucie in public, and Y/N was the unstoppable woman leading her own company by the reins. Bruce had come to her with an offer, one that had her brows raised and painted lips smirking. For Bruce Wayne, this will help solidify his position as someone who was not Batman, and for Y/N it would finally silence the hecklers that gnawed at her heels and bit into her shoulders.

A frigid marriage, filled with cold greetings, Brucie still entertaining women, Y/N still controlling her company with painted lips, and rumors surrounding them. Despite the coldness, Y/N knew a lie when she saw one. She knows a front when she comes face to face with one, and it is why when she saw Batman in the hallways of Wayne manor, staring at her in shock and apprehension, she rolled her eyes and continued to sip her wine as she made her way back to her office.

“Please don’t stain the carpet. Alfred just shampooed them.” They never brought it up again. Bruce was no Prince Charming, despite the front he put on for strangers. There were no whispered promises, no flowers, no gifts, nothing but ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes.’

Then, along came Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson. A child who had blinked up at her with large blue eyes, and Y/N could feel her heart crumble. She had welcomed him with open arms and smiles. She had welcomed all of the Robins in. Her manicured nails getting shorter each time, so she doesn’t have to fear hurting one of them, and her smiles became softer. Y/N had never tried to replace any of their mother’s, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel like one.

But it was Bruce they had a closer bond with. Which is why they started following his behavior towards her. Clipped words and rolling of eyes were common, as were the cold shoulders and tense silences.

“You’re not my mom! So stop asking how school was!” Y/N stared at Jason in shock and curiosity about where that outburst had come from. Alfred was the only one to say anything. A stern, “Master Jason,” and a look that had even Bruce cowering had the young boy apologizing. Y/N ignored the way her heart slowly broke, as the quirky child full of smiles, sass, and who loved classics, turned his back on her.

As if she wasn’t the one to introduce those books to him.

Y/N doesn’t blame them for their cold behavior towards her. She doesn’t blame Dick’s disregard, Jason’s hurtful words, Tim’s cynical looks, Steph’s taunts, and Damian’s heated actions.

Y/N had cried at Jason’s funeral, she helped Bruce fight for custody for Tim, she had consoled Dick after some of his own traumatic experiences, and she sat there and listened as Damian compared her and Talia. Talia, of all people. She had met the woman once, and Y/N had nodded at her. Y/N never judged Bruce for sleeping with the woman. Hell, Y/N would have too. Y/N can recall the day Damian came to their manor, and the short look Dick had given her when she and the child made eye contact.

Y/N doesn’t know if it was a look of concern or mockery, but she knows he did look.

She was there for Richard when his trauma with his sidekick happened. He may have never told her, but Y/N is a woman. A woman who has known people that have suffered the same way Dick has. That are still suffering like he is.

“I’m sorry Richard.”

“What do you even know?! You know nothing! Absolutely nothing so just butt out!” Dick glared at her with blue eyes that had put the arctic water to shame. Y/N stood there and took it all. She stood proudly with her shoulders back and chin up.

In public, she was a stoic mother keeping the children in check while Bruce goofed off. She was the woman who failed her children, because she chose to continue running her business. Her very, very, very successful business. A business that had taken her and her mother from the bottom of High Society, to the top 10%. A series of great investments, smart marketing, and pretty words have lined her pockets with money that she could easily retire on.

Yet, all that money couldn’t save her mother. The woman died of a heart attack, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing Y/N could do besides bury her mother.

“Bruce please.”

“I am busy.”

“I know but Bruce, this is my–”

“Ask Alfred.” He had turned his back and Y/N was stuck staring at the retreating man with a new feeling of heartbreak. The tabloids ate up that she was alone at her mother’s funeral. A private event that no one was allowed into besides close family and friends.

When she came back, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped, Damian had picked the time to make his disdain known again, “–and my mother would have never let herself go like that. You look horrid, unbefitting of a Wayne. A disgrace.”

Blank E/C eyes stared into raging green and she sighed, “Thanks, Damian.” She spared him no glance after that, and she walked towards her bedroom to take a hot shower. It was there, under the hot spray of water that she finally cried. She cried for the last part of family she had, and the years she lost from marrying a man who didn’t even like her enough to attend a godforsaken fucking funeral. She cried for the children she couldn’t even call her own.

She cried for the life she missed by marrying Bruce fucking Wayne.

“Honey, are you happy?”

“Of course Mama.”

“You never could lie to me sweetie.” Her mother kissed her forehead and looked into E/C eyes with nothing but love, “You’ve worked so hard, sweetie.” That acknowledgement alone had her almost in tears, “But please start working for yourself now.”

Taking a deep breath, Y/N hopped out of the shower and called her lawyer. Divorce papers were in her hands within 24 hours, and her bags packed in 3.

She stood next to Bruce, ignoring the scowl on his face as she ‘disrupted’ his work. Y/N kept her face neutral, because if she smiled it would give it all away, and handed him the page he needed to sign.

For a billionaire and for a vigilante, he sure didn’t read the damn paper. Which is fine. Great even, because now, after being here for over a decade, Y/N is free. She laughed in her room, laughing so hard that it almost tore her throat. Leaving a copy of it on Bruce’s bed once he was gone, she grabbed her suitcase and accidentally ran into Alfred on her way out the door.

The old man took a look at her clothes, her bags, and her expression before sighing, “Shall I drive you for the last time, Lady Y/N?” Y/N smiled, bitterly at the thought of leaving Alfred, her only solace in this cold mansion.

“To the airport, please.” The ride was silent, and Y/N didn’t look back as they left the gates of the mansion. It wasn’t until they were halfway there that Y/N spoke up, “My lawyer will call in a few days, just to hash out the details.”

“Is that so?”

“There’s nothing I want. No assets, no money, nothing will be taken, I just want a divorce.” She just wants the law to recognize that she is not a Wayne. That she will never be a Wayne.

“Lady Y/N, perhaps a check for compensation for the emotional strain would be nice?” Y/N laughed, bitterly and sad, “I don’t want his money. I want nothing to do with him anymore.”

“And the kids?”

“They don’t need me. They never did. I doubt they will even notice.” Gotham International Airport wasn’t crowded, and that may be because it was 1pm on a Tuesday. Alfred helped her with her bags, and the old man stared at the woman before him. He remembers meeting her for the first time, a confident young woman who had a way with words and was unfairly intelligent. Matching wits and able to speak confidently in a room of people who thought little of her.

It's good to see some of that coming back.

Y/N hugged Alfred, “Thank you, Alfred. For everything.” The older man sighed and watched as the woman took her bags and walked away. Not once did she look back and Alfred decided to stay until her form disappeared in the building. He sighed heavily and when got back in the car, he dialed a number he knew by heart. It only took three rings before the voice of the man he raised answered, “Alfred, is everything okay?”

“Master Bruce, I fear you may have lost something precious, and I do hope you, and the young masters, have a plan to make this up to them.” He hung up afterwards as he merged into traffic, and he hoped his message finally hit something within his son’s dense skull.

When he returned back to the manor, he began the preparation for making dinner. All was silent throughout the manor, until the door opened and the rush of the footsteps began marching towards him.

“Master Richard, I urge you to not run.”

“Bruce told me there was an emergency and to hurry to the manor?” Alfred sighed, “While it is an emergency, it is not one you can fix on your own.” No, this was something for Bruce to fix seeing tha all the problems stemmed from him.

Dick raised a brow, “What kind of emergency is it?” Alfred pursed her lips, “Miss Y/N Wayne is now Miss Y/N L/N once more.” He turned to look the man he has considered his grandson in the eyes, and he could see the revelation sink in.

“Y/N divorced Bruce?” Alfred nodded, “The papers have been signed.”

“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Alfred raised a brow, “They are signed and waiting for him to read.” Dick slowly walked out of the kitchen, “Is she still here?” Alfred turned back to the food and Dick began speed walking towards Y/N’s room. As a child it never occurred to him why they would they never slept together, but as he got older he understood.

He knocked on her doors, calling her name like he used to as a kid.

Dick had always understood that Bruce’s and Y/N’s relationship was not one of a couple in love. He also understood that Y/N’s treatment in the manor by the residents of the manor was unfair. Whenever he could, he would correct Damian’s harsh words, but even he himself couldn’t fully bring himself to be all that kind to her.

He tried. He desperately tried, because he saw all that she did for them behind the scenes. He saw the mistreatment and judging looks others would give her as her ‘husband’ was out fooling around.

Dick saw the blank look she had given Damian after her mother’s funeral. The one none of them had gone too.

“What do you mean you didn’t go?” His voice panicked as he talked to Tim, “I didn’t go. I was under the assumption someone else would go.”

Y/N could have been Gotham’s biggest bitch, but not even then would she have deserved that. What made it worse was that Y/N was not a bitch. She wasn’t cruel, or unkind. She was as much of a philanthropist as Bruce was. Always aiding those whose needed it and desperately trying to make Gotham a better place.

Dick opened her doors and was greeted with an empty room. Gone were the picture frames, and the closet was empty along with the bathroom. Her prized jewlery, the things she took care of almost obsessively, all of it was gone.

He could remember beng 9 and sitting next to her as she cleaned one of her sapphire earrings. Thin fingers with long nail held the earring next to him, a scrutinizing look on her face before she would break out into a grin, “As I thought, nothing could ever compare to our Dickie’s sapphire eyes.”

“Holy shit.”

“What’s going on- why is Y/N’s room empty?” Tim looked throughout the room, and Dick could see the wonder across his younger brother’s face. Right, between all of them, Tim and Y/N had the least amount of time spent together.

Dick stared at his brother as the image of Y/N smiling at a string of pearls entered his mind. She had explained to him when he asked that pearls, while feminine, also symbolized new beginnings. She had gotten it when Tim’s custody was signed over to the Waynes.

“She’s gone.” Tim met Dick’s eyes, “Like… taking a vacation gone?” Dick gave a humorless chuckle, “She divorced Bruce, Tim. Y/N is gone.” This must have been what Alfred saw when he broke the news to Dick. The confusion and then realization coming to light in those blue eyes.

“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Dick had said the same thing, and yet here she was. Gone. As if to emphasize his point, Dick made an exaggerated expression and motioned to the empty room.

Tim looked around and he could feel a headache forming, “Bruce is gonna be pissed.” Dick groaned, “Fuck Bruce for a second, the only stable-mentally healthy-adult figure that isn’t Alfred is gone, Tim.” The boy didn’t look all that bothered, “Well, if she’s happier then I don’t mind.”

Of course he doesn’t mind. Why? Because this little stalker most likely knows where she’s going. Tim did a good job hiding it, but Dick was raised by Bruce. He is trained to spot the mciroexpressions of people, and even if they are his own siblings.

Tim is panicking. The very thought of Y/N leaving had not once occurred to them, and for Tim who loves planning, this was not once ever in the plans.

Not once. Y/N had been a staple within the manor, and to imagine her not being here was rough. Evenw hen she left for business trips, it was fine because they all knew she was coming back. SHe would come back with souvenirs, handing each of them something that reminhded her of them, before running upstairs to get out of the family’s judgemental line of sight.

“Fucking hell.”

++++

Bruce entered the condo with ease. His steps light as he walked through the dark room, noting the all the furniture. There was no Y/N in the living room or kitchen, but when he looked out the balcony door, he could see her back. She was leaning against the edge of the infinity pool, without doubt a hot tub of some sorts because it was too cold to be swimming in a regular pool.

She didn’t even turn around to look at him, her attention focused on the view of the snowy mountains and raging seas in front of her. Bruce could see the wine bottle left on the side of the pool and the glass that looked like it was finished only a short while ago. When she did turn around, E/C reflected the stars and dimly lit light around the pool, making them shine and sparkle like they were the galaxy.

Bruce isn’t blind. He knows Y/N is an attractive woman who had many people lusting after her even when they were married. Talia even made a note of it, “You should see if she wants to join next time.” He should have known that his clipped response was a sign.

It was all there, and yet he did everything within his power to ensure that he would not fall in love with her. Falling in love has always been out of the question, and when Y/N came into his life, Bruce made it his mission to do just that. The woman before him had never complained, and she never seemed to fault him for it, but he could tell there was resentment. If he couldn’t have allowed himself to fall in love with her, he could have at least offered her friendship. One that made life more bearable for the both of them, and set a good example for the kids.

“What are you doing, Bruce?” She didn’t seem shocked that he was here, let alone in her vacation condo. Bruce took off his shirt and pants, stripping down to his boxers before joining her in the hot tub. He had grabbed two glasses of wine before doing so, handing her one and taking a sip from the other.

“Is it wrong of me to want to join my wife on her vacation?”

“Ex-wife. The documents are signed, and besides this is a girl trip.” Bruce re-read those documents and kicked his foot for not fucking reading them when he first signed them. He should have known she was up to something.

“Y/N, come back to the manor.” He stared into E/C eyes as she took another sip of the wine. Bruce had come with a speech prepared, ready to convince her to come back with him, but it was all lost as he stared and observed the woman in front of him drink delicately from the glass. Y/N L/N has always been a woman of class, even when she was near the bottom of high society. It wasn’t her good looks that landed her in the top 10, possibly even top 5%, and like every classy woman, she was only allowed to regret a few things. Their marriage is one, but leaving is not even an option on the list of things she wants to regret but can’t.

He knows this. She knows this.

And yet, Bruce could only focus on how beautiful she looks, and how beautiful she would look sprawled on the silk bed sheets. Y/N has aged like fine wine, looking even more beautifully and worth more and more with each passing year. Aging gracefully and beautifully as the years passed and still catching the attention of others.

It's a shame his younger self was more into whiskey than wine.

He wonders how different their relationship would be if he had gotten to know her before and during the early years of their marriage. Without a doubt it would be easier to talk to her. Easier to convince her to come back to a manor that now misses her.

“And why should I?” It’d be easier to answer her with a compelling reason, one that would have her actually debating on whether or not to come back. Bruce reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and he’s shocked that she even let him do that. She didn’t flinch, nor did she lean into his touch. Y/N stood still as he moved the H/C lock behind her ears.

“The manor misses you.” He’s never heard her laugh the way she did in that moment. Throwing her head back and exposing unblemished skin to the night air as she laughed, and continued to laugh. Her shoulders shaking from the force and slightly distilling the wine.

Once she was done, her cheeks were red from the laughter and she was gasping for breath, “Yeah, okay. So Alfred misses me, I’ll make sure to give him a call then.” She turned her back to Bruce and began walking towards the edge of the pool.

“The boys, girls, and I do too.” Chateau Petra was on his lips and the feeling of cold wine hitting his face and upper chest had him closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them, Y/N’s wine glass was empty and on her face was a hard expression. Cold E/C eyes glaring into his as she pulled herself out of the pool, and grabbed the rest of the wine bottle.

“Sleep on the couch. You’re going home tomorrow.” Her steps quiet as she stalked into her home and she headed for the bathroom. Bruce sighed, and stared at the night sky with a new look in his eyes, ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures.’ He would like to believe that he is above this. He wants to believe that this was the worst case scenario happening and therefore this needs to happen.

Has to. The very thought of Y/N being away caused an itch to form under his skin and a burning fire in his chest. A fire he never knew blazed in him until it went out. Now, more aware and protective of it, Bruce found himself craving the warmth in ways that had his mouth foaming and muscles tensing. He looked down at the water and saw the red wine diluting and sprawling throughout the pool water, looking like blood for only a second.

A smile curled on his lips and he pulled himself out of the pool water, drying himself off before making his way into the shower with his ‘ex-wife.’ They may have never been lovers, but they were two adults living under the same roof.

So, of course they have had sex.

Hate sex is the best and worst sex. It is the best because Bruce can go as hard as he wants to and Y/N will love it. It is the worse because hate sex is all Y/N will see this as. Y/N will only see it has hate sex and not for the love Bruce feels for her. She won’t feel it in the way he caresses her skin or in the way he leaves his bite marks on her thighs. All Y/N will see this as, is hate sex.

Which is fine. If hate sex is what Y/N needs to see this as to work then Bruce will take it. He has time. He has plenty of time to show her how much he cares and loves her. Those divorce papers will be long gone, every single one of those copies non-existent. He loves her. He loves her in the way a cactus loves the sun, or how the stars love the moon.

Bruce was so enamored by her, that he couldn’t help but to fall deeper. Her soft hands, that have never broken a bone but have broken many hearts, cradling scarred shoulders and sharp cheeks. She didn’t flinch when his own rough hands gripped her’s, bruising and secure, and she didn’t flinch when intense blue eyes met hers. In fact, she smiled, like this was all a joke he was the butt of it.

It pissed him off that even she could have secrets and inside jokes that he doesn’t know about. As she laid there, her eyes now closed and body relaxed, Bruce pulled out a syringe filled with something that will keep her asleep. Only for a few days. Barbara is already working on getting rid of the divorce papers and the kids were preparing for her return.

Bruce kissed her forehead, smiling down at his Sleeping Beauty. If need be, the manor will be her castle and the kids her vines covered in thorns. Bruce, in all his daunting and terrifying glory shall be the dragon, keeping her locked within her castle because nowhere was safer than the castle. Only she could keep him calm, and only she could make him feel human.

Batman was never Prince Charming.

_________________________________________________________

Not my best work in my opinion... but I still like tbh.

@problematicreblogger

@kurai-hono-blog

@rosecentury

#yandere batfam #yandere dc #platonic yandere #batfam x reader #platonic batfam #batfam #platonic batman #bruce wayne #batman x reader #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #alfred pennyworth

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atebyflowers · 20 days ago

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︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎if i wasn't so american ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎| ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎part one

[ ︎this is the intro to a series of truck driver ellie x serial killer femme fics . . . . Full credit to this tweet for the idea. photos are solely for aesthetic purposes not meant to mimic readers intended race or body. ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ butch ellie x femme reader, misogyny mentions, murder obviously, assault/sa; not in depth, but mentioned. smut (r!recieving). long reader storyline. not native in english, semi edited, but ignore grammar/punctuation mistakes. title of the fic is from this song . word count : 6.2k ]

︎ March 1st, 2000

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You remember the first time you actually went through with a kill like it was yesterday. He was dirty, borderline revolting when you first met him. Ending up at a truck stop after a day of hitchhiking your way through town, you couldn't help but notice him. I mean, how could you not with how obnoxious he was. Standing outside his truck loudly cat calling nearly every girl he laid his eyes on, it was impossible for you to miss him.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎You had a lingering hatred for the type of men that spoke to women as anything other than respectable, it burned a different type of hatred into your heart. You couldn't reason with them. Nothing in your mind allowed you to sympathize with such creatures. And now, as you walk into the truck stop for a drink, peeking through the clear windows as the occasional woman walks up and does everything in their power to avoid the pig practically loitering outside — your resolution is final. If the lord won't take these men out of this world to benefit women, it must mean he's waiting for you to take matters into your own hands. And boy were you anticipating the day you came across such an easy target like this one.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ "Hey misterrr" you dragged out as you leaned up against the truck beside his, drink in hand and a lightly packed bag hanging off your shoulder; containing nothing but a few outfits, a camera, a kitchen knife, spare change and a gun you swiped from your fathers closet back home. "well hey there sweet thing" he replied, looking you up and down, his eyes making sure to stare down just a bit longer than up — dirty pervert you thought. "so what brings you over here? called out to ya earlier but you walked right past me". he questioned, somewhat slurred as he placed a cigarette in his mouth. "oh nothin.. must've not heard you the first time. just wanted to see where you might be headed" you answered, putting on your best fake smile before takint a sip of your drink. "now why's that huh? y'lookin for a ride huh?" he responded letting out a puff of smoke. "maybeee .. or maybe i'm lookin to come visit you sometime". Your words were as convincing as they could be in this situation. It also helped that he was a desperate loser who'd believe anything if said by a sweet young woman. "oh really?" he chuckled. "really" you responded, widening your eyes and leaning up off the truck. "soo... why don't you write down your name and where ur heading so i'll remember who to ask for when i come knocking" you reached into your bag as you spoke, pulling out a nearly empty pen and an old notebook before handing it to him. Immediately he complied, thinking he got lucky he didn't hesitate to give you his location, even throwing in a time recommendation for you. Handing you back the notebook, you smiled at the words in rusty hand writing. Randy was his name. such a shame poor old randy had no clue what was coming his way you thought to yourself once again as you placed the notebook back in your bag, barely zipping it up before he attempted to pull you closer to him. "so tell me.. what youlookin to do then baby?" his words almost faded into a whisper as he leaned down to smell your hair, his body odor slapping you in the face before you pulled away subtly and started to walk backwards. "don't you worry about that now.. i like to suprise my dates" you replied before turning around fully to walk off — cringing at your own words as you made your way towards the sidewalk.

