#check & mate headers

[evacrstairs]

you and i ended up in the same room, at the same time...

check & mate (nolanmallory) headers. like or reblog if you save or use. ♟️

[floaphile]

art credit - polartss

[hiloedits]

— nolanmallory headers

like or reblog if you use/save.

© hiloedits on twitter.

[pa1nrema1ns]

In a Sea of Fire || Sung Jin-woo (Part 3 of 3)

  Siren!Jin-woo x Deaf!omega!reader

A/N: Hello everyone! I'm so excited to finally bring you the conclusion to the siren AU trilogy. This is my first full-fledged fic, and it was a true labor of love. To mark this milestone, I commissioned this absolutely drop-dead gorgeous artwork of Jin-woo's siren form from the amazing @ekkurea. She is super kind and an incredible artist. I highly recommend checking out all her beautiful art and commissioning her.

I have been overwhelmed by the positive reception to this series and I am so grateful for all of you. I also want to personally thank my good friend and dedicated beta-reader @forbidden-sunlight for supporting me in the creation of this story. I could not have done it without her 🖤 As always, please pay heed to the content warnings listed below.

╰┈➤ Previous Chapters

🐚Prologue by @forbidden-sunlight 🐬Part 1: Master and Apprentice 🧜🏻‍♀️Part 2: Two Intertwining Melodies

Content warnings: 18+MDNI, mutual pining, afab!reader, implied smut, a/b/o dynamics, heat cycles, mating bites, courting rituals, objectification of reader, obsessive thoughts, angst, possessiveness, violence, mythical creatures au, yandere!Jin-woo, mentions of corruption, derogatory & misogynistic language used by a side-character towards the reader, ooc!Jin-woo, mildly ambiguous ending.

Word count: 12k

Summary - Autumn approaches Jindo Island and with it flourishes new love. But lingering doubts and conflicting desires threaten to cast shadows over your romance with Jin-woo. Just what terrible secret was he hiding from you?

Header artwork created by @ekkurea exclusively for this series. Please do not repost, edit, or use for your own fics, headcanons, or drabbles.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @anitalenia

At the heart of the shopping district on Jindo Island…

For the first time in his life Sung Jin-woo found himself at a loss as to what to do.

The siren nervously runs a hand through his hair as he studies his appearance in the full-length mirror. His reflection looks back at him clothed in a partially unbuttoned dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up at the forearms and a pair of tapered trousers. It was a polished look that drew attention to his athletic frame and emphasized his stormy grey eyes.

Jin-woo chuckles when he notices Iron giving him a small thumbs up from the reservoir in his shadow. His soldiers were doing an excellent job of boosting his morale but the same could not be said for him. Jin-woo couldn’t help but remain somewhat self-critical.

The siren tended to gravitate towards darker clothing while disguised as a human. This was partly due to their resemblance to his actual color scheme. Of course, this meant the only options that interested Jin-woo were those in differing shades of black. While this allowed him to retain some semblance of his true self, he worried that black may be too drab of a color for your liking. He was also starting to feel very out of his element in this stuffy little fitting room.

To make matters more complicated the sales associate at this posh boutique was quite the chatterbox, an incompatible match for the introverted siren. The older man had been particularly insistent on helping Jin-woo find an outfit that would ‘knock his little lady’s socks off’ after he mentioned needing clothes for a date. His very first date to be precise.

With you.

Jin-woo was determined to make this a memorable experience for the both of you, and the first step involved picking out the appropriate attire.

Unfortunately shopping proved to be a far more tedious task than he thought. At least dungeon raids had the benefit of being relatively straightforward.

As he idles in front of the mirror a contemptuous voice lingers in his head jeering at him.   

“How much longer do you intend on playing human, Sung Jin-woo? This reckless relationship has consisted of nothing but lies and deceit on your part. Have you ever considered how your beloved omega might feel after discovering you’ve been misleading her? It’s only a matter of time before your house of cards comes tumbling down.”

It was like listening to a crude mockery of himself, tone, inflection, and delivery of speech the exact same as his.  

“In the end this farce will result in nothing more than heartache and tragedy and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

The malicious words hang heavy in the air like an omen. An unwanted reminder that beneath that thick veneer of invulnerability Jin-woo was indeed malleable.

���Just because Ashborn was accepted by his human lover doesn’t mean Y/N will do the same for you. That woman has no obligation to love a monster who preys upon her own kind.”

He grits his teeth at the intrusive thoughts bidding them to disappear. To grant him a moment’s respite from the terrifying possibilities of all that could go wrong.

It’s to no avail.

“Would she look at you the same way if she knew you weren’t human? If she knew a siren wanted to fuck her like some insatiable animal? You still have the taste of her in your mouth, don’t you? So soft, sweet, and willing for her alpha. Yet you refused to claim her right when she was in the palm of your hand. You pathetic coward.”  

A preternatural violet hue alights Jin-woo’s body, and his muscles draw taut. A sign that he is well and truly pissed. The entire room threatens to crumble under the suffocating pressure.

“Tell me, just how many times have you woken up in the middle of the night? Hard, desperate, and starving for her touch. You must’ve lost count by now.”

A low growl emits from his throat. “Shut up! Shut the hell up!”  He silently screams at the voice as it exposes his repressed sexual urges.

“What if she lashes out at you in anger? Do you really expect her to stay civil and calm after she finds out you’ve been lying to her this entire time?”

It was for her own good! I had to lie to protect her! Jin-woo finds himself mentally pleading with his internal monologue. Begging for it to understand the reasoning behind his deceptive actions.

This only incites it to twist the knife further.

“Why not just take her then? After all that’s what you’ve always done with every obstacle in your path, every thorn in your side. You destroy and take from it until there’s nothing left. And that woman will be no different, but this time it will be a triumph greater than any other once she’s yours to possess.”

Jin-woo couldn’t form a rebuttal at this point. He was livid and positively shaking with rage.

For months he had been struggling with conflicting feelings for you. Every single aspect and idiosyncrasy about you resonated with his being. From your feistiness and fierce independence to your infectious smile and compassionate nature, Jin-woo was wholly and unconditionally in love with you.

He knew from the moment you took him into your arms on that desolate beach that you were a genuinely kind person with a good heart. Someone he’d want by his side for an eternity.

Perhaps one day you could even find it in yourself to love him the same way he loves you.

But another side of him, a primal side of him, sought nothing more than to devour you.

To corrupt you.

To desecrate you.

To free you from those worthless shackles of human morality…

And shape you into a wanton goddess capable of handling his brand of darkness.

Not even sleep would grace him with the mercy of a reprieve; Jin-woo was often plagued by vivid dreams of you. Explicit images and sensations of fleshly pleasures that elicited the worst of his bestial nature. On more than one occasion he’d awaken to his knot swelling with need and a deep-seated longing for your warmth.

He knows he should be ashamed for fantasizing about such depravity, for perverting the friendship that had gradually cultivated between the two of you.

But he can’t bring himself to care.

Jin-woo would give just about anything if he could have you in the same way as his dreams.

And he can envision you perfectly.

Your shapely thighs wrapped around his narrow waist, urging him deeper inside you. A dazed expression on your pretty face as he thrusts into you with sheer, masculine drive. Honeyed moans spilling from your lips as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses across your jaw, down your neck, and over your collarbones. Your supple breasts heaving with exertion when you finally topple over the edge with him. And your sated form pressed against the firm ridges of his body as he soothes you in the wake of your earth-shattering climax.

Jin-woo hisses and bites back a groan as he feels himself growing hard against the inseam of his trousers. Shit. He’s never wanted someone so badly in his entire life.

It was terrifying how easily you had him wrapped around your finger. You tempted him, left him on the brink of insanity, and you weren’t even aware of it.

How? Just how did it come to this? Meeting his comeuppance at the hands of a beautiful woman.

The siren was supposed to be a hardened warrior. An indomitable force born from the outcome of hundreds of harrowing battles. Time and time again Jin-woo overcame insurmountable odds and arose from the ashes. Ever stronger, ever colder. With Ashborn’s guidance he had rebuilt himself from the ground up and molded himself into a successor worthy of the title Shadow Monarch.

Jin-woo was not some naïve boy who believed he could woo you with flowery language and saccharine declarations of love. Nor was he some unruly beast whose restless soul could only be placated by carnal satisfaction. He was better than that, more disciplined and pragmatic…

At least he believed himself to be –

“Hey, kid! Are you alright in there? You’ve been awfully quiet for a while now.”

The sound of the sales associate’s voice instantly breaks his train of thought.

“I’m fine, I was just mulling over all my options,” he responds evenly hoping to not draw attention to himself.

“No worries kid. Just let me know if you need anything.”

Once the man’s footsteps fade Jin-woo slumps into one of the chairs in the cramped room. He then lowers his face into his hands, too disgusted to look at himself any longer.

The minutes tick by but Jin-woo doesn’t budge from his spot.

“My liege! Please, I beg of you, stop tormenting yourself!” Beru, the newest of his shadow soldiers and the only one capable of speech attempts to talk some sense into his king.

“…” the siren doesn’t provide him with a response.

Beru continues, “My liege, I cannot bear to see you so despondent. My lady is not so cruel or callous that she would cast you aside merely for being a siren.”

“I am a monster Beru. Nothing will convince her otherwise once she knows the truth.” Jinwoo replies flatly.

“My liege please forgive my impertinence, but do you truly believe she thinks so little of you? I’ve seen the way she looks at you and there is nothing but adoration in her eyes. My lady will not forsake you regardless of who or what you are.”

Jin-woo gasps at the sincerity of Beru’s words. The shadow had been more perceptive than he initially thought. He feels the beginnings of a smile form on his lips.

“You’ve been acting surprisingly obstinate today Beru. What’s gotten into you?”

The ant almost immediately bursts into a fit of tears causing Jin-woo to regret his choice of words. The weeping shadow then prostrates himself before his king.

“My liege I am so sorry! I only meant to –”

“Thank you Beru. I really needed your pep talk. My mind feels much clearer now.” Jin-woo interrupts before the ant can misinterpret him. Beru sheepishly raises his head, feelings of shame now overtaken by pride.

“I won’t falter again. You have my word, all of you do.” He addresses his entire army this time.

 A collective sigh of relief spreads throughout his soldiers. Because their souls were inextricably tied to their king’s every emotion Jin-woo experienced was shared firsthand with his shadows. They felt his happiness, his sadness, his anger.

And his desire for you.

It must’ve pained them greatly to see him in such a distressed state prompting Beru to act. His loyal soldiers needed a strong and centered king to guide them.

He would not submit so easily to despair again.

Jin-woo glances at his wristwatch; it was a quarter past one o’clock. He had three more hours to spare until your agreed meeting time at four. The siren really needed to get a move on if he had any hope of being prepared for the date. And to think that he had balked at human decorum before you stepped into his life…

He changes back into his street clothes and folds his chosen outfit into a neat pile. Before stepping out Jin-woo reaches into his inventory to examine his final courtship gift to you, a lustrous necklace composed of teardrop shaped mana crystals and pearls he harvested from his latest dungeon raid.

He spent hours meticulously crafting the jewelry by hand, working feverishly to ensure it was flawless. A one-of-a-kind item that no one else could hope to replicate or exceed. Still as he thumbed the necklace in his hand, he couldn’t help but replay those twisted words spoken by the disembodied voice.

Why not just take her then?

He tightens his grip on the necklace before hurriedly stowing it away in his hidden inventory. Next to it the Holy Water of Life lay untouched, burning a hole in his pocket.

The ball may have been in his court, but you would have the final say.

He'd make sure of it.

A sense of anticipation pervades the air as glowing neon lights come into view. You stop just shy of the entrance to a large commercial building, the chosen location for your date with Jin-woo.

A quick glance at your phone tells you that it’s a quarter till four. You still had another fifteen minutes to go. Ever the punctual one you always sought to arrive well ahead of schedule. This applied to your personal life as well.

From the corner of your eye, you think you see a deliberate movement in your shadow, one that does not match your own. You blink. Once, then twice. When you stare at the sidewalk again your shadow is as it should be, nothing but an intangible effigy bound to the push and pull of your own will. Weird, you think, had it been a trick of light? Your eyes then wander back to the front of the establishment.

Despite being the middle of the day, the bookstore’s sign remained lit by garish hues of yellow. You recall how many of the locals disapproved of the business when it first opened. To those who spent much of their lives in this quaint region of the Korean archipelago it was yet another ploy of gentrification from the mainland. To you, this bookstore served as a haven during your formative years. You spent countless hours getting lost in the worlds of your favorite authors here.

From the provocative narratives of Anne Rice to the gritty prose of Stephen King, your love for reading was fostered here. It only made sense to share this special part of yourself with Jin-woo, the beguiling alpha who was starting to consume your every waking thought.

As time draws nearer to your date you ponder over your last few months on the island.

The filming of ‘Murder on the Cerulean Sea’ wrapped up earlier this week and your colleagues were clamoring for a congratulatory celebration, something you wanted no part of. From personal experience you knew a constantly flowing stream of alcohol did not pair well with a room full of self-serving narcissists. You also hadn’t forgotten how rude the other make-up artists and stagehands had been to you on set. The fact that your date fell on the same day as the party was just the cherry on top.

Which brings you back to your dilemma, figuring out where you stand in your relationship with Jin-woo.

Throughout the entire twelve weeks of filming, you were both meeting in secrecy. Devoting this time to strengthening your bond tête-à-tête.

You learned much about Jin-woo and he about you, but you could tell he was harboring some kind of secret. Every time the topic of his personal background came up, he would steer the conversation in a different direction. In addition to this there was an ever-piling list of excuses for why he couldn’t divulge more about himself. This had you second guessing everything he was willing to share.

You really liked Jin-woo and you had no doubt he returned your feelings but you were also becoming highly suspicious of him. If you could wear your heart on your sleeve around him then why couldn’t he do the same for you?

Guilt was eating away at your conscience for even entertaining these thoughts. It’s through this haze of turmoil that your mind wanders to the more lighthearted moments between the two of you.

You think of the all the times he joined you on your early morning treks along the beach. Both as a companion and a protector. You had teased Jin-woo about it initially asking if he intended to use his ‘scary dog privilege’ to ward off other alphas. He scoffed at this suggestion clearly nonplussed by the comparison.

Yet despite your cheeky attitude you had readily taken up his offer. Your friends’ schedules often conflicted with yours, which meant they were usually working on the days you had off. What began as a nice change of pace from walking alone transformed into a cherished part of your routine. His warm, calloused fingers interlaced with yours as dusk bled into dawn.

There was also Jin-woo’s determination to communicate with you. Unsatisfied with written words alone, he had taken it upon himself to learn sign language. Jin-woo showed up one day with a step-by-step instruction manual containing illustrations. A cute shade of vermillion dusted his cheeks when he showed the book to you. You grinned from ear-to-ear and readily agreed to teach him.

He ended up being more adept at sign language than Cha and Jinho. By the end of your first session, Jin-woo was able to grasp several simple terms and phrases, a feat that greatly impressed you. Now he was bordering on being fluent. It was astonishing just how quickly he progressed.

And then there were his many gifts to you.

First a glory-of-the-seas cone in sumptuous tones of burnt ochre and golden brown. Then a bluefin tuna, a much sought-after and rare delicacy, captured fresh from the brine. And most recently, a natural South Sea pearl that appeared almost otherworldly in its splendor. Each offering a unique and thoughtful portrayal of his devotion.

The ritualism and intimacy of these gestures was not lost on you, and it left your heart racing. No one, save for director Jinchul, was ever this attentive towards you. And the latter had only done so on a professional basis. But Jin-woo treated you with a tender affection usually reserved for lovers. A title that was not either of yours to take. Not yet at least.

But both of you were well on the way to getting there.

Everything came to a turning point three days ago when your enigmatic friend finally worked up the courage to ask you out. You remember the bashful look on his face and the endearing image of his rosy cheeks. No sooner had Jin-woo finished signing his question than you found yourself excitedly leaping into his arms. At last, at long last you were both taking the next step in your relationship. So overcome with joy you completely overlooked all your unanswered questions and concerns about him. Nothing else had mattered at that moment.

Jin-woo effortlessly caught you and brought you into a twirling hug. You felt laughter bubble up from within you. It was as if a massive weight had been taken off your shoulders.

Just a few months ago you had been virtual strangers completely inconsequential to one other. Now you embraced as two intertwining melodies coalescing into one song.

When Jin-woo placed you back on your feet he had one more favor to ask. You watched intently as he brought both hands towards his face and formed them into half circles. He then placed the tips of his fingers together before puckering his lips. It was the sign for kissing. He wanted to kiss you.

You froze stunned by the unexpected request.

Apprehension painted Jin-woo’s handsome face. He was waiting, imploring you for an answer. Without missing a beat, you brought yourself closer to him. You didn’t stop until you were in such proximity your breath intermingled with his. You lifted your head and locked eyes with Jin-woo before lowering your gaze to admire his parted lips. After a flicker of hesitation, Jin-woo closed the gap between you and captured your lips with his.

Your eyes fluttered shut.

Gentle. It had been such a gentle kiss at the beginning; petal soft and languid. However, there was a palpable shift in mood the instant Jin-woo ceased his rhythmical movements to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He slid it across your teeth, coaxing you to open more of yourself to him. And you willingly surrendered, moaning into his mouth and allowing him to stroke his tongue against yours.

Jin-woo’s kiss soon devolved into a scorching clash of teeth and tongue that left you breathless. The last of his restraints snapped and he was not holding back. He fisted a hand in your hair and tilted your face at a better angle so he could deepen the kiss. He then circled your waist with his other arm pulling your pliant figure flush against him. This prompted you to grasp onto the front of Jin-woo’s shirt for purchase, pressing your breasts into his chest. You were so close to Jin-woo that you could feel the vitality of his rapidly beating heart. He nipped at your lips before parting from them to mouth at your jaw, the curve of your neck, and the cleavage exposed by your tank top.

You shivered though from fear or want you did not know. This was an animalistic side of him you had never seen or experienced before. It was electrifying.

Your breath caught in your throat when you felt one of Jin-woo’s incisors graze over the junction of your neck and shoulder, threatening to break skin.

And then, just as quickly as this act of madness had started, it came to an abrupt and sudden end. Jin-woo’s eyes regained their focus and his ministrations stopped at once. He slowly raised his head from the crook of your neck and turned to look at you. A heart wrenching expression of guilt distorted his face.

He had lost control of himself and succumbed to his baser instincts.

And if he had bitten down on you back there, he would’ve marked you as his mate for life. Because that area on your neck contained some of your scent glands.

An alpha will bite an omega’s scent glands while mating with them to stake their claim. This also mixes the alpha’s and omega’s scents together securing their bond. It was an irreversible process and Jin-woo came within an inch of forcing it upon you.

He released you from his grip and took several steps back, placing him some distance from you. Wisps of ebony hair obscured his eyes, making his face difficult to read.

You ran towards Jin-woo attempting to grab his hand, yet he pulled his arm away from your touch. But your resolve was strong, and you refused to give up. After a few more tries, Jin-woo finally acquiesced and let you come near him.

As soon as the two of you were face to face, you leant forward and cradled his face in your hands, forcing him to look you in the eye. The guilt was gone but now it had been replaced by fear. Fear of what he had almost done to you.

You were having none of it. Nothing about Sung Jin-woo scared you, not in the past and most certainly not now.

You dropped your hands, letting them fall to the side before raising them again. Then you began signing to Jin-woo, doing everything in your power to reassure him. You let him know that you were alright, you weren’t afraid of him in the slightest, and that both of you would be okay. What happened earlier was purely instinctual and would not draw a wedge between you. And most importantly you told him that you had absolutely no regrets about the kiss.

‘I wanted to kiss you,’ you signed, ‘I’ve been thinking about you as more than just a friend for a while now.’

‘So please, Jin-woo,’ you pleaded with him as your hands shook ‘let’s give this a shot. I want to be with you.’

He exhaled sharply before taking your smaller hands into his own. You really were his greatest weakness. He couldn’t resist you even if he tried.

You eventually managed to convince him to move forward with the date. The time and location were arranged shortly thereafter, although on slightly awkward terms given the circumstance.

Later that night while you were tucked away in the privacy of your bedroom, there was an unrelenting heat building between your thighs. The type of heat that set your nerves on fire and left you aching for release.

You hadn’t taken your heat suppressants in a while, and your body was paying a heavy price for it. You should’ve known better than to let yourself fall by the wayside, but you no longer cared about taking your medication anymore. It was like you were daring your heat to come, to wash over you and rid you of your inhibitions.

When the flames of your desire became unbearable, you slipped a hand underneath the waistband of your pajamas hoping it would slake your lust. However, as you stroked yourself to completion you couldn’t help but imagine it was Jin-woo’s deft fingers that were caressing your slick folds instead.

In the corner of your room an unknown presence watched you with rapt interest. It greedily drank in your sinful actions, the dips and curves of your body, the steady rise and fall of your chest. And as you reached your peak tendrils of shadow danced across your skin like silk.

After you fell asleep a lone hand emerged from the darkness and gently ran its knuckles over your cheek…

“ – !?”

You’re startled from daydreaming when the familiar scent of lavender and sandalwood perfumes the air. It was the tell-tale sign that Jin-woo had just arrived. You check your phone again and are shocked to see it’s already a minute past four. You totally lost track of time while standing outside the bookstore! Embarrassed, you turn and are greeted by the sight of your alpha.

He looked incredible, like a god amongst men. You loved the color black on Jin-woo, it brought out his sharp features and contrasted wonderfully with his fair complexion. The outfit he was wearing for your date exemplified this. His dark trousers and dress shirt were perfectly molded to his body creating a sleek and streamlined appearance. You slowly dragged your eyes across the hard planes of muscle bulging underneath the tight fabric. When you reach Jin-woo’s face there’s an amused glint in his eyes. Oh crap! He noticed you were ogling him. Heat blossoms across your cheeks and you self-consciously tug at the hemline of your cable knit sweater.  

Unbeknownst to you Jin-woo had also been eyeing you up albeit in a far more discrete manner. The leggings you wore clung lovingly to curves like a second skin and your high heeled ankle boots completed the look giving it a touch of elegance. You were strikingly lovely, like a flower coming into bloom.

After several seconds of silence, Jin-woo break is the one who breaks the ice.

 ‘You look great, Y/N,’ he signs to you, ‘I’m so happy to see you again. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.’

Jin-woo must’ve had known you’d been embarrassed about being caught red-handed, so he didn’t bring it up. Instead, he complimented you. God, how could he be so smug yet so charming at the same time?

Precious boy, you muse.

You greet the raven-haired man back with a smile before pulling him into a hug. Jin-woo returns the embrace and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. All the tension and uncertainty from the past few days had dissipated allowing you to relax and enjoy each other’s company. It signaled a return to normalcy, to better days ahead for both of you.

‘Ready to head in?’ Jin-woo signs to you with a grin on his face that matches yours.

‘Let’s go,’ you respond with a jaunty spring in your movements.

You grab his hand and lead the way, threading your fingers through his.

The next two hours are spent perusing the bookstore’s massive collection. It was one of the largest retail booksellers in Asia boasting over 100,000 different titles on its shelves. Jin-woo’s eyes widened when he walked in. He’d never seen so many books in one place before.

‘Overwhelmed?’ you ask him, nervous that you made the wrong decision on choosing this bookstore for your first date. The size of it alone could be daunting to newcomers.

‘It’s amazing,’ he answers, excitement evident in the fast motions of hands. Your chest fills with warmth at his display of enthusiasm.

You share your interests and favorite genres with Jin-woo, showing him the many novels you read over the years. Jin-woo seemed particularly drawn to the paper- and hardback books in the ‘Classics’ section. He picked up a copy of The Odyssey and leafed through its contents making you curious about his tastes.

One of your hands was clutching onto a large special edition hardback so you typed your question on your phone this time.

[“Do you like Greek mythology?”]

‘I’ve read a few stories here and there,’ he signs back after glancing at your screen.

[“I remember being assigned this book in AP literature when I was a second year. I found it rather interesting, but I loathed Odysseus. I thought he was a complete asshole for cheating on his wife. She remained faithful during his 10-year journey from Ithaca despite having over 100 suitors. But he gets a free pass for sleeping with goddesses and other women. Ugh😒”]

You huff after airing your grievances about Odysseus and his infidelity in your text message. It was silly but you’ve held a personal vendetta against the fictional man ever since you finished reading the epic poem.

Jin-woo snorts in amusement at your reaction. Looks like you both held a distaste for Odysseus although his reason for disliking him differed greatly from yours. Sirens only became weak to humanity after the epic hero found a means of circumnavigating their deadly voices. It felt good to share a common enemy with you.

‘You’re even prettier when you’re angry,’ Jin-woo smirks as he signs this to you.