︎ ︎ As you made your way down the street — you came to a stop once the sidewalk started to fade into gravel. you threw your bag down at your feet and stretched out your arm. hitchhiking was nothing new to you, you had been on the road for months catching rides from strangers and debating with the voices in your head. You had a few other victims in mind before randy. Some you met at other stops, some that picked you up on the way. But there was always something in the way: too many people around, a wife and kids waiting for them at home, your conscious telling you it was wrong. for a while now, it took long sleepless nights of thinking, for you to actually develop the overwhelming urge to kill without remorse. There was nothing left for you back at home, and you had spent your entire life surrounded by males who did nothing but make being a woman seem like living hell. What good did men like Randy bring to the world? and what loss would it be without them? could taking your anger out on them really be that bad? you knew the answer to that. it was obvious. there was no space in this world for such things, and you were desperate to make sure no other woman would suffer at the hands of them. it wasn't an impulse, it was a buildup that took months of debating before you came to terms with what you needed to do.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ It didn't take long for someone to stop at the sign of your hand waving at on coming cars. a nice couple this time; perhaps in their 30s it seemed. luckily for you they were headed in the perfect direction, not asking too many questions about why you're headed so far up alone — the drive going by slowly in result. but you were grateful, it gave you more than enough time to draw out a plan in your head. After about an hour and a half they dropped you off at a diner not too far from where you were supposed to meet Randy — some rundown trailer park you could barely pin point on the map. Lord did he make it too easy. You didn’t go there right away. Instead, you sat in the booth of the diner for a while, until sundown to be exact. there was nothing on your mind besides carrying out what you had in mind. Randy would be the first hit to a long list of others.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ When the sun set and customers started to clear out, you began your trip to the promised meeting location. The walk to his trailer felt short. The directions were easy and there really weren't many people around. The park was quiet, it was hard to tell which trucks were abandoned and which had others living in them. Randy's trailer was the last one in the row, almost perfectly hidden behind all the others. You didnt take long to approach, the feeling of actually being close to someone you had planned to kill made your adrenaline rush in ways it hasn't before, there was nothing holding you back. Randy opened the door the second he heard your first knock, shirtless, he held a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in one hand. "Well i’ll be damned. ya actually showed up huh” he slurred with a grin, stepping aside and waving you in. you smiled sweetly and walked inside without wasting time on verbal exchange. Immediately upon entry, you were hit with the smell of sweat, cigarettes and alcohol. Your eyes gazed around the room, spotting porn magazines on the table and a lonesome cat in the corner.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ “You drinkin’ anything?” he asked, walking toward the counter, not bothering to ask what you liked — just pouring some of his half drank bottle into a terribly washed cup for you when you agreed to having a drink. you didn't actually drink it of course, it barely touched your lips as you thanked him and pretended to take a sip. “Didn’t expect someone like you to actually show,” he broke the silence, settling onto the couch, “But I ain’t complainin’ you're a sweet one" he added, a nasty smirk on his face as he continued to drink directly from the bottle. You didn't sit nor did he offer you a seat, you just stood there, leaned against the wall, fiddling with the dirty undranken glass before responding. "well.. i always try to keep my promises" you said. "mm well i sure am glad. you not like them other bitches huh darlin'?" he replied slowly, fixing himself off the couch to come over to you. The word he uses sent a rush of anger through your veins. He touched you on your arm, then slid his hand down to rub your ass. though uncomfortable, you kept your composure and let him, not wanting to fuck this up. "Randy.." you spoke just above a whisper — he didn't pull away, only responding with a grunt. "Randy.. i have a question" you continued, this time he only pulled back a little, keeping a firm grip on your waist. "hm? what is it.... ah u wanna get more comfortable that's it honey?" he questioned with the same smirk on his face as earlier. you chuckled in response, turning to reach into your bag slowly as you responded. "no... not necessarily i- just wanted to give you something i got on the road". you unzipped the bag, "oh yes? well lemme see my gift then sweetheart" he replied — and you pulled it out. a small hand gun, loaded of course, immediately causing him to step back and put his hands up. His face twisted into something between shock and amusement. “woah there now, what's this about" he asked, and for the first time since meeting him your words wouldn't come out — there was nothing in your mind besides the sound of your own heart rushing. it was beating throughout your ears, you couldn't respond, you just stood there for a moment, gun in hand and pointed directly at him.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ "I dunno what you think you're doin but liste-" you raised the gun towards his left side, and Randy's words were cut off with a single shot. You didn’t give him time to beg or even understand the gravity of your actions, your desire to kill was entirely too high for you to let him try and talk you out of it, or attempt to gain some sympathy out of you. You stood over him after it was done, he hit the floor harder than ever and you watched as he bled out — the cat that had been seated in the corner, scrambled to his side meowing. that was probably the only part you felt bad about, the poor and neglected cat. Once you made sure he was fully gone, kicking at his side to try and wake him, kneeling down to check his pulse — you didn't bother to clean up. It was useless when his body would most likely be there for days you thought. reaching over your shoulder and placing the gun back in your bag, you reached in at the same time and pulled out your camera — snapping a quick picture of the lifeless man before standing up. before leaving randy's trailer: you swiped his pockets and quickly rummaged through his belongings to find any leftover cash or cigarettes. once you gathered what could fit into your bag, you were headed out — but just as you were about to close the door behind you, you turned around, walking back towards Randy's body and picking up the cat that had now laid down next to him. you were a murderer yes, but the thrill of just having killed someone didn't erase your morals, you couldn't let that cat starve to death alone in there just cause you hated its owner. It was an innocent thing. and so once in hand, you left Randy there alone, the trailer park still as quiet and empty as it had been when you came — nobody around to have possibly seen you, and nobody home in their trailers who seemed to care about the loud bang that rang out earlier. lord, was it ever so easy. ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ Randy was obviously the first. You were inexperienced and had never killed before him. But once it was done, you felt nothing but satisfaction with yourself. You physically couldn't feel bad for what you had done no matter how hard you tried. After that night, you had settled down at a hotel just a town over from where you committed the act. The only thing that halted your travels for about four weeks was the brief worry that if you act again too soon you may get caught. But there was no remorse about the actual actions at hand, and that's why immediately after a month was up, and your worrying feeling went away, you were ecstatic to get back to work. You couldn't say Randy was the last; of course he wasn't. If anything, Randy opened the door to many other men like him falling victim to your sweet manipulation. you learned from him, he showed you just how easy it is to talk to the ones like him, and how much easier it was to get valuable information out of them by offering.. Well, nothing specifically. you never actually offered sex or anything to these men. But just the hopes of a girl showing up and giving them something was more than enough for them to compromise their safety unknowingly — and you thanked the gods above for making it this simple. Over the course of five months, you had killed ten other men like Randy over the course of five months — the entitled ones who thought women owed them something, the dirty ones who spoke boldly to women with no interest in them, and especially the ones with no one waiting at home for them. It wasn't as hard to cover up your true intentions when speaking to others, nor was it ever hard to find a ride towards your next victim. People were too trusting of sweet looking young girls like yourself, but you were ever so grateful for it. only ever made your job easier.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

September 12th, 2000

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You've been sitting on the curb outside a laundromat stop in Arizona for about an hour and 30 now. it's 7:30pm on a Sunday, you're waiting for your clothes to dry after washing them. It's been 2 months since your last kill, and seven months since randy. It was fall now and the weather was getting colder, which only meant even less people roaming the streets. Even less chances of possible witnesses. Despite that, your overwhelming urge to kill quickly had worn off. with only one slip up over the last few months — an accidental run in with a local cop after a kill, who, lucky for you, 100% believed your excuse of it being “that time of the month” when he asked about the small dried blood stain on your clothing. You didn't really find it necessary to kill so fast. With no one on your ass, you could take your time and enjoy experiencing each state while killing a disturbing man you came across occasionally here and there.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ Your mind started to drift off before you heard boots scrapping across the bumpy pavement, swiftly catching your attention. That was the first time you saw her. She caught your attention from the get go, her auburn hair caught by the golden evening sunlight — she wore brown jeans and an old looking cardigan with a white shirt underneath. You stared at her as she stood outside the door holding a bar of clothes, digging in her jean pocket for some cash before stepping inside, you, slowly following behind. There weren't many women you came across during your killing spree. None that weren't being harassed by your next victim at least. and definitely none that looked like her. You tried to be subtle about the fact you were watching her, taking your clothes out of the dryer and placing them back into the washer as she did with hers. You didn't notice that she noticed, but neither of you said a word to each other. You were the only ones in the laundromat besides the older lady behind the counter closely focused on the tv hanging along the wall next to her. It was quiet, and beyond awkward as you both sat on opposite sides of the room waiting for the washers to go off, then switching to a dryer. You didn't tend to put a hit out on someone you were seeking a ride from, you always let fate put someone in your hands and trusted that they'd get you to where you needed without harm (the fact you had a gun and a knife, and weren't afraid to use either also helped). But there was something different about the way she carried herself that made you desperate to ask her, or at least find out where she was going. Maybe it was the fact you were touch strived, or maybe it was the fact you had been surrounded by men for months on end and wanted to have a conversation with a woman who wasn't in need of your help. Whatever it was, you always knew to follow through with your gut.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ Her clothes dried faster than yours. you watched again as she unloaded the dryer and put her clothes back into the bag she had brought them in, before walking out. Once she was out of the door, you rushed to be sure you don't miss her — unloading your own, still damp clothing. You waited until she was fully in her truck, keeping a slight distance as she pulled out of the parking lot. Following a few feet behind, the cool air hit your face as you stood at the end of the lot, watching her truck in the distance stop, not too far from where you stood, before it pulled into a local diner. You wasted no time making your way down the street towards the same building, determined to catch and speak to her this time.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ The bell above the door rang loudly as you stepped inside, a whiff of black coffee hitting your nose immediately upon entry. you noticed her the second you sat down — she was sitting alone, at a table not too far from where you were, a coffee already in her hand. there was a chance she noticed when you walked in, maybe her eyes turned to the door the second she heard the bell like everyone else did. or maybe she didn't care, either way, she didn't look up from the newspaper she had laid on her table. you didn't bother to order anything, unsure of how long she'd be there, you couldn't take the risk of being too indulged in your food and miss her. About 30 minutes passed before she stood up and tucked in her chair. She left a tip on the table and just as she was about to get away, you acted fast. "hey” you called out to her, a bit louder than you meant to which made you cringe, but it did the job — grabbing her attention. she paused with her hand on the truck door, her foot about to climb up before she stepped back down and turned slightly towards you. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you just — um… are you heading out of town? i could use a ride if you got room" you asked looking over towards her open truck door, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. She stared back at you for a minute before she spoke, her emotion was hard to read which irritated something in you — after months of reading men like a book, she was the first person whose words you couldn't make out in your head before they were actually spoken. “What makes you think I’m going far?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow. You bit the inside of your cheek and sighed to yourself before answering; “ah i dunno... just figured i'd ask instead of wasting time tryna flag someone down". She looked you over again as you spoke, but it wasn't the way a man would, it was almost like an evaluation. "ya got anyone waiting on you?" she questioned, a question that confused you but you answered anyways — "no one" you said shaking your head. your response seemed to satisfy her as she nodded her head towards the passenger side. "c'mon then". it wasn't thorough, but it was enough to get you going. you wasted no time following her words, hopping inside after her and closing the door behind you. The inside of the truck smelled like pine and something metallic, old blood maybe, or just rust. The seemingly old seats squeaked under your weight as you adjusted yourself and fastened your seatbelt — taking your bag off and placing it on your lap.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You were both quiet when she pulled out of the diner, and you remained quiet for lord knows how long into the drive. If you were being honest with yourself, what could you possibly say? this was the first time youd been in contact with a girl ... like her, in nearly forever. it was also the first time you ever felt something besides the thrill you got from killing. you weren't sure what the feeling was, but it was something different. she was the first to break the silence, looking at you fidgeting with your bag before she sighed and imitated a conversation. "so, what's your name?" You looked over at her, her eyes completely focused on the road now. you graced over her, noticing the way her slightly veiny hands gripped the steering wheel. "do i have to tell you" you responded, and she shrugged, "You don’t, but i did let you into my truck without running a background check. would at least be nice to know what to call ya" she responded and you hesitated. she did have a point you thought — and therefore you complied — speaking your name just above a whisper, slightly hoping she wouldn't catch it, but of course, she did. "alright then y/n. i'm Ellie.” She reached over and turned the volume up on the radio just a little after speaking, an old country song you couldn't recognize the name of hitting your ears. "Nice to meet you Ellie.. and thanks ... you know for the ride and all" you replied and she hummed in response. "how far y'lookin 'to go?" Ellie asked, her fingers tapping the steering wheel along to the along just slightly, though enough for you to notice. "not sure really. guess as far as you're willing to put up with me for". you really didn't know where you were going without a target out on the next victim. It was a weird feeling to be chasing practically nothing for once, and without fully understanding why you decided to chase it. But it was too late to back out, and there was nothing in your mind telling you to do so. How it would go from here was unknown, for once, things weren't completely in your control, there was no secret mind game to play — just fate and whatever slip of hope you had left from home.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You drove mostly in silence for about another hour or two after that. The same few songs played over and over again on the radio, Ellie changing the station every once in a while, though there wasn't much change in the music itself. You stared out the window for the majority of the silence. There wasn't much on your mind to debrief about — the situation at hand didn't have much gravity to it and overall you've already gone over every possible thought about the last seven months of your life. so, you waited until Ellie eventually spoke again once she got to a red light. "Do you always hitchhike with strangers?" she asked, her voice lower than it had been before. you glared at her — trying to read whether it was a joke or an actual question, quickly giving up when you realized you still couldn't read past her. "Guess so" you answered somewhat emotionless, not wanting to give up too much detail, and she hummed again. You drove for another hour or so, before Ellie pulled into a small roadside motel, the neon sign flickering like it was struggling to stay alive. There were two other cars in the parking lot but nothing else that really caught your eye. “Alright" she spoke, pausing to shut off the radio and turn the car off before speaking again. "can either come in with me or catch another ride, m'not driving throughout the night" she said. You nodded at her and she turned to get out of the truck, you — taking an extra moment before getting out. It was already nearing 1am, so you couldn't blame Ellie for stopping. but the idea of staying alone with a stranger overnight, somehow didn't bother you as much as it should've. more so, having no prey at this moment didn't bother you either. Rather, the idea that she could possibly be the dangerous one didn't cross your mind, you only felt relief. relief that you have some sense of normalcy for a moment — as normal as being a runaway turned serial killer could possibly be. Staying at different places for months alone had its ups and downs, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't miss having some sort of contact with another human being — one that wasn't on your hit list at least. and therefore, you followed behind her.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ The room she paid for was surprisingly clean despite the outside look of the motel itself. the curtains were stained a bit yellow and there was dust amongst the tables, but besides that nothing seemed particularly bad. The only major flaw that caught your eye — being the singular bed. the lady working at the front desk, insisting they didn't carry doubles. Ellie tossed her bag onto the chair and unzipped it slowly, pulled out a pack of gum and offered you a piece. You shook your head and sat on the edge of the bed. Your demeanour was more awkward than usual, it was slightly funny to you — the way you caught yourself being filled with such a confusing feeling after spending so long having others that way. Ellie leaned against the lone tv stand across from the bed, studying you for a moment before speech. “you ever gonna tell me why you were following me back there?” she asked. So she did notice you thought to yourself. Your natural reaction was to shrug. “I just had a feeling about you I suppose... i dunno". “feeling,” she repeated with an almost mocking scoff, “ya always go with your feelings hm?" she asked on, this time you were willing to give in slightly with more detail. Whether it was the lack of sleep or the fact you finally got a good look at her now that she was standing directly in front of you — whatever it was, made you feel a sort of desperation to be heard that you never felt before. She was still a stranger, you reminded yourself in your head. But there was something drawing you towards her that was almost magnetic. "most the time, they tend to be right" you replied. “can't say they've ever led me to... this though" you add. “this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her tone only got lower as the night went on it seemed. “this" you said again standing up, without really meaning to. it was unusual, like your body had a mind of its own and moved with the pace of your words. there was a rushing feeling in your blood, but for once, it wasn't the type of rush you got from murdering. This one was unfamiliar — but not the slightest bit less thrilling. You were close to her now — you didn't mean to move like that, but she didn’t back away at your movement, and you didn't think to stop yourself. For a moment, you were both still, so still it almost hurt. Then slowly, her hand came up and hovered near your jaw, not quite touching, but close enough to make you flinch at first — Ellie only letting out a soft chuckle at the sight. “you're real strange y'know" she muttered low. You tilted your head slightly which caused her lingering fingers to brush against your skin. with a small smirk you responded "yeah?", ellie nodding. "well so are you" you added, lookin down at the short distance between yours and her feet. You hadn't realized just how close the two of you got, until her hand was on your face. She reached down towards your chin, tilting your head up for your eyes to meet hers, her hand now sliding toward your jaw again. It caught you off guard, but you didn't pull back or ask her to stop as she pulled you in for a kiss. It wasn't soft or slow. It was sudden and rough, like both of you were touch strived and waiting for this exact moment to slap you in the face. her mouth tasted like gum and old coffee, but you were so in tune with her — it didn't matter, all you could do was kiss her back. So desperate, it was like you’d die if you didn’t. When you broke apart, she stared at you for a short moment, as if she was actually looking for a sign of discomfort from you. one, that of course couldn't be found — as you were more than comfortable enough now, to pull her back in for another one.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ellie's hand dragged down your thigh, the two of you slowly moving towards the bed — your mouths still attached with every movement. she pushed you down onto the shockingly soft mattress, her lips moving from yours and making their way to your jaw, then your neck. you let out a shaky breath in response to her take over, which caused her to lift up from your skin. she leaned down to place another softer kiss on your lips this time, before cupping your face and speaking — her touch, more gentle than you could've ever expected. it was like her skin melted perfectly into yours, spiking a feeling you longed for. "tell me if you want to stop" she spoke above a whisper, words you wouldnt have guessed, though they only made you ache for her even more. "please.... keep going" you spoke through heavy breathes, Ellie smiling just a bit at how worked up you had already become. her lips attached back to your skin, making their way across your body as her hands were rubbing up and down your thigh for a moment — before she began to toy with the fabric underneath your skirt. She didn't question you this time, your body naturally grinding up against her hand being enough of an invite as she pushed aside the fabric. "fuck" you gasped as her fingers came in contact with your cunt. she teased you for a minute, brushing a finger up and down your slit as you desperately chased some form of friction — ellie letting out a scoff in response to the image. "ya really need this huh?" she spoke, your eyes locking onto hers while she practically taunted you. "mm y-yes-" you were cut off by your own moans as she pushed apart your folds, rubbing circles on your drenched clit. "god... already so wet f'me honey" she spoke, ans you let out another whine in response. "s'all okay.. i'll take good care of you” Ellie informed, her fingers now making their way to your entrance as she lowered herself down towards your legs. her movement was gentle, enough for you to fully take in every finger she carefully pushed into you. she started off slow, pulling in and out of you and paying close attention to your expression — how pathetic you looked trying to stay quiet while she fingered you. It was hard at first, but even harder once she started eating you out. her tongue, like a magnet to your clit. she sucked on you like it was her first and last meal — like she had to savour every moment of it. "e-ellie .. god it's too much please" you whined, unsure of what you were begging for — all Ellie could focus on was how good you tasted, how good you sounded for her, completely under her strength. "you taste amazing" she mumbled, her fingers speeding up their pace as her mouth stayed attached to your cunt. "prettiest pussy I've ever had" she added, and you let out a louder moan in response, quickly shutting yourself up when you caught it. but she wasn't having it, "don't ... don do that ... wanna hear you" she ordered, and you obeyed.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ you moans rang throughout the walls as ellie took her time with you. eating you out with her fingers buried inside of you — it was an overwhelming sensation you never wanted to end. "el.." you couldn't make out her full name through your moans, you were more than close — on edge, but she didn't stop. "i know .. c'mon baby i wanna taste you.. let go f'me" she assured you, not that you could really hold back with the way she was fucking you. "mm it's soso good please don't stop ... i'm gonna-" you let out a mix of moans and soft whines in response to her words. and as your orgasm came over you — you caught yourself inside of your head once again. thoughts were finally becoming coherent. but they were nothing close to negative, nothing close to what you had ever thought before. you were having sex with a complete stranger. you were giving into sex with a complete stranger, and it didn't feel bad. she didn't feel bad. there was no sense of guilt or worry. you we're completely indulged in her, just as she was you.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You dozed off not too long after she was done with you. Ellie, who was ever so gentle with you once you came down from your high, treating you like a vase that could crack any moment — cleaned you up with care, offering to run you a bath and repeatedly apologizing for bruises that started to form on your inner thighs. Your body was sore in a way you hadn’t felt in years. but it wasn't from running this time, it wasn't from fighting or violence — only from the touch of another. the touch you allowed to be there. It was almost unsettling how good it felt. The motel room was quiet when you turned over again. The sheets were barely draped across your hip as you drifted in and out of sleep — your eyes struggling to open fully, though coming apart just enough for you to notice the space in bed beside you, empty with ellie's indent left in it. Your breath hitched, but you didn't move. your eyes and ears came into focus slowly, but once they did — you heard it. the soft shuffle of movement at the foot of the bed. A faint rustle. You turned your head only a bit, not enough to make a noise — and that's when you saw her crouched low, her back to you. Ellie’s hands were deep in the front pocket of your bag, the sight of it making you feel as if your heart had slammed against your ribs. you were frozen solid as you watched her quickly move throughout your belongings — your breath getting stuck in your throat when she slowed down. That's when you watched her closely. ellie stood up — the edge of a photograph clutched between her fingers before she placed it on the table and leaned back down, pulling out another. then another. then another. "fuck" you whispered to yourself, closing your eyes before she could notice you awake.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

this is my first fic since january ... i promise it will get better with part two. tag list ; @dykeadvocate @abigaillovestoread @mabermaple @imdrowningindispair @dyk3ang3l @ellieshothousewife @lotudolly @euph0riafilms

#🫧 sena #ellie x reader #abby x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #ellie x fem reader #abby x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x y/n #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellabs x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams texts #ellie tlou

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slightly-knot-insane · 10 months ago

Note

Loving your writing and saw that you’re accepting asks!

I have this thought about monster boyfriend of some sort who is desperate to have sex but you’re hesitant/nervous because he’s so big/will knot you. He reassures you and says that he’ll put in just the tip to ease you into it and then you’re both going crazy for it and he goes feral and thrusts the whole thing in/pops his knot in you

I'm so happy to hear this! Especially since English is not my first language (if that isn't painfully obvious lol). Thank you for this incredibly excellent ask!

Hidden in the Basement

[ m!monster x fem!reader ]

You could hear him in the basement. It was that time of the year - he goes into rut and he simply... needs his alone time. He always kisses you, lingering just a tad bit longer than usual, and retreats downstairs.

You stand outside the door. He is trying to stay as quiet as he can, muffling his groans and heavy breathing, but he's too loud. Too pent up.

You want to help him. He is almost frenzied when in rut and sometimes hurts himself or the others. He recognizes you, of course, but there is something in his behavior that scares you. Although - you bite your lip - not in a necessarily bad way.

You notice the basement is too quiet. Is he okay? You try the door handle - surprisingly, he didn't lock himself in. Perhaps he forgot? You go downstairs, as quietly as possible. It is almost too dark to see, but you can't turn on the light - you shouldn't be here after all.

He is kneeling on the floor, his huge pulsating cock in one hand as he is trying to get off. It is out of the sheath, a big bulbous knot at the base, and leaking glans on the top. His other hand is holding your panties. He is sniffing and biting them while jacking off. The fabric is completely damp.

Your face burns from embarrassment. Somehow you feel you shouldn't have seen this. Maybe you could sneak outside without him noticing? But... do you want to? You've never seen him like this, barely human, his limbs different and longer and stronger, his neck wider, his tail more flexible. It was him, but not completely. Also his cock... it changed in a rather interesting way.

He finally senses you and his eyes snap open, his pupils dangerously dilating.

"I'm sorry!" You panic and try running upstairs. You barely climb two steps before he grabs you from behind and lifts you. You yelp in surprise. He carries you downstairs and, without letting you go, kisses you. Everything about him is different, even his embraces. They are so intense, more consuming, needy. More feral. His hands quickly remove all your clothes and his fingers find your breasts.

"Wait," you gasp. "You are so big. I can't..."

He nibbles your neck, his large hands cupping your ass cheeks. "I need you. I will be careful, I promise. Let me have you a little bit or I'll go mad." His voice mutated into more dominant, animalistic one. You whimper as his finger finds your pussy and pushes against your entrance. "Not wet enough."

In one easy move, he lifts you up in front of his face and places your knees over his shoulders. Once your pussy is perfectly leveled with his large mouth, he proceeds to eat you out like a starving animal.

"Aaaah... aaah..." You wiggle and pant, sensations too overwhelming. But he firmly holds you in place. His tongue reaches places no toy or his human form ever reached. It circles around your clit and pumps into your entrance, swelling and pulsating. Your boyfriend pleasures you until you're soaking wet and trembling, and then lowers you just above his massive cock. "Please!" you scream, intimidated by the knot. "I can't do it..."

"I will put just the tip in," he reassures you. "I would never hurt you."

He sounds like your old wonderful boyfriend and you slightly relax in his arms. The way he kisses you by biting your lips, licking your face and sliding his long tongue deep into your throat is truly something special. Distracting you with his mouth, he slowly forces his glans into your pussy. It glides easily, and you both moan.

"You are so..." he whispers under his breath. "So tight. So amazing."

He barely enters and immediately lifts you up again. He is breathing heavily and sweating, his muscles trembling. You know it's not because he can't hold you like this - he is barely controlling himself, trying not to impale you on his massive cock.

"More..." You whine, his monster phallus rubbing against your wet walls. "Give me more."

He grunts happily and let's you slide down. He fills you completely, holding you safely with his arms. "Fuck... Can I go faster?"

"Yes please." Your blood is already boiling, nerves vibrating from incoming orgasm.

He starts bouncing you up and down, only pushing the half of his length inside. It doesn't feel uncomfortable. He is stretching you bit by bit, and immediately pulling out. His grunts and panting, and your moaning surround your sweating bodies. "Fuck... Fuck..." you both pant into each other's ear.

"Harder," you moan and his hips start jerking upwards when his arms lower you down. The impact is so much stronger, more intense, more ecstatic. After just a few thrusts, you climax and scream into your hands. You are so loud, it's embarrassing.

"No, let me hear you. Scream more for me. "

He speeds up, your pussy contracting around his cock and you can only moan and whimper from your overwhelming prolonged orgasm. He presses you against his chest, growling like a beast, and jerks his hips upwards. There is some sudden pain, but pleasure too, and you cry out.

His low moans become louder as he pounds you. Your entire body feels his body, all around you and inside you. Finally, with a hard thrust, he grunts into your hair and forces you even harder against his body. Hot liquid enters deeply into your womb. It feels amazing.

With panting and drooling all over you, your boyfriend lets your torsos separate. But nothing else.

"I knotted in you. I can't pull out." He sounds both happy and worried. You look down and see a big bulge from your swollen pussy all the way to your navel. And finally you realize his whole monster cock entered you including the knot. "I'm sorry," he says.

It doesn't hurt too much. It's a bit sore, sure. With little practice, you are sure you could do this every day. The thought makes your pussy throb. He feels that and looks at you curiously.

With a sly smile, you rub the tip of his cock through your skin and it twitches. "Sorry? I'm upset we haven't tried this sooner. No need to hide in the basement from me ever again." Realizing what you said, he happily purrs and embraces you.

#monster #monster lover #monster boyfriend #monster imagine #monster fucker #monster fuqqer #monster x reader #monster x fem!reader #monster x human #werewolf #werewolf x reader #werewolf knot #monster knotting #teratophillia #smut #slightlyknotinsane #ski.doc

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sqgeism · 2 months ago

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Can I ask for something related to an Anaxa with a reader who gets nervous easily? An already established relationship.

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 feeling like i need something | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; feeling like i need you . amphoreus men (anaxa, mydei, phainon) with a nervous reader !

love mail — thank you anonnie for a request, i'm happy to write for you :D not much to say here, just working on a quick reqs (*ﾟーﾟ) does this count as a layout change again (;゜0゜)?

anaxa wasn't entirely sure how to help with your shyness, he was a blunt man, never afraid of confrontation or anything of the sort. but something he noticed was that you had a tendency to fidget, as a fellow professor who taught a major class, sometimes you grew frustrated with your nervousness before teaching a new lesson and possibly messing up (you never have, you're a top teacher and anaxa finds it a little humorous).

but in the faculty, you'd be going over your notes and powerpoints for the students, mumbling and picking at your fingertips. of course, not wanting you to hurt your poor fingers any longer, anaxa makes his way to your desk and pulls his chair next to yours. you look at him, furrowed brows and downturned lips, and he sighs. "here." he holds his hand out to you quietly. "i don't want you picking on your skin anymore. if you so.. need it. use my hand instead. i'll be alright."

now he has you in a loop. he knows you don't want to hurt him, even if it's something as significantly painless as picking at his skin (he gouged his eye out ..), you still don't want to hurt him. so he watches as you poke his knuckles, tug on his fingers, and just use his hand as a little fidget toy.

the morning break for teachers comes to an end, and professors part ways into different classes. anaxa, knowing you were the second teacher in his first class, decides he wants to leave you a surprise. "you'll do great, dove." anaxa murmurs as he presses a kiss to your hand, soothing your worries.

once your second class comes along, you see him exit the classroom and smile at you, holding the door open for you to enter. "how oddly cheery." you think, walking in and placing your material on the teachers desk, until something catches your eye.

"ease your worries, my dove. you're the smartest person in the room, never hesitate to speak that brilliant mind of yours."

a letter, simple as it is, you know it's from the heart. anaxa had long left, likely not wanting to be late, but your chest swells with pride.

you receive a commendation later that day, the students have all passed their homework early and had been genuinely invested in your class. <3

mydei is gentle, but still urges you to try and come out of your comfort zone. taking you to meet the children, long strolls to ease your worries after a long day, all of those little things. something you seem to particularly shy away from, is eye contact.

now mydei knows he's a bit.. on the intimidating side, but he finds it funny that you can't look at him too long or you'll turn away.

so he's made some sort of 'training' for you. which is really just staring into his eyes. sometimes (all the time) he makes it harder by caressing your cheek, or brushing hair away from your face, simple things that fluster you with ease. it's funny, he won't lie, but he wants to help you. eye contact is important during conversations (and he wants to see your eyes when he talks to you).

one day, after a few weeks of this, mydei had called you over to ask you for something. unfortunately, the warrior had 'completely forgotten'. and you two stared at each other as he tried to figure it out. the entire time, you held eye contact, even smiled at him in a baffled manner. only for him to lean down and press a kiss to your lips right after.

"you did great, sweetheart" is all he says before going on his day.

phainon doesn't mind your nervousness. he'd want to help you try and move past it, but he'd hate for you to feel pressured. so instead, he makes you laugh! whenever something makes you feel a little anxious, he cracks a joke or pulls you closer, wanting to stray you away from that experience or moment. his goal is to eliminate the cause of your anxiety, but he knows he can't always do that. so he makes due with words of encouragement, getting your spirit and confidence high as he cheers for you like he's been on a cheer team for five years. probably your biggest supporter, he's sure of it.

if you struggle with stuttering, he's sure to guide you through it. he's serious the entire time you practice a script or a presentation, helping you calm down every time you start to stutter from the pressure or grow frustrated with yourself when you forget a line.

"hey, hey, baby. you're doing great." phainon's holding down your wrists kindly because he knows you'll sometimes hit your head out of annoyance with yourself. he doesn't want that. "try again, slowly. the world isn't ending, honey. take your time."

you eventually memorize the presentation and phainon jumps out of his seat and cheers, wrapping you in a bear hug and exclaiming how proud he is of you to the aeon's.

#ㅤ 𐔌᭥ᩙ༉ㅤnew flower bloomed ! :ೃ࿔𔓘 #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #anaxagoras x reader #anaxa x reader #anaxagoras #mydeimos x reader #mydei x reader #mydei x you #mydeimos #phainon x reader #phainon hsr x reader #phainon

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twd-bee3 · 7 days ago

Text

"Say Thank You, Baby."

Summary: While having sex, Daryl keeps brushing off your compliments. You pick up on it and go out of your way to convince him of just how perfect you think he is.

Warnings/Tags: purely smut, 18+ mdni, insecurity, praise kink, blowjob, slightly submissive Daryl, self-doubt, established relationship, female reader (she/her), season five, no use of y/n

Word count: 879 words

A/N: This was inspired by a scene in Elsie Silver's book Heartless, where the FMC struggles with accepting compliments and the MMC works to change that. My brain immediately thought of Daryl and the glimpses of his insecurity that we see in the show. This is purely self-indulgent, and I'm obsessed with reading the way my favorite mutual @b1eedthefreak writes submissive Daryl, so I gave it a go. This was also partly written for @darylsdelts. Anyway, this is my first time writing smut, so I apologize if it is dogshit.

Inside your bedroom, the two of you were lying in your bed, and your fingers were idly grazing Daryl's arm. He was always quiet after sex, but you never minded. You had always assumed that it was because he was tired. Tonight felt different, though.

“You okay, baby? Ain't done too much or nothin'?”

Slightly surprised that you had picked up on his tension, Daryl felt a bit embarrassed, and he shrugged off your concern. His voice was a little strained, which was a dead giveaway that he was overthinking.

“Just thinkin'.”

“Well, don't be thinkin' too hard. Ain't want you to hurt your pretty little head.”

Your tone may have been teasing, but your compliments always got to him. A slight flush dusted his cheeks, and he avoided your gaze.

“Guess I'm just wonderin' when you're gonna realize that you deserve better.”

You realized that he wasn't messing around, and he was genuinely feeling insecure. He got like this sometimes, and you remedied it the only way that you knew how. You were both still worked up from moments earlier, so you had no qualms about pleasuring him.

Your hand slipped into his boxers again, and you made sure that his eyes were on you. You stroked him gently, but didn't give him exactly what he wanted. He needed to work for that.

“You're fuckin' perfect. Don't let yourself think otherwise.”

Immediately reacting to your touch, his body tensed slightly and his cock twitched against your hand. A small whimper slipped from Daryl's lips, and he leaned his head back.

“Please, baby. Don't- don't tease me.”

“Eyes on me. Let me show you how perfect I think you are.”

You kept slowly working him with your palm and made sure that you weren't helping him reach his peak just yet. You wanted him to understand that you meant every word that came from your mouth.

Daryl gritted his teeth and squirmed beneath your touch. He couldn't stop himself from bucking his hips against your hand in a desperate attempt to find some relief. He knew you wanted an answer from him, so he gave you a shaky response.

“Tell me what you want me to say and I'll do it. I'll do anythin'. Please, baby. Please give me some relief.”

“When I compliment you, you say thank you, baby. No more of this self-deprecatin' bullshit. You're so fuckin' beautiful and I need you to understand that.”

Eager to release some of his tension, he nodded quickly and did what you asked. “Thank you, baby.”

“That's a good boy. You earned this.”

With a pleased grin on your face, you slipped off his boxers and prepared to give him what he needed. You slid down the covers and settled yourself between his legs. You gently moved his hard length and pressed it against his lower abdomen. Focusing on the head, you flattened your tongue and rhythmically licked the underside of his shaft. You repeated this motion a few times before pulling back.

“Fuck, Daryl. You feel so good on my tongue. You want me to go further, ain't you? Use your words.”

“Please- please keep goin', sweetheart. Please.”

Daryl looked down at you with a pleading expression and let out another soft whine. You were going slow on purpose, and he felt like he was going to explode. He needed you.

Satisfied with his begging, you nodded and used a hand to guide him deeper into your mouth. You had taken about three-quarters of his length and left some out, so you could wrap your fingers around the remaining bit. Once you were at a comfortable depth, you started to move your head up and down. Your movements were steady, and you maintained the pace that always drove him crazy.

At this point, Daryl was a mess, and he couldn't hold back the noises escaping from his throat. He kept mewling and his eyes were screwed shut. He would absolutely lose it if he looked down at you, and he wanted this to last longer.

“Please, sweetheart. Don't- don't stop. Feels so fuckin' good.”

You wanted him to fall apart for you, and you weren't above playing dirty. You switched up the pace and pushed him further into your mouth. Your soft moans reverberated against his cock and the sounds that Daryl was making told you that you were about to get exactly what you wanted.

Daryl couldn't take it anymore, and he was on the verge of tears. He knew that he was seconds away from blowing, and there was no stopping it.

“Baby, I'm- I'm gonna come.”

“Go ahead. You've been so good for me.”

You had slipped him out just enough so that you could speak before returning to your ministrations. Within seconds, a familiar warmth spilled into your mouth, and you continued working him through his orgasm. You swallowed and released him from your grip.

Daryl's head was laid back against the pillow, and his chest was heaving. He looked completely spent, and the sight alone was nearly enough to get you off. You wanted this to be about him, though. It took a lot of fucking willpower to keep it together.

Daryl finally caught his breath and gave you a lazy smile. “Thank you, baby.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #twd fanfiction #twd oneshot #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon smut #twd smut #smut with no plot #cafekitsune #sub!daryl

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art-by-jas · 2 months ago

Text

(18+ only) nsfw alphabet– John Carter

A/N: This is only about s1-mid s4 because I'm only that far into ER, but I wanted to write this. So my views might change after S4, and I'll have to redo this. Enjoy; hopefully, this is spot on. Don't be afraid of dming me or commenting.

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

Carter is really fucked out exhausted after having sex, regardless of what you two do. It takes him a moment to come back to earth before he gets into action to clean you up and fetch you a glass of water. You find it so adorable how his hair is so unruly after fooling around. Which leads you to press soft kisses along his freckled cheeks and nose.

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

His favorite body part on himself would be his eyes, given how much you compliment him on them. Every time you mention his eyes, he blushes deeply and smiles, making the creases around his eyes more pronounced, which you, of course, comment on.

His favorite body part of yours is probably your tits, which he would jokingly answer. However, if he’s being honest, he would say it’s your smile. He adores the way your smile lights up your face, and he loves that he can make you smile with a silly pun or when he clumsily knocks into something, sending it crashing to the ground.

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

He loves coming inside you; sometimes he can barely hold on before the end, so he has to think of procedures and surgeries to hold off on his orgasm. He doubles his efforts to make you come, playing with your clit, playing with your tits, and sucking on your neck. Anything to get you to come first or at the same time, so he can time it.

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

He’s been thinking about pegging, but whenever he wants to bring it up to you,. He’ll just look at you, and his face heats up imagining it, and he loses his confidence.

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

(S1-4!Carter)

He’s been around the block quite a bit so far, so I’d say he’s pretty experienced. Now, do I think he knows everything? No. He knows the basics, I would say, but hey, I’m sure you can teach him new things he’ll never forget anytime soon.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl. He goes feral when you’re riding him. Just the feel of you on top of him, he’ll grip onto your thighs and waist and toss his head back. He’s in heaven. He also likes doggystyle; he loves the way your ass jiggles every time his hips slap against it.

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

Carter is adorable and such a goober, unless you are right about to come. At the start, he’ll keep doing little things to make you laugh, but when your climax is near, he’ll talk you through it or just let out a series of punched out sounding moans.

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

I don’t think he’s hairy at all; he’s very smooth. Shaves frequently, keeping it nice and neat.

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

His face is buried in your neck, puffing hot breath against your skin. His arms are wrapped tightly around you or gripping you. Anyway, the more he can touch you, the better he feels.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s fine at work; he wouldn’t have to jerk off. He can be an adult and wait until he’s home. Now, if you come to visit him while he’s on shift. Oh, you better believe he’s hitting the bathroom and rubbing one out.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise Kink

Loves tights/fishnets

Dirty Talk

Exhibitionist (Slightly; when you two have a quickie in the hospital, HE LOVES SAYING, “Oh, you better keep quiet; or do you want them to hear you getting fucked hard?”

Biting

Scratching

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

At home. So he can lay you out and take his time, and for you and him to be as loud as you guys want.

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

Literally anything with him. He’s like a teenager; anything you do will have him biting his lip, and his cheeks are red. He notices your oral fixation every time you’re writing; you bite the top of the pen, and it has him zoning out.

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

No is no. If you are not comfortable with it, then neither is he. You two will have a talk if either wants to try something new to make sure you are both on board.

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

He’s pretty 50/50 on this, where he loooooves receiving, but that doesn’t mean he thrives in making your thighs shake as he’s eating you out.

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

He’s a slow starter, but once he gets going, he’s fast and relentless.

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

If you’re visiting him at the hospital, it almost always ends with him taking you by the hand and trying to quickly find an empty room so you two can have a quick fuck.

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

Carter will act surprised when you suggest something more kinky, but he is always down to try anything at least once. He got low-key into choking, not BIG into it, but feeling your hand around his neck made his heart flutter and his eyes roll back.

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

I’d say he can go about 2 rounds before he has to stop fucking you, but he has a mouth and fingers for a reason, so if you want to keep going, he’s not going to stop just because he’s still recovering.

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

You introduce him to toys in the bedroom; I don’t think any of his previous girlfriends were into toys. You have a few toys inside your bedside table. One time, you leave it open, and Carter sees it and asks about them. It leads to you teaching Carter about pressing your little vibrator right to your clit and slowly circling it. The result has you arching your back and Carter looking at you with an amazed look in his eyes while his face feels like it’s on fire.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You are the one who teases and torments him, he would claim. Always saying dirty little things to him right before you leave him after visiting him at the hospital. One time, you told him you were wearing the expensive lingerie set he bought for you for your birthday under your outfit. You kissed him goodbye and left County, leaving Carter stunned, standing there, eyes widening.

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

Pathetic whining, moaning, grunting, and broken sentences.

“Oh. oh, fuck, yes, y-yes… Please, please… Oh, you f-feel so good. You’re so tight. I’m not gonna last.”

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

I feel like he’d have a checklist of every room in the hospital you two fucked in. He’s making it his mission by the time he finishes residency in the ER to have fucked in every room.

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

He is PACKING. The man has a great dick. It’s part of the wonderful package that is Carter; he’s smart, funny, clumsy, and has a big dick.

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

I think you guys match. There are days he just wants to snuggle, and then there are days he can barely keep his hands off of you. Vice versa.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After he takes care of you and makes sure you’re okay and cleaned up. He gathers you close and has you lie on his chest or spoons you and just nods off.

Masterlist

#ER #er 1994 #er nbc #dr john carter #john carter #john truman carter iii #john carter x reader #reader insert #headcannons #i blacked out when making this #fan fiction

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thankskenpenders · 6 months ago

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Thoughts on Sonic 3!

On December 10th, 2018, I was on the last day of a trip to Milwaukee. The night before, I'd attended the wedding of one of my best friends, Jake, who I've known since high school. Even though half of us were sick the whole trip, it was a great time. Derek had asked the wedding DJ to play "One Week" as the first request of the night, and proceeded to lip sync the entire song on the dance floor. On that cold winter morning in a hotel room hundreds of miles from home, Derek and I groggily checked Twitter on our phones and saw the shocking news: Paramount had teased the design for Sonic from their upcoming live action film. Even in silhouette, the shape of his face and the realistic curvature of his limbs made him look like a grotesque little homunculus. This movie was going to suck.

Six years later, I've now seen the third entry in what's become a hugely successful Sonic film franchise. It features Keanu Reeves as the voice of Shadow the Hedgehog in a fairly faithful adaptation of his story from Sonic Adventure 2. At the time of writing, it currently sits at a whopping 86% positive rating on Rotten Tomatoes, vying for the title of the best-reviewed theatrically released video game movie of all time. Critics are saying nice things about the emotional journey of Shadow the Hedgehog. Never in a million years did I think I'd see this day.

I, too, have now seen this movie, and... yeah, it's pretty good.

I'm gonna get deep into spoilers here, so I'll just say up front that I liked the movie. It feels like just about the best possible execution of this version of Sonic. But that's also damning it with faint praise, depending on who you ask.

If you're a fan of the games who didn't like the second movie, you probably won't get much out of this one, either, unless you just really love Shadow so much that nothing else in the movie matters to you. It doesn't reinvent the wheel for this film series. It's still got a heaping helping of broad comedy, cheap pop culture references, bad one-liners, and characterization that diverges greatly from the source material. This is not high art, nor is it a direct adaptation of Sonic Adventure 2. If you're the kind of person who hates this portrayal of Sonic and Eggman, or a lore nerd who'll hate that they let Shadow do Chaos Control without an Emerald, then just don't bother with this.

On the other hand, if you did enjoy the last movie, then you'll probably have a fun time here, too. Shadow is very cool. The action is the best it's ever been. There's a bit more focus on characters from the games, and less on human characters invented for the movies—with the exception of Agent Stone, who's in this a lot because everyone likes him. There's a lot of SA2 fanservice. They even play "Live and Learn." It's a fun time! Be sure to stick around through the end credits.

And now, to dig deeper, let's get into the spoilers! I'm gonna jump around a lot and talk about different aspects of the movie, spoiling everything along the way.