Now it was your turn to snort. Really? That was a new one.

[“Flattery will get you everywhere with me! Now state your price handsome. 😉”]

He inhales before signing, ‘Will you watch the stars with me tonight?’

The tips of his ears and nape of his neck were bright red as he asked you this. It was adorable.

You answer with a fleeting kiss to his mouth, and you can feel him smiling against your lips. Of course you’d watch the stars with him tonight! You’d be willing to watch them every single night by his side if he’d let you.

The two of you continue floating through the different aisles, a copy of The Odyssey tucked underneath Jin-woo’s arm. He also picked out another book, a science fiction novel titled, The Ants, by Bernard Werber. Jin-woo had read the novel once before and he wanted to revisit it for old time’s sake.

As your book tour concludes Jin-woo comes to a halt after catching sight of an ornate hardcover. Intrigued, you scan the title. It was Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid.

‘This story always makes me so sad,’ you sign to Jin-woo with a melancholy look in your eyes.

‘Can you tell me about it?’ Jin-woo asks, his interest piqued.

You find yourself hesitating.

‘Are you sure you want me to spoil it for you?’

‘I don’t mind.’ he responds.

You decide to use your phone to relay the plot since the fairy tale is a lengthy one.

[“There once lived a beautiful and kindhearted mermaid. Having spent most of her life at sea she longed to explore the world above and learn more about humanity. When she becomes old enough to swim to the surface she falls in love at first sight with a handsome prince. After a violent storm sinks his ship, the mermaid rescues him and brings him back to land before he regains consciousness.”]

Jin-woo’s gaze is intense as he studies your phone screen. You’ve never seen someone be so invested in your storytelling. It was flattering.

You continue typing away intent on finishing what you started.

[“The mermaid’s infatuation with the prince drives her to strike up a deal with a powerful sea witch. The witch offers her a potion that can transform her into a human, but it comes at a high cost. The mermaid would never be able to return to the sea once she drank it. What’s more the potion also robs her of her voice and causes her excruciating pain whenever she walks. Despite knowing the toll it will take on her body the mermaid moves forward, blinded by love.”]

Jin-woo’s eyes narrowed after reading this passage and he signs, ‘She’s being manipulated by the witch?’ You confirm his question with a nod of your head.

Your final text ends the story on a low note.

[“The mermaid finally meets and befriends the prince but everything she sacrifices is for nothing. He falls in love with a princess from another kingdom instead and this breaks her heart. The sea witch appears once more to give an ultimatum to the mermaid: she must kill the prince and allow his blood to drip onto her feet. Only by having her revenge could she return to the sea and live as a mermaid again. But she refused. Her love for the prince prevented her from stabbing him. In the final scene the mermaid tosses herself into the sea and as daybreak approaches, she dissolves into foam.”]

You sigh once you’re done. It’s more akin to a tragedy than a fairy tale, you think.

Your next message asks:

[“So, what’s your opinion on it? Pretty sad stuff huh?”]

When you turn to Jin-woo to gauge his reaction you’re taken aback by how pale he looks. There’s a bead of sweat sliding down his face and his countenance had turned grim, a far cry from his relaxed expression at the start of your date. The ending must have disturbed him way more than you anticipated.

Crap. You should have never offered to explain the plot to Jin-woo. This version of, The Little Mermaid, made you bawl like a baby the first time you read it and you usually remained dry-eyed while reading most tearjerkers. Why did you think it was a bright idea to discuss it on a date of all things? It was time to shift into damage control mode, stat!

You struggle for words while coming up with an apology to Jin-woo. You try to keep the text casual and concise to reduce any tension between you.

[“Jin-woo, are you okay? Do you need to sit down and rest? I’m so sorry! I’ve gone and dampened the mood.😭”]

He shakes his head after looking at your message and retrieves a pen and a small notepad from his pocket, an indication that he wanted to hold a longer conversation with you. Although Jin-woo’s grasp of sign language was excellent he found written words to be suitable when the circumstance called for it. Like now for instance.

When he’s done writing with his stationery he hands the notepad to you.

[“Please don’t feel the need apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong. You tried to warn me about how sad the story was, but I insisted on you telling me it anyway. I was just surprised was all. I can relate a bit to the mermaid because I’ve also made great sacrifices for the ones I love. In the mermaid’s case her love for the prince destroyed her. She gave up everything for him only for it to be in vain. It’s sobering to see love portrayed so tragically.”]

Jin-woo worries at his lower lip. He mentioned making sacrifices for his loved ones to you before but what exactly did he mean by it?

[“What sacrifices did you make if you don’t mind me asking? I’m here if you need a shoulder to lean on y’know.”]

You play coy with your response to glean more information from him. Maybe now that you’re officially dating, Jin-woo will open up to you.

Your hopes are dashed when the notepad is back in your possession.

[“Nothing I haven’t said before. Long hours, being away from home, missing my mother and sister while I’m away. Those kinds of sacrifices. Fishing at sea can be deadly if you’re not careful. I’ve had to dirty my hands on more than a few occasions while on the job.”]

Dirty his hands? Now this was something he hadn’t discussed with you before. Was Jin-woo involved in something illegal? Commercial fishing and maritime hunting were mercilessly cutthroat. A big profit can be made from harvesting seafood, fish, and other resources from the ocean. Some companies go as far as committing murder to weed out the competition.

Could this be what he meant by ‘dirtying his hands?’ That would explain why he was so flighty about his past with you. What if he was in trouble? If he was then why didn’t he ask you for help? Did he not trust you or did he not want to drag you into a mess of his own making? 

Your mind’s going a mile a minute you’re so worried about Jin-woo. If he ended up injured or even dead because you decided to believe his lies and look the other way you would never forgive yourself. It was time to address the elephant in the room once and for all.

You type so fast; it’s a miracle you can come up with a message that was even coherent. Your face is hot, and you can already feel the sting of tears in your eyes.

[“Jin-woo, you need stop lying to me. I know there’s something you’re hiding, and it hurts that you can’t trust me enough to say it. If you’re in trouble just tell me. Say the words and I’ll try to help you to the best of my ability. I really like you Jin-woo but honesty should be mutual between us. I’ve spilled my guts to you, told you all about my life, my friends, and my job. Why can’t you do the same for me? I feel like I’m only falling in love with your reflection, not the real you. I just can’t do this anymore! I don’t want to lose you, but I refuse to be part of a relationship that lacks any kind of integrity!”]

Jin-woo takes on the pallor of a corpse as soon as he scans the contents of your text.

Fuck, you had done it now. There was no going back.

When he can bring himself to gaze at you there’s a devastation in his face that makes you instantly hate yourself for lambasting him. Yet you had to stand firm and conquer this hill if you had any chance of a future with him.

His little notepad is staring you in the face before you know it. Jin-woo’s handwriting looked frenzied and frayed. When you glance at him, his head is bowed, and his eyes are cloaked in shadow. He was utterly ashamed of himself. You can’t even begin to imagine what thoughts must be going running through his mind. He had to be as distraught as you were if not worse.

[“Tonight,” the scrawl reads, “I am going to tell you everything tonight. No more lies, no more excuses, I promise you. Even if you despise me for it, even if you never want to see me again, I’ll give you the truth no matter what. So please just this once trust me. I don’t want to lose you either. You’re everything to me, Y/N. I’m sorry for not being truthful to you, I just didn’t want you to get hurt because of me. I’ve only ever lied to protect you.”]

The desperation in his words makes your heart plummet. Just how terrible was this secret that it made Jin-woo think you would hate him for it? And he was scared you would be harmed if you knew? There was no doubt about it, Jin-woo absolutely was in danger. Why else would he be so disturbed about telling you?

Your hands are shaking so badly you can barely keep your phone from falling out of your grip. Jin-woo notices and steadies them by taking your hands in his own. Even at his lowest point you were his priority.

Did he ever once consider his own well-being?

How could he be so considerate of you at a time like this? You wanted to scream; to demand he be angry at you, to curse at you. Anything to justify your self-loathing. You berated Jin-woo without considering why he may be lying in the first place. For all you know his life could be on the line. Yet you only thought of your frustrations like a petulant child.

Stupid. You were so goddamn stupid!

A bookstore associate sees your distress and heads in your direction. Although your argument with Jin-woo was silent your panicked demeanor was starting to cause a scene. You really don’t want anyone to see you like this right now. Especially since you were on the brink of having a breakdown.

Jin-woo quickly acts as your shield, his protectiveness of you second nature. He pulls you to his chest, hiding your face from prying eyes. He’s warm, his heartbeat is steady, and you can feel his palms running up and down your back, consoling you. Jin-woo held you with the tenderness of a lover.

It’s in the comfort of his embrace that you let go and allow yourself to weep for him.

“Hello, ma’am is everything alri–”

“You can direct your questions to me. Can’t you tell she’s upset right now?” Jin-woo interrupts the man with clipped tone before he can finish. There’s a particularly nasty scowl on his face and the aura resonating from him is menacing at best. Did this moron not know how to read the room or was he lacking in common sense? You were vulnerable and in no position to be approached by a stranger let alone some random man.

The store associate pales and falters at Jin-woo’s display of aggression. He glances at the dark-haired alpha then back to you before his eyes widen. He had connected the dots.

“I… I… Sir, please try to understand. I didn’t mean to intrude on you and your mate, there were just some concerns from the staff and other patrons because of how scared she looked.”

Jin-woo’s hold on you tightens ever so slightly, and he levels a sneer at the frightened associate. The fucking gall of this man, of these humans, thinking they had a right to invade your own personal matters!

If you hadn’t been there with him he wouldn’t think twice about murdering every single person in this building. He’d flay the flesh from their bones, reap their misbegotten souls, and resurrect them into mindless pawns; just cogs in a machine for his army of the undead.

Jin-woo reluctantly quells his rage and spits out, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave. What happens between her, and I is of no concern to you. Now go.”

His commanding baritone brooks no argument, and the man flees with all the grace of a wounded animal.

For the next few minutes, you remain in Jin-woo’s arms until your tears run dry. When you’re feeling stable enough to walk Jin-woo softly takes your hand and leads you out of the building. Your books lie forgotten and haphazardly stacked on top of one another on a random shelf.

You both walk aimlessly with no set destination in mind. Your eyes were still swollen and puffy from earlier, so you avert your gaze from Jin-woo. He merely squeezes your hand in response, a gesture of reassurance.

An unoccupied back alley with a dead end eventually comes into view. It’s here in this inconspicuous passageway that Jin-woo decides to explain the full extent of his powers.

Once you’re seated on a nearby windowsill, he activates his inventory in front of you for the first time. Jin-woo said he would show you the truth and he was a man of his word. He withdraws Kasaka’s Venom Fang, the oldest dagger in his collection, and gracefully twirls it in his hand before holding it out to you.

As expected, you’re awestruck by the sight of the weapon. However, what Jin-woo doesn’t anticipate is for you to suddenly extend a hand towards the blade, your index finger almost touching its venom-tinged edge. He snatches your wrist so nimbly you barely register what happens. Only the warmth from his body alerts you of his hold.

You gasp.

Despite the incredible velocity of his movements Jin-woo was able to rein in the force behind them, preventing you from being hurt by his grip. Even the most elite athletes struggled to find the perfect balance between speed and strength. His control of his body was beyond human capabilities.

He shoots you an apologetic look and releases your wrist.

‘That dagger can paralyze and drain your life if it cuts you,’ Jin-woo warns after returning it to storage, ‘I should have told you sooner. I’m sorr –

‘It’s beautiful.’

He raises his eyebrows. Of all the words you could use to describe such a deadly weapon ‘beautiful’ wasn’t what he had in mind. His lips quirk into a small smile.

‘You think so? It doesn’t frighten you?’ he queries, pleasantly surprised by your nonchalance.

You nod and peer at him with a soft expression.

‘I do.’ There’s a long pause before you add, ‘You’ve used that knife before, haven’t you?’

You bite your lip and clasp your hands together after you’re done signing. You knew you were backing Jin-woo into a corner with a loaded question, but he wouldn’t be lugging around such a dangerous item without having a very good reason for it.

The grin on his face vanishes, replaced by grimace. You hit the nail on the head. Jin-woo readies himself for his answer.

‘Yes, I have. I’ve used that dagger to hurt and even kill people in the past. I know I’ve told you many lies and half-truths, but I wasn’t lying when I told you I dirtied my hands.’

He expels a shaky breath before delving into all the gritty details of who he really is. Unraveling and stripping himself down to his barest form.

Through a combination of sign language, a visual demonstration of his abilities, and written words Jin-woo reveals that he is a hunter, a warrior who fights life and limb against otherworldly beasts; day in and day out.

He exposes his many skills including stealth, the power he used to manifest outside of the bookstore.

Next came his accelerated healing and immense physical prowess. Jin-woo spots a discarded cinderblock on the ground, grabs it, and shatters the hard object with his bare hands. This causes his palms to scrape and bleed. You gasp and rise to your feet, alarmed by Jin-woo’s injuries. But he lifts his arm, an unspoken order for you to stay exactly where you are.

Suddenly light eclipses the abrasions and his skin starts to mend itself. You watch in disbelief as Jin-woo splays his opened and visibly undamaged palms in the air. You had just witnessed Kandiaru’s Blessing in the flesh.

And then he unveils one of his greatest assets to you.

The shadows pooling at his feet rapidly proliferate until the entire alley is submerged in darkness. Within seconds a lone obsidian knight emerges from the void. He cuts a formidable figure on his own standing well over 240 cm with vibrant hues of amethyst accenting his heavy armor. A single red plume hangs atop his helmet and sways with every stride he takes. When he gets within five feet of you and Jin-woo he kneels in reverence.

You learn the knight’s name is Igris and that he’s one of hundreds of soldiers who serve under Jin-woo. This was only a taste of the Shadow Monarch’s full dominion.

Once finished Jin-woo issues an order for Igris to return. The knight stands tall and nods his assent to his king and much to your shock, to you as well, before he disappears into the receding shadows. Moments later the alleyway is as it always appears with nothing to indicate what transpired.

It’s at this stage that you present one more hard-hitting question to Jin-woo. A question he’d been dreading.

‘You aren’t human, are you Jin-woo?’

He clenches his fists.

‘No, I’m not.’

You study his face closely trying to scope out any signs of deception, but there are none. He was being completely honest with you. But then what else could he possibly be?

Before the weight of his answer can fully sink in the revolting stench of congealed blood assaults your senses. It reeks of decay and viscera, the potent odor violating the air like a malignancy.

This was the unmistakable scent of an alpha, one that you were unfortunately all too familiar with.

It was Kang Taeshik’s nauseating musk.

You internally panic, horrified that your assailant from months ago was somehow back in the picture. Your thoughts become a frantic mess.

No…no…no! It can’t be! Director Jinchul fired him! He should’ve been long gone by now, so what the hell was he doing back on this island!?!

You feel like the air’s been punched from your lungs. Your legs shake uncontrollably and threaten to crumble. Jin-woo quickly catches you by the waist before you can slump to the ground. He then maneuvers your body so that you’re facing him, not the unseen nightmare that was approaching. He strokes your hair, and his pheromones are released in full force to calm your nerves. The aroma of lavender and sandalwood slowly begins to supersede the miasma of death.

“Show yourself already. The bloodlust from your filthy stench’s enough of a giveaway, alpha.”

Jin-woo’s eyes narrow into a frosty glare as the sound of obnoxious clapping echoes throughout the alleyway. Taeshik had finally announced his arrival.

“Well, color me impressed! It’s not often I come across someone who isn’t intimidated by my scent. Looks like you’ve got some balls on you! I like it! You’d make a great brawler in our fighting circuit.” An unknown voice commends Jin-woo with a condescending undertone.

You begin to whimper as the odor increases in intensity. Jin-woo gently tucks your head into the crook of his neck granting you access to his scent glands. Right now, his instincts were kicking into overdrive. He was solely focused on protecting and cherishing you. Fighting could be put on the back burner. For now.

 A man with a wild mane of purple hair arrogantly saunters into view. He’s accompanied by a large group of men, around ten in total and all of them alphas. Judging by the murderous intent in their eyes they were on the prowl for prey.

Taeshik’s mouth spreads into a smirk reminiscent of a Chelsea grin when notices you. He openly leers at your body; an action that causes Jin-woo to snarl and bare his fangs.

The purple haired man raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Hey now there’s no need for that. I was just appreciating the view, that’s all. Besides, your omega and I have a bit of a history together. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Jin-woo’s eyes go wide. How did he know your name?

His reaction seems to delight Taeshik who continues his spiel.

“Why the shock? She must’ve not told you about me. Y’see we used to be coworkers up until she got me fired. And after I was just trying to help by doing a little favor for her. No good deed goes unpunished, I guess.” He breaks into a fit of disconcerting laughter at the end of his speech.

“A favor?” Jin-woo asks, no, demands Taeshik to answer. Just what had he done to you?

One of the gang members, a burly man with several scars, spiky black hair, and a five o’ clock shadow snickers and interjects.

“Isn’t it obvious, brat? That little slut went into heat right in front him. She was practically begging for it too! Taeshik here was gonna bring her to us so we could all get a piece of that fine ass. Too bad that fuckin’ director had to go and ruin our plans. But your boss isn’t here to save you this time, huh sweetheart?”

“She can’t hear or speak to you, Dongsuk. She’s deaf. I don’t know how many times I have to keep reminding you.” Taeshik drawls, annoyance lacing his voice.

“Heh, so what? A hole’s a hole. It ain’t like she’s gonna be able to talk with a mouthful of cock anywa –”

Slash!

In the blink of an eye Dongsuk’s head rolls off his shoulders leaving nothing but a bloodied stump in its wake. His body slumps to its knees like a marionette with its strings cut before flopping onto the ground.

“Wha – what the hell just happened!?!”

“Holy shit!”

“D…Dongsuk!? No!”

Confusion and panic overtake the men within seconds. Even Taeshik looks ill at ease. None of them had been able to pinpoint the exact cause or reason for the man’s untimely demise.

When the purple haired alpha redirects his attention to Jin-woo, he’s mortified by what he sees. Black eclipses the end of the alleyway submerging everything in darkness except for Jin-woo’s piercing gaze.

In that moment, Taeshik learns what pure, unadulterated terror feels like. He was staring death in the face, a face that bore nothing but apoplectic rage.

A crimson and black dagger, the Knight Killer, was wielded in one of Jin-woo’s hands. The weapon’s jagged edges were ensanguined up to the hilt; evidence of the life it had so effortlessly taken. Jin-woo’s other arm remained wrapped around you although now you were facing Taeshik, the remainder of his men, and the decapitated corpse of Hwang Dongsuk.

You tear your gaze away, unable to bear the gruesome sight any longer. Jin-woo looks at you sympathetically before hardening his expression.

He knew he was letting his anger get the better of him, but he was infuriated by these vulgar bottom feeders and the disgusting remarks they made about you. Jin-woo really couldn’t give a fuck about killing these wastes of space, but he wouldn’t let you be a spectator to the slaughter he was about to commit. You’ve been traumatized enough.

An insect-like specter suddenly manifests from the shadows and bows before you and his king.

“Beru, take her somewhere safe and far away from here. I don’t want her to see this.” Jin-woo orders, his voice dropping an octave lower.

“At once my liege.” The ant diligently obeys his master and offers a clawed hand to you.

“My lady?”

You pause at the gesture, unsure of whether you should accept it or stay by Jin-woo’s side. The dark-haired man notices your hesitation and makes the choice for you. He clasps onto your shoulder and squeezes it urging you to escape with Beru.

You reluctantly allow the ant to hoist you into his arms. As Beru prepares to launch himself into flight you turn and cast a final glance at Jin-woo.

He looks nothing at all like himself. He’s cold, menacing, inhuman.

That’s right, Jin-woo wasn’t human. He admitted as much to you. But it hadn’t changed your feelings for him in any shape or form. Your heart still yearned and bled for him all the same.

Your lids grow heavy once Beru takes to the skies, a likely side-effect of overexposure to Jin-woo’s pheromones. As you start to succumb to slumber, your last waking thoughts are filled with nothing but him.

The moon hangs high in the sky when you wake up. After gaining your bearings you perform a cursory scan of your surroundings. A vast sea cavern greets you, its atmosphere dank and foreboding. Stalactites rain down from the ceiling like arrows frozen in time, weathered rocks line the walls, and the air is so humid you struggle to breathe. The only source of light is from moonbeams drifting through a crevice at the top of the cave.

You soon realize that you’re lying on top of a sandbank in the middle of a large body of water. There didn’t appear to be any means of escape other than swimming, but you were mentally and physically exhausted. Your phone was also nowhere in sight, making it impossible to text for help. You were effectively stuck.

An undulating motion in the water’s surface catches your attention. You weren’t alone, something was in here with you and it was getting closer. However, you’re not afraid. In fact, there’s something oddly familiar about this presence...

The movements abruptly ceases, and all is still for several heart pounding seconds. Then out of nowhere a large figure surges from underneath the briny waves.

It’s a male siren, and he’s utterly magnificent. His appearance more akin to a work of art than a living, breathing being. He looks at you with a serene expression. Was this who you thought it was?

You drink him in, appreciating his beauty in its entirety.

The siren’s eyes consist of blackened sclerae with amethyst irises. A smooth layer of ebony skin partially coats his jaw, shoulders, and back. It contrasts wonderfully with the ivory coloring on his chest and face. He bore the same pattern as a killer whale; an apt comparison given that sirens were also apex predators. Webbed ear fins protrude from the sides of his head, the scales on them aglow under the faint moonlight. And luscious locks of black hair frame the siren’s stunning face.

He's simply not of this world. Words could never accurately describe his ethereal visage.

The siren is sprawled out on the edge of the sandbank. Upon closer inspection you notice that he’s highly anxious. You see his dichromatic throat bobbing, and he makes a conscious effort to avoid eye contact with you. You’d seen these nervous tics before.

‘Is that you, Jin-woo?’ You sign to the siren although you’re certain you already know the answer. You just needed his confirmation for peace of mind.

He shuts his eyes and nods, a somber admission of the truth.

You take a deep breath before exhaling. Then you present him with another question.

‘Did you kill all of them?’

The siren remains still this time. His lack of a definite response was an answer in itself.

You wet your lips. So, you were right. Jin-woo said he’s killed before to survive, but this time he did it for you. To punish those men who sought to use you for their own perverse interests. And Taeshik… his fate must’ve been worse than death for what he put you through.

Jin-woo signs to you.

‘I’m sorry you had to find out this way… this was supposed to be a special day for you, but everything went wrong. I know you’ll want no part of me in your life after this, but I’m glad I met you. I’ll have Beru take you home.’

Jin-woo turns his back to you and prepares to make his departure. So, that was it? He was going to vanish from your life just like that. You hadn’t even gotten a word in; he just assumed you didn’t want anything to do with him. That idiot!

You had to stop Jin-woo before it was too late! But what could you possibly do to prevent him from leaving…?

You have an epiphany then; what if you gave all of yourself to Jin-woo, body and soul? Only an intimate act, the consummation of your relationship, could fully bind you to Jin-woo.

A mating bite is irreversible. Once you are bonded there’s no going back on it. But you’ve wanted Jin-woo for so long. In fact, you wish he had bitten your scent glands when he first kissed you. Him being a siren, a killer of mankind and monsters, did not deter you. He was your chosen mate. You would never refuse him.

The sound of rustling of clothes stops Jin-woo in his tracks. He inhales shakily, not quite believing what was happening just feet from him.

You were disrobing yourself. You wanted to mate with him!

As you peel off each article of clothing, the sweet scent of your pheromones and slick become more pronounced. Jin-woo groans as his knot starts to swell. God, you smelt incredible! If only he could see your nude form. The things he’d make you feel, the sounds he’d drive from you…

Why was he still stopping himself? Your actions just now said all that needed to be said! You wanted him, and you were more than ready for his knot. As an alpha he’d be remiss not to tend to the needs of his omega.

His mouth curls into a wolfish grin. You really had no idea what you’d just gotten yourself into.

You feel heat pooling between your thighs at the sight of Jin-woo’s broad shoulders. The muscles of his back flex deliciously when he finally turns to relish you in all your naked glory. The smoldering gaze he sends you as his eyes sweep over every inch of your bare body looks like it’s carved in sin. You delight in his attention and crave more of it.

Unable to endure another second apart from your alpha, you rush to the edge of the sandbank fully prepared to swim to him if necessary. But you’re beaten to the punch as Jin-woo emerges from the water and pins you to the ground at a speed that’s downright demonic.

He holds both of your wrists above your head in one large hand while he rests his other arm on his elbow beside your head, trapping you beneath him.

Jin-woo looks into your eyes one last time for any sign of resistance. There’s none; you were not backing down from this. You wanted him to claim you.

Your explicit consent is all he needs to unleash himself upon you. He molds his lips against yours in a searing kiss that burns with passion. Your eyes slip shut as you lose yourself to it. Jin-woo was kissing you with abandon this time, and it was sublime. There was a clear intent and purpose in every stroke and caress of his mouth. He kissed you as if nothing else mattered.

He abruptly parts from your lips to press his forehead to yours. At last, both of you could indulge and get lost in one another. You bask in Jin-woo’s warmth and spread your legs apart allowing him to slant between them. He releases your wrists and cradles your face in his hands.

Your breath hitches when you feel his length prodding against your stomach. This was really happening! You shiver in spite of yourself. Would you be able to withstand Jin-woo’s brute strength?

The siren presses featherlight kisses to your lips, cheeks, and eyelids to quell your nerves. When he pulls back you notice his mouth is moving. You focus on his lips, carefully deciphering each word.

“Raise your head and close your eyes. I have a surprise”

You do as he asks, and something cold prickles against your décolleté and the back of your neck. You’re curious about what Jin-woo’s placed on you but you keep your head raised and your lids remain firmly shut. Moments later two taps of his fingertips on your cheek signal that you can open your eyes.

When you glance down, you’re amazed by the jewelry dangling from your neck. It’s gorgeous. Incandescent shards of crystal and delicate alabaster pearls pour from your nape down to the swell of your breasts.

Jin-woo in turn finds himself mesmerized by the image of the gemstones splayed across your dewy skin. Your complexion glows in the moonlight, making you all the more alluring.

He decides to take you right then and there.

As you wrap your arms around Jin-woo’s shoulders, he captures your lips with his and slides into your tight heat. You keen and arch into Jin-woo, baring your throat to him. His fangs lengthen, and he sinks them into the tender flesh of your neck, staking his claim.

Stars adorn the night sky as the two of you intertwine and become one.

Five days later…

Woo Jinchul was beside himself with worry.

He wearily rubs at his bloodshot eyes. A quick glance at his phone tells him it's just past three o’ clock in the morning. Yet another sleepless night had come to pass. The man contemplates grabbing more coffee but decides not to. He was already five cups deep and the caffeine was doing nothing for his exhaustion.

Jinchul knows he isn’t at his best when he’s sleep deprived but he couldn’t afford to waste another minute, not while you were still nowhere to be found. And now, based on recent developments in your case, you were classified as an endangered missing person. Sleep was the very last thing on his mind.

He looks down at his desk to examine your case file for what must’ve been the tenth time in the last hour. These classified documents contained sensitive information. Jinchul had to resort to pulling strings to obtain a copy of your records. He hated throwing his weight around to get what he wanted but bringing you back home safe and alive was far more important to him.

Lead detectives Baek Yoonho and Choi Jong-In hadn’t been too thrilled about sharing the particulars of an open investigation with some ‘big wig’ film director. It took some major convincing on Jinchul’s part for them to relent and provide him with such crucial details.

So far, it’s been almost a full week since your disappearance. During that time, an exhaustive search of the island had been performed. However, there was no sight or sound of you. And as fate would have it, another misfortune occurred on the very night you vanished. This time it was a massacre.

Kang Taeshik, a name Jinchul wishes he could just forget. The man had a propensity for violence as well as a lengthy rap sheet that was conveniently scrubbed from public records. He knew Taeshik engaged in some unsavory pastimes, namely hosting unsanctioned brawls in the underground fighting circuit. But this was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Racketeering, drug trade, and much to Jinchul’s horror, human trafficking, had been just a handful of the crimes the sick bastard had gotten away with.

If only he had known sooner, then you would’ve never been in this situation. He should’ve trusted his gut and chosen another actor for Taeshik’s role. Jinchul always despised the way that man looked at you, like you were a slab of meat. It was disgusting.

Imagine his shock when he discovered Taeshik had fallen victim to a mass murderer. Body parts and mutilated remains barely recognizable as human were found littered in an alleyway like trash. The scene had been so grizzly that dental records were required to identify the deceased. Only four out of the eleven decedents could be positively ID’d, with Taeshik being one of them.

There were no eyewitnesses, no biological evidence, no suspects. Nothing. The murders would be exceptionally difficult to solve.

And they didn’t stop there.

A large bookstore was set on fire two days after the gruesome discovery. Widespread flames and hundreds of thousands of books were a recipe for disaster. Despite the best efforts of the fire department and emergency services, over seventy people lost their lives. It was initially presumed to be an accident, likely faulty wiring or inadequate maintenance.

This theory was thrown out the window when the autopsy results of one of the store’s associates revealed some truly unsettling details.

To put it lightly the man had been decimated. Every bone in his body was shattered, his spinal cord was severed, and both his legs were torn off. The associate had undergone an excruciating death, with any one of his injuries being fatal. He’d been tortured extensively before expiring from blood loss. Whoever committed this murder must’ve wanted him to suffer. The damage to the man’s body also bore striking similarities to the injuries sustained by victims of the massacre.

When his surviving co-workers were asked by detectives if the man had any known enemies, an older woman spoke up. Apparently, there was a tall dark-haired alpha having a falling-out with his girlfriend in the store a few days prior. The associate attempted to intervene and stop the lover’s tiff, but the boyfriend had been greatly angered by this.

“It was as if he’d seen a ghost,” the woman stated, “He was absolutely spooked by the confrontation and refused to talk to us about it. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t dropped the topic so easily. That boy was such a hard worker, always so eager to help those in need… it’s awful what happened to him. I don’t know how his family is coping.”

But if a grudge was only held against the associate then why did the killer go so far as to destroy the entire building? Did he also harbor resentment towards the business? Was he trying to make an example out of them?

Unfortunately, all the surveillance cameras in the bookstore had been destroyed in the fire. Staff members were able to provide a detailed description of the alpha and his girlfriend. When Jinchul first saw the composite sketches he nearly fell out of his chair.

The girlfriend had been a dead ringer for you.

If that wasn’t enough of a smoking gun, the day the man and woman were seen together coincided with the day you went missing.

Evidence in your case was mounting but none of it made sense. How did you get involved with this man? As far as Jinchul knew you weren’t dating anyone during filming. Cha and Jinho were also certain you were single. But that didn’t exclude the possibility of you being in a secret relationship… 

At this point in the investigation, all Baek and Choi had to run on was the assumption you’d been kidnapped by a highly dangerous individual. A man who just so happened to be linked to almost one hundred deaths within the last week. The resolution to your missing person’s case was becoming bleaker by the day.

Jinchul rubbed at his temples. Going days without a proper night’s rest was taking its toll on him. His head was throbbing with a killer headache. Everything’s gone to shit since you’ve been gone.

Due to the tragic events surrounding the island and the unsolved disappearance of one of their own, executive producer Go made the difficult decision of suspending production on ‘Murder on the Cerulean Sea,’ indefinitely. The movie was most likely going to be shelved.

Jinchul sighs and reaches for his phone again. He skims through his photo gallery until he comes across a picture taken on the first day of filming. You, Cha, and Jinho persuaded him to join in on a group selfie to commemorate the special occasion. The hopeful look in your eyes and the mirth in your smile causes Jinchul’s chest to feel heavy. He longs to return to happier times like this.

But those days were past and gone.

A monster came to Jindo Island, salted the earth with its rage, unleashed a burning inferno to incinerate all in its path.

And you disappeared with it in a sea of fire.

Tag list: @soft-dots @joannthebish @rokuxx6 @augurythirteen @princeizuku @vee-love @imaginarydreams @iamapotatoe @phisen @rai-xxx @ayam99920 @asylrd

[runningupthatvecna]

get the peach(es)

bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

it's the day after chrissy got vecna'd and you and the gang decide to check up on eddie at rick's. he's still in so much distress that you can't help but selflessly stay with your best friend (who you've been harboring a crush on for quite some time) and keep him company. 6k words, not proofread.

cw: the good old friends to lovers trope, eddie is an anxious bean who just needs to be held (by you, ideally), mutual (and not so secret at all) pining, i wrote this with fem!reader in mind (she/her pronouns) but can also be read as gn i guess, fluff, hurt/comfort (for eddie), pet names, mentions of chrissy's death, there shall be kisses and a lot of softness. nothing too explicit but minors are still advised to LEAVE

a/n: totally not self indulgent, that scene of him being so terrified in 4x02 ripped me to shreds so this is my fix-it attempt, trying to still my need to hold him and scratch his head. disclaimer: this piece of writing is based on the ending of that episode, meaning all credits for the setting go to the respective writers. sources to the header images here, here and here. lovely divider by saradika. ok thank you so much for reading byeeee love y'all <3

–––––

The overwhelming need to befriend the satanic metalhead found you at that party at the Wheeler house. You had almost said no to Nancy when she invited you, knowing damn well how the night would end. Steve passed out with a girl on his lap, Robin silently pining after Vickie from some corner of the room while clinging onto the red plastic cup in her hand, Jonathan getting higher than a kite with his old school mates, the younger kids asking you every five minutes if you could give them a ride since you usually were the one staying sober.

Additionally this time, there would be Eddie Munson. This familiar stranger Dustin, Mike and Lucas had met and somehow befriended over the last months, due to them joining his DnD club. "He might come off as a bit intimidating ... but I promise he's super chill and easy going!", Mike had tried to convince his sister, poking the tip of her shoulder repeatedly with a bunch of pleases during lunch break in the editing room of the school's newspaper. Until she rolled her eyes theatrically and agreed to let the ambiguous stranger, which the whole town collectively perceived as not really fitting in (and who you both certainly knew under the not so chill reputation he carried around), attend the celebratory events at Casa Wheeler. Occasion: Karen, Ted and their youngest leaving the house for more than one day, off on vacation.

You'd always kinda stayed out of his ways, used to observe his antics back at school with a silent laugh and this .. intrigue poking at your guts. To you he always stood out, and if anyone asked you'd be hesitant to admit it, but his willingness to go against the flow and not conform to the acceptable standards set by society was honestly impressive. And besides, surely this whole mysterious drug dealer rockstar image must just be a fassade and deep down he's just a dork, right?

His eyes follow you through the living room, an echo of your name crossing his mind repeatedly after having pulled Dustin into a corner for a brief interrogation. He finds it endearing how quickly and almost bashfully you look away every time your curious gaze meets his. As you redirect your focus to the conversation you're becoming engaged in, there's a soft smile creeping onto your lips. Little did he know it would soon start to haunt him in his dreams at night.

"Anything specific you're looking for?"

God, his voice. The close proximity invites your nose to inhale a mix of fresh cigarette smoke, bergamot and sandalwood, allowing you to sense what can only be him standing behind you as you skim through the cabinets of the Wheeler kitchen. You turn your head for your eyes to confirm your assumption and what they find is the deepest brown of round baby cow eyes they've ever met, up so much closer now. The paring of his gaze and plush smile somehow manages to dissolve every little prejudice you've been involuntarily harboring about him. Eddie Munson, the town's freak. Prime reason for the existence of the satanic panic. Drugs. And then you realise that you should probably do the polite thing and give him an answer. "Yeah uh, I was just trying to find the peach syrup", holding his gaze with a small lopsided smile, lost in its warmth which you wouldn't have dared to expect from it, before facing away from him again. He snorts a little, "peach syrup?", pauses to bring a thumb to his upper lip, lightly scratching the skin above as if to wipe something away, before he removes it again and the dimples appear around the corners of his mouth, "that is oddly specific." His response spreads a smile over your face, and the next thing he says widens it, "looks like you have taste though."

You move one step to the side, about to investigate the insides of the next cabinet, the kitchen itself almost empty of people with only three others chatting away in the corner across the island. He follows, undoubtedly trying to stay close, and the heat from the fire he just ignited somewhere inside of you rises to your cheeks. "Thanks, I really like peaches. Especially in my drinks. It adds a little ... kick to my sobriety", you explain, Eddie now quirks an amused eyebrow paired with a lopsided smile at you, and as you get to the last cabinet it dawns on you (and also Eddie) that this household severely lacks peach syrup. An atrocity. Thanks Ted.

After he helped you rummage through the entirety of the kitchen without success but under a lot of small talk, the metalhead vanishes from the function for an hour or so. At least that's what your brain concludes when your vision fails to spot him among the people who are in attendance. Maybe he's selling out of Nancy's bedroom. Maybe he's puking up his insides in the bathroom because he had too much of that weird beer he's been downing all night. Maybe he's banging some random girl in the bathroom upstairs. Or summoning a demon. Or both. At the same time. You once again try focusing your attention back to the conversation you are involved in. Munson already feels so dear to you that the lack of his presence is starting to form an ache in your heart. It's tugging on those strings with how much you already want him near you. Yeah. You're gonna be in trouble with this one.

And then he stumbles into the room from the direction of the front door, an event you're totally unable (and unwilling) to miss. He doesn't look like he just puked, nor sold a whole lot of the stash since you notice it still bulging out the left ass pocket of his black jeans. Instead, as he pushes past the small groups of people socialising – and towards you – while you notice a red net of round fruits dangling from his right hand, and you start to think that his disheveled hair and that rosy tint on his cheeks might actually not be from shagging either. He meets your gaze again as he approaches you with a grin and your heart dares to swell at his attentive gesture (you think you might as well pass away on the spot).

"Have some, peach."

It's not syrup, but you'll take them anyway. And with your next drink, you swallow down not only that peachy sweetness on your tongue, but also whatever this tingly feeling in your chest is.

"Chchhrhch.."

Pause.

"Hey, uh– chrhchhr.."

Silence in your bedroom, the only thing illuminating the space is the moonlight softly falling through the window.

"Chrch– a-are you there?"

You stirr awake from dozing off in your bed, trying to piece together the information your senses are giving you.

Eyes gone dry, you have to blink a few times. Figure out which year it is and so on.

Confusion lies between the static crackle for a moment. That nap after your shift at the diner was necessary. God, you need to fucking quit.

"No I'm sure she'll pick right up, just– hey pleeease b-be awake, goddamn it!–"

Is it already past midnight?

You don't know and you can't tell, the clock on your nightstand still broken. What you do know though is that the familiar voice belongs to your friend Dustin and it's desperately trying to get ahold of you.

They must have found him.

"Dustin? I copy, where are you? What's going on?", you finally grab the device from the nightstand, fully awake and aware of your surroundings now.

You need to know. If he's okay.

There's that all too familiar instant tingle in your chest again, an ache that made itself familiar to you for the first time when he was introduced to you at the one and only Wheeler party several months ago. The dungeon master of Hawkins High's Hellfire club, the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin and a super chill and easy going guy, to put it in Mike Wheeler's words.

What you didn't expect back then was your heart starting to develop that feeling, that tingle you'd always get to feel when you were in his presence, or like now, when his name is threatening to spill from your friend's lips on the other side of the connection at any moment.

"Aha! See? I told you she'd respond in no time."

You can practically feel Dustin's shit eating grin through the frequency, basking in being correct over Steve Harrington once again. It never gets old between these two.

"Oh my god", Steve's muffled voice is what you can make out vaguely from the off, he's probably palming his face.

"Dustin!", your voice disappears into the device, and your impatience grows with every passing second, hoping he gets the hint.

There's the sound of a door falling shut, leaves rustling under shoes, he must be outside now.

"Alright, okay yeah, so we found him at Rick's and he's really upset and he's been asking for you. I know it's late but can you meet us out here? And maybe, uh, stay with him?"

It's not even worth questioning. You're already wearing shoes. Your biggest hoodie in tow, you stumble into your kitchen with the intention to raid your own snack drawer. Pulling out Eddie's favourite, which you of course had stocked up on ever since hanging out with him at your place had become more of a weekly routine for the both of you.

Ten minutes, you told him. You'd be there in ten.

The drive feels like forever. The longest ten minutes of your life, you think.

You know the route like the back of your hand, having driven along the gravelly road leading from the last intersection before Hawkins' border to the outer world, to the serene woods surrounding Lover's Lake countless times. Eddie would take you here ever so often, for picnics, an occasional smoke after picking up a new delivery from Rick's, cloud or star gazing, listening to Metallica and Tears for Fears on Wayne's old walkman.

The gravel crunches underneath your white reeboks as they land on the ground. You close the door to your car as quietly as possible after you've taken out the bag and your hoodie.

Dustin and Steve are stood outside the boathouse, waving like madmen in the darkness once you come into their periphery.

The younger boy hugs you tightly.

"So glad you could make it", he gets out, the relief palpable through his voice as well as the grip he holds you in for a brief moment.

You look at them both after Steve presses you against him cordially, and breathe out through your nose, making your nostrils flare.

Dustin cracks open the case to you as he starts to ramble about the state in which they found your best friend, "well first he attacked Steve with a broken bottle, we had to put in great effort to convince him that we'd be on his side, and we came to the conclusion that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, basically."

What you want right now goes without saying. Everyone here knows how close you and Eddie are. As friends, of course. No one would think anything different.

Without wasting another second, the boys lead you inside where Max and Robin are knelt on the wooden floor. Heads turning towards the entrance of the room where you're now standing.

The sight of what's offered to your eyes, sitting opposite of them, breaks your heart.

You can see that he's slightly shivering, eyes glassy in the dim lit room. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips though once his brain grasps your presence, and he can't help anymore but let the water fall once his eyes lock with yours.

The pain that is swimming in those two deep warm brown oceans hits you like a dagger to the chest. Over the months of being friends with him you'd seen him various different states, none of them comparable to this.

"Peach", his shaky voice announces your arrival and the sound of your nickname spilling from his lips cracks through your bones. The bag that's slung around your shoulder drops onto the wood with a dull thud.

Wobbly legs carry him towards you with a gentle shove past Robin and Max. You're once again reminded of your best friend's sheer physical strength as he wraps his arms around you, instantly burying his face into the crook of your neck.

One arm of your own sneaks around his torso, pressing him against you as tightly as your own strength allows you, while your other hand comes up to bury itself underneath the mane and to end up scratching soothingly over the scalp above the nape of his neck.

Eddie lets out a muffled sob, sniffling into the collar of the sweatshirt you threw on in a haste. He doesn't really want anyone to see him like this, certainly not Steve Harrington, so he clutches onto you so tightly that he thinks you might just feel his heavy heart beating anxiously against your chest.

And you do. How could you not with the amount of world he means to you? Like an automatism your other hand rubs slow circles over his back. Comforting him in the best way you could. Not a conscious decision you make.

"Okay so, m'not meaning to ruin the party, in fact I'd love to stay for another round of doom talk, but I really should get home soon, guys", Robin scratches the back of her head after she gets up from her huddled position next to the wooden crate Eddie had been sitting on. Max joins in and agrees, mumbling something about having to move her mom from being passed out on the couch again into her bed.

"Yeah me too, actually. My dad's gonna be fucking pissed. We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?", Steve's voice echoes through the room and you can tell he's already shoved Dustin back outside, itching to drive the kid home.

As Eddie processes having to stay in hiding, added the possibility of everyone leaving without him, his grip on you tightens even more.

"It's okay, Eds", you speak softly, head slightly tilted so your cheek rests on the dark frizzy mop you could call his hair. The skin on his neck and scalp so warm underneath your fingertips as you keep scratching it, emphasizing your presence, "I'll stay."

A soft muffled whimper is what you get as a response, and the way he lets you see him in this state melts your insides to a puddle.

You just need him to be okay.

They wave their goodbyes behind your back, accompanied by mumbles of "see you in the morning", and you can't even bring yourself to turn your head around, fully focused on making the young man in your arms less terrified of the world. A world he was sure was now going to come for him with all its force – in deep conviction of him being responsible for Chrissy's misfortunate end.

The door falls shut and Eddie muffles a quiet thank you into the fabric of your sweatshirt. The skin on your neck is damp with his tears, wet eyelashes tickling every time he blinks.

"It's okay, Eds", you softly keep repeating your words to him while continuously rubbing over the denim of his signature Dio vest in a slow motion, when he feels the urgency to claim the truth into the collar of your sweater about what has happened, "I– I didn't do it, I swear."

As if you would need any convincing.

"Oh no of course you didn't, I know that", you're looking for a way to ease the distress this entire situation is causing him, his quivering voice adding to your desire to soothe him to inner peace, "can I make a suggestion?"

Eddie nods with another sniffle against your collarbone, the round wet tip of his nose brushing against the column of your throat lightly. To his ears, your voice sounds like silk right about now.

"How about we head over to the main house and get ourselves a little more comfortable? Since we're gonna be here for a little longer? My god you probably haven't slept or eaten at all, have you?"

You can feel him nod his head again with a hum this time, and you start to think that the tears might not just be pouring because he just witnessed someone suffer a gruesome death right in front of him, but also due to physical exhaustion.

It makes your heart ache even more, that tingle still present, even more so now. It hurts to see your best friend hurt.

He just needs to be okay. And in that heart of yours there's that little spark of hope that leads you to believe you could be the one helping him with that.

You'd really want that. Be all his to find comfort in, to hold close, to kiss stupid

Stop.

A sigh escapes your lungs at the thought. That tingle, that longing, it's selfish. It familiarly pools in your belly and slowly drips downwards. You push your brain aside. This is about soothing your best friend now.

"C'mon then", you utter softly, encouraging him with your hand to lift his head from where it leans against your shoulder.

For your heart it's almost too much to look at, the hurt still swimming in the glassy big brown irises, his waterline red and puffy. The soft smile returning to his lips causes the wet apples of his cheeks to push up slightly, reflecting the dim light coming from the one torch Robin left you, placed on one of the crates.

He really hadn't been able to close an eye for a single second since he he'd gotten up for school the day prior.

You smile back at him almost bashfully as you slowly create space between your bodies.

Eddie is grateful that it's you who grabs his ringed hand next.

He squeezes yours, hoping to get the message of this meaning something to him across.

And he closely trails behind you as you lead the way.

The house feels empty, like no one's really been here in months. You'd never been inside. The few times you'd accompanied Eddie grabbing stash you'd stayed in his van, waiting. But as far as you now can make out in the darkness, there's a couch with knitted blankets, a little TV with a whole stack of VHS almost rising as high as the screen itself, spilled and spluttered empty cans and papers and wrappings littered all around. Maybe this is why he never let you come inside with him. Keeping you out of this definitely not sterile mess. Along with keeping you out of the business.

In the middle of the living room, you let go of his hand and shuffle one step away from him. He's inside now. Safe. Job done. Doesn't need physical contact. You shouldn't, he's your friend. You feel like something between you would break if you'd go there.

Eddie thinks otherwise, regarding close proximity at least. He promptly follows you into what you believe to be the kitchen where you hope you might find a tea bag or two. He comes up behind you and encases you in his arms as you rummage through the cabinets (feels familiar, hm?), not at all ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your body pressed against his own just yet.

You giggle at the silliness of him putting weight on you just to make it harder for you to reach into the cabinets. It's endearing. And very Eddie.

Twenty minutes later and there's two mugs – cleaned to your best ability – with steaming hot liquid on the sixties wooden coffee table. Next to them a plate filled with the almost equally hot insides of a ravioli in tomato sauce can. Thank Rick for a still functioning microwave.

You drape the knitted blankets over both you and Eddie as you settle into the cushions. The only light existent coming from two lit candles on said coffee table. It wouldn't be too wise setting up the torch you think.

The side of Eddie's face glows in the orange yellow, his wide brown bambi eyes dried after the first grand storm, and there's this tug on the corner of his pink plush lips again. He exchanged his leather jacket for the freshly washed hoodie for comfort and a small part of you hopes he doesn't spill his dinner onto any of it.

You lean back into the backrest of the worn out couch and watch as he eats, a domestic thing you've done a thousand times already, yet you still find comfort in knowing that he's nourishing himself.

Or well, in this case, inhaling the raviolis.

"Thank you Peach", he moves to put the empty plate back on the coffee table and it makes the spoon chink and glide along the edge, "I really needed this."

His voice is a little hoarse, probably from the emotions of the hours behind him. Maybe he has indeed calmed down a little. His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing.

You give him the most empathetic smile you can bring yourself to display, painfully aware of the blaze that is transpiring through your leggings and seeping into your bones, "it's no big deal, really. I mean it is– uh, being there for you, is."

And he can't bring himself to look up at you. Instead, he stares at the empty plate on that coffee table in front of him.

"And to me as well. It really helps that you're here."

He doesn't bother moving the calloused warmth of his hand from the soft warmth of your thigh. It lights your entire nervous system on fire. In a good way.

And that's when you begin to wonder if everything that has just happened and is still happening right now changes anything.

"I'm so glad it does", is all you're able to get out.

Eddie decides that it's time to lean into your side and wrap his arms around your torso once again, drop his head back to its favourite place with a soft content little hum.

He just needs physical comfort. Of course. Just that. Nothing more, nothing else.

The words are redundant but your mouth articulates them anyway, "try to get some sleep, yeah?"