Shadow and his reams of lore

Here's the main thing you came for: Shadow is great in this! They really did him justice. Keanu Reeves is extremely solid in the role. He can be a bit flat as an actor sometimes, but I think he did well here. He can be tough and menacing, but he can also be earnest and emotionally vulnerable. Good casting call. Excited at the prospect of seeing more of him in the future.

Really, as a Sonic Lore Nerd I'm most interested in discussing the changes they made to Shadow's backstory. I'm sure there will be many fans upset with the changes, but for the sake of streamlining a complicated backstory that was subject to a bunch of retcons and multiple layers of amnesia and fitting it into a 110-minute movie, I think they generally made smart choices.

For one, Gerald didn't create Shadow using Black Arms DNA, because Gerald didn't create Shadow at all! Instead, Shadow arrived on Earth inside a meteor, and Gerald was merely the prominent GUN scientist who studied him after he was captured. (That meteor does have very strong Black Arms vibes, though, so I wouldn't rule out the possibility of them exploring that stuff in the future.) This simplifies things a lot and allows Shadow to be a direct foil for Sonic, kind of a version of our hero who was treated as a lab rat and lost the only human he considered family instead of finding happiness like Sonic has. Then later Shadow hurts Tom and Sonic wants revenge, and it mirrors Shadow's feelings about Maria, and after they fight they can empathize with each other over this, Shadow sees the error of his ways and helps save the world, yada yada yada. You get it. People predicted 95% of this movie's plot from the trailers, but it's effective.

Likewise, all of the stuff about creating Shadow as the ultimate life form who's immune to all disease to cure Maria's illness is completely cut out. Shadow's still called the ultimate life form, but he's treated as more of an energy source than a genetic research project here, playing off of the stuff about Eggman wanting to harness Sonic's natural Chaos Energy in the movies. The original intent behind the ultimate life form project was always hard to explain in the games and doesn't even come up that much, so I don't blame them for cutting it.

Because Gerald isn't doing genetic experiments and creating artificial life, the Biolizard also doesn't exist. It does, however, appear in an old monster movie Shadow and Maria watch in a montage, with Shadow later commenting that he worries he's a monster like the one he saw in the movie. That's a clever way to include it, I think.

The ARK sort of exists. There was no space colony back in the '70s, all of the events of Shadow's flashbacks just took place at a secret GUN base on Earth. Fair enough for a version of the story ostensibly set in the real world. The big space laser in the third act of the film is obviously supposed to evoke the ARK, but it's referred to as simply the Eclipse Cannon. It's still not a full-blown space colony, just a weapon of mass destruction Gerald designed for GUN in exchange for his release (while also secretly planning to use it to blow up the planet in an act of revenge). I am, however, pleased to report that the Eclipse Cannon still has a giant Eggman face on it.

And as for Maria: I like her in this! She's obviously not going to get a ton of screentime, and she's always going to be a very straightforward character, but she's more playful and lively here. She teases Shadow for being grumpy and plays with him a lot. She feels less like this perfect embodiment of everything good and pure in the world and more like an actual kid. She's still not a complex character, but it works.

And the most important question: do they show a child getting shot and killed by the military? The answer is almost. In the flashback, GUN soldiers chase Maria, Shadow, and Gerald and ready their guns, but the young Commander Walters (who's in his 20s rather than being a kid) grabs them and tries to stop them from firing on a child. In the chaos, a soldier fires, missing Maria but hitting a generator that then blows up and kills Maria. So, y'know, close enough I suppose.

So, yes, many of the details change here, but they captured the gist of Shadow's story from SA2. The emotional core is there. I will say, though, I almost feel like Shadow isn't in this movie as much as I thought he'd be? I think he's used effectively in all of his scenes, and they make room for his backstory, and BOY does he get to kick ass in his fights, but for much of the middle part of the movie he's overshadowed by Ivo and Gerald. Though this might be a compromise to leave more screentime for...

Tails and Knuckles

I'm relieved to report that Tails and Knuckles both get a good amount of cool stuff to do in this! They don't feel like an afterthought.

I was worried that Tails in particular would completely fall by the wayside, since even his debut movie didn't entirely know what to do with him. But he's good here. He pretty much just feels like the Tails from the games at this point, especially since they dropped that fawning admiration he had for Sonic with that running gag of him going "Only Sonic the Hedgehog could do that!" He often chimes in as the one who wants Team Sonic to stick together when Sonic and Knuckles bicker. He particularly gets to shine in the Mission Impossible-inspired heist sequence at the GUN headquarters in London that serves as the climax of the second act, which feels like it was tailor made to let him shine as the tech guy of the team. He also gets several opportunities to swoop in and catch someone for a save in an action scene. He's good in this!

Knuckles is... fine. He's definitely fallen into the role of the comic relief dumb bruiser since joining the good guys, but he's at least a little better than he was in his own streaming show. The jokes lean more into him just being really brash about his strength and skill, rather than him being this archaic warrior who doesn't understand anything about the modern world. He also gets a few more serious bits in the back third of the movie where he gets to shine a little more, so overall it evens out to him being fine. They could've done way worse.

As for the relevance of the Knuckles show: Knuckles is now said to be the guardian of the Master Emerald, like in the games, though with no Angel Island this amounts to him hiding it somewhere for safekeeping. It's eventually revealed that he just gave it to Wade, who gets exactly one scene (sorry, Wade-heads) for a joke about him using the Master Emerald as a hockey puck. So, the miniseries explained why Knuckles has a connection with Wade. That's it! Also I think Knuckles might use the Flames of Disaster a bit in fights, but they never called the technique out by name, so I never really thought about it. So, yeah, the six-episode streaming miniseries about Wade bowling has zero meaningful relevance to the Shadow movie. Who could have seen this coming?

Miscellaneous humans

For that matter, the human supporting cast is MASSIVELY downplayed in this one. Tom and Maddie are there for two key sequences (the beginning of the movie and the GUN HQ heist), but otherwise they disappear for long stretches of the movie. They don't go to Japan in act I, nor do they go to space in act III, and there's no subplot for them during those periods, either. There's nothing like the wedding subplot in Sonic 2 where they'd constantly cut back to Hawaii for comic relief with the humans and only reveal why this was relevant to the plot near the end. (There's also no random dance battle in Siberia.) If a human character is here, it's because they have something to contribute to the plot right away. Most people will probably consider this an improvement, and I'd certainly say it makes for a much tighter script, though I have to remind everyone that I thought the wedding being a GUN sting operation was such a funny twist that I'm a defender of the Hawaii subplot.

On the subject of Tom, something funny I've noticed is that they've just completely downplayed the fact that Tom and Wade are cops. Tom being a cop never comes up once. Wade being a cop only gets referenced via the fact that he's practicing hockey on the roof of the police station in his one scene, but he's not in uniform or anything. They clearly got the memo that we don't want Sonic to hang out with cops.

Here's something else funny: Rachel and Randall got character posters, but they're actually not in the movie! Not technically, anyway. During the heist sequence at GUN HQ, Tom and Maddie use some gadgets Tails invented to holographically disguise themselves as those other characters. But the real Rachel and Randall never show up in the flesh. It's a very odd way to shoehorn the actors into the movie. (Jojo is also absent. They did not give her Amy's role of being the girl who reminds Shadow of Maria. Instead they just let Sonic have the big heart to heart with Shadow that makes him switch sides.)

You know who IS in this movie? Krysten Ritter. Not as the voice of Rouge, as the fandom once hoped, but as a director for GUN. She gets like three scenes and she feels completely checked out the whole time. Can't say I blame her! She's not really a character, just a plot necessity. Commander Walters dies in Japan but gives Sonic one of two keycards needed to activate the Eclipse Cannon, and then Ritter's character assumes Sonic stole it and labels him a bad guy. So that's why they have to break into GUN HQ in the second act instead of just talking things out with them. Still, I am at least relieved that Sonic doesn't work with GUN for most of the movie.

I gotta be honest: when Walters pulled a credit card-shaped object out of his pocket, I thought he was about to give Sonic another Olive Garden gift card as his final act before dying. Part of me wishes that happened.

The supporting human character in this who really gets to shine is Agent Stone, which I'm sure most fans will agree was the correct choice. There's a LOT of Agent Stone in this. He's good. I don't have much to say about him, but he's fun as usual.

But, of course, the ones who steal the show are Jim Carrey, and his costar Jim Carrey.

The Robotniks

I've gone back and forth on whether or not I can actually see movie Robotnik as Robotnik. I think with this third and final entry in the Jim Carrey Robotnik Trilogy, I've landed on... yeah, that's just Jim Carrey playing a Jim Carrey character. He's absolutely having fun with the role, and I enjoyed watching him, but I think a lot of that comes down to the fact that I'm a millennial who grew up watching Jim Carrey movies. If you didn't like him before, this movie will probably be nails on a chalkboard to you, because now there are two of him.

Ivo's arc here leans very heavily into the fact that he grew up as an orphan and never knew his family, a thing offhandedly mentioned in the first movie that's never been a thing for any other version of the character. Here, he learns that he has a living grandfather who's also a mad scientist, and it feels like a hole in his heart has been filled. It certainly makes sense for a place to take this version of the character, and it fits with the movie's themes of finding and losing family, but the cartoonish, childlike affection Ivo feels towards Gerald and all the scenes of them frolicking and dancing together have basically nothing to do with the characters from the games. He's a fun villain for this movie, but he's overwhelmingly used as comic relief this time rather than as a serious threat. He doesn't particularly feel like Sega's Dr. Ivo Robotnik, the arch nemesis of Sonic the Hedgehog who'd take over the world with an army of robots and a fleet of airships in the span of a day if Sonic wasn't around to stop him. He's a guy who lives in a big crab robot and has some drones. He has more in common with Carrey's depictions of the Grinch or the Riddler or Count Olaf than Dr. Eggman. Though he does, at least, finally get his outfit from the games by the end of the movie. So that's something. And also he's in a fat suit now. They only make jokes at the expense of his weight a little. Hooray...?

Gerald, meanwhile, is... largely the same character as movie Eggman, but older, so they can make jokes about him having saggy flesh and smelling funny and needing dentures. (Also, his voice kind of sounds like Homer Simpson sometimes?) To his credit, Carrey absolutely nails the handful of more serious scenes Gerald gets, whether it's Maria's death or his sinister turn when he reveals that he actually wants to destroy the Earth. But then it's right back to goofs about there being two of the same guy. Even the final battle features a lot of slapstick shenanigans with the two Robotniks fighting each other. I was able to enjoy the absurdity of it all, but if the humor doesn't land for you the dual Jim Carrey schtick is a hell of a lot of the movie. I wouldn't be surprised if there was more Gerald than Shadow in the movie, when you go and tally up their screentime. I was able to enjoy the sheer absurdity of it, but your mileage will vary.

I will, however, say that the split screen stuff they do with the two Carreys is EXTREMELY impressive, from a filmmaking perspective. They were absolutely flexing with their ability to pull the effect off. They don't rely on cheap tricks like cutting a lot, or having shot/reverse shot scenes where you're looking at the back of a body double's head. Instead they have a lot of long takes where the two Robotniks are talking to each other, you can see both of their faces, and they'll even hug and touch each other a lot, and the whole time the conversation maintains a natural pace like it really is two actors playing off of each other. It's really well done. It's an incredibly silly idea, but boy did they commit to it.

Sonic

I've hardly said anything about Sonic himself in all of this. It's his movie, isn't it! Well... I don't know, he's fine.

I feel like movie Sonic is a known quantity at this point, and either you like this take on the character or you don't. There was some speculation early on that this was supposed to be a younger Sonic who would grow into being the character we know from the games and comics, the one who's still got lots of quips but is also kind of aloof and cool, a free spirit who goes where the wind takes him, a figure the other characters look up to. And... no, that didn't happen. Once again he gets more serious as the stakes are raised, and he's totally badass when he goes Super, but the rest of the time he's still a little goober with tons of generic one-liners who learns schmaltzy lessons about the importance of family. He's still constantly going to undercut the tension of most scenes by cracking a pop culture reference that will make the average American parent go "haha I've heard of that." I don't think they're ever gonna change that. I think this just what the writers think Sonic is like.

And, again, for what it is, it's fine. He's a little annoying. You already know how you feel about movie Sonic. This third entry won't change that. But they do, at least, have him say "Talk about low budget flights, no food or movies... I'm outta here!" before jumping out of a helicopter. As my thoughts on the climax will show, I am not immune to fanservice.

The climax

God, the climax is SOOOOO fucking good. It's fantastic. Easily the best action these movies have ever done.

Rather than saving Super Shadow for the team-up with Sonic at the end, they have both of them go Super to fight each other first, and they just go full DBZ with it, fighting across the entire planet. It absolutely rules. I think this is the new coolest fight the two of them have had in anything ever. And then they have to stop the Eclipse Cannon together, and sure, there's no Biolizard. But Gerald DOES release a swarm of GUN Hunter robots, and the ensuing space battle turns into some Gundam shit. It's good! It's so good!!! The movie's flaws kind of melt away for me here when I'm watching Super Shadow take out an army of robots with Chaos Spears on the big screen. What a timeline we're living in.

And yes, they play "Live and Learn." They had to. They knew the assignment. They actually play a slight remix, but it's still got the original vocals, so it's perfectly recognizable. Actually, the tune of the song is used as a leitmotif for Shadow throughout the movie, first introduced via an acoustic guitar version played by Maria, and I really love that. I've been begging these movies to use more music from the games the whole time, and I'm glad they finally did so here. (They also use the traditional level clear jingle early in the film, and Eggman's theme from SA2 is very briefly used as a ringtone.)

... Anyway, uh, meanwhile Eggman, Tails, and Knuckles straight up just kill Gerald to save the world? They unceremoniously knock him into an energy field at the end of their slapstick fight aboard the Eclipse Cannon and he disintegrates like he hit a bugzapper. It's over in an instant. It's not graphic or anything, but it's, like... I didn't expect them to show it, or for it to be such a casual murder! Eggman has one quip about it and then immediately moves on.

Shortly after this, Eggman and Shadow sacrifice themselves to stop the Eclipse Cannon. Shadow's sacrifice doesn't stick, obviously (he's revealed to be alive by the end of the second stinger—pretend to be shocked), but Eggman's probably dead dead. I seriously doubt Jim Carrey's gonna come out of retirement for these movies again. His final moments before the big explosion are also SO dragged out and belabored. He has a dramatic final line like ten times in a row. It really just feels like the series saying goodbye to Carrey. And, again, it feels like a fitting enough end for this Eggman's arc, but it's an odd adaptation of the character from the games.

And so, that's what we're left with. This is far from Sonic Adventure 2: The Movie. It's not that, though there are many, many references made to that game in particular. It's a sequel to the film Sonic the Hedgehog 2 that has a similar tone and style, but Shadow and Gerald are in it, and Shadow gets some really cool fights, and there's a liiiiiittle more focus on stuff from the games than last time, and the script's a little tighter. If that sounds fun to you, you will have fun with this. I know I did. If it doesn't, you're probably better off waiting for them to inevitably do an animated reboot whenever this live action series runs out of steam.

It hasn't quite run out of steam yet, though...

The post-credits scenes, and the future

One of the big questions going into this was: what's next? How do they top a Shadow movie with heavy Sonic Adventure 2 overtones, in terms of hype for the fans? How do you fill Eggman's shoes after Carrey retires, for real this time? There are still more fan favorite rival characters to get through, but how many movies in a row can they introduce a furry foe for Sonic who inevitably turns good and helps him stop a larger threat by the end? And when the hell are we gonna see the girls?

Well, we now have our answer, and it's one I'm cautiously excited for: a whole army of Metal Sonics, and Amy!

Yes, Amy! Finally!! It's an absolute crime that we've gone three whole movies and a streaming miniseries without including the female lead of the series. I've complained about this ad nauseum (and also the fact that they cut Rouge from the story). But at least now they're finally doing something about it.

But now the question is, how will they characterize Amy? Sega's struggled with her for years, and there's a million different directions you can take her. Her one scene here has her smashing a bunch of Metal Sonics and wearing a cloak for the sake of a dramatic reveal, which gives her the vibes of a mysterious, badass action girl. This is, of course, completely different from how Sonic and Amy met in the games. What will her personality be like? She doesn't speak here, so who will they get to play her? Where did she come from? Will she even have a crush on Sonic? All of these have yet to be determined. So, like, I'm hyped to finally see Amy, a character who should've been in the movies from the start, but they could so easily end up playing it safe with an incredibly boring girlboss version of Amy who's no fun at all. We'll have to wait and see.

(My prediction: they're going to try to cast either Zendaya or Ariana as Amy.)

Metal Sonic, likewise, is very exciting, and he looks perfect. He looks just like the design from the games. But the question is: what will they do with this army of Metals? Will they be lead by one main Metal Sonic, perhaps Neo Metal Sonic, who gets to be a proper bad guy? Will they take some cues from Sonic CD, Heroes, and the OVA, or do something completely original? Where did they come from? Were they activated as a failsafe after Eggman died? Did they and Amy come from some sort of bad future, riffing on Sonic CD's time travel? Will they explore the fact that Metal wants to be the one and only Sonic? Or will they just be an army of disposable robot grunts for Sonic and friends to mow down like it's a Dynasty Warriors game, while some other villain takes center stage?

It could go so many different ways, and some prospects are more exciting than others. I mean, the Knuckles show had endless possibilities for what it could do with him, and none of the options on my bingo card were "Pachacamac's ghost tells him to help Wade win a bowling tournament." And while I'm a sicko who thinks it's funny that the Knuckles show is what it is, forgive me for keeping my hype about Amy and Metal Sonic in check here until we learn more.

Regardless of what they do, it'll still be hard to top the hype of Shadow, and it'll be hard to fill Jim Carrey's shoes for general audiences. So despite this clear statement of intent, I have no idea what the future of this film franchise holds. But regardless of what they do, I can say one thing for certain: the kids in my theater were hyped as hell for it. They popped off over Metal Sonic, and they were screaming their heads off with excitement over Amy. I heard a teenage girl on the opposite end of my row of seats say "finally!" over Amy's reveal, verbalizing my exact thoughts. She also said that this movie was "peak," though it diverged from the games, and she hoped they'd do a movie with Silver and Blaze someday.

The kids are gonna be okay.

#tkp post #other media #sonic 3 spoilers

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mcrdvcks · 14 days ago

Note

Congratulations on 2k girl 🥳🥂

Can I request for a Drabble or headcanons (whatever easy for you) about being married to Logan for 20+ years with kids. Still madly in love. Like full on domestic and Logan is pretty much retired, lives in his own house. (I know it’s sounds messy but idk how else to explain it)

Luv your writing so much <3

LOGAN LIVES IN A CABIN!!!! sorry, uh... i mean, it's my own headcanon that logan, when happy and retired, would live in a cabin. i'll never change that. anyways, i got carried away a bit, i hope i didn't repeat myself either, lol

send an ask for my 2,000 followers celebration!

warnings/tags: you and logan have 3 kids (and a dog), married life, domestic life, soft!logan, 20+ years of marriage, uhhh fluff, so much fluff

I’m going to say that you and Logan met at the X-Mansion. You were a teacher when he came arrived with Rogue. Now it’s been a little over 20 years and you and him live in a cabin in upstate New York, close to the Canadian border.

You have three kids: Laura, Elizabeth, and Kate. At first, you were going to stop at Elizabeth, but you agreed to try for another one when Elizabeth was 2 and Laura was 5. Logan made a joke that he was 2 for 2 with girls, and no boys. You told him that if the third baby was girl, you’d get a dog.

Low and behold, Pesto (Elizabeth chose the name, which Logan hated at first). A stocky, big-pawed German Shepherd pup with ears too big for his head and eyes that immediately adored your girls.

Elizabeth named him because “he’s the color of pesto” (he wasn’t), and Logan muttered “damn dog’s gonna be stuck with a salad name” for a week. But he’s the one who lets Pesto curl up on the porch swing with him every evening now.

Laura (now 17) is the calmest. Sharp as hell, emotionally steady, gets that from Logan.

She’s fiercely protective of her sisters, and never says much—but if someone even breathes wrong in Kate’s direction, she’s at their side in seconds.

Logan’s the only one who can get her to smile just by raising a brow and grunting “You’re taller’n me now, kid.”

She calls him “Dad” in public, “Old man” in private.

They train together in the mornings, still. Sometimes in silence, sometimes with quiet talks that never reach the house.

Elizabeth (14) is sunshine and absolute chaos. She talks with her hands and wears mismatched socks on purpose.

She's Logan's weakness. Absolutely the one who can convince him to do just about anything with a bat of her eyes.

She's the reason there's a glitter glue ban in the house.

She’s also the reason Logan has a pink beaded bracelet he still wears on his left wrist—it says “DAD (hearts) E,” and no, he’s never taking it off.

Kate (11) is all heart. Soft-voiced, bookish, with a deep curiosity about everything.

She loves animals and has somehow convinced Logan to build a tiny wooden shelter out back for “forest friends.”

She sometimes wakes up from nightmares, and Logan’s the first one there—scooping her up and carrying her back to bed without a word.

“You don’t have to be brave all the time, y’know,” he tells her, thumb stroking her hair. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Kate got Logan to buy an annual pass to the nearby Nature and Science Museum for the family. Every month all 5 of you go.

Logan grumbles about the long drives and overpriced snacks every single time—but you always catch him quietly staring at the girls with that full, soft look he tries to hide.

Laura always wanders off to the interactive exhibits on genetics. Elizabeth sneaks photos of skeletons making peace signs with their phalanges. Kate holds your hand the entire time, asking ten questions per minute.

Logan calls it “nerd day” but always makes sure the truck has gas and snacks packed the night before. He also never lets go of your hand in the planetarium. Not once.

He chops wood in the mornings, drinks black coffee out on the porch with Pesto at his feet, and swears he's "finally got the quiet he earned.”

You’ve caught him more than once watching you through the kitchen window with this soft, stunned kind of awe—like after 20+ years, he still can’t quite believe you’re his.

You and Logan still slow dance sometimes in the kitchen. Music playing from that old radio that cuts out every few minutes. You in a sweatshirt. Him in flannel and socked feet.