His back already lifts and falls evenly. You place your hand on the back of his head that rests in the crook of your neck again, scratching through the curls lightly, searching to help him shut off even deeper.

–––––

The candles have gone out by the time your eyelids slowly open. It takes you a moment to recall the location you fell asleep in, and you hope that the nightly darkness the whole room is now filled with hasn't invited any stranger to take advantage of your unconsciousness.

There's a warm hand holding your face, the pad of a thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek softly. It makes its way from the bridge of your nose to the outer corner of your eye, and back. And forth. And back. And forth.

You must have moved to lie down on your back in your sleep, with Eddie's weight still on your body, legs entangled. It's not the first time you've slept like this, there had been movie nights that had ended similarly.

His hand caressing your cheek though, yeah that is new. There's something unspoken in the air this time around. Your stomach is doing flip flops when you realise that he is propped up on his elbow, just .. looking at you. With eyes that don't require light to hint at whatever it is he is trying to say, or maybe not trying at all.

"Eds, what are you doing?", you ask almost in a whisper followed by a lopsided smile, expecting an unserious answer, because he always tends to make a joke whenever he tries to avoid conversing about emotions regarding his heart.

His thumb stops its acrobatics on your cheek, comes to a halt.

"I'm–", he takes a deep breath before he continues, "I'm just so grateful it's you that's here right now."

Your hand comes up to cup his. Brush over his rough knuckles with a thumb of your own. Enjoying the warmth that is seeping from his palm into your skin.

"Yeah, I figured you were gonna be a little opposed to spending the night with Harrington", you laugh, an attempt to turn your nerves into humour.

Eddie snorts a little, "yeah right, it's almost like you know me", he grins and pushes himself even closer to your face than he already is. It doesn't necessarily help in extinguishing the fire that's consuming you whole at this point.

"It's almost like we're best friends and I know what you think of him because every time Dustin or literally anyone else mentions his name around you, you're not necessarily secretive about it."

"Hey, my own worldview is not my fault, it's just– ... he just kinda seems like a douche of the highest order."

"He's quite alright, Eds. Try giving him a chance, I think he'd look great as Coffin's tambourinist."

He snorts again and you feel his breath on the column of your neck next when he dips his head down, nose pressing against the soft skin, his small giggle being swallowed by the collar of your sweatshirt.

Your favourite sound. Ever. Followed by the relieved moan Eddie lets out at the way your other hand is softly rubbing over his shoulder blade. The vibration against your neck makes you twitch as much as being pinned into the couch cushions by his body allows you.

It's soothing as much for you as it is for him.

When he lifts his head, the soft gaze he eyes you with is enough to let the goosebumps erupt. Even in the darkness of the room you can still make out those round buttons that could melt the entire north pole.

"Thank you, Peach, really. I'd be goin' mental right now and probably tryin' to counter that by smoking an equally mental amount of the stash I've been hiding here."

Your heart aches.

"I'm just glad I can be that kind of comfort to you, Eds. You don't have to go through whatever the fuck this is alone."

"I know I'm never gonna be alone as long as you are there."

You almost cry yourself now, his words making your hand travel from his own to his cheek, almost passing out from the way his eyes bore into your own once again.

Eddie isn't sure what it is that is making him feel lightheaded right now. The whole rollercoaster of events of the past hours. Or your words of affirmation. Or mayhaps it is your cute soft hand with that little ring on your thumb which is gently swiping over his damp skin.

That cute soft hand he'd been imagining countless times at night, silently yearning for your eyes to look at him differently, to finally see him in a different light the next time you'd hang out.

Probably a combination of just everything.

You reciprocate his soft half-lidded gaze, hand moving from his cheek to tuck some of his hair behind his left ear, revealing that delicate silver hoop earring you'd gifted to him for his birthday, after having talked your ear off about getting his ear pierced for literal months.

He'd insisted you join him for the appointment, "another metal moment for the books", as Eddie had called it, the need to have his hand held during the stab comically urgent in the way his voice sounded when he called you that day. And in the pace in which he picked you up.

"I'm here no matter what", you respond to his sentiment, that hand that brushed his hair away resting on the side of his neck while leaning the weight of your head into his palm that is still attached to your cheek.

Eddie's confidence reaches a new all time high with the admission of your unconditional support being stirred into the cocktail of hormones and emotions that's been circulating in his bloodstream for a generous amount of time now.

Because then he goes on by saying impossible things.

Impossible things with a slightly less platonic undertone.

"You're so fucking sweet, has anyone ever told you?"

You smile as you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks once again and you're sure he won't be able to see just how flustered he's getting you (joke's on you he does).

You're also sure he's out of his mind for saying that. Now.

"A shame, honestly. You should scold your best friend for not telling you sooner. Tell him what a fucking idiot he is."

Eddie earns another giggle from you. Music to his ears. Better than Metallica. Okay maybe not but .. pretty fucking close.

"I'll let him know next time I see him", you say with a grin, playing along with pleasure, and you ask yourself why it is only now that you realise just how fucking close his face is to yours.

There is a moment of silence in which Eddie hesitates articulating whatever is seemingly bugging his mind.

"Do you, uh, still like him?"

If you lifted your head just a little your noses would be touching. A silly and utmost redundant question, and yet, Eddie dreads your answer. If the circumstances were different, less dystopian and tragic, you'd seriously wonder what would spark the doubt in your friendship in him, but considering that everyone else would be going to pour their judgement over him, you understand.

Every word exchanged between the two of you at this hour is soaked in mutual infatuation, something the idiots in both of you are slowly starting to fathom as well.

"Of course I do, he's everything to me."

As you say it, you can't help the grin which reappears reliably each time you finish verbalizing your thoughts. It's contagious, you notice.

"And do you think – just hypothetically of course", it's only then he breaks eye contact to clear his throat, "of course", you interrupt him still smiling and cocking an eyebrow at him, "d'ya think it would be okay for this best friend to, uh, maybe...", Eddie pauses, internally watching the ship containing his confidence set sail slowly and ultimately letting the irrational thoughts win for tonight, "would you let him..."

Eddie generally wasn't someone who lacked confidence. It showed in the way he boisterously wandered the halls of Hawkins High, the way his demeanor never changed, his mask never faltered no matter who was around. Except for you. You who he had always granted a look underneath the impulsive, extroverted surface.

"Eds", you try everything in your power to stay calm even though everything inside of you is screaming right now and you're certain you can feel your pulse in your earlobes.

"Would it be just insane of that best friend to kiss you right now?"

You want to squeal and kick your feet, pull him into your face, pinch your own forearm, pass away, leave the house and never return, and stay right where you are forever, buried underneath your favourite metalhead, the parts where your bodies are touching practically on fire, cosy and content.

Instead, the most fond smile spreads over your lips as you try to contain your internal overwhelm.

It's still dark, the only light source being the full moon outside. Eddie's so hopeful of your reciprocation and even more terrified of ruining his entire life at the same time, those deep doe eyes at this point pretty much resemble the shape of the space rock orbiting earth. Rejection from you, his pretty Peach and the Bonnie to his Clyde, would be unbearable.

"I think so," you almost whisper, the hand that's been rubbing over Eddie's back coming up to lightly trace one of his eyebrows with your index finger because you just can't seem to not touch him in some way, "but you should know that I love his insanity."

Your small giggle is being silenced by a soft and cautious kiss from Eddie Munson. Like he doesn't want to break you. Or he's afraid you'll snap out of a haze, slap him and leave if he starts kissing you like he really wants to.

And then it's you who goes for it, you feel at home, right where you belong, you don't think you've ever felt this good. The hand on his jaw tugs him closer softly, pressing your lips to his with a bit more urgency.

It gives him all the confirmation he could possibly need.

That tingle, it grows and fills up your chest and shoots through your entire being, goosebumps and all. Eddie moans and breathes against your lips, tongue dancing over the thin skin, asking for permission.

His ringed hand digs deeper and slowly moves to the nape of your neck, intending to hold you in place, afraid you could slip away from him if he didn't. This blossoming thing between you could slip away from him. If he didn't.

It's so soft, the way his lips touch yours, and before you know it they move to your cheek, to your jaw, down your neck before Eddie comes up again, smiling from ear to ear, to gently bump his nose against the tip of yours and his lips return home with a soft and deep hum escaping from his lungs into your mouth.

Relief floods his veins along with whatever it is you're doing to him. The ability to shut out the insanity of the past hours is what he so desperately wants to cling to for as long as you allow him, even if the dawn will remind him of the horrid reality he's involuntarily become subject to live through now.

"You're making things so much better, Peach, you're so sweet, so fucking cute, so fucking good for me, do you even know for how long I've been dreaming of this?"

Eddie greedily pulls your face into his again, not even giving you a chance to reply and not nearly getting enough of your affection it seems with how fervently his tongue searches for yours.

A gentle collision of skin.

The soft whimpers you let out only spur him on. You not backing away from him, staying with him, letting him be this close to you?

You, the only constant source of consolation Eddie's ever really had.

Life changing.

Soft touches follow soft touches, your thumb traces his jaw repeatedly.

"You don't–", kiss, "for how long–", kiss, "I've been dreaming–", kiss, "of you as well", you breathe against him and Eddie thinks he might be about to resort to sniffling into your collar again with the amount of relief he is experiencing.

You'd let him.

"Yeah?", he presses his nose into your cheek with his eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, relaxing his entire body into yours as you let him slide inbetween your legs.

"Yeah, you know how much of a sucker I am for peaches", you grin, another peck to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, your hips slowly finding a rhythm against his own.

Eddie groans at your allusion with a wide grin on his face (and the feeling of your warmth against his dick), before pressing his lips against yours again lovingly, "me too baby, me too."

–––

taglist (thought you might be interested): @josephfakingquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @analogkraken, @wroteclassicaly, @songforeddiemunson, @joejoequinnquinn, @somnambulic-thing, @trashmouth-richie, @eddddiemunson, @ceriseheaven, @userchai

comments, reblogs and other forms of affection towards the author are greatly appreciated thank youuuuu <3

[octaneink]

The Aftermath

Will Lenney x Reader

Summary: The reader takes care of Will after the 2025 Charity Match Warnings: None Notes: Based on this request! Part two of Custom Fit. Sorry this was so short 😞this week's been pretty busy.

The stadium lights dimmed to a honey-gold haze, but the chaos was far from over.

Will stood pinned against a concrete pillar by a swarm of cameras and microphones, other YouTubers interviewing him for content, his post-match grin strained at the edges. Sweat dripped from his hairline, carving clean lines through the grime on his face. Someone had tossed him a towel, but it hung limply over his shoulders, forgotten. His voice had gone hoarse but retained its trademark charm.

“Nah, mate, the header wasn’t planned—just saw the ball and thought, Christ, that’s going on YouTube,” he said, grinning crookedly as the people laughed. His eyes flicked to you leaning against the cold concrete wall outside, just for a heartbeat, before darting back to the cameras. The fifth time he’d done that in ten minutes.

You clutched the Allstars kit tighter, its fabric coarse and damp against your fingertips. The acrid bite of sweat clung to the jersey—sharp and sour, layered with the grassy musk of turf ground into every fibre. It should’ve repelled you, but instead, you pressed the fabric to your chest like a relic, thumb tracing the embroidered patch until the threads snagged your skin.

Talia materialised beside you, holding two foam cups of warm stadium drinks in one hand and a grease-stained paper bag of Sides in the other. “He’s like a golden retriever with separation anxiety,” she said, nodding toward Will, then glared at her drink. “And before you ask—yes, this is piss-warm chamomile. Blame this one,” she added, patting her barely-there bump. “Keeps checking you’re still here,” she continued, rolling her eyes at Will’s fifth glance in your direction. ���Someone’s gotta be the caffeine-deprived babysitter.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, flushing as you snatched the decaf from her. The chamomile’s floral tang clashed violently with the lingering musk of Will’s jersey still pressed to your side. “Don’t ‘shut up’ me. You’re basically holding his emotional support jersey.” She plucked at the fabric on your arm, wrinkling her nose. “Though, god, it reeks. Love really is blind.”

Freya snorted, materialising behind Talia with Faith and a dozing Olive in tow. The toddler stirred, her Sidemen scarf slipping askew as she sleepily gummed a fist. “And nose-dead, apparently,” Freya said, plucking a fry from Talia’s bag with a joking grin and gesturing at the jersey with it, neon cheese glooping onto her thumb. “You sure you don’t want to burn that?” She pulled a face like she’d licked a battery, playfully rolling her eyes. “You two are worse than my Nana’s telenovelas—and that’s saying something, considering her main character literally died of a paper cut last season.”

With a dramatic sigh, she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, putting on a pretty good aristocratic accent: “Behold! The tragic Victorian widow clings to her scoundrel’s sweat-rag! A tale as old as tiiiiime—”

Talia jabbed Freya’s ribs with her decaf cup, nearly sloshing chamomile over the rim. “Keep the melodrama PG,” she said, though her twitching lips betrayed her. “Olive’s going to start quoting your nonsense at daycare.”

Freya glanced at the toddler, now drooling peacefully on Faith’s jacket, and dropped her tragic widow pose with a snort. “Relax—see? She’s out cold. Besides,” she added, elbowing you with a wink, “we all know you’d dive into a dumpster fire for his crusty socks. No judgement here.”

Will chose that moment to escape the locker room, his smirk sharpening as he caught the tail end of Freya’s jab. “Jealous, Freya?” he called, limping toward you with exaggerated swagger. “I’m sure Josh would get you one too, if you ask nicely.”

“Took you long enough,” you said, stepping forward to shoulder his duffel bag. Grass stains still streaked his neck, the custom #LENNEY 2 jersey clinging to him beneath his unzipped hoodie like a second skin.

Faith shifted Olive’s sleeping weight, nodding toward the exit. “Go. Before this little one wakes up and demands another pretzel the size of her head.”

“Seconded,” Talia said, crumpling her empty nacho bag with a yawn. “Your ‘tragic Victorian widow’ act is killing the vibe. Take your possibly concussed Romeo home.”

Will saluted lazily. “Yes, Mum.” You shot them a mock glare but couldn’t suppress your grin. “Bye, ladies,” you said, throwing a wave over your shoulder as Will slung an arm around your neck, his weight leaning into you like a human limpet.

“Text us when you’re home, preferably not dead in a ditch!” Freya called.

“Or do!” Talia added. “Drama’s good for the group chat.”

“Wouldn’t want to deprive you,” Will muttered, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He raised two fingers in a tired salute as you guided him toward the garage, the girls’ laughter fading behind you.

The walk to the car was quiet, murmured voices echoing through the large open space of the concrete garage. Will’s shoulder bumped yours every third step—less a nudge than a loss of balance—his duffel strap slipping down his arm until you hooked it with two fingers. He didn’t object.

At the Audi, he sagged against the bumper, head thunking back against the rear windscreen. “Let’s go,” he drawled, patting his pockets with sluggish determination. You intercepted the keys mid-air, their fob still warm from his grip.

“C’mon,” he groaned, reaching halfheartedly. “I’m not that knackered—”

You rolled your eyes. ”You just headed a ball. You’re probably still seeing double,” you said, pointing to the faint bruise already blooming on his temple. “And don’t even try to lie.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it with a click, shoulders sagging. “...Could’ve let me pretend I’m still invincible for five more minutes,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to it.

You popped the passenger door open with a smirk. “Boot or seat? Your choice.”

“Seat,” he grumbled, folding himself into the leather with all the grace of a collapsing deck chair. His knee cracked audibly against the glove box as he buckled up. “Christ—fucking—”

“Language”.

“You’re lucky you’re fit,” he added, tilting his head back against the rest. The garage lights cut across his face, sharpening the shadows under his eyes.

“Keep talking”, you said, adjusting the rearview mirror, “and I’ll make you ride in the boot for real.”

The Audi purred onto the rain-slicked road, tyres hissing against wet asphalt as neon signs bled into liquid gold across the windscreen. Will stabbed at the climate control panel with the heel of his hand, cranking the heat until the vents roared like a dragon.

"Christ, that's vile," he groaned as warmth hit his sweat-damp shirt, muscles seizing. The sharp cedarwood of his cologne turned cloying in the sudden humidity.

"Told you to ice your knee." You didn't look up from the road, thumb tapping the rhythm of some pop atrocity oozing from the radio. "But no. Had to be the martyr in head-to-toe Under Armour."

"Frozen peas give me existential dread." He peeled his back from the leather seat with a wet sound, grimacing. "They’re the vegetable equivalent of passive aggression."

"You’re the one who tried to throw the ball like you’re eighteen again. Newsflash, Granddad – your ligaments have a retirement fund now."

He scoffed, rolling his neck until it cracked. "One tactical stumble—"

"—Tactical?" You snort, teasing him more. "You folded like a Poundland lawn chair."

"Fuck’s sake, it was a stumble. It was—" You interrupted him by swerving around a pothole, grinning when the jolt made him suck air through his teeth. "Admit it. You just wanted the stretcher crew to carry you. Again."

"Jealous the med students didn’t swarm your touchline?" His mouth hooked sideways, all mischief and challenge. "I’ve seen the way you eye them. What’s your type – the one with the trauma shears or the guy who looks like a thumb in a fleece?"

"At least they hydrate properly." You flicked the half-empty water bottle in his lap, droplets arcing onto his joggers. "This isn’t a prop, Will. Actual humans need fluid to survive."

"Darling, if you wanted me undressed, you could’ve just—"

"Don’t." You cut him off, heat crawling up your neck as his laugh rolled through the car, low and knowing. The steering wheel creaked under your grip. "I’ll crash us. I mean it."

"Liar." He settled back, victorious, stretching his legs with a groan. "You’d miss the view too much."

You rolled your eyes, but he caught your chin with two fingers, tilting your face toward him. The traffic light bled red across his smirk. “C’mere,” he said, voice gravel-rough. His kiss was all heat and hubris, teeth nipping your lower lip as the light turned green. Horns blared behind you. He pulled back, eyes glinting. “Told you. Best view in London.”

His bravado lasted exactly three seconds.

The adrenaline finally bled out of him in a rush—shoulders slumping, smirk softening into something frayed at the edges. He tried to mask it, drumming restless fingers on his thigh, but the rhythm stuttered as his eyelids dipped. “Keep dreaming,” you said, quieter now. His retort dissolved into a yawn, jaw cracking audibly.

Rain smeared the world beyond the glass, but the car held its own galaxy—the ping of his phone charging, the syncopated drip of his damp hair hitting his collar, the way his knee brushed the gear shift one last time before going still. Always pushing. Always there. Until he wasn’t.

By the second traffic light, his temple met the window with a soft thunk. The city painted him in fleeting strokes—neon blue highlighting the curve of his slack mouth, sodium gold gilding the stubble along his jaw. A bruise bloomed above his eyebrow like storm clouds, yet he looked younger in the quiet, fingers slack around the water bottle. Even his breathing changed, the sharp edges of his banter smoothed into slow, syrupy exhales.

You turned the radio down.

He didn’t stir.

The kitchen fluorescents buzzed like angry wasps. Will collapsed onto a barstool, chin propped in his palm, as you shoved leftover carbonara into the microwave. He watched the plate spin through the greasy glass, eyes glazed. The microwave beeped sharply, and he flinched. “Eat,” you ordered, sliding the steaming plate toward him. “Properly. Or I’ll start spoon-feeding you.”

He smirked, dragging a noodle through the sauce with deliberate slowness. “Promises, promises.” Sauce smudged his thumb, and he licked it off absently, gaze drifting to the fridge plastered with magnets from your trips abroad. “Should’ve ordered Nando’s,” he mumbled around a half-chewed bite.

You flicked a bread roll at his chest.

“Oi.” He caught it mid-air, his grin lopsided. “Trying to maim me further?”

“Trying to keep you alive.” You leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Your body’s running on fumes and ego.”

“Ego’s renewable energy, love.” He tore the roll apart, crumbs cascading onto the plate like shrapnel. A fleck of parsley clung stubbornly to the corner of his lip—a bright green against his pallor. You let it linger, watching his gaze drift past you, fixed on some invisible point in the middle distance. His eyelids dipped like weighted curtains, snapping open every thirty seconds with robotic precision.

You hooked your foot around his ankle beneath the counter, jolting him. “Will.”

He blinked, slow and syrupy, as if surfacing from underwater. “Hm?”

“You’re zoning.”

“Am not.” The denial cracked halfway. He shovelled a forkful of carbonara into his mouth, chewing with the enthusiasm of a man gnawing cardboard. The shadows under his eyes weren’t circles anymore—they were craters.

His damp hair coiled in rebellious curls at his nape, the sterile scent of the stadium’s complimentary soap clashing with the sour tang of his abandoned jersey slung over the chair. Your gaze snagged again on that damn parsley, flagrant as a flare. Without thinking, you reached out, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth.

He froze mid-bite, fork suspended. A crumb fell. You swiped the green fleck away, your nail catching faintly on his chapped lip. His throat worked—a dry, audible click.

“Bed.” You lobbed the ibuprofen bottle at him. It thunked against his palm, his reflexes still sharp even as the rest of him unravelled.

“Bossy tonight, aren’t we?” He rattled the pills like dice, squinting at the label.

“Someone’s gotta be.”

He lurched into the bedroom, shedding his hoodie mid-stumble. The fabric pooled on the floor like a deflated shadow as he collapsed face-first onto the bed, limbs splayed in haphazard surrender. The duvet swallowed his groan, his voice muffled but insistent: “Massage or death. Your choice.”

You followed, floorboards groaning underfoot. Will lay motionless, face buried in the sheets, one arm dangling over the edge. His back rose and fell in shallow waves—the only proof he hadn’t fully dissolved into the mattress. The bed frame creaked as you climbed up, knees sinking into the downy surface on either side of his hips. Heat radiated through his thin t-shirt, seeping into your joggers as you settled over him.

His breath hitched, fingers curling into the duvet. The bed tilted under your weight, rolling his body subtly toward yours. Your palms hovered above his shoulders, the muscles beneath twitching even before contact—a battlefield of tension, coiled like steel springs primed to snap.

“Drama queen”, you muttered, thumbs carving into the rigid terrain of his upper back.

He hissed, spine arching sharply, shoulder blades jutting like fractured wings. “Christ—”

Your thumbs found the knot first—a hard, defiant bulge beneath his left shoulder blade, shaped like a clenched fist. You circled it slowly, testing. Will’s breath stuttered, his spine tensing like a bowstring. “Breathe,” you muttered, pressing down with the heel of your palm.

He didn’t. Not until the pressure forced a ragged exhale from his lungs. “Fuck—”

“You played at Wembley,” you repeated, quieter now, knuckles grinding into the epicentre of the tension. The muscle quivered under your touch, a live wire sparking. “Acted like you were bulletproof. What’d you expect?”

“Sympathy?” He turned his face sideways, cheek smeared against the duvet, words fraying. “A fuckin’ parade?” His laugh was a hollow rasp, muffled by fabric.

“You’ll get a tombstone.” You leaned your weight into the knot, relentless, until it finally surrendered with a sickening pop. His groan vibrated through your knees, low and visceral, as his body sagged into the mattress.

“Knew you’d fuss,” he slurred, voice thick with exhaustion. One hand fisted the sheet, knuckles blanching.

“Shut up.” You traced the curve of his jaw, calluses catching on stubble, before retreating to safer territory—the slope of his neck, the wings of his shoulders. “You love it.”

His breath hitched. Not from pain.

The room softened around you—the storm outside reduced to a whisper, the lamp’s glare dimming as if chastened. You worked in silence now, kneading the remaining knots with methodical precision. His body unravelled by degrees: the iron grip on the sheets loosening, the hitch in his breath smoothing to something shallow and steady.

His breath hitched—a stuttered inhale you recognised instantly. You felt it everywhere: in the twine of his pulse under your wrist, the minute tilt of his head toward your touch. You pressed harder, thumb skating along the ridge of his shoulder. “Well?”

Will turned his face into the pillow, but you caught the grin in his voice. “Well, what?”

“You love it.” You repeated yourself.

He snorted, the sound dampened by cotton. “Of course I do.” Casual as a shrug, but his ear had gone pink at the tip—the tell he’d never managed to hide. “Your hands are witchcraft. Should charge for this.”

“You’d owe me six figures by now.”

“Mmm. Just add it to my tab.” He shifted, wincing as you hit a fresh knot. “Christ—easy, assassin.”

You lightened the pressure, fingers brushing the hair at his nape. He leaned into it like a cat, sighing. “Should’ve subbed out after the header,” you said, quieter now.

“And miss your custom jersey reveal?” His hand fumbled backward, swatting blindly at your thigh. “Worth the possible concussion.”

You caught his wrist, thumb skimming the pulse point. “Idiot.”

“Your idiot.” He twisted just enough to peer up at you with one sleep-silted eye. The bruise looked worse in the lamplight, but his smirk was pure mischief. “C’mon. Tell me you’re not impressed.”

You flicked his earlobe. “By your talent for concussions?”

“By my commitment.” He caught your hand before you could retreat, pressing a lazy kiss to your palm. His lips were chapped, his stubble rough against your skin. A familiar calculus. “Admit it. You’re dazzled.”

“Dazzled,” you deadpanned, freeing your hand to resume the massage. “That’s one word for it.”

He hummed, cheek squashed against the sheets. “Knew it.”

You felt the exact moment. Will tipped over the edge into sleep. His breathing deepened, the rigid line of his shoulders going slack under your palms. His fingers, which had been idly tracing circles on your knee, stilled mid-motion, hand sliding off the bed to dangle limply toward the floor.

For a moment, you didn’t move. Watched the rise and fall of his back, the way his parted lips smudged the duvet with each exhale. The lamp cast his profile in gold—eyelashes fanned dark against cheeks still flushed from the post-match shower, hair curling damp at his temples. Even bruised and battered, he looked younger like this, the day’s tension dissolved into something soft and unguarded.

Careful not to jostle him, you slipped off the bed. The floorboards creaked a protest, but Will didn’t stir. His arm remained outstretched where you’d been, fingers twitching faintly as if chasing your warmth.

You moved through the flat on autopilot: deadbolting the front door, twisting the handle of the back window twice to secure it, and clicking off lights one by one until only the bedroom lamp remained.

When you returned, Will had curled onto his side, knees drawn up like a comma. The duvet pooled at his waist, exposing the twin dimples at the base of his spine, the constellation of freckles he’d gotten from the last boys trip. The lamp’s glow cutting abruptly after you flick it off, plunging the room into darkness.

You slid in beside him, knees slotting behind his like puzzle pieces worn smooth by repetition. His body curled toward you even before the mattress settled—a reflex etched into his bones, as automatic as breathing. His hand found your hip, calloused palm sliding under your shirt to press warm against bare skin, anchoring you in place. Even half-conscious, he knew the map of you: the dip of your waist, the curve of your shoulder, and the way you’d always tuck your cold toes between his calves.

He nuzzled the back of your neck, stubble scraping skin. “Love you,” slurred into your hair, barely audible.

You smiled against the dark. “Love you too, idiot.” You laced your fingers through his where they rested on your stomach, his grip slackening as sleep pulled him under.

His breathing deepened, slow and syrupy, chest rising against your back in a rhythm older than Wembley, older than YouTube, older than the both of you. The rain had hushed to a murmur, the room holding its breath around you. You closed your eyes, letting the heat of him seep into your marrow.

Somewhere between his thumb stroking your hipbone and the distant trill of a nightingale, sleep crept in. The last thing you registered was his content sigh, warm and damp against your nape, as his hand slid up to cradle your ribs—craving more of you even in dreams.

I hope you like this 🔫 anon! Like I said in the notes, sorry it's short… But I hope that you like what I made nonetheless 😊. Thanks again for requesting it!

[aliwritex]

some franco fluffy blurb? as much as i find that man hot i can't help but want to hug him and kiss him and cuddle him. i'm a lost cause

here’s a little wintery fluff (tho i am brazilian and this doesn’t make sense to me) enjoy! :)

“Baby, you don’t have anything to eat here”

You were visiting his new apartment in Spain for the first time. He had moved in a couple of weeks before but only now had the chance to actually stay for a bit before flying back home for the holidays.

You had gotten there the night before and ordered take out for dinner but when you got up in the morning you realized his kitchen was basically empty.

“Humh?” he hummed, walking into the small kitchen already drinking his mate.

“We need to shop. Don’t you have food?”

“I have protein shake” he opened the cupboard, “some rice and,” he walked over to check the fridge “to be honest I thought had some chicken left”

“Breakfast, baby. What about breakfast?” you looked up at him, starting to question how he even survived living alone, Franco just lifted his mate to show you. “That’s not breakfast, I thought you were supposed to be healthy, like an athlete”

“Well, it’s off season and I’m not even set in doing something next year.”

“Right, go get dressed, we’re having breakfast and going shopping. Now!” you said, squeezing past him in the small kitchen.

“At least your closet’s organized” you praised as you walked past him, wearing one of his sweaters with your jeans.

“Thanks?”

Franco got up from the couch where he had been waiting for you to get ready grabbing both of your coats and his keys before letting you out the door first.

“Scarf?” he asked by the door and you shook your head, already making your way down the stairs.

He went after you, making sure to get to the car first and open the door for you.

“What can you eat?” you asked as he got a kart in the grocery shop.

“Told you it’s off season, don’t care”

“Great, cause this weather makes me want a thick hot chocolate every second of the day”

“Thought you were planing on cooking something for lunch” he followed after you, into the sweets isle.

“I could do that. Some chicken, and a little pasta salad? Sounds good?” you looked back, catching him nodding, his face red from the cold. “I told you not to leave the house with wet hair, you’re freezing” you said, pulling his hood over his head and tugging the strings a little.

“I’m fine” he tugged the hood back loose.

“Sure, baby” you kissed his nose quickly, “just don’t freeze your fingers off.”

Back at his place he had watched you cook, annoyingly taking up space in the kitchen even though he wasn’t doing anything. He just wanted to be around, he had missed you in the last triple header and his time back in England so now he wanted to be close.

Thats why you ended up in his bed, all tangled up after lunch, taking a siesta in true spanish spirit. Franco was lying on his side, his head on your chest and his hand had sneaked up to hold your boob. You could feel his curls tickling your neck but it was fine, you loved to provide him comfort, be his rock when he needed.

Your fingers ran through the short hair on the back of his head, grazing softly on his neck.

“If you don’t stop i’m never getting up” he mumbled.

“I don’t want you to get up” you said into his hair, pulling him closer to you.

“Really?” he looked up at you, tired green eyes staring into your soul as his brows furrowed “I was thinking of making that chocolate you wanted”

You hummed just thinking about it “I’d love that right now”

“Then let me go” he whined

“No, take me with you”

“God, you’re so clingy!” he teased getting up from the bed “Come here”

He helped you attach to him like a coala as you giggled and walked to the kitchen, sitting you on the counter.

“Do you know how much I love you?” you asked, taking his face in your hands, thumbs rubbing his stubble

“I’m hoping it’s a lot”

“I think it might be more than a lot.” you kissed the tip of his nose and then his lips.

“I love you to, mi amor”

“I think I might just love you more” you told him and started kissing all over his face, cheeks, forehead, eyes, lips, anywhere you could reach.

[daisynik7]

[F4M] You Leave a Naughty Voicemail for Your Husband While He Works Overtime [Established Relationship][Mutual Masturbation][Car Sex][Sub to Soft Dom][Breeding Kink][Mating Press][No Thoughts][Brain Empty][Just Fucking]

Read Part 1 here!

Pairing: husband!Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.6k

cw: established relationship, p*rn without plot, smut –  PIV sex (cowgirl, missionary, mating press, doggy), mutual masturbation, mentions of sex toys, edging, blowjob, car sex, clitoral stimulation, spanking, some spit play, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, honey, princess, baby, good girl/boy), slight degradation kink

Summary: You record a naughty voicemail for your husband while he works overtime, leaving him yearning for more. Author’s Note: Hiya friends! Breaking my tumblr hiatus temporarily to post this. Consider this a sequel/part 2 to my other fic inspired by more NSFW audio. Someone gave me the idea to do a fic with the roles reversed, so here it is! Had a blast writing this, so I hope you enjoy! Bonus: here are some NSFW audios that inspired it (of course, they’re AugustInTheWinter): Link 1, Link 2 (reddit links, 18+). Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated, thanks so much for reading! Header image from the manga On Doorstep (it's BL and the MC looks like Nanami, I highly recommend). MDNI banner created by @/mikeykuns.

It’s past eleven when Nanami steps out of the conference room with the rest of his colleagues, having just finished the last team meeting of the day. He was asked to work overtime to help fix any remaining issues before the end of the fiscal year, which is in a few days. Normally, he’d never agree to this, but with your wedding anniversary approaching in a month, he wants the extra income to buy you that gold chain bracelet you’ve had an eye on. 

With all his tasks complete for the day, he can finally leave. He gathers his belongings, checking his phone to see the missed call and voicemail you left him about an hour ago. She must be asleep already, he thinks, not bothering to call you back. When he gets in his car, he props his phone to the mount, ready to listen to your voicemail on Bluetooth while he drives home. He presses play as soon as he pulls out from his parking spot.

“Kento.” Your voice is hushed and breathy. “I miss you.”

Nanami clenches his jaw, already aroused by your sultry tone. He grips the steering wheel tighter, glancing at the phone screen to check the length of the voicemail: three minutes. That’s the limit before it cuts you off. And while the ride home is a mere ten, he has a feeling it will be excruciatingly long by the way this message is already playing. 

You sigh. “I miss you so much, Kento.” There’s rustling in the background; Nanami imagines that you’re turning over in bed, under the covers. What are you wearing right now? The cute flannel pajamas he bought you two years ago for Valentine’s Day? Or the lingerie set you purchased yourself to surprise him for your most recent anniversary? At this rate, for his own sanity, he’s not sure which one he prefers. 

“I can’t wait till you get home, honey. I’m so…” Your voice is heavy with lust; he can see the provocative face you’re making as you squeeze the phone to your ear, reaching between your legs to that throbbing pussy. “I’m so horny right now. I wish you were here.” If he listens closely, he can hear the squelch of fingers flicking your clit rapidly. “But since you’re not, is it okay if I touch myself?”

He’s tempted to slam on the gas and fly through the city to get to you in record time. Break all driving violations and his own personal morals to watch you play with yourself. It’s torture, sitting behind this red light, following the rules, listening to you moan into the phone, so needy and desperate for his cock. What’s worse is that you’re ovulating this week; he knows how pent up you must be from his absence tonight. Fertile and in heat, that wet sloppy cunt begging to be filled with his seed. He promised he’d make it up to you tomorrow morning, but why waste this perfectly good opportunity? Especially when you’re practically begging for it. 

“Remember how good you fucked me last night? How you pinned me down by the wrists? How tightly I squeezed my legs around you as you pumped me full of cum?” It’s all Nanami thought about when he wasn’t focused on work today. Enough to force him into the men’s room to jerk himself off, fantasizing about it. Replaying your wanton moans ringing in his ears, the way your body convulsed around him, that adorably dumb expression on your face while you were getting fucked into oblivion. Normally, he’d be ashamed of himself at how lewd he was being in a work setting, but the memory of you was too irresistible, even for him. 

He’s not usually perverse like this, but something about you drives him crazy. His hands are typically at 10-and-2, the correct position to steer the wheel. But just this once, he deems it necessary to lose his prim and proper attitude. He drops one into his lap to unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants, and reach down to palm his cock through his briefs. It’s enough to gain a bit of relief from this torment, at least until he’s safely home. Nanami wipes the sweat beading on his brow, accelerating too hard when the light finally switches to green, keeping his grip steady as he strokes his cock, listening intently to your voice surrounding him in the car. 

“Are you hard right now, Kento?” There’s more movement in the background, as if you’re opening and shutting a drawer. Blood rushes into his cheeks, predicting exactly what you’re about to do. “Do you like listening to me touch myself?” There’s a familiar hum now, and he visualizes the pink vibrator buzzing in your hand, the fluttering tip teasing your swollen clit. He’d do anything to teleport directly into the bedroom and have his way with you.  

“I’m so lonely in this bed without you. I’m fucking myself, thinking about you. Wishing it’s you instead of this stupid toy. Can you hear it, sweetie?”

“Yes,” he answers to no one, shoving his underwear down to release his erection, stroking himself faster with his right fist. He’s forced to stop again; how many fucking streetlights does this goddamn city need anyways?! It’s excruciating. 

“My pussy is aching for your big cock.” The buzzing intensifies; you’ve increased the setting one level, on the verge of an orgasm. Typical behavior of his obedient slut of a wife. He loves sliding his fingers inside while you press the vibrator deeper into your clit. He’s obsessed with the way you gush around him, clenching him tighter, addicted to how it tastes on his tongue when he slides those cum-coated digits into his mouth. 

“Hurry home, honey. I’m waiting for you. This pussy is already so wet for you. I’m going to use you as my sex toy tonight.”

“Fuck, I want that. I really want that,” Nanami moans in response, releasing his cock from his grasp, thighs fidgeting from arousal. 

“You love it when I use you, huh? Love it when I fuck you silly until you’re milked dry.”

He groans, bucking his hips into nothing in the seat, briefly losing control of the wheel, causing the car to swerve. “Fuck, I love it, sweetie. I love it. Please.” He’s not sure what he’s begging for. All he knows is that if he doesn’t get home soon, he’ll combust, taking the car down with him. 

“Fuck, Kento. I’m thinking about how deep you hit it from behind. Slapping my ass, treating me like a bad girl, pounding your hips into me like a fucking animal. I get so fucking cock drunk off you. Makes me want to come just talking about it.”

“Then come for me, baby,” he blurts out, fully aware he’s talking to a recording. He’s completely lost it now. 

“Ah, I’m close. I – ” you interrupt yourself with your own whimpers. Nanami listens as he cruises past the speed limit now, wiping the bead of precum at the tip of his cock with his thumb,  edging himself. It’d be a shame for him to waste his load onto his lap. He’s going to give you every fucking drop he has. Build it up so that your pussy is flooding with his hot, sticky mess. 

You whine loudly, “I’m coming, Kento. Ah, I’m coming for you.” You moan into the phone, and Nanami has to release himself to prevent from orgasming too, Then, there’s silence on your end, except for your staggered breaths and occasionally rustling of the sheets beneath you. Eventually, the voicemail ends without another word, and he assumes that you’ve fallen asleep. He smiles to himself, imagining you, his gorgeous wife, with your legs splayed out, vibrator loosely gripped, completely knocked out on the bed. 

He replays the voicemail, continuing to edge himself until he finally pulls into their driveway, opening the garage. He parks, shutting off the ignition, then searches the backseat for the box of tissues, wanting to clean up whatever mess he’s made. Before he gets the chance to, the door leading inside swings open, and it’s you, standing in the door frame in a sheer lingerie nightgown. The same one he expected you’d be wearing tonight. 

He swallows hard, cock still out, stiffer than ever, watching you step towards the driver’s side, bright face peering through the window. You glance to his lap, noticing the lewd sight. 

You tap on the glass, feigning innocence. “Kento?”

He opens the door slowly, face flushed, eyes half-lidded in a daze. “Sweetheart, please.” 

His slacks have been shoved off haphazardly down his legs, engorged cock sprung against his abdomen, precum leaking out the tip. His cheeks are pink, hair tousled, forehead dewy with sweat. You smirk at him, pleased to see that he’s listened to your voicemail. “Oh, honey. Look at you. Have you been a bad boy?” You surround him with your fingers, jerking him slowly. He twitches at your touch, sensitive and aching in your fist. 

He shakes his head, shutting his eyes closed as you stroke him. “No,” he stutters, “I’ve been very good.”

You inspect the car, realizing what he’s trying to convey to you; he hasn’t come yet. “Oh, baby,” you coo, squeezing his cock in your fist. “You’ve been very, very good. My good boy.”

He nods this time, leaning forward for a kiss. “Yes, I’m a good boy for you. I’m your good boy,” he huffs through gritted teeth. Nanami isn’t normally like this, so submissive and needy. But tonight, he has zero hesitation; he’s begging to be dominated, to be used and toyed with. 

You lick into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “Do you want your reward now? Or should we go inside first?”

He won’t last much longer, so he spits out, “Now. Please.”

You smirk, kissing him messily, tongues swirling, swapping spit while his dick pulsates in your palm. “Fuck,” he groans, rocking his hips into you. “I’m going to come if you keep – ” he chokes on his saliva, unable to finish his sentence. 

You giggle, nibbling at his ear lobe. “If I do what, baby?” You want to tease him a bit more, so you bend over his lap, kneeling on the bottom frame of the car, sinking down on him with your mouth. He throws his head back against the headrest, swearing loudly. You blow him until his cock is lubricated with your spit and he’s squirming above you, ready to burst. 

He pulls you off him abruptly, tugging you towards him. “I can’t,” he urges, completely red now, all frenzied and flustered. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Giggling, you swing your leg over him, straddling his lap and smooching his forehead. “Alright, honey. I tormented you enough.” You’re not wearing any panties beneath your nightgown, so when you start to rub yourself on his shaft, his eyes widen in surprise, staring at you, sputtering a mix of curses and nonsense.

You grin, kissing him softly, rocking yourself along his length. “I told you, didn’t I? This pussy is so wet for you. I’ve been prepping myself all night, thinking about you.”

“Fuck, I’m going to come. Put it in, sweetheart. Hurry.”

You guide him in you easily until he bottoms out, sitting on him without moving, licking into his mouth. His hands slide around your hips, holding you tenderly, staying still, melting into your kiss. Before you can start bouncing on him, he squeezes you, huffing, “I’m coming.” 

His dick pulsates, spurting his hot seed deep inside you. You continue to kiss him, smiling against his lips, pleased and satisfied. When he’s finished, you graze his ear. “Good boy.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, brows knit together, eyes shut tight. He opens one to peek at you, embarrassed. “This is your fault.” The blush on his face cascades along his neck. “You knew this would happen when you left me that voicemail.”

Laughing, you give him a smooch on his cheek. “You’re right. I was being bad tonight. Are you going to punish me for it?” You tug at his tie, loosening it on his collar, trailing his chest to unbutton his dress shirt. 

He relaxes, smirking as he slaps your ass with his palm, cupping the flesh immediately after. You whine his name at the contact, nuzzling into his neck. “Ah, Kento.”

“Bad girls deserve to be punished,” he growls, low and wicked, delivering a fresh smack to the other side. His cock is erect again inside you, stuffing you full once more. “You’re going to take this cock until I can’t get hard anymore. Understand?” He rocks you back and forth on him, thumb pressed at your clit, rubbing small circles. “Until this slutty little cunt is so full of my cum.”

You nod silently, clinging to his shoulders, body trembling with arousal. The switch in demeanor, from him begging you for sweet release to now being domineering and cocky, has you titillating for more. He chuckles, wrapping you in snug embrace, kissing the top of your head. “Look at you, darling. You’re shaking. Let’s go to the bedroom, okay princess?” And his ability to turn on this sweet charm has you softening in his arms, pliant and ready to be played with. 

Soon, you’re inside your bedroom, legs spread wide, some residual cum trickling down the inside of your thighs. He strips his remaining clothes off, cock unbelievable rigid in his fist, jerking himself off to the sight of you in your transparent lingerie, his load leaking from your slit. 

“You’re a fucking slut for getting me worked up like this,” he grunts, hovering over you, tapping the tip of his dick on your swollen clit. “I edged myself the entire drive, saving all this cum for you.”

You bite your lip, holding back the guttural, animalistic moan escaping from within your throat. His confession has you quaking, eager to be filled even more to the brim with his seed, eager to be bred. You can blame it on the fact that you’re currently in heat, or that you’re just this much in love with your husband that you can’t think of anything else you want more in this moment than to be connected with him. You grip the sheets below you, fanning your thighs impatiently, waiting for his cock. “Breed me, honey. Fuck all your cum inside me. I want all of it, every single drop. Hurry.”

Oh how quickly do the roles reverse. 

He slides his cock inside you, his own cum coating it as he pulls out slightly, observing the lewd scene. “Look at how full you are, and it’s still not enough. Such a greedy cum slut.” He spits a frothy wad of his saliva onto your clit, smearing it with his thumb. “You’re going to come on this cock before I give you anything. Got it?”

You nod, closing your eyes, turning your head to the side, losing yourself to the pleasure rippling through your body as he pounds into your pussy, the sensation so intense it resonates all the way down to your toes. He’s so mean, so unlike his usual doting self when he’s in this mood, and you can’t help but succumb to it. He tips your chin back towards him. “Look at it,” he demands. You open your eyes, his expression wild, fucking you faster, his thumb working your clit ruthlessly. “Watch me fuck this messy cunt.” He grips you behind the legs, hoisting you so that your knees are towards your chest, holding you into a mating press. Unable to contain it any longer, you moan loudly, grabbing at your own ankles to keep yourself spread wide for him as he thrusts in and out of you relentlessly. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it sweetheart? To be fucked and pounded by me instead of that silly toy. To use me and milk me dry of every last drop. You asked for this. This is what you get for being so fucking naughty.” He rests one of your legs onto his shoulder, turning to smooch the side of your knee, sucking on your skin. 

You continue to moan his name until it’s reduced into a blubber of incoherent cries as you’re pushed over the edge, reaching your climax. “That’s it, come on my cock, princess. That’s a good girl.” Still, he doesn’t ease up; in fact, he fucks you harder, spurred by your orgasm, intent on chasing another. “Just keep taking it, okay beautiful? I know you can do it.” He pounds you into the mattress, the bed creaking noisily beneath you with each solid thrust, perspiration dripping from his body onto yours. You’re no longer thinking clearly; everything is in a haze, blissful and euphoric, only your husband on your brain. He’s fucked all other thoughts out of you. Has you obsessed with his cock, hungry for his cum, keen on him to breed your fertile womb.

“Fuck, Kento, right there! Right there!” you cry out, grasping his hair between your fingers, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. 

“Right there, huh?” he teases, slowing his pace to thrust deep into your G-spot, nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “Always taking me so fucking deep.” He grabs your wrist, placing your hand at your clit. “Touch yourself while I fuck you. Squirt on my cock like a good little slut.”

You obey him, flicking your sensitive bud with your middle finger while he watches intently, another orgasm fast approaching. You twitch around him, pleasure overtaking your entire body, sending a rush of ecstasy that has you seeing stars. 

Of course, it still isn’t enough for him. Not after what you put him through earlier. “Turn over,” he mutters, pulling out, cum spilling onto the sheets. “You know what to do.”

He’s right; it’s second nature to you now, to throw your ass back and fuck yourself with his cock. All he has to do is kneel behind you with his hard dick out while you swallow him whole, pumping it in and out of your pussy. It doesn’t matter how pliant you feel, or how fucked out you are, tongue lolling out of your mouth, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. You know exactly what to do to get what you want out of him. 

You can feign innocence all you want, pretend to be shocked when he manhandles you like a fucking rag doll, slamming his hips into you, wet slaps bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. Shrieking when he presses his rough fingers to your swollen clit. Burying your face into the pillow, muffling your shameless moans and shrieks of, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” This is what you intended when you spread your legs earlier, phone in your hand, ready to leave that filthy voicemail for him, knowing he’d listen on his way home. Knowing he’d save all his cum for you because you’re ovulating, and he wants more than anything to get you pregnant. Knowing he’d want to fuck you into a frenzy regardless, always desperate to empty his load inside you. It’s what you want because you know he wants it too. That’s what makes it even better, knowing your husband is as feral for you as you are for him. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” he whispers, voice wavering.

Craning your neck to face him, you murmur, “Want to see you.”

He smiles, pulling out, your pussy fluttering around the emptiness, already eager to be filled again. “I want to see you too, my love.” He flips you over, pushing your knees towards your ears into a deeper mating press, kissing you sweetly on the lips. You wrap your arms around him, whining his name into his ear as he fucks you rough, the bed frame precariously shifting with each plunge of his cock. 

“Fuck, I’m coming,” he groans, cock twitching and spurting every hot pulse inside you. “Take all of my cum, sweetheart. All of it,” he mutters, forehead pressed to yours. “I love you. I love you so much.”

When he finishes, he lowers your legs slowly, rolling beside you to cradle you in his arms. You nestle into his chest, listening to his steadying heartbeat. “Are you okay, sweetie?” he asks, massaging small circles into your back.

You nod against him, remaining silent, too drained to even respond with words. He lets you rest like this for a moment before hopping off the bed, stepping into the bathroom, rummaging through the cupboards. Shortly after, he returns to you with a container of baby wipes in hand and a glass of water in the other. 

You’re a mess down there, sleek, wet, and gushing with slick. He kneels beside you, wiping your forehead first from sweat. You peer up at him, smiling, cupping his cheek. “Thank you,” you mouth to him. With another, he cleans your hands, then your legs, always glancing at you to make sure you’re still doing fine. You’re truly grateful for having a spouse as attentive and as caring as your husband, who, despite his typically stoic disposition, always dotes on you so sweetly. 

Done cleaning you up, he traces the outline of your lips with his thumb, saying, “Drink water, honey.”

You grumble at him, pretending to be asleep. He chuckles, leaning in closer for a kiss. “And go pee.”

You peek at him with one eye open, nuzzling your nose to his. “Okay, fine. But after you hold me for one more minute.”