He always mutters, “Y’still got it, darlin’,” and nuzzles his face into your neck.

Logan is fully, shamelessly obsessed with you. He still calls you “sweetheart,” “darlin’,” “my girl”—and will growl if anyone talks over you or makes you feel small.

Any mention of you being “just a mom” or “past your prime,” and Logan is suddenly not retired for about 20 seconds.

He swears a little louder around you now, just to make you roll your eyes. He lives for your exasperated affection.

He kisses you like it’s still the first time. Hand at the back of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw. Always slow, always sure. If the kids yell “eww,” he’ll smirk and pull you in even closer. “Let ‘em learn what love looks like.”

The bedroom walls are lined with framed photos, paintings, and kid drawings. Laura drew the family in crayon when she was six—Logan still calls it “her masterpiece.” Elizabeth once made a clay version of the cabin. It’s lumpy and crooked and lives on the mantle like it’s sacred. Kate writes you little notes and folds them into hearts. Logan keeps his in his sock drawer. Doesn’t say a word about them—but he’s read every single one.

He still gets nightmares. You still wake up for every single one. Some nights he sits out on the porch with a blanket over his shoulders. You come out, sit beside him, wrap your arm around his back, and say nothing.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs into your hair. You kiss his jaw and whisper, “You’ll never have to find out.”

You’ll tease him about his gray hairs or how he needs glasses now for small print. He’ll grumble, but that dimple still shows.

“Ain’t old,” he insists, squinting at the back of the cereal box. You just hum and pass him the glasses he insists he doesn’t need. He only wears them around the house, never in public. “They’re reading glasses, not a damn fashion statement,” he mutters, even though you told him he looks handsome in them (because he does).

The girls all tease him, too—Elizabeth once bought him a “#1 Grumpy Grandpa” mug. He drinks from it every morning now.

On weekends, the five of you make pancakes. Logan pretends he hates the chaos—flour on the floor, Kate dancing to the radio, Pesto begging under the table—but he always flips the pancakes just the way each kid likes them.

“No chocolate chips for Laura,” he says, handing her the first plate. “Extra for Lizzie. Kate—you still like ‘em with peanut butter?” You don’t know how he remembers all their preferences, but he does.

Every once in a while, he gets restless. Not bored—just twitchy. You’ll catch him staring at the treeline, like muscle memory’s itching. You rest your head on his shoulder and say, “We’re safe. You’re safe.” And he exhales like he believes it a little more each time.

He takes the girls fishing every spring. Refuses to call it “a tradition,” but still cleans the poles weeks ahead and checks the tackle box twice. He lets them bring books and snacks and nonsense. Elizabeth usually ends up half in the water. Logan never even gets mad.

“Better a wet kid than a bored one,” he shrugs, handing her a towel.

You still kiss him every time he comes back in from chopping wood. Even if he’s sweaty. Especially if he’s sweaty. He’ll pretend to wipe his forehead on your shirt just to hear you squeal.

He never forgets your anniversary. Won’t let you forget either. “Twenty-three years this year, sweetheart,” he says one morning. “Still the best damn thing I ever did.”

The kids planned a surprise dinner once—Laura handled the schedule, Elizabeth did decorations, Kate made cards. Logan teared up. Logan. He swiped at his eyes, muttering, “Allergies. Damn pine trees.” (You hadn’t even gone outside yet.)

You still slow dance on the porch sometimes. Pesto at your feet. Stars overhead. The hum of crickets and Logan’s breath steady against your temple.

#2000 followers celebration #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #logan ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ #abby's works ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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nightplvmes · 6 months ago

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*.⊹˚ SYLUS | making out (nsfw)

◜Sylus gives up and decides to give his girlfriend some attention.PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE TW: slightly explicit content, +18. minors DNI ── ◜sylus x fem!reader — mini one shot 0.7k words an : I have never, ever, EVER written anything explicit or NSFW. I've been writing for over 10 years but I've never felt it necessary in my fanfics. I've wanted to start making an exception and writing little things, so this is my first time writing something (a little) NSFW. I'm sorry if it's not the best. Another author's note here. ★ masterlist here

Sylus had his gaze fixed on the papers on his desk but his mind was elsewhere. More specifically on the girl on his lap and the way she was sucking on the skin of his neck.

He had work and important things to do, but his girlfriend was needy and he didn't say no when she asked to sit on his lap. The small kisses quickly turned into something more, soon she changed her position so she was straddling him, his shirt slightly open as she began to mark his skin. Oh god, how he loved letting her mark his skin.

"A naughty kitten." Sylus squeezed her hips and made her pull away from him. When he saw his girlfriend's swollen lips and slightly disheveled hair something twisted inside him. "I can't concentrate if you keep this up."

She gasped, lifting her face and trying her best not to moan. She felt somewhat embarrassed about the way she was behaving but Sylus had shown her that he was a safe place for her.

"Can you take a few minutes?" She looked at him with those eyes that always begged him to make an exception for her. And Sylus was weak, too weak.

"Fine." Sylus gave in, leaning towards her. Before she could respond he captured her lips in an intense kiss.

Kisses with Sylus were always different, sometimes it was intense and almost desperate but without being so rough. Other times it was soft and slow, just enjoying her lips. This time it was the complete opposite of the last thing, his lips sought hers as if he were totally in need.

One of his hands slid to the back of her neck, holding her still to prevent her from moving away from his lips. His tongue explored her mouth with such urgency that it made the heat rise in her body. Suddenly she needed more... she needed much more.

Sylus moved away just a few inches and took a breath for a few seconds before taking her lips again, making her gasp again. Her hips moved softly, needing more... Then she felt Sylus's hardness press against her wetness barely covered by the thin fabric of her panties.

A moan escaped her lips as she felt him press against her. She moved his hips causing a slight friction against her sensitive clit. A growl rumbled in Sylus' chest as he noticed what she was doing, which did nothing to help control the heat he felt in his body. He took her hips and guided her movements slowly, but it wasn't what she wanted, she needed more.

"Sylus..." She threw her head back and Sylus' lips were quick to press against her neck. He kissed and bit her warm skin as he enjoyed the way she rubbed against him.

When he finally pulled away from her neck he noticed the way her lips were parted, letting out soft gasps. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath and the image of his girlfriend in that way and in his lap was too much. He took her lips again in a desperate way, the movements of his hips stopped and suddenly he missed the way she pressed against him.

She moaned as he bit her lower lip. Her hips thrust down almost unconsciously, searching for something to rub against, but Sylus stopped her by squeezing her hips.

"Not yet."

"Sy..." She moaned in frustration, letting her head fall to his chest as her breathing was labored. Her body felt too hot and she needed more.

"I need to get back to work." He placed a kiss on her forehead, letting his girlfriend catch her breath.

She nodded giving in. She didn't want to push him, nor did she want to be that kind of girlfriend who interrupted his work. "I'll go to the bedroom," she murmured, pressing her lips against his.

She finally pulled away from him so she could leave his office. Sylus quickly felt the emptiness and missed the warmth of his girlfriend against him. He went back to his work, trying to continue with what he was doing, telling himself it was too important. But he couldn't get his needy girlfriend on his lap out of his mind.

He gave up after two minutes, he wasn't going to be able to concentrate no matter what he did. He dropped the pen, pushed his chair back and walked away from his desk. His steps were quick and hurried as he walked out of his office towards the room he shared with her. He didn't plan on leaving her wanting more and he certainly didn't plan to stay like that either.

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bows4tyun · 6 months ago

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SHORT TASTE -! ⸝⸝ 최수빈

⸝⸝ you and your sweet boyfriend go shopping together - it's supposed to be innocent, isn't it? he ends up getting a short taste of you (smut, mdni!)

[🍥] pairing ! - pervy boyfriend!soobin x afab!reader

warnings - soobin is a perv lol, dom!soobin, sub!reader, sex in the dressing room, breast worship, nipple sucking, big dick soobin, unprotected sex, size kink, praise kink, soobin calls reader bunny baby, good girl, and slut but literally only twice ⸝⸝

lexi adds ! - yeah... I'm a "writer "now! I suddenly had all this motivation to start writing and reading all the great stories on here has made me finally do it! I still need a taglist so if anyone wants to be tagged in any of my future stories please lmk (srry if this story is a bit shitty!)

soobin had the great idea of going holiday shopping with you and of course, you agreed.

now here you were, walking around the mall, hands interlocked as you searched for a store to enter. when you found a promising clothing store that caught your eye, you signalled to soobin.

"should we go in there?" you said as you pointed a finger toward the direction of the store's entrance.

"you can do whatever you like, baby, as long as you find something you like I'll be here to pay for you." soobin replies with confidence and a warm smile on his face. he loved spoiling you, it was his favourite thing to do. He loved to gift you cute dresses and skirts whether it was christmas or not, being fond of how happy you were when the skirt fit just right.

soobin didn't just buy the skirts and clothes to make you happy, he bought it to make himself happy too. he liked walking behind you, seeing the small glimpse of your cute pink underwear peaking out from under. sometimes as you tried on your new gifted clothes, he'd sneak a picture or two, telling you to give him a cute little spin as he pulled his phone out.

you were so oblivious of it too, asking him if your underwear was peaking out just for him to lie as say "it's not, don't worry"

he was having his own fun with it while you had no clue of his perverted actions.

you'd be fast asleep beside him at night while he jerked himself off to the pictures the same day, trying to keep his breath steady and not wake you, little did you know what your naughty boyfriend was doing beside you!

with a soft nod, you lead soobin into the store. classic pop music off the radio is playing from the speakers as your eyes search for a cute top to match the skirt soobin had recently gotten you.

as you searched, soobin watched you with loving eyes, and small grin plastered across his face as he saw you grab a pretty top adorned with lace, holding it by the straps as you turned to meet your gaze with his.

"what do you think about this one, binnie? would it look cute?" you asked, holding the top in front of your chest for him to get the full view and vision.

soobin hums in agreement, smiling at how cute and small you looked holding the tiny top "it's cute, baby. do you want to try it on just to make sure?"

you let out a small "mhm" as you begin to walk toward the dressing rooms, soobin following not so far behind.

when you get to the dressing rooms, his hands rest on each of your hips as you're escorted to a room by an employee.

when the employee is out of sight, soobin sneaks into the dressing room with you as you giggled at him for trying to be so sneaky.

"binnie, that's not necessary~ they weren't going to say anything anyways." you smiled softly before getting on your tippy-toes to give him a soft peck on the lips "you can sit down and watch me change, i know you like doing that alot." you spoke jokingly but soobin knew it was the truth.

he sat down just as you had told him to and reminisced about how cute it was that you had to get on your tippy-toes just to kiss him. a faint pink hue spread across his cheeks without neither of you noticing and he watched you in admiration as you took off your current top.

his eyes scanned your body with such hunger, looking at your boobs that looked like they were going to spill out of your bra from how much of your cleavage was showing now. he felt as his mouth began to water, not wanting to make it obvious.

he looked at the way the top fit you like a glove, hugging onto your curves so perfectly. soobin was already starting to think of all the things he wanted to do to you right then and there. he didn't realize how long he was staring for until you startled him by speaking.

"does it look bad? you've been staring for a while now, binnie..." you fidget a bit with your hands as you see him break out of his daydream and process your question.

"huh? oh-! no bunny, it looks perfect." he spoke in a simple yet attractive tone as he stood up and walked up to you, his hands resting on your hips just as they had done before and his eyes glint with mischief. "it look so perfect that I could just fuck you right here, right now. would you like that, bunny? like having to keep quiet in order to not get caught?"

without much thinking or processing, you nod, feeling heat rush to your core. your panties dampen as you stare at the smirk on his face, his cute dimple visible.

"you know you always get what you want, bunny." soobin says bluntly as he already begins to unbutton and unzip his jeans, freeing his hard, thick, and long cock out of the confinement of his underwear.

you've seen his dick before but somehow you're still nervous yet excited whenever you see it.

"I've been waiting to fuck you in this cute skirt all day..." he strokes his long cock up and down getting it even harder than it already was before and he looks down at you with a smirk "you see this bunny? you see what you do to me? you have me like this all day, everyday. now won't you be a good girl and help me?" he smirks knowing what effect his words are having on you, watching the way your thighs clasp together to hide your wetness.

"t-touch me..." the words escape past your lips without you realizing it and you stand there, desperate as you plead for soobin to touch you where you need him the most.

"what do we say when we want something?" soobin asks, "we only get what we want when we ask nicely, you know this, baby. "

"please-! please touch me, binnie!" you exclaim in a pleading tone before soobin presses a finger to your lips.

"remember where we are, bunny. this is not the bedroom, this is a place where you have to keep quiet, okay? you're better than that." he explains to you, you tend to forget where you are whenever you're needy for him.

slowly but surely, one of his hands makes it way into your panties, his fingers playing faintly with your folds and picking up the slick of your wetness. "you're so wet and i haven't even touched you that much..."

soft and quiet whimpers escape your lips as your hand moves to stroke his cock, a low groan and gasp leaving from his mouth as his head falls back the slightest.

his free hand drags along your curves and slips past the bottom hem of the top and travelled up to your breasts, groping them with his hand as his breath began to grow heavy from your hand on his dick. "take your top off, baby. you don't want to get it ruined before I buy it, do you? "

you shake your head and move his hand away from his dick in order to remove your top, soobin lends you and hand and helps you pull it over your head. he went back to admiring your cleavage, groping your breasts with both hands now, groaning at how soft they felt.

"n-need you so bad binnie..." you whined out a bit louder than you anticipated which leaded to soobin gripping the nape of your neck.

"be quiet." he ordered as he picked you up and he tugged your panties to the side, aligning his cock to the rim of your hole. "will this shut you up? is this what you need?" he asked as if he were to be losing his patience.

"yes...!" you managed to choke out in a quieter voice.

"fucking slut of course it's what you need..." without warning, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt inside of you as you attempt to not moan out loud from the intense stretch.

he covers your mouth, his hand big enough to cover the bottom half of your face as he fucks into you, balls slapping against your ass and making lewd noises echo throughout the room. his hand was being used to keep you quiet even when both of you guys knew it wasn't possible to keep your mouth shut when he was fucking you so good.

your legs wrap tightly around his waist as he fucks you at an even faster pace, his hips slapping back and forth, the scene straight from a porn video from how obscene it just so happened to look.

a muffled "hmph-!" was the only thing that was able to escape past your lips because of how much force soobin was using to keep your mouth covered.

"fuck look at your tits. so perfect just for me, hm?" his free hand groped your breasts again as he massages one with his hand and sucks on the other one, letting out a muffled gasp and moan from you.

he sucks on each nipple with care, the quite opposite of what he was doing with your hole. he was making sure he abused it to the fullest as his tip hit and reached all the right places.

the time he finally uncovered your mouth was when he was close. he moved his hands off of where ever he had them and gripped your hips tightly, going at an inhuman pace now.

tears swell in your eyes from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through your body as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten, feeling like your climax would hit at any given moment.

"i-i'm gonna cum binnie! binnie-!!" you whisper, your voice breathy from all your energy spent but soobin keeps his composure despite your announcement and keep going, admiring the way his big cock slips in and out of your small cunt.

and just like that, he cums, both of you do. it feels so heavenly when you're finally able to release all over his cock, a loud moan being the last sound you make before it's replaced by heavy panting.

"fucking slut take it..." soobin mumbles before his cum shoots inside of you, painting your gummy walls white as he lets out a groan from pleasure.

soobin smirks at you with such a sweet delight in his eyes, "you did so well didn't you, bunny? you were able to keep quiet, i knew you could do it." he speaks in such a proud tone of voice that you blush.

he pulls his softened cock out of your messy and sticky hole and puts it back into his pants without cleaning himself off. your panties fall back in place as soobin places you back on your now weak legs.

"you were such a good girl for me, baby" he smiles innocently as if he hadn't just ruined your hole. he glances at the top you were trying on and picks it off the small bench that he had been sitting on.

"get dressed and let's go pay for this top, okay?"

#soobin hard thoughts #soobin hard hours #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #soobin fic #txt fic #txt smut #soobin x reader #soobin x you #soobin x y/n #choi soobin #txt #soobin

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kingkat12 · 3 months ago

Text

hurt people hurt people (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, ANGST, throwing up, gore, jealousy schemes, Roman calling people uncouth mongoloids which is literally the same as in the book lol, and major risk of emotional damage (I warned you)

summary: this night would turn out to be the worst of your life-- of our lives. I hope you don't mind that I'm talking to you directly this time?

word count: 11,273

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

a/n: this is absolutely insane to me... I cannot believe I've FINISHED WRITING A BOOK?? thank you all SO so so much for being a part of this wild ride and for supporting my work, I couldn't have gotten here without all the love and all the comments, I couldn't have gotten this far without you all; therefore, I'm so so excited to give you the ultimate gift-- the last chapter of seven minutes in heaven!! ENJOY!!<333

... Alright.

We've gotten this far. It's Friday, and I need to give Roman an answer, so I'll be quick; after all the shit that has gone down these past months, after everything I've brought you along with me for, I only have one question for you...

Have you understood it yet?

Have you really?

I could sit on Jasmine's front porch for hours and tell you the story of Roman Godfrey over and over, but nothing would ever change. You'd still love him, you'd still ache for him, just as I've done since the moment I saw him. We're in the same boat, after all-- you and I.

Oh, and speaking of Jasmine; her party was the best I had attended in years. Catch the irony? The bass from the music inside thudded through the floor of the porch, vibrating up through my shoes, through my bones, syncing with the frantic rhythm of my heart, and I was therefore glad to be outside now; the ceilings had felt too low, the walls too close, and the crowd swelled like a living, breathing thing-- loud, erratic, suffocating. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

But out on the porch, right now, I could. Even when I thought about the fact that one week had passed, that I was supposed to have an answer for Roman regarding whether we could get together again or not, I could at least breathe.

I let out a sharp laugh for no one but myself, clutching the bottle of rosé I had managed to steal from my parents' cupboard. It was almost empty now, which was a first for me; I wasn't the biggest drinker, initially. Or was I? I couldn't make up my mind.

Being drunk, alone, and vulnerable at a party wasn't the smartest thing I could be doing, I know. As if she would magically appear, I swayed a little where I sat on the porch step glancing around for Letha-- I remember her smiling at me when we walked in together, but... wait, had she actually? Maybe she hadn't? Maybe that was someone else? Or maybe I just wanted her to smile, so I made it up? You'd believe me, wouldn't you? You'd have no choice but to.

You have no choice but to see what's gonna unfold tonight through my eyes, actually. And maybe I'm finally talking directly to you because I can't deal with it all alone?

... Don't click away just yet, please.

Stay, just a little longer.

Yes, you.

I made sure to drink the last few drops left of my rosé before saying bye to the quietness of Jasmine's front porch. My steps were heavy as I dragged my feet back into the house, yet the soundwave that hit me when I opened the door nearly knocked me to the ground nonetheless-- it didn't take long before my head started pounding to the beat of the music again.

All I knew, was that I needed to look busy. I needed to not stay too long in one place, just in case I'd run into people I didn't want to run into; I was still a bit scarred from my hellish prom-night, where I hadn't managed to get away from Daniel when he dragged me down the hall. However, he wasn't here tonight, so my biggest evasions were Letha and Roman. Sometimes, you just have to be drunk and miserable in peace, no?

Instinctively, I toyed with the vial of Roman's blood around my neck for comfort, letting the chain slip through my fingers; I had missed the weight of it. Missed the feeling of having him so close to my heart. I twisted it in the light-- red, gleaming, sharp. It had felt right to wear it tonight, and I thought it would serve as a comfort (and it did), but at the end of it all, I was still at a party I didn't want to be at.

The music was too loud. The lights were too bright. Everything moved too fast, or maybe too slow?-- I couldn't tell. I wasn't even sure of anything anymore, except that this place smelled like beer and sweat and smoke, and I put away my rosé on a nearby table and switched it with an unopened cider a bit further away. As long as no one caught me stealing, I could get away with it, right? Now that I was at it, I also grabbed the jacket closest to me hanging on the rack in the hallway, wrapping it around me despite it not being mine-- the weight of it nearly made it stumble, yet I persisted.

The cider was cold in my hand, and shockingly so. Nonetheless, I slipped it into the pocket of my jacket as I choked back a drunk hiccup-- it was only when a couple stumbled past me, bumping into me rather harshly, that I realized I had to get away from the main event of the party, which was downstairs.

I felt so dead. So, so dead. My body was simply dead weight-- dead, dead, dead. Broken. I couldn't handle this feeling, so I climbed the stairs, clutching the banister like it was the only thing anchoring me to this earth. My legs felt heavy, but my brain felt heavier, and every step echoed through my skull. Thud. Thud. Thud. I stopped halfway up because-- I don't know? I forgot why I was going up in the first place. There was an empty spot at the top of the stairs, a place where the purple lights didn't reach, where the music was muffled, where I could pretend for a second that I wasn't completely falling apart. So I slumped down, pulling the jacket tighter around me as if it could protect me from the cold that had nothing to do with the air.

And that's when I felt it-- the pack of cigarettes in the pocket.

Not mine.

Roman's.

It took me a good few seconds before I realized I had picked his jacket out of all the people that had put them away on the rack, and I could only groan. Suppressing another hiccup, my fingers brushed against the familiar cardboard, the worn edges, and the faint scent of cinnamon that clung to the paper. With some further rummaging in the pockets, I found his blood-red lighter, yet the back of it felt rougher than before; I had held it out for him several times, you see.

I flipped it, holding my breath--

Only to realize that Roman had carved our initials into the back of it.

After all the times he had made fun of me for doing that exact thing to a tree a while back, I could only huff at the irony as some people stepped over my body to get up the stairs. The thumping of my head only worsened, because honestly? In this state? It felt like an invitation. Roman could've literally carved I-know-you-stole-my-jacket-so-take-a-smoke-you-pretty-little-fucker, and it would've been the same thing. Or did the carvings make it more private? Should I maybe not be touching this at all?

... Fuck it.