He smiles, sliding his arms around you. “Anything you want, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

so i can make you feel like new again

ship: lando norris/max fewtrell rating: idk teen? there's not really any smut it's just longing tags: referenced disordered eating patterns, referenced mental breakdown, putting that guy in a situation only the person in the situation is Lando Norris, and Max Fewtrell is the F1 driver.

OKAY felt like doing a little flip flop and needed to write something no pressure, so here's a THING, written directly into this fucking posting box. This is IDK roughly 2021 when covid was big and Max was living in Monaco with Lando (but now Lando's living in Monaco with Max)

Title from "Dizzy on the Comedown" by Turnover

Sometimes, Max wishes it was Lando, and not him. Sometimes it's sharp beneath his skin like the edge of a knife to know that Lando's waiting at home for him, watching his races while he's playing games on stream. Sometimes, Max wishes it had been easier for both of them. But there were right places, and right times, and right teams, and Lando got none of them, and Max got all of them.

He'd spiralled, and Max had watched, couldn't do much more than hold out a hand and try to save him while he was drowning. Couldn't do much more than be there for him, and it was the scariest thing he thinks he's ever done.

It's better now, mostly.

He went on to Formula 1, and Lando found a therapist, and somehow, *somehow* they find a way to make it work.

But Max can't shake the guilt when he's gone for triple-headers, and Lando's stuck in his flat.

Knows it had been worse, before everything, before Lando had lived with him. At least now, he knows that Lando's got a fully stocked fridge, a place to sleep, somewhere to call home. Like Max doesn't know that Lando thinks that he's home. Like Max hasn't already thought of Lando as home for years.

Even now, he misses the pitch of Lando's voice, the volume of his laugh, loud and bright. Even now, when he's staring up at the hotel ceiling in the dark, when he knows he's supposed to be sleeping, he can't stop himself. Tosses and turns, before he reaches over for his phone where it's charging on the nightstand.

It's an easy next step to ignore the messages on his phone, and swipe over to twitch, just to check if Lando's still live. He doesn't have the energy to do the time conversion, but if the dark circles under Lando's eyes are anything to go by, he hasn't slept well.

Max feels the guilt of it curdling in his guts. Knows Lando always sleeps better when he's there, when Lando can crawl into bed with him, press his cheek against Max's chest and fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

If you'd asked him even 5 years ago, he wouldn't have said they were codependent. But 5 years ago, he also wouldn't have been able to admit they'd been in love with each other the whole time. Hadn't been able to admit it until Lando had agreed to move in with him.

Until he'd known it wasn't all going to slip through his fingers because he signed to an F1 team, and all Lando had gotten was publicised mental breakdown.

Max still wishes it had gone differently, if he's being honest.

But now they're here, and he feels like he's a million miles away from the only place he wants to be.

The warmth of Lando's voice is enough to make him smile though, and he gets comfortable before he types in chat.

maxfewtrell: did you have dinner?

The message is met with a tiny, unintelligible noise from Lando's end, before Lando makes eye contact with the camera, narrows his eyes, and holds up the plate sitting beside him on the desk. It's empty, and it could've been from another day, knowing how much of a disaster Lando tends to be, but Max wants to think the best. "'Course I did, mate. Chat can verify, yeah?" and the messages come in full of support.

"I should be the one asking you what you're still doing awake. Drivers need their beauty rest," the grin that spreads across Lando's features is obviously teasing, but Max can feel the flush, hot in his cheeks.

maxfewtrell: can't sleep maxfewtrell: had to find something to do

Lando pulls a face that no one else in the chat probably recognizes, but Max does. It's a strange combination between guilt and pity, the face he makes before he's about to do something that's either devastatingly stupid, or stupidly endearing.

"Hey chat, I'll be back in a little bit, yeah?" and he's muting himself before Max has a second to type in the chat. Knows that even if he could, the message would get lost in a flood of comments. Doesn't have time to protest before his phone is ringing, and he has to swipe up to close the Twitch window, before he answers.

"Bob, go back to stream, I'm fine," he can't stop himself, the kneejerk response, the thought that he doesn't need to be taken care of, despite the fact that he's always looking after Lando.

"Y'sound absolutely wrecked, mate," and despite the fact that Lando looked exhausted on stream, his voice is surprisingly bright. Max is usually good at parsing through the tones of Lando's voice, and he can't pick out anything genuinely miserable. "Didn't realize you missed me that much,"

Max just sighs, shifts in bed so he's lying on his back, wishes for a moment that they were facetiming, but he knows they can't, really. Lando might be muted, but his stream's still live, and he doesn't know how many people he wants knowing that he and Lando facetime late into the night. Doesn't really know how many people he wants to have knowing how gone he is for Lando. "Just been a horrendous day, car looked like shit during free practise," and it's just easy for him to unload, just a little bit. The more stress he unloads, the better he feels, and Lando interjects with little observations.

He's exhausted, by the time he's done talking, yawns so wide that his jaw cracks, and Lando giggles on the other end, the sound bright. "Think you can sleep now?" and Max just snorts.

"Rather stay with you, I think," he says, filter gone, because he's exhausted, feels it in his bones. "Miss you a lot, Bob," knows it's sappy and they don't really do sappy. "Fly you out to the next one,"

Lando makes a small sound in the back of his throat, and Max is struck by how much Lando reminds him of a cat sometimes. Makes little sounds to voice his pleasure, his happiness at being thought of. "Think I'd like that, Maxy," Lando's voice is a small, pleased thing, and Max allows his eyes to flutter shut.

"Stay on with me?"

When his alarm goes off in the morning, the call's still live, his phone scorching hot, and he can hear the soft, snuffling sound of Lando's breathing before he hangs up, keys in a quick text so that Lando doesn't get cross with him.

Miss you, text me when you're up.

[delayeddrabbles]

my dying town - rafe & sofia (s4 au) - chapter 5

check mate, bitch (4x09 - 4x10)

" Between the weight of the hot sun and tug of the slippery, heavy sand, Rafe almost wished he could sink beneath the dunes completely. Disappear into the soft sand and burrow down and down until he finds the coldest, silkiest layer and never comes up for air. To be covered in darkness and quiet. To disconnect. To dissociate. For just a moment. No responsibilities. No exhaustion. No Sofia or Sarah."

a/n: new chapter new header new graphic! feat Barry, Sarah, Kie and John B. a shorter one this time but hopefully you enjoy it! I'm trying to keep the ball rolling through 4x09 and 4x10 and keep up motivation to write JJ's death and Kie's revenge.

gradient: Text Color Fader - sky and sage

[merrybloomwrites]

When The Wolves Come Out (Chapter 8)

Story Summary: When Y/N gets hired to play drums for One Direction, the last thing she expects is to find herself as part of their pack. Especially since it seems that they don’t want her there. Only time will tell if they’ll accept her, or if the omega will have to deal with rejection from the others.

Chapter Summary: A week off means a flight out to LA and dates with each of your pack mates.

Previous Chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven

Word Count: 4.3K

Tags/CW: omega verse, omega reader, alpha Harry, alpha Zayn, alpha Louis, beta Niall, beta Liam, poly, talks about physical intimacy

AN: Thank you for your patience with this! I wanted to make sure each date was given proper time and effort so it took a bit longer than expected. Hope you enjoy!

Shout out to @likeitcouldbelove for commenting that the five dates was giving Night Changes music video vibes, thus inspiring the header for this chapter

Also, I know absolutely nothing about Los Angeles so sorry if there are some details that don’t sound accurate 🙃

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

The shrill ring of the alarm wakes you, and you’d be annoyed if it weren’t for the warm arm wrapped around your waist. Throughout the night, Niall and Liam had moved closer until Liam was spooning you and Niall was tucked into your front. This is definitely something you could get used to.

Unfortunately today's plans don’t allow for a slow and gentle wake up. One glance at the clock shows you have less than thirty minutes to be ready and waiting down in the lobby. Liam groans and instinctively wraps his arm tighter around you, and you smile at the warmth the gesture brings.

And then Niall rolls over, and promptly falls out of the bed with a thunk, effectively ruining the moment. He lets out a curse as he hits the floor, and you can’t help but laugh before checking on him.

“I’m fine,” he reassures. “Think my ego's more bruised than anything. Finally spend the night with a pretty girl and then make a fool of myself.”

“I mean, you started this incredibly early day with a laugh so I don’t think there’s much to be embarrassed about,” you reply.

“I like the way you think,” Niall says with a smile.

There’s a knock at the door and you hear Louis give you all a twenty minute warning. Realizing you’re cutting it close, the three of you get up and quickly take turns in the bathroom to get ready.

With roughly one minute to spare, you join the others gathered downstairs and are quickly led to the van. You end up in the middle of the back row, Zayn on one side and Louis on the other. Before the car is even in motion Zayn rests his head on your shoulder and falls asleep.

It isn’t long before your head is leaning on top of his and you’re dozing off as well. Unfortunately it is a very quick ride to the airport, and you’re woken up just a few minutes later. And then you see the crowd of people waiting outside.

“How the hell did they find us?” Louis asks.

“Dedication and a little bit of insanity always seems to work,” Harry quips.

“Is there a way for us to go to a different entrance to avoid the crowd?” Louis questions. “It’s not that I don’t want to see fans it’s just…” he trails off and looks at you and you realize what his reasoning is. The last time you’d been surrounded by fans had led to a bad drop. Clearly he doesn’t want that happening again.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure him.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. But stay close?”

“Of course,” he says, his voice soft but firm.

The van stops and you wait for a moment until security is ready to escort you. Liam, Harry, and Niall climb out and begin to walk into the airport, Harry putting a hand on each of the betas to keep them close.

Then Louis goes, and he waits outside the van for you to step out, Zayn following behind immediately. The two of them remain on either side of you, ensuring you’re protected. Even with them beside you, the yelling of the crowd and the occasional shoves set you on edge.

Thankfully it’s a short walk, and before you know it you're in a small private lounge waiting for the flight. Louis has kept his arm around you the whole time and now goes to pull away, but you instinctively shift closer to him.

“You alright?” He asks as he tights his hold again.

“Just need a minute,” you reply as you try to regulate both your emotions and your breathing. It doesn’t take long for you to feel better, and it’s clear why. The whole pack has surrounded you, keeping you safe while you’re feeling vulnerable, and releasing pheromones to calm you.

You give them all a smile to thank them and let them know you’re better. They move in for another group hug which you happily accept.

When they pull back you see Marcus, a member of management, looking and watching. Your eyes meet for a moment, and you’re wondering what he thought of that interaction. He gives you a nod of approval, and you feel conflicted.

You’d forgotten about Simon’s plan for you, and you realize that you’ve essentially played right into his hands. You now understand why the boys pushed back so much at the start. It feels terrible to be manipulated into something, for your personal life to be created by someone else.

For a moment it makes you want to pull away, to reject this plan that’s been crafted for you. But you’ve been happier the past few days than you have in years. The pack brings you joy like you’ve never experienced before. It would be terrible to throw everything away just as things are getting better.

You decide that you can’t let Simon ruin this. Fine, he might be getting what he wants, but so are you. You won’t deprive yourself of this just to spite him.

“Want some breakfast?”

You’re startled out of your thoughts by Harry offering you something wrapped in foil.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure. Just got lost in thought. What is that?” You ask, pointing at the food he’s offering.

“Bacon egg and cheese,” he replies, smiling when you accept the sandwich. It’s clear he feels the alpha need to provide, and something as simple as supplying food for an omega brings him a sense of peace and accomplishment.

You sit on a couch with Harry and dig in. You’d prefer Taylor Ham over bacon, and the bagel is mid at best, but you’re tired and hungry so it does hit the spot.

Harry sticks with you as you wait, and settles in the seat next to you on the plane. It’s a long enough flight to squeeze in a little more sleep so you rest your head against the window.

“I might be a little more comfortable than the glass,” Harry says. You don’t hesitate to accept his invitation. The two of you shift until you’re both comfortable, and you’re soon fast asleep.

You wake up just before landing, and you’d be surprised at how long you’d slept except you know the last few weeks of touring have exhausted you. It’s why you’re so excited to have the next week off. Plus, knowing that you’re going to be spending that week on dates with the boys is definitely an added bonus.

Even after landing Harry stays by your side, and asks if he can stay with you that night. You agree, but then notice Louis off to the side watching the two of you. You invite him to stay as well, but he turns down the offer saying, “We have our date tomorrow. Being apart will make the anticipation sweeter.”

The sincerity in those words catches you by surprise, since you’ve never heard him speak like that before. Maybe he really is a romantic.

Instead of Louis, Liam ends up staying with you and Harry. This system of rotating bedmates is nice, but you wonder if it’s sustainable long term. Maybe in the future you’ll all be able to get one big room and stay together. It’s a nice thought, and you fall asleep imagining the six of you all sharing space and resting together.

The next morning is a lazy one, and you chill with Harry and Liam before they leave to give you space so you can get ready to spend the afternoon with Louis. You have no idea what any of the dates will be, and you’re looking forward to them with nervous anticipation.

At exactly 3 P.M. there’s a knock at your door. Louis is standing there, flowers in hand, looking classy but casual in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt.

“These are for you,” he says, handing over the bouquet. You smile and thank him before stepping back into your room, finding a cup to fill with water and putting them in.

After grabbing your bag, the two of you head to the car that’s waiting. “You look beautiful,” he says while the two of you take the elevator down to the lobby. “I like your skirt,” he adds.

“Thank you! It’s actually a skort,” you inform him, cheekily lifting the skirt for a moment to show the shorts underneath. “I’ve been trying to convince management to let me wear these during the shows but they tell me I need to match the others and blend in.”

“That’s stupid. You should be able to dress how you want. Especially when you look this good in it.”

His comment makes you blush and you say, “For now, this look will be reserved for you and the boys.”

“Guess that’s not such a bad thing,” he replies with a laugh.

By now you’ve reached the car, and like a gentleman he opens the door for you. It’s a short drive and soon he’s opening the door once again to help you out. He points at the building where you’ll be going and your face lights up.

Of course you had theorized where the boys might take you, but you hadn’t even considered a cat cafe as an option. Your omega preens at this choice, since it clearly shows that Louis has been paying attention to you. You’d made an offhand comment the other day that as much as you love touring, you hate that it means you can’t get a pet cat. And now he’s taken you to spend the afternoon surrounded by your favorite animal.

You spend the next two hours cuddling and playing with all of the cats, and you feel so full of joy by the time you’re leaving. You and Louis walk to a restaurant down the street for dinner together. It's nice to get this chance to sit and talk, since you had been mostly distracted by the cats earlier.

You share stories about your lives, your families, how challenging yet fun tour life can be. Most importantly, you have fun. You’re truly enjoying this time with Louis. You’re learning how sweet and kind he is. The stories he tells of his little siblings warms your heart.

The two of you split dessert, Louis insisting you have the last bite. After a short drive you’re back at the hotel, standing outside your room.

There’s a brief moment of awkward silence, but then Louis asks, “Can I kiss you?”

It’s unexpected, but not unwelcome, and you quickly reply with a yes. Louis leans in slowly, his hands coming up, one to cup your cheek while the other rests on the side of your neck. His lips press against yours, gentle yet firm, and your hands automatically grip his shirt. He doesn’t take it any further, just presses another peck before pulling away.

“I’d ask you to stay the night, but I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” you say, your flushed cheeks supporting that statement. As much as you want him to stay with you, you’re not sure you could keep your omega under control. Because that kiss made your omega crave something you haven’t wanted in a long time.

“I agree,” Louis says as he shifts to give both of you room to breathe.

“I really had a great time with you today,” you say.

“I’m glad. I did as well,” he replies. “Who are you seeing tomorrow?”

“Niall. No idea what he’s planning. Should I be scared?” You ask.

“Oh, absolutely,” Louis answers, sounding serious but his face shows he’s only joking. “Can you wait here for a moment? I just want to grab something.”

You nod and he quickly ducks into his room, coming back a moment later with one of his soft shirts. “I scented this for you,” he explains, and you happily reach for it.

“Thank you,” you reply sincerely.

“You should get some rest. I’ll be right next door if you need me,” he says.

You lean in for another hug, and he holds you tight for a minute. It’s hard letting go, but eventually you do and you head into your room.

A warm shower helps you relax, and you slip on Louis’ shirt to sleep in. His scent surrounds you, and it doesn’t take long before you fall asleep.

The next date starts the same. Niall arrives in the afternoon, a gift of chocolates in hand, and he leads you down to the car, opening doors for you just as Louis had.

Now this outing, this you should have guessed. Because if there’s one thing you and Niall have in common other than music, it’s golf. So pulling up to a golf center is really no surprise.

“Would you rather start with mini golf, or driving range?” He asks.

“Definitely mini golf,” you reply, and the two of you make your way to the counter to get putters and balls. Though it takes a while to get through all 18 holes, you and Niall are having such a great time that it feels like it’s over way too fast.

After that, you both make your way to the driving range, Niall renting some clubs and a bucket of balls to hit.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” you admit.

“Give it a whack, I’m sure you’ll surprise yourself,” he encourages.

Doing just that, you hit the first ball off the tee, and it soars for a moment before falling flat, having barely gone a few yards. You let out a laugh and Niall joins in. That’s something you’re learning today, that spending time with Niall means a lot of laughter.

He gives you some pointers, and by the time the bucket is empty you’ve improved quite a bit.

“You’re a good teacher,” you say as you wait for your food at In-N-Out order to be ready.

“Thanks! You’re a good student. Bet there’s some other things I can teach you,” he adds with a cheeky wink, and you laugh again at the insinuation.

“I kid, I kid,” he says but you reply, “I wouldn’t say no to a kiss.”

“Really?” He asks.

“Really. I mean, not here. But uhm, Louis and I kissed last night,” you admit shyly. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, not at all,” he replies, but before he can say more your order number is called. He grabs the tray and leads you to a picnic table in an empty area outside.

He picks up where he left off and says, “We all have physical relationships with one another, and we often break off into pairs or trios, but we also have times where all of us are together. So it’s definitely not a problem that you kissed Louis, and I’m sure all of us would love an opportunity to kiss you as well. But don’t ever feel pressured, okay? I mean it, don’t ever do something you don’t want. Even if the alphas are in rut and you think you should help them because you’re the omega, don’t do it unless you want to. We’re big boys, we can control ourselves and keep it in our pants.”

It’s quite a speech from Niall, and you’re quiet for a moment, debating whether or not to tell him about your history. Or lack of history.

He’s created a safe space, so you say, “I do want to be intimate with you guys. Eventually. But not yet. I’ve never… been with someone that way before.”

“And that’s totally okay. If, someday in the future, you want to go all the way with one or all of us, we’ll take care of you. Promise.”

“Thank you,” you reply, reaching out to hold his hand across the table.

“If you wanted I could tell the others. Or I can keep it a secret, whatever you want,” he says.

You think it over and answer, “You can tell them. I mean, I want them to know, but it’s kind of awkward for me to bring up.”

“Then I’ll make sure they’re informed. You can trust me.”

“I do,” you state.

It’s a surprisingly sincere conversation with the group's goofball, but you feel so much better getting everything off your chest.

After that, you go back to lighter topics while eating your dinner and making your way back to the hotel. For the second night in a row you find yourself standing outside your room facing one of the pack. Niall is a little more shy than Louis was and he has his hands in his pockets as he rocks on his feet.

He leans in for a quick kiss, his lips barely pressing against yours before he pulls back. You give him a reassuring smile and that seems to settle him. With renewed confidence he leans in again for another kiss and this one takes your breath away.

It’s over faster than you’d like, but still perfect. Just like the night before, night goes into his room and brings out a shirt he’d scented.

“I know beta scents aren’t very strong, but I did the best I could,” he says.

“It’s perfect,” you reply. His smell is subtle but definitely there and you can’t wait to slip this on after your shower.

You say good night to each other and you head to your room to get ready for bed. Snuggled in Niall’s shirt, you once again fall asleep quickly.

Meanwhile, Niall calls a meeting of the boys and explains the conversation you’d had over dinner. The others listen and agree with what Niall said to you. None of them will ever pressure you, and they’ll always go at your pace.

It’s a good thing they had this talk, because the next day you have to remind yourself that you’re not ready yet.

Rain in LA isn’t super common, but they do get the occasional dreary day. Today happens to be one of them. So instead of going out for your date with Zayn, you go to his hotel room for a movie marathon.

The two of you have a similar taste in movies, so you settle together on the bed to watch a few. For most of this, you’re tucked into Zayn’s side, his arm securely around you. He doesn’t say it, but you know he still worries about your touch levels. After all, you were going through touch deprivation just a week ago.

The room is filled with his delicious and comforting scent, and being pressed against him all afternoon has your omega wanting more. Zayn can sense this, and his inner alpha is telling him to take care of you, to please you. But that’s not what today is about. And he knows you’re not ready for that. So he tells his alpha to calm down and enjoy the cuddles.

It’s a chill day, and after traveling and two days of outings, you’re happy to just relax. He chose movies you’ve both seen before so you don’t have to pay attention to them. Instead you talk, about your families, about your hobbies, about anything and everything. Room service is ordered, and you eat at the table before settling back in bed for one more movie.

You can tell the evening is going to end soon, and it spurs you to act. Just before the movie ends, you turn to Zayn, your eyes meeting his and the energy shifting. Without words, he knows what you want, and leans down to connect his lips to yours.

The kiss is still sweet, even if it’s deeper than the ones you shared with Louis and Niall. He pulls away, still handling the situation and making sure you don’t lose control.

When the movie ends he gives you one of his shirts that’s doused in his scent, and you’re now fairly certain they all discussed doing this. He walks you to your room, making sure you’re safely inside with the door locked before going back to his own.

You’re more worked up tonight, and it takes longer to fall asleep, but eventually you do. And if you dream of being doted on by the others, well, they don’t need to know that.

During your date with Liam on Thursday, you’re grateful that your Wednesday date with Zayn was so relaxing. Because Liam chose the iconic hike to the Hollywood sign.

It’s a more strenuous activity than any of the others, but completely worth it. The view is fantastic, you and Liam get to talk throughout the entire hike, and he packed a picnic for the two of you to share at one of the lookout points.

There’s a moment where no one else is on the trail, and it’s just you and Liam. You stop walking, and he turns to you, his puppy dog eyes filled with confusion. You check one more time that you're alone before stepping closer, until you’re face to face with Liam. His eyes move to your lips, and you know he understands what you’re asking for.

He has to control his smile in order to lean in for a kiss, but you can still feel the way his lips can’t help but continue smiling. When you pull back both of you are laughing, grinning from ear to ear. The joy you’re feeling is practically pouring out of you, and you complete the rest of the hike with a new pep in your step.

Back at the hotel, Liam also gifts you a shirt, and having tired yourself out from the hike, it doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, his soft scent surrounding you.

Friday means it’s time for your last date, this time with Harry. You’re looking forward to it, especially since you have barely seen him for days. He must be feeling the same, because he knocks on your door nearly an hour early.

“Harry, hi! I’m not ready yet,” you say.

“Well you look perfect,” he replies, ever the charmer. He’s brought a bouquet of flowers, just as Louis had, and you add this batch to the others.

“I just need to finish my hair,” you explain. “You’re welcome to hang with me while I do that.”

Harry lights up, as though hanging with you is the best present on Christmas morning. Your omega preens at the attention, at the fact that an alpha simply wants to spend time with you. Once you’re ready, Harry reveals the plan for the afternoon: a tour of some art galleries, followed by dinner, ending with watching the sunset on the beach.

You’re not a huge art appreciator, so you’re pleasantly surprised how much you enjoy that activity. It probably has something to do with Harry, the way he’s by your side the whole time and excitedly explains the different art pieces you see.

Dinner is delicious, but you’re really looking forward to watching the sunset.

As someone from the East coast, it’s rare that you catch the sun setting over the water. It does not disappoint.

You and Harry find a somewhat hidden spot which allows for some privacy. The setting is perfect for a conversation, and you find yourself opening up about your past.

“In all the years you’ve toured, you’ve never dated or even had a hook up?” He asks.

“Nope! I toured with my pack. If anyone showed interest, Kevin and Joe took their alpha big brother roles very seriously. People were too scared to talk to me,” you explain with a laugh. “What about you, did you date at all before the band?”

Harry gets quiet, contemplative as he thinks about his answer.

“I did. A couple months after I presented I started courting an omega. Emily.”

“What happened?” You asked. You don’t mean to pry, but your curiosity gets the better of you.

“X factor happened. The band happened. I tried out, got put in One Direction, and just broke things off. I realize now how much that probably hurt her, how badly her inner omega must have suffered. I was a dumb sixteen year old, I was excited about the band. So when she said she was fine I believed her.”

“You can’t beat yourself up about that,” you say. “You were in a situation very few people can understand.”

“Still. I hurt her. And then I hurt you. And that’s not the guy I am-”

“I know you’re not,” you reassure.

“Thank you, for giving us all another chance. I know we messed up, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to do it right this time. We all are.”

“Well I’ve had a pretty perfect week with all of you, so I think I made the right choice.”

Harry beams brightly again, and you can’t help but lean in for a kiss. He’s caught off guard, but quickly realizes what’s happening and begins to return the kiss. It’s quick but passionate, leaving you breathless.

It starts to get chilly after the sun goes down, so you and Harry make your way back to the hotel. Just like all the others, he gives you a shirt doused in his scent.

He kisses you once more and says, “Sleep tight. Big day tomorrow.”

And it is. Your first official day spent with the entire pack. No work, no travel, nothing but quality time with all five boys.

After saying good night to Harry, you take some time to settle down. You’re excited for the next day, and every time you try to sleep you can’t help but imagine what you all might do together.

Finally, you manage to fall asleep, and you wake up Saturday morning rested and ready for the day ahead.

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

AN: Thanks for reading! I’m excited to write how they spend their Saturday together!

Taglist: @luxiorchive

[adrienneleclerc]

Do you think you can do a Daniel Ricardo imagine

Where YN is a country singer and I don't know maybe all of the drivers gets invited to a country CMT in Texas and do you think you can make yn inspired by Lainey Wilson if you haven't listened to any of her music I highly recommend you to listen to some yeah that's it and I love the Carlos and MMA imagine it was beautiful and adorable and I loved it so yeah I hope you can do something with this one XOXO🇲🇽🫶🥰

Hi! Thank you so much for liking the Carlos x MMA imagine, you are actually my number 1 requester 🫶🏽 When you say "y/n inspired by Lainey Wilson", I studied her personality. I have watched her performances, listened to some of her music, and watched an interview. But Becky G will always be in my moodboards/headers because she is my idol. You could obviously picture Lainey Wilson if you want. Sorry it took SOOOO long

Country Love

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Country Singer! Reader

Summary: With the Austin Grand Prix being held on the same weekend as the CMT Music Awards, the drivers were invited to the award show, especially because of Daniel's affinity for country music.

Warning: Spelling and grammatical errors, inaccuracies about the CMT Music Awards and country music in general.

A/N: I saw the video of Lainey Wilson singing "The Best of Both Worlds" on YouTube and i LOVED it!! Like girly impersonated Hannah Montana when she was younger so the fact she sung a Hannah song in front of Miley Cyrus herself is just iconic. Also, Becky G being in the moodboard literally means nothing, its still YOU.

Weeks before the Austin Grand Prix, the F1 drivers received calls about attending the CMT Music Awards. The drivers were all excited to have gotten invited to the award show, especially Daniel Ricciardo in particular since he loves country music so much. What’s even better is that VCARB team principal, Laurent Mekies, invited country singer, Y/N L/N, who just so happens to be Daniel’s favorite country singer, to their garage, but thats a surprise.

Daniel walked into the paddock talking to Yuki and Max about how insane and unreasonable the FIA are being when Daniel spotted Y/N walking side by side with her manager. He has completely checked out of the conversation until Yuki punched his arm.

"Ow, Yuki, what the fuck was that for?" Daniel asked, rubbing his arm.

"You weren't paying attention to us! What's up with that?" Yuki asked.

"Sorry, mate, bui just saw Y/N, as in THE Y/N." Daniel said, turning his head to try and spot her again but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Was she wearing a cowgirl hat or something?" Max asked, chuckling. Daniel looked back at him.

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous. She was wearing a baseball cap though. Do you think she's a guest of Ferrari or Mercedes? You know what, maybe she's McLaren's guest, Lando likes country music too." Daniel said. "Damn, they're so lucky they will get to meet her."

"Didn't know you were such a fanboy, Danny." Yuki said, causing both him and Max to laugh.

"She is a talented artist, you know. Can't believe she's here and i won't be able to talk to her until the award show. And thats IF i see her." Daniel said.

"Stop pouting, mate. We have two hours until the race, maybe you'll see her. I gotta head back to RedBull." Max said, patting both men on the back before walking away.

"We should head to our hospitality too." Yuki said and Daniel nodded, following him into VCARB where Y/N had her back turned, talking to Laurent and Daniel's eyes practically bulge out of his head. "Wow, its like watching a cartoon." Yuki comments, looking between Daniel and Y/N.

Laurent and Y/N stop talking and she turns around to face Daniel. Daniel straightens up to make a good impression, or at least try to. Laurent leads Y/N to his two drivers. Daniel was the first one to speak up.

"I'm Daniel Ricciardo, it is so nice to meet you." Daniel said, reaching for Y/N's hand to shake it.

"It's nice to meet you too, Daniel. I'm.." Y/N started.

"You're Y/N L/N, you won the Grammy for best country album, well deserved, by the way, Bell Bottom Country and Whirlwind has been on replay since i landed in Texas." Daniel said and that shocked Y/N.

"Nice job scaring the poor girl." Yuki commented.

"Wow, thank you so much, Daniel. I never would have thought that an F1 driver would be such a big fan of my music." Y/N said.

"I'm Yuki Tsunoda, by the way, if it matters." Yuki spoke up, looking in between Y/N and Daniel.

"Its nice to meet you Yuki. Will you be going to the CMT Awards too?" Y/N askd.

"I won't, actually. But Daniel is very excited for the award show." Yuki said, patting Daniel on the back.

"Can't wait to see you there. I'll let you two get back to whatever it is drivers do." Y/N said, leaving them. Daniel watched her leave and Yuki had to wave his hand in front of his face.

"Laurent, i think he's broken!" Yuki yelled and that snapped Daniel out of his trance.

"I am not broken. Lets go over the plans." Daniel said.

The Grand Prix finished and Daniel wasted no timw to go to his hotel room and change into something more presentable for the CMT Awards. Leaving his room, he spotted Lando already in the lobby with Max.

"Am i early or late?" Daniel asked.

"Early, but so are we. Heard that your celebrity crush was in the paddock." Lando said.

"Yes! She is so beautiful in person." Daniel commented.

"He was staring at her while we were talking. If it was a cartoon, he would be drooling with big hearts for eyes." Max said.

"Haha, lets go, I want to see if i can talk to Y/N some more on the red carpet." Daniel said.

When they arrived, the paparazzi was asking for photos and it was all good until Daniel found out he was taking photos next to Y/N so like the gentleman he was, he waited until Y/N noticed him.

"Oh my god, Daniel, you're here!" Y/N exclaimed before hugging Daniel, he hugged her back. "You guys must be Max and Lando, it was a great race, really."

"Thank you, I'm a fan of your music. My favorite song from your new album is definitely 'Call A Cowboy', you're very talented." Lando said.

"Thank you so much. We should all take a photo togther!" Y/N said

"Great idea! You should stand next to Daniel and then Lando and I will be on each side." Max suggest. Y/N nods and Daniel has his arm around Y/N's waist. While taking the poictre, Daniel leaned down to Y/N's ear to whisper.

"Would you be interested in going out with me tomorrow night?" Daniel asked. Y/N looked up at him, smiled, and then asked him to lean down so she could whisper.

"I'd love to. You feel like waiting for me so we could get Wendy's after?" Y/N asked and Daniel immediately nodded. After the photo ops, they walked into the theater. "DM me on instagram and I'll give you my phone number later." Y/N said closer to Daniel and pulled away to adress the other F1 drivers that came later. "Hope you guys enjoy my performance." Y/N left.

"Danny, are you okay?" Oscar asked

"God bless Texas." Daniel said before they walked in to take their seats.

The End

Hope y'all liked it!

[surrinta]

LOADING: the pudding, the class and the big big brat ₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘

content: be aware of reader having abnormal eating habits n over involved friends. as in concerningly abnormal n her mates have had enuff. you eat like this?? tell someone pls. what else? oh yeah, mentions of implied bulimia (reader is not bulimic) nnn (my memory omg) undisclosed relationship hehe. reader is sort of a brat, female n black coded ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

headers from @v6que <3

“mama you need t’finish this”

you glowered at him over the tops of your glasses as you played with the rim of the rice pudding pot he had picked out for you. ony merely stared back at you. you were all mean faced n pouty, arms crossed tight across your chest — he scoffed. you looked like a damn kitten glaring like that.

he checked his gold linked watch. he had about ten minutes till training and you hadn’t even cracked open the lid of the pot yet.

eren and ony had been watching your eating habits for a while, unbeknownst to you. you barely finished your meals when you three went out, merely sliding it over to them and claiming you were full. you skipped meals — ESPECIALLY breakfast and would only eat about one to two small things. if even. last time you brought in lunch ony had to ransack your bag and get a second eye witness, being eren because he could not in good conscious believe that you had only brought in three small tangerines for lunch.

to your credit you snacked like a motherfucker.

you claimed you didn’t have any disordered eating patterns but the last time they made you sit and eat breakfast recommended for a living breathing person and not your pitiful banana and three biscuits or whatever the hell else you cocked up — you got the worst stomach ache, could barely stand upright.

eren and ony took it upon themselves to meal plan and prep for you. no tv during meal times, no talking and you weren’t to leave spoonfuls behind. they gave you options and as much time as you pleased to pick.

you were good for the most part. but today you seemed to have hit a threshold. ony narrowed his eyes before releasing a breath. he’s never cared when you’ve hit your limit, however. he knew how much you could take. this atrocious display of pure cheek was not your limit.

“just, open it, baby. eat a few spoons for me”

you took in the arm he had on the back of the couch in the student lounge area. you felt bad. hated them fussing. but you ate! most times. well. if you ever whipped up the app you downloaded to see if you were getting your recommended daily intake of calories and showed it to them you’d be a finished person. so perhaps there was room for improvement, but you weren’t starving yourself. you held back an irritated breath. not on purpose. when he plopped the rice pudding pot in front of you, you had barely contained an eye roll and a mumbled, ‘not this again’.

you cracked open the tin foil. took up a white plastic spoon and downed three mouthfuls.

“done”

“you ate three damn spoons”

“you said eat a few spoons for me”

“i-“, ony felt his eye twitch. you raised your eyebrows as if to say you had won the little argument. you picked up your phone to mindlessly tap; pearl studded acrylics tapping against the screen before ony snatched it.

“nigga-“

“eat, im not fucking around. i asked your girls, told me all you had today was water and a damn nutrigain bar. that shit ain’t food”. he furrowed his brows as he planted your phone on the table. you sat back and folded your arms as you stared at the wooden surface. ony knew that you probably didn’t have an eating disorder. you liked food. you snacked religiously and when they followed you to the bathroom to press an ear to the door they didn’t get the feeling that you were throwing it all up either. granted eren nearly crashed to the ground when you had flung open the door. you had gazed up at them with a question before shaking it off, settling for their unreasonable abnormalities and undiagnosed clinginess. one less thing to worry about for them.

still didn’t explain your aversion to eating anything of substance.

“fine!” you huffed as you opened up the pot again, spooning some more of the creamy rice into your mouth. ony watched you patiently. he had noticed how tired you were getting. how irritable you could be at times, a brat as he would call you more often than not. he wanted you healthy and he knew you could do it. you just needed a push cause you were so damn stubborn.

he checked his watch again. training was in five. he got up just as he saw your girls come in to your table. he nodded at them, dapped a few as they sat down.

“i have training-“, he started at the group.

“coulda fooled me”, he shot you a look as if to say he was only an inch away from telling you he wasn’t talking to you. he slung his gym bag onto one shoulder.

“she needs to finish this”. your girls nodded eagerly adding comments of  their own about your terrible eating patterns as you glared.

“thanks, guys”. ony grabbed your jaw, smushed your blush painted cheeks.

“see you in a bit, ma”

you mumbled out a bye and not even a second later eren had come through the door, dapping up ony as he eyed your little table. you threw your head back so hard you were surprised you didn’t knock yourself out. eren was a lot gentler, a bit softer than onyankopon — who always seemed ready to eat the head off you. eren had potential to possess rage but in waves, nearly. just waves. 

till you pushed.

“not happy to see me?”

your friends were but you cut eyes at him before begrudgingly fixing a hug into his side when he pinched at your ribs as you jumped n squealed. he gave a pretty grin, canines peeking before he tucked you into the space between his ribs. your girls were always so awestruck by the pure affection that was always displayed with the three of you. natural n loving n casual. the sweetest.

he sat across from you, greeted your friends, opened up your pot of rice pudding, ate a spoon and then scooped up another to tell you to open your mouth. he usually communicated with you in japanese and as if on autopilot you opened to eat it. no, “what’s this about you not eating?”, he just started talkin. he alternated between telling you about his day n spoon feeding you, eating off of yours at random and before you knew it, it was finished.

“so”, eren fixed you with a dimpled grin, green eyes a glitter. “guess who has a food and nutrition module in about-“, he checked his watch. “ten minutes”.

you pulled a face. “let’s see, someone i don’t give two rats ab-“

“watch it”

you slumped your shoulders back, simultaneously swinging your legs to one side to let the girls out. they had some nursing lab of their own to get to. you were two parts surprised they were even attempting to go to class. usually they bunked off if eren or ony were chilling with you. you cocked an eyebrow at them as they gave giggled goodbyes. you supposed they had to get their life in order at some point. it was final year after all.

“you’re coming”

you shrugged. interestingly you loved topics about nutrition. “no sweat off my back”, you gave a little smile. “i love this subject”

eren eyed you as you picked up your kipling satchel, miffy plush swinging from the corduroy material. “good cause i told the professor i’m bringing in someone that would love to participate in this specific module”

your eye twitched. “you did what?”

[piratefalls]

i'm back with a header i like a lot more. this one's a little shorter than usual, but still has a little of everything. also, instead of individual links we've graduated to a masterlist!

masterlist.

you've ruined my life (by not being mine) by coffeecatsme

“I have a secret,” Alex whispers in his ear—he’s sprawled over Henry on the couch, calves and thighs and chests pressed together, breath washing over Henry’s skin. “I shouldn’t tell you.” “Oh?” Alex nods vehemently. “Can’t lose you,” he murmurs, fingertips on Henry’s face, and Christ that touch is deadly. “Can’t tell you I love you. You’d leave.” Henry stares. “Oh.”

i speak in grey (to match the shades on the inside of my brain) by sticktothescript

He spends all of that week researching what non-binary means, but he pointedly ignores the squirming feeling of excitement in his chest. He’s just curious, that’s all. That’s all it can be. He’s lived his whole life as a man. He’s the First Son. There’s no room for testing boundaries when the people need him. --- or; a 5+1 of Alex Claremont-Diaz exploring gender identity

And The Show Goes On by orestespdf

For the second time that evening, a hand suddenly smacks his shoulder. Henry looks up, expecting Philip, but instead he is greeted with a smarmy smile. Henry’s stomach drops at the sight of the man who stands behind him. “Christopher,” Philip laughs. His brother stands, and he and the man shake hands vigorously above Henry’s head. Henry wants to melt into his seat and disappear. “I’m so glad you could make it. Henry, you remember my mate, Christopher Lewis?” Henry stares down at the intricately folded napkin in front of him. Christopher Lewis: 2011 St Andrews graduate, former head of the Eton rugby club, excellent skier, wine aficionado. Seven years older than Henry. Green eyes. Nice shoulders. Yes, Henry remembers Christopher Lewis. He wishes he didn’t. After years of not seeing him, Henry runs into Philip's old friend again. Fallout ensues.

heartbeats under coats by HypnosTheory

Alex, a DC lawyer on his way back from a work trip, is stranded in New York after a freak blizzard grounds all flights. He gets the last available hotel room on the island, but a freak error means the room is double booked. Unwilling to leave the other stranded, both men agree to share the room and wait out the blizzard together.

don't just give it up. by smc_27

Alex checks the flight path for the 12th time this minute, and then rolls his eyes and groans. Amy, next to him, opens one eye. He apologizes wordlessly and tries to stop being so fucking antsy. Look. Look. He’s got something - someone - fucking perfect waiting for him across the Atlantic. If anyone knew what exactly he’s flying to, they’d speed the plane the fuck up and get him there.

this moment in time by rizcriz

She moves away from the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. “What did you do, Alex?” He turns back to the table and puts his hands in his hair as he leans over the cup of coffee. “I made Henry a christmas card, and snuck it into his bag before he left for London.” “Okay?” “I may have used it as a vessel to confess my feelings for him.” He says it fast, almost too quickly to be understood, but June’s had a lifetime of translating Alex-speak, and he hears her quick intake of breath and pulls his hands from his hair to look over his shoulder at her. -- Or, it's a New Years to remember.

when the silence screams by teacupivy

Today, Henry comes home to a stillness that’s out of place in the usually bustling December air. It's only a little disconcerting. or Alex is incredibly frustrated with the state of life and Henry offers to get on his knees.

i dream of our odyssey by violetbaudelairequagmire

Alex rests his elbows on the counter of the small cafe attached to Bankston’s Books, enjoying the quiet period in between the morning stay-at-home-mom-crying-toddler storytime crowd and the rush of college students that appear in the afternoon. It’s only a couple hours, but it’s nice to have that time with just a few black coffees in between the rush of “pumpkin spice latte and a cakepop” and “quad shot espressos and keep them coming” that dominate the busy periods at the bookstore. He’s not complaining though- he loves this job. He gets a discount on books, no one cares how much coffee he drinks in a shift, and, in the last couple of weeks, he’s had a great view of the new guy quietly shelving books. it's a bookstore au!

Shatter Me by politics_and_prose

Henry is resigned to the life he's meant to lead until he meets a man so full of happiness and life that he's got no choice but to confront the secret he's been keeping for years.

Singularity by OrchidScript

"Henry didn’t try to resist. He’d lost his capacity for it the moment his scruffy looking nerf herder had stood in the White House press room and called Henry his choice. Under the onslaught of purposeful dragging of fingernails, featherlight touches under tables, the pink-bitten promise of more, Henry abandoned all defense. He willingly succumbed to his fiancé’s heated breath and honeyed words." The boys find inspiration in a hotel room armchair.

In Every Universe by clottedcreamfudge

Alex and Henry will find each other in every universe. A series of either explicitly or implicitly soulmate-themed AUs, which are all heading in one very specific direction.

You Remind Me of Home by athousandrooms & ifyoustay

Henry had taken the news that he was being summoned to England early much worse than Alex had. He'd left him with a million apologies on his lips. Alex had swallowed them all with a parting kiss and the promise of seeing him on the 23rd, knowing full well that no matter how much as much as he wished to, he couldn’t afford to travel with him during finals season of his first year of Law School. It's been a week, and Alex... Alex would give anything to have Henry here. But, all's well that ends well, as they say.

well we're not here to fuck ducks by stutteringpeach

Henry is looking for someone to help him with his duck study. He makes quite a serious typo in his 'All Staff' email.

with my name on your lips, tell me how does it taste by viciouslyqueer

“I don’t think anyone will be offended if two... very close friends decide to try it out, H. I certainly won’t.” Alex laughs when Henry fixes him with a half-hearted glare. “And you felt the need to track me down and show me this on a random Tuesday morning because...” Henry trails off with a perfectly arched brow. It’s infuriatingly attractive. Alex braces himself on the table and leans in, stopping with his mouth an inch away from Henry’s ear. He can almost hear him holding his breath. “Because I want to take my time with you, sweetheart,” Alex whispers sweetly. “And this is the perfect opportunity.”

Don't - Don't You Want Me? by absoluteaudacity

Alex is bad at communicating sometimes.

(you might be) someone i could love by weather_stained

(...or you're just somebody I fucked once.) After Henry has an anonymous one-night stand at a party, he can't stop thinking about the boy with the beautiful brown eyes and messy curls. Months later, Pez scores them an invitation to spend Thanksgiving weekend with June Claremont-Diaz, her girlfriend, and her brother, at her family's lakehouse. It could be the second chance he's been looking for, or he could be stuck hopelessly pining for someone who only ever wanted sex.

Locked In by allmylovesatonce

After their night together in Paris, Henry and Alex get quarantined in their hotel, locked in for two full weeks.

hours by demigodbeautiies

Although the White House is fast, the British press is faster. It has to be a leak. An accident. A screw up. There's no way a story like this would be allowed to break if anyone had actual control over the situation. Perhaps the entire headline is wrong, and the agonising lurch in Henry's stomach is for nothing. He reads it again. BREAKING: Son of US President Ellen Claremont abducted, held hostage. Watch for LIVE updates.

Forty-Four Days by bleedingballroomfloor

"God, I haven't seen you in forty-four days," Alex suddenly spits, and Henry feels the pain of his words in his own chest, like ice replacing the blood in his veins. Because that's it, isn't it? Forty-four days of separation. Forty-four days of waking up to an empty bed, of making coffee along with his tea only to realize that Alex isn't there to drink it, of long meetings without any of Alex's witty jokes, of cold hands on chilly autumn walks because Alex isn't there to warm them up. Maybe it's the simple fact of hearing for the first time, or maybe it's the tipping point of the taxing day, but Henry feels something inside of him snap, and — And all he knows is that he needs to see Alex now.

Hope is a Five-Alarm Fire by AnchoredArchangel

“I’m just saying- we know you, Alejandro. I've ran the odds and with your personal history of decision-making and impulse control, there’s a less than four percent chance you of all people didn’t shoot your shot. Even if he’s in the closet. Even if he’s supposedly straight. Even if he’s a prince. You love a good story.” Doesn’t he ever. Too bad he’s never going to get the chance to tell this one. Or: Alex returns to real life after crossing the actual Prince of England off his totally superfluous valid No Consequences Sex List. It does not go quite like he expected.

Wrap Me Up, Unfold Me by @sparklepocalypse

After the Kensington confrontation, Henry gets on the plane with Alex. (Or, Henry and Alex join the Mile High Club in filthy, spectacular fashion.)

Shameless by everwitch

Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student. Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

3/4ths Cup of Love by inexplicablymine

“What the fuck are you doing with my pinto beans?” “It says I need them for pie weights.” “Hell no, baby, sweetheart. Over my dead body are you using the beans I use for mole for your quiche recipe. I would like us to eat these.” “Hey!” “If you put my beans in the oven, I will make it so you can’t possibly ever put a bun in the oven.” “Noted.” Or, The ups and downs of Henry learning how to perfect his quiche recipe.

A Practical Arrangement by kiwiana

“I know.” In fairness, he didn’t ask his mom to delay the wedding after the betrothal was made official when he turned eighteen. It wasn’t that she expected another option to materialise—he’s pretty sure she was trying to give him and Henry more time to get to know each other, maybe move past their open animosity a little. They’ve been pushed together every few months for the last three years, their marriage an inevitability. “I just… I still can’t quite get my head around it, you know? Married. To Henry.”

if you ever want me to tag you, let me know!

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels

[five-oh-thirst]

Springtime Woes

Pairing: Ordo/Maze

Summary: It's mating season, and Ordo is struggling with his body's instinctual needs while Maze is trying to keep his patience in check.

Tags & Warnings: 18+, NSFW, omegaverse, established relationship, mates, mating cycles/heat, alpha!maze, omega!ordo, smut, riding, knotting, rough kissing, bickering/arguing, referenced breeding, referenced m!preg, domestic, light angst, fluff, humor

Word Count: 4.7k

Notes: Happy birthday, @mamuzzy!!! 🥳 I really hope you like what I made 💙 I got permission from ithilia to use this art piece as the header because it kind of matched a scene 🫶🏻 My inspiration for the fic came from a highly unusual source, an episode of Bonanza (an American Western TV show from the 60s). Specifically, the first three minutes of this episode 😂 I'm gonna say loosely inspired, lol.

Prompt Day 6 - AU @ordomaze2024

Read on AO3

Music Vibe:

Maze cracked his stiff neck with a loud pop as he walked towards the beeping caf maker, his eyes barely open as his body moved on auto-pilot. He slept poorly last night thanks to his beloved mate, Ordo. He kept tossing and turning throughout the night and landed several too-well-placed kicks to be considered accidental into Maze's side. It wasn't like it never happened–Ordo was rough with everything, including sleep–but this was too much.

Maze opened the cabinet above the counter and pulled out his favorite mug. It wasn't that pretty, but it was a gift from Ordo, and the words 'GAR's Best Alpha Null' were written in black ink across the white surface. He had to admit it was funny, but Maze thought it would've been smarter to just put 'GAR's Best Captain', so it made sense for both of them to use, but arguing that point wasn't worth it. Arguing any point with Ordo wasn't worth it.

He grabbed the handle of the glass carafe and yawned as he poured its freshly percolated contents into his mug, accidentally overflowing while his eyes were closed. The hot caf spilled over the edge, down the side of the mug, and dripped onto the floor next to his bare feet. He cursed under his breath and placed the mug down on the counter. If this indicated how the rest of his day would go, it would be a bothersome day.