I took one out, hands trembling like a damn idiot, and lit it. The flame flickered, tiny and fragile, and I stared at it like I was seeing fire for the first time.

Then, I inhaled--

And holy fucking shit, you wouldn't believe how awful it was. Sharp and spicy and bitter, and it clawed at my throat like it wanted to kill me. Maybe that's what Roman secretly wanted? To kill me with these fucking cigarettes? I coughed, choking on the smoke, but I didn't stop. I took another drag, then another, until my head was spinning and my chest felt tight, and I didn't care. I wanted to feel it-- the pain of it all. I wanted it to be physical, wanted it to kill me. I wanted it to set my lungs ablaze, and I wanted it to burn me up from the inside with slow and tortuous flames.

Pained, I sat there, legs pulled up against my chest, with the cigarette between my fingers like it belonged there, and I let the smoke sting my eyes, sting my lungs. Over and over, I told myself it was just the smoke that made me want to cry... nothing else.

And then, of course, of fucking course, I saw him.

Appearing into the hallway with a careless laugh, I watched Roman through the banister of the stairs, standing there like some kind of vision, like the universe just wanted to punish me for giving in to a sinful cigarette. He hadn't seen me-- not yet. But I couldn't take my eyes off him, couldn't stop the way my heart leapt and sank all at once. He looked beautiful. Terrible. The kind of beauty that ruins you. Dark hair, unruly shirt, his eyes flickering with something I couldn't read from across the room; and then I saw who he was with.

Jessica was there, breathlessly clinging to Roman. My Roman. It was clear that she revelled in the arm he had lazily draped over her shoulders, and she giggled as her hand clutched at his shirt like he was the best thing that had ever happened to her, like she was blessed to be getting even a sliver of his attention.

But Roman wasn't looking at her, not really.

No-- he was scanning the room like he was waiting for something, someone.

And when his eyes found mine, everything stilled. The music, the voices, the haze of smoke and bodies; all of it faded when our eyes locked.

I froze on the stairs, the cigarette hanging between my fingers-- I inhaled, slow and deep, trying not to fall apart, and exhaled like it could push him out of my system as I refused to look away.

But Roman didn't move. Not yet.

It was subtle-- the way his mouth curved, not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. For a second, I thought he was proud to see me smoking, finally, until the glint in his eyes turned sharp, predatory. He glanced at Jessica like he had forgotten she was there, and in that split second, I knew.

And you know what's gonna happen now, too, don't you?

Roman shifted, turning toward her, and his hand came up-- fingertips tracing her jaw, slow, almost lazy, just like he used to touch me. Jessica leaned in, her eyes fluttering closed, hungry for him, oblivious to who, what, she was keening against.

And then he kissed her, right there, right in front of me.

Deeply. Lovingly.

Roman's plush lips moved against hers, his hand tangled in her hair, and the sight of it was absolutely brutal-- it was the kind of kiss meant to calm someone, to soothe them, to show them you love them, and it was exactly how he used to kiss me. The sight of it nearly made me throw myself down the stairs, my body aching with the pain and betrayal of it all, but the kiss wasn't about her; it would never be about her.

Because the whole time, Roman's eyes stayed locked on me.

I couldn't look away, not when he commanded my attention in this way. He kissed her like he was punishing me, like this was the type of psychological warfare-discipline I needed to properly understand that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. And all I could do was sit there like the pathetic fucking loser I was, the cigarette burning down to the filter, smoke stinging my eyes, my throat, my heart. I felt myself grab at the vial of his blood tucked away under my shirt; I couldn't look away, but I couldn't stand to watch it, because I wasn't just watching him destroy me-- I was letting him.

When Roman finally pulled back (after a millennia passed, surely), Jessica looked dazed, like she'd just realized she was the luckiest girl in the world, her lips swollen and red. But Roman didn't even glance at her-- his thumb brushed his own bottom lip, that wicked smirk carved into his face, and he stared at me like he knew exactly what he had done.

He wanted me broken-- broken enough to come running right back.

But I wasn't going to break this quickly.

It took everything that I had in me to get up, yet I somehow managed. With a shaky breath, and with my heart actively falling apart, I slid up along the wall for support, hoping I wouldn't fall right down the stairs-- I wasn't exactly making it easier for myself, because I was simultaneously throwing away my used cigarette and lighting a new one.

Wrapping myself further up in Roman's jacket, I let the cigarette hang loosely from my lip as I hoisted my arm up to raise my middle finger at him.

Roman chuckled, clearly having expected it, before responding with draping his arms around Jessica, cupping her face as she continued talking up at him, oblivious that he was having a stare-off with me. Roman dragged his fingers through her golden locks like he loved her above anyone else in the world, urging me to come down and fight for his attention, for him, for us--

But God, he was insufferable. I could see it all the way from here; he was mouthing come on.

Come here.

I know you want to.

... And I really wanted to, believe me.

But instead, I snorted, rolled my eyes, and shook my head-- and this turned out to be one of the worst ideas of the night. Shaking my head in this state, full of nicotine and rosé, was certainly not one of my brightest moments. With quick steps, I turned around on my heel and marched up the stairs, away from Roman and his fucked up antics as the back of my throat filled with acid. I couldn't throw up on the stairs, now, could I?

The first bathroom I found ended up being occupied, hence why I stormed into the kitchen on the second floor-- how massive was this house? I had never seen a kitchen on any floor but the first. In retaliation of what Jasmine had done to me earlier this year, I stumped my new cigarette on the wall and dragged it along the tapestry, wasting it. My thoughts were racing with how infuriating Jasmine's stupid house was, and how pissed she'd be when she saw how I had trashed her wall, but I pushed my way to the sink, hunching over it just in case I was about to barf up my whole left lung.

The kitchen was loud, hot, too hot, and filled with the thump of the party music bleeding in from the living room. It pounded through the walls, muffled the laughter around me, and people shouting over the music blended into a hum that made my temples ache-- I was two seconds away from bursting into tears.

Thankfully, my only source of comfort appeared behind me with a soothing hand on my back, reaching for my hair as I leaned over the sink; Letha. Her touch gave me a major deja vu from the night Roman and I first kissed, when she had held my hair back when I felt sick.

Roman and I-- kissing.

Roman... kissing.

Roman kissing Jessica.

I let myself gag at the memory as tears welled in my eyes. "There, there," Letha cooed, bending down to catch the look on my face. I wondered whether she smelled the cigarettes on me, or whether she had noticed the fact that I was wearing Roman's jacket. "What's got you like this, hm? You just disappeared, and now..." She leaned in, sniffing me. "Girl, you smell like a bombed whorehouse! Who have you been hanging around? Jack?"

The memory of Jack Edwards almost made me laugh-- I caught myself, fighting back the acid in my throat as I made sure the vial of Roman's blood was safely tucked beneath my shirt and out of Letha's sight. "I drank the whole bottle of rosé," I confessed.

"What? You had barely touched it the last time I saw you, how on earth did you manage?" Letha's laugh was teasing, her voice laced with that soft concern she always wore like perfume. Heavy. Suffocating. I wondered whether this was how it felt like to live in East Germany after the Second World War-- watched.

"I don't know," I muttered, placing my hand over the vial again. If I really focused, I could imagine that it was beating, like Roman's caged blood was still pumping to his heart. "I don't feel good."

Letha hummed, patting my back over and over. "You can take it just a little more, though, right...? I told Jack you felt bad about what happened on the bleachers the other day, and he still wants to have a chat with you!--"

"No!" I sucked in a sharp breath, gagging on the vomit threatening its way up my throat. Grabbing the counter to steady myself, I rocked back and forth to keep myself grounded.

Yet Letha pressed on as she pushed people away from the sink; this party was way too damn crowded. "But Jack could be the perfect distraction for you!" she insisted. "He's cute, he's kind, he's nothing like Roman, he's!--"

"I said no!" Jack hadn't told Letha that Roman and I had fucked; that was all that mattered to me. Nonetheless, I somehow managed to not throw up when I straightened up, taking deep breaths as I turned to her. "You're really fucking insistent, do you know that?"

Letha raised an eyebrow, setting her drink down with a soft clink. "Christ, what's wrong now?"

I didn't answer right away, hoping my offence would sift through my fingers. The question hung heavy and loaded in the air, too simple, too dismissive. The noise of the party pressed in from all sides, but here, with her, it felt like we were in a vacuum, the tension building by the second, and just for a moment, I had the oddest thought-- Letha would've been a good KGB agent. Her interrogation techniques could be polished, sure, but somewhere in that blonde girl was an intense, manipulative Russian.

... God, I was way too drunk.

With a sigh, I leaned back over the sink, trying to keep myself steady. "Guess I'm just tired, Letha--"

"Tired from what, smoking?" Letha tilted her head, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I can smell it on you, y'know? You smell like a Godfrey. Is this about Roman again?"

Something about her tone set my teeth on edge. I didn't answer, but my silence said enough; I was afraid I'd start barking if I opened my mouth.

"Are we really going back to this?" Letha huffed, softly, like she was doing me a favour, like she hadn't been the one dragging knives across my heart for weeks. "How many times do I have to tell you that you need to start taking active steps to get over him? It's like you never listen! My words go in one ear and out the other!"

I felt the first sparks of anger flare in my chest, hot and sudden; "You've told me a lot of things,"

"What's that supposed to mean?!--"

"It means," I hissed, gripping the counter so hard my knuckles were going white. "That I don't think you've ever really been honest with me. Not about him, not about anything."

Letha let out an offended laugh before her smile vanished-- the look on my face was unmistakeable, and it set her off. "I've always been honest with you, unlike what you have been with me!"

"Bullshit. Do you really not get it, or are you just pretending as always?"

Her brows knit together; "Pretending?"

"Yeah, pretending. Like how you pretended to support me, to be my friend, to have my back? I've let you do this for weeks!" My chest tightened, each word tumbling out sharper than the last. "God, Letha, you reacted like I murdered someone when I told you about Roman and I! I was honest with you, I fessed up, and you basically spat in my face!"

Every inch of Letha seemed to tighten. "You're drunk," she said through gritted teeth. "Calm down, please, before you throw up all over yourself!--"

"Oh, fuck you,"

"... What?!"

I had to suppress a grin; I had waited too long to say that.

Letha's mouth opened slightly, stunned. She glanced around the party, making sure no one was catching the verbal beating she was taking-- I knew she'd care if someone noticed. She'd care a lot. "You know why I reacted the way I did!" she hissed, lowering her voice as she got closer to my face. "He's been getting with my friends for ages, and you were getting yourself into something dangerous!--"

"No!" I cut her off, voice rising along with my nausea. "No, I told you about it because I trusted you! I didn't lie, I came clean to you, and fucking hell, Jesus treated Judas better than you treated me!--"

My yelling, along with the mix of rosé and cigarettes, finally pushed my body over the edge. Gagging, I threw myself over the sink to finally throw up; "O-Oh, fuck!--" The concoction that left me was beyond anything I had ever secreted. All my pain, all my anger, balled up into whatever the fuck it was that left my mouth.

Immediately, Letha's hands flew to my hair, holding it back as I threw up in Jasmine's sink. Despite our fight, despite the verbal abuse, she was still making sure I was alright-- it made my heart ache. Everything about this night was tearing at my heart, actually; images of Roman kissing Jessica flashed before my eyes as my body burned. Was I maybe about to have a heart attack? I was surely susceptible of one.

As I cried into the sink, sobbing with pain, Letha traced soothing patterns into my back, hushing me gently. "Shh... You'll be alright," she tried. "I know it feels like your world is ending, but you'll be alright. Someday, you won't even remember this."

My chest felt like it was caving in on itself. How could I ever forget any of this? How could I ever forget Roman?

"I'm sorry if I've been a bad friend," Letha continued, carefully stroking through my hair. "I hope you can forgive me... and I hope that we can someday forgive each other. Because at the end of all of this, through it all, all I ever wanted was for us to be friends again, and... for me to have someone in my court if everything goes down." Her words were small, fragile; "I just wanted my friend back."

I garnered the strength to look back at Letha, heart pounding, and before I could think it through, my drunken confession came tumbling out; "I slept with him,"

Letha's eyes rounded out as she slowly let go of my hair. "What?" she breathed.

"Yeah," My words were quiet as I pulled my shirt down to expose the hickey on the peak of my shoulder. "On the library floor, a week ago." I was sure she could spot the outline of the vial around my neck as I adjusted the jacket draped around me-- I could see in Letha's eyes that everything in her mind was actively falling apart.

And therefore, I delivered the final blow; "Can you forgive me now? Truly, Letha?"

The silence between us that followed was crushing, all-taking. It felt like I had been sucked into a plastic bag, with the air being drained with me stuck inside of it. Letha's lips parted, ready to speak, yet I saw that she couldn't find the right words to say.

But what followed would flip the narrative completely.

"Yeah... I can,"

My face ticked, and I felt my eye twitch as my words left me with my next breath; "What?" The music pounded through the walls, bass-heavy and relentless. Voices swelled, laughter spiked, but here, in the dim glow of the kitchen, everything felt suffocatingly small. My stomach was still twisting, nausea rolling in waves as I clutched the counter-- what was happening?

Letha's breath was unsteady, but when she spoke again, her voice was calm and unshaken. "I can forgive you," she repeated, like she was offering me the grandest admission of mercy.

I blinked at her, the words catching somewhere in my throat.

With a sigh, Letha brushed nonexistent dust off her dress before smoothing down her hair. "Because that's what friends do. We forgive, even when it hurts... And you're my best friend, so this time, I forgive you,"

Somewhere behind us, someone let out a shriek of laughter, bottles clinking in celebration. My head was spinning, my stomach churning from more than just the alcohol-- this felt wrong. Was this really happening?

Letha tilted her head slightly, watching me struggle. "I'm not going to pretend this doesn't hurt," she admitted, voice barely audible over the chaos outside the kitchen. "But I mean it. I just want you to be okay, and it's okay to... slip up, I guess. You're human, unlike a big part of him." She took a step back, giving me space-- she was the gracious one here, as always. "Because that's what friends do, right?" Her lips curved, not quite a smile. "We forgive. We put each other first."

The weight of her words settled in my chest in the most unpleasant way possible. "I'm supposed to tell him whether I want to give us another chance," I confessed. "Like... tonight. Right now."

Letha's hand found my back again, fingers light. I was scared she'd get mad, that she'd start cussing me out, but alas... nothing. "Okay, I see," she said, softer now. "I know you love him, but love doesn't change what he is. It doesn't change what he could do to you. Keep that in mind when you make your decision."

I swallowed hard, nausea curling tight inside me. Did I know? Did I really? My grip tightened around the counter; was I getting swayed?

Letha shook her head, her brows knitting together, like she hated to be the one saying this; "You don't have to prove anything. Not to him, not to me. You just... have to do what's right," She sighed, giving me one last careful look. "And I hope you know that I'll be here for you, no matter what."

... Fuck.

Roman's pack of cigarettes felt heavy in my pocket again, and I hated it. Hated the blood-red lighter in the other, next to the cold cider. Hated the way he had carved our initials into it like some twisted promise. But fate had a tight, deadly grip around me that I couldn't get out of-- I somehow managed to wry myself away from Letha and the kitchen with a red solo cup filled with water, downing it as I made my way down the stairs.

It was time to give Roman an answer-- the answer I didn't want to give him, the one I never thought I'd give him.

I shoved my way down through the crowd with my heart thumping in my chest. Was I gonna find Roman with Jessica? This was giving me an intense case of deja vu from all the times I had actually seen him with other girls, before we ever started dating. Was I gonna catch him making out with Jessica somewhere, even after he had sent me that excruciatingly long voice mail where he could only profess his love for me over and over?

But that wasn't love.

Him kissing Jessica in front of me like that-- that couldn't be love.

Letha had been right all along, hadn't she?

I pushed through the people dancing in the living room downstairs, trying to ignore the laughter and the small talk that surrounded me. It felt like a different world, one that had nothing to do with me right now. I was desperate for a moment of clarity, and the only person who could give me that was Roman... yet I didn't dare to find him. I didn't want to see him with Jessica. I couldn't bare the sight of it.

I shoved open the back door to the yard, and cold night air hit me like a slap. I welcomed it. The darkness out there was different from the party lights. It was real. Still. Empty.

I wasn't alone for long; I heard footsteps behind me, and the soft, deliberate crunching against the floor of the porch quickly become unmistakeable. The door closed shut as I leaned against the wood structure leading to the garden-- I knew who this was. Letting out a sigh, I reached for the cider in my pocket, cracking it open with a hiss despite knowing I shouldn't have any more drinks tonight.

The first sip was sharp, bitter, but it cut through the lump in my throat I got from knowing Roman was here with me, alone. I let my eyes follow him when he walked into sight, leaning against the wooden frame opposite me with that Godfrey nonchalance I was used to from him. His shirt had been tucked back in, his hair had been combed back into place-- something told me he had prepared to corner me since he watched me leave with his jacket.

Roman's eyes were so mesmerizing, so green. It was the most beautiful shade of green. It was such a shame to see them glossed over by that searching look in them, the exact look that gave away his hidden anxiety. Finally, he spoke, nodding to my drink with his usual charm; "I don't think you should be having more of those,"

It only made me clutch the cider harder, steading my footing on the porch so that I wouldn't tumble into the grass to my side. "Fuck off,"

"Oh, yeah? You wanna go there?"

"Yeah," After seeing him kissing Jessica like that? Sure.

Roman rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw to stop himself from arguing back right away. He looked so strict like this-- it was painfully arousing. He plucked the bottle from my grasp with ease, lifting it to his lips as if daring me to stop him; his smirk widened when I didn't.

Forfeiting my cider allowed me to dip my hand back into my pocket and fish out the lighter and the cigarettes. Roman's eyes widened as he watched me put two cigarettes in my mouth, about to light them both, before he snatched one of them from between my lips; "Careful, there," he said, throwing it away somewhere. "Don't get too excited. You'll go into nicotine shock."

"Don't care," I lit the one I had left, but not without glaring at him properly. "I already threw up tonight."

"You did?"

"Yeah,"

"Oh, you fragile thing," he cooed, amused. "You're going to ruin yourself like this."

I bet that some part of him would've loved to see that. I snorted; "Don't care,"

Roman's brows drew together when he realized I was completely serious, when he saw that my empty look wasn't wavering. "Yeah... I got that," He mumbled, shaking his head. "Jeez, you're dramatic tonight."

I let the silence stretch as I simply glared at him; if he thought this was me at my most dramatic, then he didn't know me at all.

Roman watched me, waiting for me to argue, to snap at him, to give him something to work with. When I didn't, his smirk faltered and his voice softened; "What is this, then, hm? You trying to prove a point?"

I inhaled deeply. "Nah, that's your way of doing this," The smoke burned, stung my throat, but I needed it, needed something to hold onto as my pulse pounded against my ribs; it made my pain about his kiss with Jessica physical. I needed it to be, so my brain wouldn't fry itself.

Roman sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Listen, I get it, alright? You're mad about Jessica. You wanna play hard to get, fine. But let's cut the bullshit, cause you're not going anywhere," He said it like it was a fact, like it was already decided-- "Not really."

He was so sure of it.

So sure of us.

I couldn't look at him anymore. I couldn't watch Roman fall apart all over again when he would realize what I had chosen, not when I was still so irrevocably angry with him. My gaze fell to the floor as I remained silent, waiting for it to dawn on him.

Roman's smirk wavered in the cold night air. He searched my face, waiting for the usual pattern-- for me to scoff, roll my eyes, shove him and say something biting but not final.

... I did none of those things.

His fingers twitched with nervous anticipation. "You're mad," he said, slower this time. "Say something. Humour me, yeah? Pretend that you actually love me, just for a second."

"Fuck you,"

"Baby, come on—"

"Don't say I don't love you. If I didn't, I wouldn't be standing here after you pulled that crap with Jessica just now! If I didn't love you, I would be inside running around to find Jack,"

Roman's green eyes widened— was it the shock of the threat, or the fact that he had made that threat a reality he had to fear? The party seemed so far away, and our life together felt even further away than that. "I'm sorry about Jessica," he breathed. "You know it's nothing personal, you know I can't stand her guts. I just thought you'd... I thought it would be good to show you what life's gonna be like if we don't end up together."

I almost chuckled-- did he really think that was a good plan? Did he really think that'd work? My eyes darted to the cigarette between my fingers while I wondered whether or not to torture myself with another drag. "You wanted to show me that you'll go back to sleeping with the cheerleaders while I become a chain-smoker?" I snarked. "Sounds like a wet dream of yours."

"That's not what I meant!—"

"What did you mean, then?!"

"I don't!— I don't want to keep talking about this!" Roman flailed his arms, frustrated; "It's not relevant, because we're not going to be apart, and because we're going to my place later and!-- and you're going to fall asleep next to me again, and your hair will be all over my pillow in the morning, and we're going to be okay!"

Oh, how I wanted us to be.

But the way he described it made me realize he might've not fully developed his consequential thinking. Did he really think that was a realistic end of this night after what he had done?

I felt tongue-tied by my shock, frozen like an icicle to Jasmine's stupid porch. What he had just described, was all I wanted. I wanted to go to Roman's place later, wanted to feel his arm around me as he pulled me closer in his slumber, and I wanted to lie around in bed while fighting sleep to get a few more minutes with him. Swallowing hard, I did my best to waft away the memories flashing before me, yet I soon realized it was an impossible task.

Roman's eyes rounded out with his next breath, his heart visibly breaking--

"Cause... you're choosing us, right?"

My mouth repeatedly opened and closed, stuck. How could I, after everything?

Meanwhile Roman's gaze flickered over my mine, searching for some confirmation, some reassurance that I was just being difficult, that I was still his-- it was a heartbreaking sight. It only made me grip the cigarette tighter, feeling the heat against my fingers. It was dying out, just as I was, just as we were.

Something cracked in Roman's expression. "You're serious," he breathed.

It broke me to realize that I was.

This had to end.

It had to.

Roman's face hardened as he took a step closer. The air between us thickened, turning heavy with something more than just tension-- something sharp, something raw. "You're seriously doing this?" he muttered, the disbelief in his tone prevailing. "After everything? After all of this time, you just-- we're done? Like that?"

My throat was too tight, and all the words got trapped inside. In a way, it felt like I was choking on everything said and unsaid.

Roman's hands were clenched, and the tension in his shoulders made him seem even taller, more imposing. A part of me was scared he'd pounce, that he'd be overcome by whatever upir instincts he had beneath his pretty appearance-- I didn't want to think about it. I was afraid I'd scream and run away if I did. To distract myself, I put my cigarette out on the ledge nearby; I didn't care about the state of Jasmine's house.

I wasn't sure whether my quiet motions read as nonchalance, but it seemed to shove Roman closer to the edge. "You're pushing me away, even after all my fucking reassurance? Even after your voicemail? I gave you everything, I showed you that I'm nothing to be scared of, and you're just... walking away like I'm nothing, over some kiss? Did you ever even love me?"

That question knocked the air out of me. "Some kiss?!"

"Yes!"

"Roman you've— you've proven yourself to be exactly who I feared you'd be all along!" I yelled. "Someone who hurts me!"

Desperate, Roman grabbed my arm, his grip tight, but not enough to hurt. His eyes searched mine, pleading-- "Come on," he begged, his voice shaking now. "I love you. I really fucking love you."

"No! Because you if truly did love me, you wouldn't be hurting me as a means to get back together with me! You're a child!" I snapped, finally giving in to my frustrations. Drunkenly trying to wry myself out of his grip, I felt my tears burn in my eyes, blurring my vision. "This has to end! You and I, it has to end! Letha's right, you will always want to fuck the cheerleaders, and you will always be a upir, and that will never change!--"

My breath stopped in my chest-- fuck.

Letha.

It was the first time I had verbally confirmed it, and I knew I had shot myself in the foot with it.

The name hung in the air like poison, and Roman looked like he'd been gutted by it.

He stared at me for a long, horrible moment, his eyes wide with disbelief. His grip loosened around my wrist; "You--" he started, his voice hoarse. "You're... serious? So that's it? You're throwing us away because of her? Because of the shit she's been feeding you to take revenge on me?!"

"It's not all because of her, Roman, but she's right! Letha is right that you'll always be dangerous, that you'll always have some underlying urges, and that you'll never be safe to be around!" My voice cracked as I said it; there it was, a cold, harsh truth I couldn't ignore anymore. "You said you'd never hurt me, but you're like a ticking fucking bomb in more aspects than I can count on my fingers!"

That was it; Roman snapped, his fist slamming into the wooden structure I was leaning against with a deafening crack, making it shake. "Bullshit!"

The boom of it made me flinch and squeak in terror, and instinctively, my hands shot out to push him away, shoving him with all the strength I could muster in my panicked state. "You're scaring me again!" I yelled, heaving for air. "Stop it! I beg you, just stop it!"

Stunned by his own outburst and its consequence, Roman allowed me to push him. He could've planted himself to his spot, could've resisted with no problem, but he took a step back for my comfort.

My heart was pounded against my ribs as tears filled my eyes. I couldn't have him barging at me like that, not when I was this hurt, scared, and drunk. A man that truly loved me wouldn't be doing this, right? My legs shook with the remnants of the heaviness of the conversation, and I heaved for air with terrified gasps as I decided to turn on my heel.

Immediately, Roman went into action-- "Wait, please!" His voice instinctively softened as he rummaged through his brain for the best course of action. "I'm sorry, okay?! I just don't want to lose you, I'm freaking out here!" He reached out for me, but it was too late.

I was already backing away, not looking back, not waiting for any more apologies— I knew I wouldn't believe them anymore.

Even the heaviness of Roman's jacket couldn't slow me down, not when I was this desperate to get away from my terrifying breakup-- the sound of music and chatter met me when I opened the door back to the house, but the pounding of my heart nearly drowned it all out.

Roman's voice followed me inside, each word an attempt to reel me back, but I wasn't turning around. I couldn't look at him; I couldn't do that to myself.

"Come on!" he yelled through the deafening noise. "Are we really doing this again?!"

I made my way through the living room, not looking for anything but an escape. The staircase loomed ahead, and without thinking, I shot up the stairs, taking them two at a time as my legs shook with adrenaline and fear. The air in the house felt suffocating now, the walls closing in as I reached the top of the stairs and darted down the hallway. This was not happening. This was not happening. I was too drunk for this-- were the walls actually moving? The more I looked at them, the more I had a feeling they were pulsing, inching closer to squeeze me to death.

Speaking of death-- Roman's footsteps grew closer, and his voice got louder; "Please, we can fix this! Just hear me out, please!—"

With my heart hammering in my chest, I glanced back to calculate how long I had until he caught up to me. Panicked, I grabbed at every room in the hallway, pushing past the people blocking my way as I desperately suppressed my tears from running down my cheeks.

This was not happening.

Roman dragged a hand through his hair, angry, desperate, as his long footsteps allowed him to chase me down with ease. "You're making a mistake!" he pleaded. "Let's talk it out, okay? Please, please, just listen, I love you, I'll calm down, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise!--"

With a scared squeak, I finally managed to force a door open; thank fuck. But before I could even step fully into the room, Roman's leg shot forward, forcing the door back, and in an instant, I realized there was no way I could keep him out-- I stumbled backward, eyes wide and frantic as I turned away from him to start planning my escape.

And then, my breath caught.

Because what I saw inside the room, was Letha half-naked on the bed--

With Peter beneath her.

My body froze for a split second before a scream ripped itself from my throat; I shrieked, mortified as I stumbled backwards.

What...

... The fuck?!

Letha and Peter scrambled to untangle themselves, their eyes widening with panic as they tried to hide the obvious. Peter's shirt was half undone, and Letha's hair was a mess, both of them completely caught off guard. The sight of them in that moment, exposed and guilty, made my chest tighten in a way I couldn't describe; I knew exactly what I had just walked in on.

And Roman, in a blur of motion, rushed forward-- his arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me to his chest with surprising force. One hand covered my eyes, blocking my view of the chaos I had just walked in on to shield me. "What the fuck?!" he barked, kicking the door shut behind us. "What's this?!"

My mind was actively melting against Roman's chest. It didn't help the situation that I could smell his usual cologne better than ever— God, I'd miss that smell in the coming years, wouldn't I?

But Peter and Letha were still scrambling, wide-eyed, and before they could say anything, Roman continued; "Are you out of your fucking minds?!"

Was this maybe just a drunk hallucination of sorts? Was this really happening? Letha and Peter? I should've listened to Jack earlier this week-- I should've listened to myself, because I had suspected something for a while, hadn't I?

Peter was the first one to talk, visibly panicking; "Ro, calm down!--"

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down! What the fuck are you doing with my cousin, man?!"

"Letha and I were just!--"

"Yeah, I see what you were just doing, you filthy piece of shit!"

"Dude, I'm sorry, I tried to tell you! Over and over, I swear, I tried to!--"

"Tell me what?! Is this not a one time thing? Is that what all your bullshit has been about?!" Roman yelled. "You calling me at prom and then not saying shit? All the times you've said you were busy when I knew you were just at home?" I could feel his chest raise with the air he forced inside his lungs-- a part of me was scared he'd faint from the anger. "You've been fucking my cousin?!"

"And you've fucked all the friends I've ever had!" Letha yelled back, protecting Peter while struggling to straighten her dress. Then she pointed to me, eyes drilling into Romans'; "I begged you not to touch her all those months ago too, but you didn't listen either!"

A sick laugh ripped from Roman's throat, and when he finally pulled his hand away from my face, I saw it; the pure, unfiltered rage in his expression. "You have got to be fucking kidding me!" He stepped forward, eyes locking onto Letha. "You have been in her ear for weeks-- weeks!" He jabbed a finger toward me, his voice breaking slightly. "You've been telling her to stay away from me, telling her I'm dangerous, that I'll hurt her, while you've been making my life a living hell for the same thing that you have been doing too all along!"

"Roman, I!--"

"You sick fuck!" he barked, and the sheer volume of it made me flinch.

My head was spinning to the point where I thought I'd throw up again. It felt like a painful vibration in the front of my brain, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I pressed my palm to my forehead. Without thinking, I put my free hand on Roman's arm, silently telling him to give me a second. "How long has this been going on?" I tried.

Peter and Letha anxiously glanced at one another, looking like they were both ready for the world to swallow them whole. "I don't--" Letha started.

"-- Don't know," Peter mumbled, looking guilty as ever. "Three months? Maybe four?-- Ouch!"

Letha smacked his arm, visibly upset that he had admitted that. "Stop talking! You've already stressed me out with wanting to tell Roman about us, you've done enough!"

"He deserves to know!" Peter tried. His brown eyes were big with disgrace; "I told you I didn't want to hide this, I told you he might understand!"

This kicked Roman into the next gear. "Understand...? Understand?!" The boom of his voice made Peter turn white, and Letha grabbed the sheets of the bed as though they would somehow shield her. "Dude, you're fucking my cousin! I could rip your fucking head off right now if I wanted to, and you best believe that I do!--"

In timely manner, I suddenly gagged, clasping a hand over my mouth; that thankfully shut everyone up for second. This was too much for one night.

"She's gonna throw up," Letha mumbled. In true Godfrey fashion, she used this as an opportunity to start slowly scooting toward the edge of the bed, hoping for an easy escape. "We need to get her back to the kitchen sink, and then we can all talk about this when she feels better in a few days!--"

My hand shot up into the air, holding my pointer up as I recovered.

It was a very clear sign of shut up.

Shut.

Up.

I straightened my back, feeling my eye twitch with newfound anger. "Is that what you meant earlier, Letha?" I asked, my voice frail and quiet, yet steady. "When you said you wanted to have someone in your court if everything went down? Have you... been setting everything up for this?"

The silence in the room was deafening.

Letha swallowed hard; "Look, I just--"

"Have you been breaking Roman and I up so that I'd be on your side?" I continued, cutting her off. "You knew that Peter was going to tell Roman about you two eventually. And when he'd find out, you... needed me to be your friend again so that you wouldn't be alone. Because this will... this will cost you everything, Letha."

I gagged again at the realization-- Roman's arm shot forward to catch me from tumbling. I held onto him, feeling the tears press on in my eyes. "You didn't want to be friends with me," I breathed, my words coming out as clear whispers. "You just needed someone that was isolated. I was vulnerable, I was scared, and I was perfect for your plan, wasn't I?"

Letha's lips parted, but no words came out. She was staring at me, the usual sharpness in her eyes replaced with something I had never seen before-- guilt. Real guilt. Not the performative, self-righteous kind she always weaponized, but something raw, something vulnerable.

I could barely stand to look at her.

"Oh my God," I whispered, turning away from the scene. "You planned all of this."

Letha shook her head, frantic. "No!-- I mean, not like that, I!--"

"You what? What now?!" Roman snapped, stepping closer to the bed. His presence was suffocating, his fury burning through the room like wildfire. "You're always talking about morals, and you're always acting like you're so much better than me, but look at what you've done! So tell me, Letha, where's your moral high ground now?"

Letha's breathing was ragged, frozen in the most mortifying moment of her life. She looked back at Peter like he could somehow save her, but he just rubbed his face, looking more done than ever. "This is so fucked..." he muttered under his breath, almost like he was annoyed.

Roman's attention snapped back to him in an instant. "Oh, you think this is fucked?" He let out a humorless laugh; "You didn't even have the fucking balls to tell me yourself! You knew that Letha's been making my life hell while you've been doing God knows what with her behind my back!"

"It's not that simple!" Peter barked, scooting forward on the bed to shield Letha and give her space to breathe. "We've-- I've been into Letha for longer than I can remember!"

Letha immediately protested, and her face turned more and more red by the second; "Stop talking, stop talking, I swear to God! I'm going to die of a heart attack at this rate!"

But her pleas didn't stop Peter. He was ready to fess up, just like he had been for a while, now. His shoulders slumped as his eyes locked with Roman's, getting ready to face his biggest secret. "Letha and I used to date, man. We used to be... together-together. She was my girlfriend for a while, but we broke up because we didn't want to hurt you, Ro, and because it was getting out of control. It was just too big of a secret to keep. But then you got together with her..." He nodded to me with a sigh. "And Letha said we were free to do whatever we pleased, and I gave in because..."

Peter turned to face Letha with a sweet shimmer in his eyes-- the type of look I recognized from all the times Roman had looked at me like that.

"Because I love her," Peter whispered.

I could only watch as Letha slowly dared to place her hand on top of his, and they exchanged a painfully sincere silent vow.

The cherry on top for this moment, was when I started loudly gagging-- not because of the sight of them all loved up, but because all the drama, the stress, the alcohol, and the new sensation of nicotine. Acid crawled up my throat as I buckled over, crouching down as I tried to keep my breaths deep and steady; my brain felt like it was shutting down, and probably because it was.

Roman immediately bent down, trying to get on my level, but I wafted him away. He wouldn't be able to comfort me no matter what he did, not after how I had seen him kiss Jessica to get back at me.

I couldn't believe that I hadn't seen the signs. I couldn't believe that I hadn't noticed them being together when it had been right in front of me, all this time. Gathering strength, I spoke; "You're not really going to study philosophy, are you?"

Peter's head darted down to my crouched-over body. "What?"

"When I met you at the library," I breathed. "All that time ago, when you were reading tons of books about guilt...and you said it was because you were going to study philosophy. You've been lying to Roman and I, just like we've been lying to you. After all this fucking time... Fucking hell. We're, like, the shittiest group of people ever."

Roman, who had frozen to his spot in a mixture of disgust and shock, couldn't watch it any longer. His silence was worse than shouting. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, his nails dug into his palm, he had bit his teeth together so hard that I feared they might crack. The air in the room had changed; it was suffocating, thick with tension that pressed into my skin.

Peter dared to break it. "Roman--"

"Shut up," he hissed. "Enough."

Peter snapped his mouth shut, looking like he had just walked into traffic. Letha was frozen, her hand still resting on Peter's like she was drawing strength from him.

It didn't matter anymore— I wanted to get out. I needed to get out. Now.

"Rome," I mumbled, voice thin. "I need--"

His head darted to me immediately, and his eyes; God, his eyes. They weren't just angry anymore... they were desperate. He was coming undone too.

Letha seized the opportunity once more. "She needs air," she said quickly, standing up like she could actually be of help. "Let's just-- let's all go back down and talk about this later, okay?"

"Later?" Roman let out a sharp, breathless huff. "You don't get to decide that! Do you really think I'm ever talking to any of you uncouth mongoloids again?"

Letha huffed at the names. "But we should really figure out everything later, because you're about to lose your shit!"

Roman took a threatening step forward, and Peter immediately shifted off the bed to step in front of Letha. It was so instinctive that I nearly threw up all over again-- he truly loved her, didn't he? After all this time?

"You're protecting her, dude?" Roman snarled, nodding to his cousin. "After everything?"

Peter's expression twisted with something I couldn't quite place. "I don't expect you to get it,"

"Oh, I get it, alright," With a smooth, final move, Roman bent down to help me stand up straight.

I swayed in my shoes, my breath catching in my throat to stop myself from immediately barfing all over the carpet. "I need air," I breathed. "This night has been too much. Too many lies, and one too many upirs-- because I assume he knows?"

Briefly, I glanced over at Peter after spilling the secret, but he only looked more guilty the longer my stare cut through into him. Of course he knew that Roman was a upir. Of course.

Everything blurred together, spinning too fast, and the weight of my decision pressed down on me so hard that I thought I'd collapse. The room was suffocating, the walls were closing in again, and the heat was unbearable-- I just needed to leave, I needed air, I needed space.

So I pushed away from Roman, staggering toward the door. "I can't-- I need to go,"

Enough was enough.

My whole life had fallen apart, and I couldn't do anything to save it. ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I wrapped myself further up in Roman's heavy jacket as the world around me kept on swaying. I couldn't go home like this. I didn't even know how to get home.

How was I supposed to carry on after everything that had happened tonight?

But life is a tricky thing-- it doesn't let you go until it's your time. So my legs kept carrying me forward, down the driveway, past the parked cars, because I needed to go on. The streetlights above flickered, casting long shadows across the pavement; I barely registered where I was going, only that I needed to move. Somehow, my feet worked faster than my brain did-- I crossed streets without looking, stumbling over cracks in the sidewalk, the distant hum of the party fading behind me as I passed the houses in the neighbourhood.

All of this distracted from the heaviness of my heart.

I had lost everything.

But behind me, just far enough away that I couldn't hear his footsteps, Roman followed. My everything.

He didn't call out to me.

He didn't rush.

He just walked. With his hands tucked into the pocket of his pants, he walked like he was tethered to me by destiny.

And maybe he was? A big part of my believe it, but tonight? Tonight, I couldn't take it. I turned around to face him, my breath unsteady as all my emotions ravaged through my chest; "Could you please stop following me? I can't-- I can't think when you're near,"

Roman came to a slow halt. He swayed slightly, his shoulders slumped, his hair a mess over his face. He looked at me like he wasn't really seeing me at all, like he felt nothing and everything at the same time. Then, in a voice so quiet it barely carried, he muttered, "I just... I don't know what else to do,"

The admission hung between us, hollow and tired. He sounded so wrecked-- something cracked inside me at the sight of him, at the way his lips barely moved when he spoke, at the way he looked like he could fall apart with the wind. He had nothing left to give. Not to me, not to himself, nothing at all.

Looking at him any longer than this would kill me; I knew it. My heart trembled in my chest as my eyes welled with tears at the sight of him. "Me neither," I breathed, turning back around to continue my stride, too drunk to think clearly, too pained by the events of the night.

It didn't take Roman more than a beat to keep following me. What else could he do?

I didn't know where I was going, but a park came into view and seemed like the most peaceful option. The playground, the swings, the hollow quiet of a place meant for children, was abandoned at this hour-- my feet dragged through the wood chips as I made my way toward the middle of it, taking in the quiet of the landscape. Maybe this place would give us peace?

But Roman's steps came to an abrupt stop a few feet away. "Did you know?" he called out. "Are you sure you didn't know about Peter and Letha?"

I turned to look at him then, to really look at him. The streetlights cast shadows across his face— he was in the dark, where he certainly belonged. "I had no idea," I confessed. "I would've told you if I knew."

Roman let out a weak, bitter breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. "This is too much," he choked out. "This night-- I can't take any more of this. I feel like I just died."

A long silence stretched between us, thick with something neither of us could escape. There was no anger in his eyes now, no fire, just hollow emptiness, and I couldn't tell if that was worse. "I'm sorry about Peter," I tried, softening my eyes. "I always knew Letha was a bit of a cunt, but I would've never thought Peter would do something like this to you... I'm sorry."

Roman couldn't look at me anymore-- he raised his chin to look at the pair of crows sitting at the top of a nearby tree. It was at this moment that I saw the tears in his eyes, and the single one that rolled down his cheek. "I don't care about Peter," he breathed. "I don't care about him, I don't care about Letha, I-- I don't care about anything anymore."

My heart hammered in my chest— what?

"I feel at fault, because I should've known," Roman mumbled, his voice full of resignation as he rubbed away his tears with the back of his hand. "I should've known this would all fall apart... because it always does. People always leave. You always leave."

Fuck. "Roman," I whispered. "That's not—"

"I've been running after you, hoping that if I tried enough, if I did more, that you'd choose me... but you won't," he choked out, lower lip quivering. "Not even my best friend chose me. No one ever does, so... I'm done. I can't change what I am. I'll always be a upir, and if you can't trust that I'd rather die than hurt you, then there's nothing more I can do."

Roman turned away, and his shoulders slumped with the realization; at the end of the night, I wasn't the one who made the final decision about us-- it was him. His next breath seemed to be one of pained relief; "I can't keep doing this. Congratulations... You're free. I can't love you anymore. I won't love you anymore,"

He took a final, slow step back. "You're right... this has to end. It's over,"

And then, Roman Godfrey turned around to leave me drunk and alone in a park long past midnight.

... What?

Roman was done?

He couldn't love me anymore...?

I won't. I won't. I won't.

It echoed all over. It's over. I can't. I won't. But that's surely not how love works? Can someone just decide not to love someone?

My reaction to Roman leaving felt like a stolen breath-- painful, instant. It felt like my words clawed their way out of my mouth, forcing my jaw apart with one quick snap of bones, and exited with one quick, panicked yell; "Wait!"

It echoed through the park.

Over and over.

My hand laid over the vial of his blood which I kept around my neck, feeling it burn into my skin. "Roman, wait!"

... And it's around here that you'd assume this would end, right?

You're probably holding your breath, waiting for the moment when Roman's gonna turn around hear me out, tell me he loves me after all, that he's gonna forgive me and we'll live happily ever after, blah blah blah--

But this is not that kind of a story. I'm sorry that I made you believe it was.

Do you finally get why I've needed you along with me this time? Why I've been talking directly to you for once?

... No?

Fine. I'll be more clear. I'll show you the rest; I'll show you why.

My breath was stuck in my throat as I anticipated the sound of Roman's voice, the sound of his forgiveness coming out to soothe me. This was probably proper karmic retribution for me, sure, but could this really be the end?

Now that he was truly walking away, it hit me like a freight train; I didn't want it to end.

I didn't want to let him go, especially now that he was letting go of me.

It could work, right?

Every nerve in my body screamed at me to move, so I did. When I realized Roman wasn't turning back around, I choked down a brewing sob and hurried to keep up after him. "Rome, please!"

The nickname had him twitching; it was clear that he was upset about his choice, his forced resignation, and the doubt in his body was a consolation to my momentary panic. But in that moment, his head also turned to the side, and I saw something flicker in his eyes. In no time, completely out of the blue, Roman picked up his pace and started walking in a completely different direction like a dog in a fox-chase. His nose flared, his posture shifted-- he wasn't just walking away from me, he was sensing something.

What was happening?

"Wait!" My voice cracked, rising with panic. He wasn't stopping. He really wasn't stopping. "Stop it! Where are you going?!" Would we ever stop chasing each other? "Do you really expect me to be okay so easily after you kissed Jessica like that?! This is-- This is too much pressure, this is insane! Give me a minute to think at least, stop running!"

Roman's movements were so fast, so precise, that it felt like I was trying to catch up to a ghost. The distance between us seemed to stretch, and I could feel my limbs growing heavier with each step, the weight of my emotions and alcohol pulling me down. But I kept going, desperate, with my heart drumming in my ears.

And when Roman finally came to a halt in the outskirts of the park, I lunged forward; I tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, stumbling as I clung to him, forcing him to see me, to hear me. I let out a choked sob against him, desperate to not let go of the man that I loved. "Hear me out, okay?" I cried. "Just give me a second, I'm too drunk to think!"

But Roman didn't react.

Didn't look.

Because his gaze was frozen on something completely different.

There, tucked into one of the small, plastic playhouses, was a shape. A person.

Confused and broken, my gaze followed his. At first, it barely registered-- it was just someone that had passed out, curled up in the cramped space like a drunk trying to sleep it off. It was the kind of thing you might see after a party, someone who never made it home. That was normal; I didn't think much of it, confused by Roman's entrancement, until I recognized the pink clips in the person's hair.

That was Brooke Bluebell, wasn't it?

Fuck-- it was.

Then, I saw the way Roman's face shifted, the way his nostrils flared, the way he inhaled. It immediately made me step away from him and toward Brooke. Something cold crawled down my spine; "Roman?" I whispered, instantly feeling beyond nauseous once again. "Maybe we should?--"

His arm shot out, barring me from moving any closer. "Wait," he snapped, his voice coated with warning and concern.

The smell hit me a second later.

Coppery. Thick.

I gagged when I finally got a proper look, and I stumbled back as the truth crashed over me.

Brooke Bluebell wasn't sleeping.

She was laying in her own blood, her eyes wide open as her drained body looked frozen in a scream-- her intestines had been dragged out of her stomach, scattered along her torso, and her legs were gone, as though mauled from beneath.

Slowly, Roman turned to me, pupils dilated beyond normal; I knew his upir senses were screaming inside his head. "I thought the smell of blood was thicker because you were on your period or something," he breathed. "I thought-- fuck."

My mind was spinning beyond control, and only the sound of our heavy breathing filled the playground until the distant wail of sirens cut through the silence. I flinched, feeling my heart-rate spike; "Shit!-- Roman, we can't be here!" I grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away. "Please! You can't be exposed to this, we've gotta go!"

But Roman didn't move.

He wouldn't.

It was clear that he was trying to drown out whatever his upir senses were telling him to do, and I had no idea how I was supposed to reel him away from the edge.

The sirens howled closer, and the wind picked up, scattering the scent of blood into the cold night air.

... Brooke Bluebell was dead.

And we were about to be caught at the scene of her murder.

(a/n: AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!! WELCOME TO THE PLOT OF BOOK 2! I WILL BE MAKING AN ANNOUNCEMENT THIS WEEKEND, BUT BEFORE THAT--- THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH MY SWEETHEARTS FOR READING THIS FAR!!🥹🌸 I have been building towards the Letha and Peter reveal since the STARTTTT AHHHH FINALLY IT'S YOURS!!! FINALLY I CAN SHARE IT!!! MY HEART IS YOURS, AND SO IS MY WORK, SO THANK YOU<3333 AND I'M SORRY FOR THIS OH GOD???)

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seungsoftly · 13 days ago

Text

asking you out while in college ― enha hyung line

୨୧ genre: drabble/fluff ୨୧ wc: 4.53k ୨୧ contains mentions of drinking, partying, and taking painkillers (a safe dosage)

livi's note ♡ i'm so stoked to be posting my first fic on this blog! i really enjoyed writing this, and i hope you guys enjoy it as well! this is only part one of this drabble, so i'll hopefully have the second part with the maknae line up soon! reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated, and i wish you guys happy reading!

divider credits to @uzmacchiato

→ lee heeseung

even though you now know that he can get really loud and bold with his words when he’s gaming, you would have never thought heeseung spoke louder than a hesitant whisper before he asked you out.

you’d always notice him passing by you when you were sitting in the quad, studying with you friends because you wouldn’t do so otherwise. he had a shy habit of keeping his head tipped towards the ground as he walked alongside some of his own friends, adding a few words to their conversations occasionally.

sometimes you wondered whether he was just that quiet or if he simply preferred to do most of his talking somewhere private where nobody except those close to him could hear what he had to say.

either way, heeseung was pretty cute. he always wore some worn pair of jeans with holes beginning to wear into them and the edges fraying almost out of control. but nothing was more out of control than his growing feelings for you.

little did you know, heeseung barely managed to keep himself walking upright every time he walked even in the same vicinity as you. you were fifteen feet away in the quad, sitting on your little picnic blanket and wearing a cute top and skirt for the weather that came at the end of spring, he was staring at his feet as he walked past, willing them to just please not jumble into each other and embarrass him in front of you

he truly longed to have the confidence to ask you out on a date. if he’d just been bold enough to do so when you two first met, heeseung honestly thought that he might have been near to proposing to you by now. only in his dreams did you wear a ring that he’d given to you while on one knee, asking if you’d be his wife.

but his friends were so ready to be done with heeseung staring off into space where you’d walked past minutes ago, not even bothering to pretend just a little bit that he was paying attention to what they were saying. they nagged him for months about whether or not he’d gotten the girl yet, groaning when he denied. in their minds, it was time that he stepped up and was a man about it.

so they did their best to throw heeseung straight into just doing what he’d been avoiding. he was given a shot glass full of liquor and told to take it, suspicious of what they could possibly want him to be doing afterwards but still following through with drinking the whole thing down with only a minor facial expression.

“cmon man,” jay said to heeseung as he and a few of the other guys guided him along the sidewalk. heeseung didn’t realize until the whole group had stopped in front of a very familiar courtyard that the boys had brought him right to you.

“now go get her,” jake said to him with that charming smile of his. the rest of his friends offered some silent cheers and the alcohol seemed to have worked with the purpose that they’d wanted it to.

heeseung took several confident steps, his brain fogging up a little bit, but it only kept the doubt from the front of his mind. he could do this. he’d dreamed of saying these words to you. now all he had to do was speak them.

you weren’t expecting him to walk up to you with the air of confidence that was currently floating around him, but you honestly loved it. you’d never seen heeseung like this, and it was really a good change for him. he matched the shy, clumsy person that he’d been around you previously, but this was a much better fit for him.

“hey y/n! how are you on this gorgeous day?” heeseung asked with a very forward look on his face. bless his heart. you could see right through him, but you were still going to play along if he’d done all of this just for you.

you responded with a bright smile and a giggle, “i’m wonderful! might i ask what sparked you to come talk to me now of all times?”

to make it even better (and heeseung even cuter), a slight blush bloomed across his cheeks as his face twitched back to that shy boy before returning right back to his now confident attitude. “well i think you might have caught me then. i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a long time, but will you go out with me?”

your smile grew even wider despite expecting something along the lines of this. “hmm, i think i will.”

an almost identical smile appeared on heeseung’s face, his shoulders drooping as if he’d just stopped holding his breath about something. “that’s great!” he exclaimed, not processing that he’d just said that for a few seconds until he clapped his hands over his mouth with a shocked look on his face. “i didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he mumbled, embarrassed yet again in front of you.

grabbing onto his arm, you giggled once again and reassured him, “oh please, it’s fine heeseung. i know you’ve been working yourself up to this for a while.”

the man flushed again. “wait, how did you know that?”

“well, i always see you avoiding eye contact when you think i’m looking and then you stare when i’m not, plus i’ve never seen you so awkward around anyone but me. it also doesn’t help that all of your friends are over there peeking over the wall trying to see if you succeeded or not.”

→ park jongseong

the first thing you noticed about jay was that everything about him screamed wealth. his clothes, his car, even the way he carried himself day by day. he didn’t flaunt it like some other people that attended the same college as you both. rather, it was almost like his money flaunted him.

for the first few months, it was all just hearing about him and being both skeptical and stunned at the fact that someone with his reputation was even on the same campus as you. the girls would always gush about how handsome he was, but how aloof at the same time. according to their hushed whispers, he’d never spoken to a single one of them before and that was exactly the allure of him.

if any one of them would ever manage to get him to speak even a word to them, it would become the talk of the century, almost a present time myth. you just scoffed whenever it was brought up among your own friend group, not quite understanding why they were still obsessing over a man that clearly didn’t want anyone within your college.

the first time you truly saw him up close and in person was about three months into your sophomore year. jay was a junior, but was on a slightly different class track as he was a business major and you were an english major. it was midterm season, and you two had one class together so he first caught your eye when he entered the exam room to take his midterm for the class.

for a second you could’ve sworn that he looked right at you, cold eyes warming a touch in your gaze. but the moment was over quicker than it started and you two, along with the rest of your class, were then starting the exam. the only reason that you two hadn’t seen each other up close yet was because all of the seminars for this particular class were online and nobody had to come in person until midterms.

jay was well aware of his influence among his peers, along with the reputation that they’d come up with for him. it wasn’t that it was bad. in fact it was actually really good, which made it a lot to live up to. to them, he was perfect and cold and handsome, denying every girl and only really talking with his small friend group.

sometimes it got exhausting keeping up that image that everyone had of him, but he’d gladly do it just to be the best in your eyes. you were the one person that wasn’t constantly trying to chase him or get him to talk to you, and it had resonated within him a lot harder than he’d originally thought.

jay would love to just be able to walk up to you and ask you out, but as life was always difficult, things were not going to be that simple for him. you two would be instantly surrounded by a mob of jealous and crazed girls, and that wasn’t how he wanted you to remember the first time he asked you on a date.

instead, jay was going to try his best to make this as private as he could, for both his sake and your sake. but don’t get him wrong, this wasn’t to undermine the feelings he had for you. this was to avoid all of the things that you clearly didn’t want to get involved in since you were never a part of the crowd that loved to follow him around campus.

his first step to this was a little unconventional. he cashed in a favor that heeseung owed him, being his friend of course he agreed. it was a fairly simple task anyways so he really didn’t question it. jay was glad. the thing was, heeseung actually shared an in person class with you, which made him a good messenger.

so, one sunny morning when you’d just taken your seat in that class, you were surprised when heeseung deliberately walked by your desk because his seat was on the other side of the room. it didn’t require him to come this way to get to it. there was even more shock resonating through you when he pulled a single red rose out of his jacket and set it gently in front of you.

originally, heeseung was planning on winking and whispering something to you about it, but he’d decided against it knowing jay’s tendency to use his anger before his actual thoughts. at least there was a note attached to it signed with a “j” that prevented you from getting the wrong ideas. he didn’t want the girl that jay wanted thinking that he had feelings for her when it was actually his friend that did.

you had a few minutes before class started to fully process what happened, but you were still a bit confused until you noticed the crisply folded note attached to the beautiful flower.

unfolding it, you read, “i have my eye on you. would you maybe tell me yes? - j”

so it wasn’t heeseung that held feelings for you. it was someone whose name started with the letter j. there was really only one name that stuck out to you, and that was jay himself. but there was no way he would have sent you this, right? the red rose did scream his level of luxury, but why would he give it to you?

he could have picked anyone at this college, but he chose to send a flower to you. it seemed odd, but you didn’t think too much more into it until the second delivery was made.

you didn’t even hear about the flowers first. not before hearing your roommate literally talk up a storm about how the jay park had spoken to her. about what? quite literally one sentence that was only five words long. “your roommate is y/n y/l/n?”

he’d asked a question about you, and your roommate was still freaking out about him speaking to her. that clearly established her priorities in your friendship. and what clearly outlined them even more was her obvious jealousy about the full bouquet of red roses that were delivered to your door with instructions to give them to you.

she was so upset that she didn’t speak to you for hours, leaving the dorm and not returning until late that night. clearly it was over the fact that her so-called idol only talked to her to try and get with her roommate.

you weren’t sure whether or not you felt touched or something else. jay was obviously putting in the effort to get with you, but on a personal level and not just walking over to you and getting the both of you mobbed. it was an aspect of consideration that really hit deep within you. you weren’t going to deny that he wasn’t handsome and attractive, and this kindness that he’d shown you while pursuing you really made you want to say yes.

finally, you opened the little note that had come with the flowers and a small smile blossomed on your lips.

“if your answer really is yes, let’s talk pretty girl. xxx-xxx-xxxx - jay”

and yes it most indeed was.

→ sim jaeyun

the very first impression of jake that you had was that he was a literal human embodiment of a golden retriever. you’d never seen a man excited like he was over the most unimportant, trivial things.

your friend group and his friend group were fairly close, not to the point that you all were going to be combined, but you’d rather meet up with each other at a party than any other groups. all of jake’s friends were honestly really nice, but nobody tried to latch onto you and become friendly with you like he did.

when you’d asked him why it was your arm he was clinging onto so desperately, jake’s response told you a few things but still left you confused.

his eyes were slightly glazed over from the night of drinking that had been underway for some time as he excitedly mumbled, “it’s just you! you’re so pretty and awesome and usually everyone would have just rolled their eyes and ditched me by now.”

you couldn’t help but feel bad for the slightly intoxicated man, letting him hold onto your arm for the rest of the night until your friends started to head home and you needed to go with them seeing that they’d been your ride to the party and would be your ride home as well. thankfully one of your friends had agreed to be the designated driver for your group so that you all didn’t have to coordinate calling ubers and all.

it was nice to finally get out of the crowded frat house, still booming with music and people even at two in the morning, the short drive back to your dorm serene, but the exhaustion had begun creeping in at that point. by the time you stumbled into your dorm, your eyes were barely open and you felt ready to just faceplant on your little twin sized bed and just pass out.

but the little voice inside your head told you that you wouldn’t wake up very happy in the morning if you didn’t go wash the makeup and sweat off your face and take this uncomfortable dress off.

those few more exhausting minutes dragged along, but you were right that washing your face and putting on some comfortable sleeping clothes would make your morning a lot better. you let out a tired sigh once you were finally ready to sleep, the fluffy cream colored duvet on your bed looking all the more inviting.

somehow you also remembered to plug your phone in just before your head hit the pillow, but you just managed to miss the notification that your screen lit up with the moment your eyes were closed and you were fast asleep.

jake: gnihgt pretty grl <<3

…

your head was pounding when you finally opened your eyes, although it really wasn’t as bad of a headache as you’d had one morning freshman year when you’d yet to have gotten used to the party culture and truly when you needed to stop. you remember not even being sure that you’d survive the day your head hurt so bad. this was nothing some ibuprofen and water couldn’t fix.

digging under your bed, you managed to grab the little bin that laid there that contained all of your medicine that you had in your room. the lid snapped open easily and you set it next to you on your bed so you could rub your eyes open quickly before shuffling through the cold medicine and other things until you located your precious bottle of ibuprofen.

you twisted the cap off it and shook out two pills, just going ahead and taking them dry because you just didn’t feel like reaching for your water. it was just like that some mornings. you’d gulp down half of the water left in your water bottle on the little table beside your bed in a moment when you were absolutely parched.

but as you reached for said water bottle and did in fact gulp down most of it, you noticed several notifications on your phone, the screen having turned on while you hydrated yourself from last night’s drinking bout.

a couple of them were texts from your friends saying that they were glad you’d gotten home and that they’d made it back to their rooms as well, but one text stood out to you. an obviously drunkenly typed one from jake.

your heart warmed as you clicked on the message and read it a couple of times, sending a heart emoji back. it was so sweet of him to text you last night. jake was honestly just such a cute human being in general, and you were so glad that your friend groups were getting closer.

however, as time went on and your friends hung out together more and more, jake was pretty sure he was having a never-ending crisis. god he was so whipped it was embarrassing. but at the same time it was you so he really shouldn’t be thinking like that about having feelings if it was for you.

you weren’t ignoring him. you weren’t being mean to him, in fact it was quite the opposite. you chatted with him rather often when you two saw each other, but you never questioned the drunk texts that he had a habit of sending late at night and that you responded with little hearts to in the morning.

it was killing him on the inside, not being able to truly explain how he was feeling and the deeper meaning behind the texts that you just thought were cute golden retriever friend jake sending you randomly.

the anticipation of potentially trying to ask you out phased in and out as the weeks went by for jake. there were days where he’d just be dreading the thought of maybe having to walk even in the same general area as you, and there’d be some days where he’d be about three seconds away from confessing everything to you while you both were in front of all of your friends.

jake needed to just do it. he had the feelings, he just needed to find the time and the words. and of course in typical college boy fashion, he did so at the most embarrassing, inopportune time. while drunk at a party over a text message.

jake: y/nie u wnat to go on a date wih me? i lub u so muchh but i just can’tt tell u yet :(

he didn’t even remember sending you that text until you responded the next afternoon.

y/n: aww ur so cute jakey <3. i’d love to! hopefully sober u feels the same haha.

jake’s head was pounding, but he could still process the shock he felt at your answer, and the sort of humiliation at the fact that it had come to this.

this still deserved a fist pump in celebration though. he’d done it! he’d finally asked you out, and you didn’t say no! nothing could wipe this smile off his face now.

→ park sunghoon

sunghoon never appeared to be someone that preferred words over actions. in fact, it was shocking to you when you first heard him speak, not thinking he was going to do so around you at all.

this was true; sunghoon just preferred to not engage in conversation with people he didn’t know very well or when he was out and about around campus surrounded by random people. his friends were used to it, letting him nod along and maybe add in a few quiet words to their chats as they walked to classes or to the library or even to a cafe for breakfast.

it was a whole lot easier for him to focus on his schoolwork and his skating when he didn’t get sidetracked talking to random people. he had grades to maintain in order for him to keep his athletic scholarship, and making sure he was entirely locked in on said athletics was important because he took pride in his performances.

sunghoon was known as the ice prince of the college’s figure skating team for a reason, and he didn’t want to let anyone down. his family always told him that he did amazing and that he needed to stop being his biggest critic. but he’d just spent so much of his life doing this that he didn’t know what else to do than practice, find the mistakes that needed to be corrected, and perfect things until they couldn’t become any better.

“hoon,” jake said to him in that tone that meant he was both teasing and concerned, leaning towards the latter. “you’ve got to stop being so ocd about things and just accept that everything isn’t going to be perfect.

the man in question did, in fact, know that not everything was perfect, but he wanted to try and get the things he had an influence on as close as possible.

this mindset remained within sunghoon’s brain for years. he’d been like this since the beginning of freshman year, and now it was nearing winter of his junior year. he truly wasn’t expecting anything about it to change, at least not until you entered his life.

you with your chaotically thrown together bag and your coffee-stained jeans entered his life and somehow managed to throw his mind out of the carefully woven way that he’d made sure it was. instead of thinking about what still needed work in his program, sunghoon started thinking about when he’d see you next.

he would have thought that his coach would be mad when he said something about sunghoon being a little bit less obsessive about the little things during practice, but all the man had to tell him was that he was glad that sunghoon had relaxed a little bit.

soon enough, his friends began to take note of the same thing. sunghoon seemed a little less uptight and smiled more, especially when the boys hung around your friend group. they were confused as to what it might be that was causing their very serious friend to lighten up a bit, at least until they caught sunghoon staring at you a little too long and a few times too many during one of your combined hang outs.

once that was finished and they met in jay, jake, and sunghoon’s apartment, his friends were all over him.

“so that’s what’s gotten you all flustered!” jake exclaimed amidst the clear exchange of money between jungwon and niki.

sunghoon rolled his eyes at that, “you guys bet on this?!”

“of course we did man!” the youngest replied back. “i made bank on this because someone said that you were just getting burnt out.” the gaze back at jungwon made it obvious that he hadn’t been expecting sunghoon to be thinking of a girl out of all things.

“guys,” heeseung cut in, ever the wisest as the oldest among them, “how about we stop teasing and see how we can get hoon back into his groove while figuring out these feelings that he’s caught for y/n.”

a couple nods and murmurs followed, sunghoon’s friends knowing when to stop and when they needed to be good friends that helped the quiet boy understand and admit his feelings.

the six other boys let sunghoon come to them with talks of his feelings for you, and over time began to devise a plan when they could tell that he was at the point where he was really down bad for you but just didn’t have the courage or experience to make them known to you.

meanwhile, you’d grown a little crush on the cold ice prince. your friends did know that you were catching feelings for someone, but not who. nevertheless, they still encouraged you to make words out of those feelings and finally tell the lucky man that you wanted to date him.

however, you truly believed that it wouldn’t be that simple. he wasn’t going to talk to you. he barely even talked to his friends from what you could see.

at least, you had those beliefs until the day that jake sim handed you something and asked you to go take it to the rink since he was about to be late for his class. like any good friend, you said yes, slowly but surely making your way there.

but when you opened the door and stepped into the rink, the ice in full view, you were stunned.

there was sunghoon, gliding along, body dancing in elegant lines and jumping with graceful power. it was marvelous. you’d never seen him skate before, just heard the things people had said about him.

even though there had been nothing but good said about sunghoon’s skating skills, you firmly believed that they’d still undermined the way that he moved across the ice.

soon enough, sunghoon came to a stop at the edge of the arena, noticing you and the fact that you had something that jake had promised to get to him in your arms.

you stepped down to the entrance of the rink, meeting him at the little door that swung open.

“uhm jake gave me this to get to you. he was going to be late for class and i was free so..”

“oh, thank you,” he chuckled. “although i don’t think that was why he asked you to come here.”

you were confused. “wait what?”

“yeah. my friends know me well and have said i just need a little push to just say one sentence.”

again, this still wasn’t making much sense to you, and you had a feeling that sunghoon could tell based on the look you had on your face.

“so what does this have to do with me again?”

he let out another one of those attractive chuckles, bringing you to realize that you were actually having a conversation with the park sunghoon. crazy, but really weird.

“it involves you because they want me to step up and ask you out. so how about we have dinner together one night?”

stunned, you stuttered out a yes. this might actually be one of the best moments of college you’d experienced so far.

this is a work of fiction and is not intended to depict any accurate representation of any members of enhypen. please do not take this as real.

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