With his right hand, he pulled the towel hanging from the oven handle off and dropped it onto the spilled caf, then used his foot to mop it up because it was too early to exert that much energy before he drank his first mug of caf. Once it was cleaned, he grabbed the mug off the counter, careful not to spill it again, and lowered his lips to suck some off the top so he could walk with it. It was still hot, and he grimaced as it burnt his tongue, but it tasted good.

After a few careful steps, he sat down at the kitchen table and set the mug on the drink coaster Ordo also gave him. This one read 'shabuir' and was clearly in Ordo's handwriting. He then put his glasses on and picked up his data-pad to read the news. The spring solstice had just arrived a few rotations ago, and the news was chock full of headlines like, 'Mating Season Must-Haves', 'How to Boost Your Chances at a Full Litter', and 'Tips and Tricks for First-Timers'.

Maze scoffed and rolled his eyes. He wished one of those stupid articles written by a teenager could help him, but unfortunately, Alpha and Null clones didn't come with basic instruction manuals and all the normal things that normal mates did never worked for them. It wasn't their first mating season, far from it, but the last one was completely miserable for both of them and he hoped this one would be slightly better. A lot of that depended on Ordo.

Speaking of Ordo, the fact that he was still in the bedroom sleeping, and the sun was already shining through the bay window, wasn't a good sign. Morning caf was one of their only civil times together, and if he slept in any later, he'd also miss their mid-morning sparring session. Neither was willing to get soft in front of the other and brawling on a mat to start the day was the best way to prove it. It also was a good way to release pent-up frustration.

The shower afterward always felt good, too. If he won, he could enjoy some hot and steamy shower sex without an argument, but if Ordo won, he usually showered alone. Which wasn't the worst thing he could get for losing. It's not that Ordo didn't like sex, he just didn't like sex with Maze, which also made zero sense. Others, even brothers, found their arrangement odd, but that was their relationship and Maze wouldn't have it any other way.

A loud thud came from the bedroom, and within seconds a sweet and tantalizing aroma wafted past Maze's nose. He scrunched his face and forcefully blew air out of his nostrils to clear the scent before it made its way to his brain. It was pretty powerful, even from a distance, and Maze lifted the mug to his lips to try and mask it. It worked until the hot liquid steamed up his glasses and he couldn't see the news article he was reading.

Several more loud thud came from the bedroom and Maze sighed. Placing his mug down, he got up to see if Ordo was okay. Maker only knew what he was doing in there. As Maze approached the bedroom, the scent drifting out of the open doorway was so strong he choked on it. Maze clamped his fingers around his nose and then flicked the light switch on with the other to shed some light on the situation.

The sight that greeted him made his eyes widen and his jaw drop. Their bedroom looked like it had been hit by a thermal detonator, or two. All the furniture had been moved out of place, but none of it was rearranged, just crooked and unorganized. The bed sheets were falling off the bed, the curtains were halfway off the windows, and their clothing was scattered across the floor. It was as if Ordo attempted to make a nest, but gave up halfway through. 

And then there was Ordo, half-undressed and sprawled out on his back on the bed, like a starfish, with his head hanging over the far edge. His bare chest glistened with sweat and his shorts were visibly damp. He looked completely disheveled and very uncomfortable.

"Null," Maze said, his voice nasally from holding his nose shut.

"Alpha," Ordo answered, not bothering to pick his head up.

"Can you close your legs?" Maze asked. "Your Eau de Omega is leaking out."

Ordo swiped his hand down his sweaty stomach but left his legs where they were. "No. It's too hot."

Maze tilted his head out of the room and looked at the thermostat on the wall. It was set to a nominal temperature and was comfortable to him, but he wouldn't say it was hot. It took a second to click, but when the realization hit him that what he thought was going to happen, was now happening, he leaned against the door frame and sighed. "Of course you're hot. You're going into heat."

Ordo groaned loudly. "Over my dead body."

Maze gave up on keeping Ordo's 'please-mate-with-me' scent away and relinquished his grip on his nose. He took a deep inhale and allowed the strong odor to fill his lungs until his extremities tingled with anticipation. His body shuddered, but he kept his mind in check. It was inevitable at this point and there was no use in trying to ignore it, but his main focus now was getting them both through this mating cycle alive, and with Ordo, that wasn't easy.

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to one of Ordo's outstretched legs and ran his hand down the dampened hair and skin. "You know you can't fight it."

Ordo bent the leg and kicked Maze in the side. "I'm a Null," he said. "I can fight anything."

"Did you forget about last cycle?" Maze asked as he rubbed his side, annoyance already simmering under the surface. He needed to be more careful about touching him.

Ordo was quiet before he responded. "That doesn't count."

Maze smiled knowingly. "And the one before that?"

Ordo sat up, leaving an obvious damp splotch on the bed sheet beneath where he was lying. "This is karking stupid!" he shouted, clearly trying to change the subject from Maze being right and him being wrong. "I wasn't made for this." He scooted forward and leaned his forehead against Maze's back, a deceptively sweet gesture, and panted into his shirt as the heat from his body radiated off of him like the sun.

"Technically, you were," Maze said, noting that it probably still wasn't safe to touch Ordo even though he was touching him. "All the Nulls are omegas."

"And I hate it!" Ordo yelled. He gripped Maze's shirt, clutching the fabric with tight fists. "It's degrading. I'm a cold-blooded killer, not someone's cock-drunk knot-loving baby-making bitch. I'm not gonna push out any stupid babies or push around some karking stroller."

"Do you remember what Kal told you about omegas? Maze asked, trying to redirect his emotions.

Ordo rolled his eyes and groaned into Maze's shoulder blade, biting the shirt there for emphasis.

Maze chuckled. "C'mon, tell me."

"That omegas are highly valued members of Mandalorian society because children and family and blah, blah, blah," Ordo mumbled.

"And you don't think you're a valued member of Mandalorian society?" Maze asked, turning his head slightly to try and get a look at Ordo's face.

"I'm a verd," Ordo argued. "It's different."

Maze snorted. "If you said that to a group of Mandalorian omega warriors, they'd beat your ass into the ground like a tent stake."

Ordo whined and rubbed his sweaty cheek on the piece of shirt he had bitten. "I already know I'm a terrible omega. No need to rub it in…"

Maze sighed and let himself fall backward onto the bed. He landed with a soft plop and laced his fingers together under his head as he stared up at the ceiling fan while his legs dangled over the edge. Ordo was a tough case to crack, and they went around in this same circle every mating season. It was exhausting to constantly reassure Ordo's status as an omega, but it's what he signed up for, and he wasn't about to be called a quitter now.

Ninety-nine percent of modern society was made up of female-oriented omegas, but for some stupid reason, no one fully understood, the Kaminoans decided the first clones would be genetically altered to be male-oriented omegas. Their flawed logic was that they could curb Prime's alpha aggression by splicing his alpha DNA with omega DNA, which statistically would make them more submissive and docile, but it backfired, and the Nulls suffered for it.

Maze turned his head to the side and stretched out his right hand to brush it along Ordo's spine. "Null," he said. Ordo didn't turn around. "Ordo, look at me."

Ordo twisted his torso around to face him and Maze's eyes softened at what he saw. Sweat poured off Ordo's face like raindrops on a window pane, his hair soaked from root to tip, and it looked like he was hiding a painful ache somewhere deep within his body. It wasn't Ordo's fault that he was made like this–an abomination of nature in more ways than one–and it was heartbreaking for Maze to watch his alpha and omega sides war with each other.

"You're not a terrible omega," Maze said. "You're just… a little messed up, like me."

Ordo huffed, but there was a hint of fondness in his eyes. "I'm more messed up."

"And more beautiful," Maze added with a grin. His eyes lowered to the dimples peeking out above Ordo's shorts and he couldn't help but let his mind run a little wild with all the things he wanted to do to him. His alpha instincts were kicking in and kicking in hard.

Ordo looked shocked and whipped his head back around. For a split second Maze thought he messed up, but was pleasantly surprised when Ordo stood up, took his shorts off, tossed them somewhere onto the floor, and then turned around to face him. Maze was dumbstruck at the sight. Ordo's entire body glistened with a sheen of sweat, and his upright position caused slick to ooze out of him. He was the most gorgeous omega he'd ever seen.

"Stop staring," Ordo said, casting his gaze to the side. "It's embarrassing."

Maze propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look, eyes glued to the trails of slick now running wild down Ordo's thighs, then looked up at his face. "Do you want me to take my glasses off?" His voice was hoarse and he took a second to clear it. "You know I'm blind as a bat without them."

Ordo put his hands on his hips and shifted his weight to one leg. "Just shut up and take your stupid cock out before I change my mind."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Maze said with a small laugh. He lifted his hips and slipped his sweatpants off, revealing his large cock that was already hardening with excitement. He wrapped his left hand around the shaft and lazily stroked himself until it was standing firm. "How do you want to do this?"

"Scoot back," Ordo said, gesturing the order with a nod of his head. "I wanna be on top."

Maze did as he was told, moving back up the bed until his full body was splayed out. He didn't have an issue with Ordo taking control; it only meant he'd have to throw his alpha instincts into the backseat. Which wasn't the most difficult thing to do, but it was annoying. He wanted to pounce on Ordo like a regular alpha and omega pair would do, but he couldn't. Mating season was hard enough on normal mated pairs, but this was as good as it was going to get for them.

However, even though Maze followed the instructions perfectly, Ordo still looked hesitant standing in front of him. "Can't you just take it off and let me do it myself?" Ordo asked.

Maze laughed. "If I could, I would." It all sounded like a silly joke, but Maze knew well enough that there was a touch of sincerity in that request, and he took it seriously. "We don't have to do this, you know. They make alpha-sized dildos for–"

"No!" Ordo interrupted. He took a deep breath. "I just–" he shook his head. "I want to be a good omega–I do–but every time I try, I– I mess it up. My brain, my body, my heart, my instincts, and my training can't seem to agree on anything and it jumbles it all up into a big mess in my head."

"Which one is speaking to you the loudest?" Maze asked.

"My body," Ordo said without much thought. "Stars, I need a knot so badly, it kriffin' hurts. I feel so… empty." He visibly bristled and Maze could tell Ordo was uncomfortable admitting that much information.

"Then put the other voices in a box and take them back out later when your body is satisfied," Maze said. "Focus only on your needs at this moment. Close your eyes. Regulate your breathing. Empty your mind of everything other than what you need right now."

Ordo didn't hesitate. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

Maze could only imagine what was running through Ordo's head at that moment if anything at all. Nulls were good at separating themselves into neat little compartments to make war easier, but in this type of situation, Ordo needed a little more patience and a little more guidance to get him to a point where he could do it. On a mission? It was completely automatic. But in a domestic relationship? It was like herding tookas.

Ordo opened his eyes after a minute and Maze could tell he had succeeded in the exercise because his pupils were blown wide and slick poured out of him, plopping wetly onto the hardwood floor beneath. Maze was a bit surprised by the major shift and wondered just how much Ordo was holding back and how painful it must've been to do so. But even if Ordo was on board now, it didn't give Maze free rein to do as he pleased.

"What do you want?" Maze asked, his voice low and gentle.

"I want your knot," Ordo said. "Right now."

"Take it," Maze said, releasing his hand from the thick shaft and leaning back. "It's all yours." He knew Ordo still wanted to be in charge, even after he shoved that part of his personality aside for the time being, and he wasn't about to betray his trust by taking it back, even if his alpha instincts screamed at him to slam Ordo's face into the floor and mount him.

Ordo wasted no time and climbed on top of Maze, straddling his thick, muscular thighs, but he leaned forward past the swollen cock between them and smashed his lips against Maze's in a brutal kiss. It took Maze a second to process what was happening, but once he did, his cock twitched with excitement beneath Ordo's stomach and he wrapped his hands around Ordo's thighs, squeezing them until he bruised the skin beneath his fingertips.

Ordo bit Maze's bottom lip in retaliation, drawing blood and smearing it with his lips as he continued to kiss Maze like he owned him. But, before Maze could react to the pain, Ordo broke the kiss and licked the blood that pooled on his lips, effectively swallowing any noise Maze wanted to make in the process. Then he stopped, panting heavily, and Maze could see he was still struggling internally. His eyes were back to pinpoints, and he looked conflicted.

Maze lifted his head and nuzzled Ordo's neck with his swollen, bleeding lips, skating them over the faded mating mark he made the cycle before. He'd need to refresh that at some point, but not now. Following Ordo's jawline, he strung together a set of kisses to his earlobe and nibbled on it gently. "Don't forget what you need," he whispered. "You can murder me afterward."

Ordo growled and sat up. Maker, it was a glorious sight to see Ordo sitting on top of him, sweat running down his sculpted chest in narrow rivulets, slightly curving around his raised pecks, and then collecting at his navel where it mixed with the precum that leaked from his stiff and neglected cock. It was a shame that Ordo didn't understand how beautiful he was as an omega, but no matter how hard Maze tried, it never sunk in.

Another deep growl rumbled out of Ordo's chest and he ground his hips down, letting his first moan of pleasure fall from his lips. Now he was stalling and Maze was getting impatient. Maze grabbed his cock and squeezed it with exaggerated movements, trying to get Ordo to focus his attention on what he really needed. If Ordo didn't take his knot, then this whole thing was a waste of time and they both would be worse off than when they started.

"C'mon, Ordo," Maze goaded as he continued to stroke himself seductively. "Don't tell me you're afraid of it. Big, bad Null afraid of an Alpha's cock."

"I'm not afraid of anything," Ordo sneered, still grinding his hips in a rhythmic motion against Maze's thighs.

"Then kriffin' sit on it already!" Maze yelled, finally allowing himself to verbalize his frustration. "I don't have all day." He didn't enjoy being rough with Ordo when he was in this kind of vulnerable state, but it was either that or lay there and get blue balls while he waited for him to make up his mind.

Ordo stopped moving and twisted his face into a snarl. "Don't yell at me!"

Maze snarled back. "I wouldn't have to yell at you if you would just stop being a pussy and sit on it!"

"Fine!" Ordo shouted. He lifted his hips and lined up his opening to Maze's cock, then slammed himself down. The movement was so precise and quick that it made an audible smacking sound and the rapidly displaced slick made an obscene squelch.

Maze felt the wind get knocked out of his lungs when Ordo's full weight smashed down onto his cock, squishing his already full balls painfully between his legs. He had to consciously tell himself not to vomit from the pain, because if he did, Ordo would probably let him drown in it and suffocate to death. It was a big maybe, but it wasn't a maybe that Maze wanted to play around with while Ordo had him pinned.

"There," Ordo said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Happy now? I'm sitting on it."

Maze's response came out as a strained wheeze. "You did that on purpose."

"I did what you told me to do," Ordo said with a mocking tone. "Not my fault if your instructions were unclear, Captain."

Maze thumped the back of his head against the mattress and groaned. He didn't understand it. He'd never understand it. Every mating cycle turned into the same thing; a fight. Outside of the mating season, they could have mostly normal, ordinary, everyday sex like everyone else in the galaxy, but something about mating season always got Ordo's panties in a bunch and it turned out like this. And now, his patience for their game was almost gone.

Maze picked his head up after a minute. "Can you at least move a little bit?"

Ordo shrugged. "You didn't ask me to move."

"Maker, you have a smart mouth," Maze said, narrowing his eyes. His annoyance meter was narrowly away from its breaking point. "Maybe I should stick my knot in your mouth instead. At least you'd shut up for a while."

Ordo clenched his jaw and leaned over Maze's chest, giving his cock a little taste of the friction it desired, and brought his eyes only millimeters away from Maze's. "I will slit your throat in your sleep."

Maze knew it wasn't an empty threat, none of Ordo's threats were fully empty, but he smiled and took the opportunity to capture Ordo's lips with his. He thought Ordo would fight him, but he didn't, so he slid his tongue across the crease of his lips, tasting his blood from earlier, and Ordo surprisingly opened his mouth to let him in. Seizing the best opportunity he had, he went to work exploring Ordo's mouth with his tongue.

However, it was also a sneaky little trick and he slowly smoothed his hands down Ordo's back and sides until they settled on his hips. As he deepened the kiss, he gently pushed and pulled Ordo's hips back and forth, guiding him into a steady rhythm to give them both the friction they so desperately needed. Eventually, Ordo began moving his hips on his own and releasing short, puffy moans that Maze enjoyed.

"That's it," Maze praised into Ordo's neck. He thrust his hips up experimentally and Ordo moaned louder. "That's a good boy."

"Don't–ah–call me that," Ordo said, but his words had no bite, not while he was pleasuring himself on Maze's cock. "I'm not–ah–your good–ah–boy. Ah!"

Ordo sat up, hands braced on Maze's stomach, and rocked his hips faster and harder, now meeting Maze's thrusts in earnest. His pupils overtook his irises once again and his mouth fell open to release heady moans of pleasure. It was music to Maze's ears, seeing Ordo return to being his horny omega; so desperate and needy for his cock. Now all he had to do was stare up at his beautiful mate and focus on finishing strong.

It wouldn't take long with the way Ordo squeezed his cock. Normally, during mating season it would feel cavernous, like it could never fully be filled, but not this time. This time it was tighter, and every time Ordo slid himself up and back down, the drag on the head of his cock made him see stars. He didn't need to reach the end of it, he didn't need to hit a goal post, he just needed the drag against Ordo's ribbed walls. It felt incredible like it always did.

"I'm gonna come," Maze said, his voice breathy. He could feel his balls tightening and his knot began to inflate, catching on Ordo's opening. His brain was turning to mush, but he still needed to hold out for a little bit longer to make sure Ordo didn't try to rip his knot out after it inflated. "Do you want it? You gotta tell me you want it."

"Maker, yes!" Ordo moaned, seating himself on the bulbous base after the last downward stroke. He wiggled his hips and nestled down to let it fully inflate inside him. "Please. I need your knot."

That was all Maze needed to hear before he allowed himself to pursue the building tension in his lower abdomen. He was so close, but he needed just a little more to push him over the edge. He focused on Ordo's delicious moans, then it suddenly snapped like a taut wire and Maze came with a convulsing cry. The feeling of hot cum gushing out and filling Ordo was overwhelming, and as his knot inflated, binding them together, they both experienced pure bliss.

Maze's mind flooded with instinctual thoughts of how many babies he was making, what Ordo would look like pregnant, and how they'd raise their ik'aad together, but those thoughts were gone as quickly as they came. It's not what Ordo wanted, at least not right now, and if he drilled deep enough into his own psyche, he probably didn't want it either, but it was nice to fantasize about it. It was part of his alpha nature, and so he let himself feel it in the moment.

Ordo collapsed on top of Maze's chest, panting heavily into his neck. Maze nuzzled Ordo's flushed cheek with his own and licked a bead of salty sweat that ran down his nose. Maze could already tell that Ordo's bodily needs were being met and the pain that he felt earlier was being replaced by euphoria. It was also in these small moments that Ordo fully surrendered to the omega part of his personality and let Maze pamper him for a bit, but not long.

"You did good," Maze praised. He wrapped his arms around Ordo's back and massaged his hands up and down the length of his spine, feeling the once-heated skin finally cooling down. He would probably start shivering soon, so Maze briefly removed one of his hands from Ordo to grab the blanket that was half falling off the bed and tossed it on top of him.

Ordo nuzzled in further and groaned, saying something too muffled and incoherent to understand.

Maze nudged Ordo's face out of his neck so he could hear him. "Can you repeat that?"

"Don't tell them," Ordo whispered, his face was still flushed, but it wasn't from the heat. "Please don't tell them I begged for it."

Maze smiled and planted a few strategic butterfly kisses where he could reach. "I won't. That stays between us and only us. No one needs to know what we do behind closed doors."

"And don't ever leave me," Ordo added quickly, gripping Maze's shirt possessively. "I know I'm not easy to deal with, but I can't imagine going through this without you."

"You're a pain in my shebs," Maze said with a light chuckle. It was rare to have Ordo get sappy on him, and as much as he liked it, he knew it was fleeting, and they'd be back to bickering as soon as his knot deflated. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Ordo shifted on top of Maze to get more comfortable, but he pulled at the knot in the process and they both moaned at the feeling. "I hate spring," he mumbled.

"Me too," Maze said. He didn't hate it as much as Ordo did, because, in reality, he did have the nice end of the deal, at least in his opinion, but it was still annoying to go through all the motions and emotions so many times. Unfortunately for them, spring had only just begun and there would be plenty more arguments, fights, and aggressive mating sessions before summer rolled around and they could get back to their normal life. "Same time tomorrow?"

Ordo nestled against Maze's chest and closed his eyes to rest. "Only if we have to."

[si0writes]

just realised i dont have a pinned post so here we go!! this will occasionally be updated (with this top part removed eventually LOL) whenever i adjust my blog's theme and if i ever need to update any info!! credits for blog theme (pfp, header, etc), blinkies and dividers used at the bottom!

si0 | 20 | proshipper | dead dove author | my kofi my carrd | my anime list | my art account | my straw.page

fandoms im into! (there's more but these are the ones i'm currently super engaged with atm (or are just shows im currently watching)!) hellaverse (hazbin hotel + helluva boss) fnaf black butler/kuroshitsuji genshin impact junjou romantica

yuri!!! on ice cult of the lamb

dni/byf anyone is free to interact with me as i understand not everyone checks every profile before interacting (i know i don't always do it)! all i ask is that you be respectful of me and i will be respectful of you. i block freely, including but not limited to antis who act like they're hot shit and those who are against the ships i like (such as the ones listed below) to the point where i feel like sending a patch of grass to touch into their inbox(/j) please be aware that i ship sebaciel (black butler), fischl x neuvillette (genshin impact) and gravecest (the coffin of andy and leyley) amongst other things and that i love to explore darker themes in fiction, especially through writing dead dove fics! i also do not support or partake in harassing others for whatever they choose to do with fictional characters. this account is pro paraphilias (expanding on this, i don't support contact if it is harmful but if you're doing it in a safe environment (such as a roleplay in a kink environment or through fanfic/art, etc) then that's totally fine and you should do whatever you need to safely cope!), pro recovery and anti censorship!

main f/os (i'm fine with sharing all my f/os!! pls feel free to block me if you share one and aren't comfortable sharing!) f/os in bold are my favs/mains! (i get possessive over these but i do my best not to show it online! i like to welcome my acc to doubles as it makes me extremely happy so pls dont be put off!!) ♡ unrelated/non family romantic f/o ✿ related/family romantic f/o (selfshipcest) ♡ neuvillette (genshin impact) #si0; boiling water 🌊🔥 (neuvillette x vinivre guillotine) ♡ sir pentious (hazbin hotel) #si0; scarab snake 🐶🐍 (sir pentious x mutt) ✿ gaming (genshin impact) (no tag yet) ♡ vox (hazbin hotel) (no tag yet) ♡ scaramouche/wanderer (genshin impact) (no tag yet) ♡ tartaglia/childe/ajax (genshin impact) (no tag yet) ♡ zandik/dottore/the doctor (genshin impact) (no tag yet) ♡ dr. veritas ratio (honkai star rail) #sio; diamond theory 💎🏛️ (dr veritas ratio x oneiric shard) (no link because tumblr is being fucky but the tag is in the tags of this post!)

♡ mizuki (kamisama hajimemashita/kamisama kiss) (no tag yet) ♡ freminet (genshin impact) #si0; life mate 🦢🐧 (freminet x odette boulanger)

♡ yuri plisetsky (yuri!!! on ice) (no tag)

♡ hisoka morrow (hunter x hunter) (no tag)

♡ alois trancy (black butler) (no tag)

♡ aquamarine hoshino (oshi no ko) (no tag)

♡ wade wilson/deadpool (deadpool) (no tag)

♡ zhongli/rex lapis/morax (genshin impact) (no tag)

✿ riddle rosehearts (twisted wonderland) (no tag)

♡ deuce spade (twisted wonderland) (no tag)

♡ cater diamond (twisted wonderland) (no tag)

♡ trey clover (twisted wonderland) (no tag)

♡ ace trappola (twisted wonderland) (no tag)

✿ kagmine len (vocaloid) (no tag)

✿ alhaitham (genshin impact) (no tag)

♡ kaveh (genshin impact) (no tag) ♡ mortefi (wuthering waves) (no tag) ♡ scar (wuthering waves) (no tag) ♡ calcharo (wuthering waves) (no tag) ♡ azul ashengrotto (twisted wonderland) (no tag) ♡ jade leech (twisted wonderland) (no tag) ♡ floyd leech (twisted wonderland) (no tag)

♡ idia shroud (twisted wonderland) (no tag)

credits pfp + header ( screenshots from FNAF Security Breach ) sun divider ( link ) blinkies ( all made by me! link) (sebaciel shipper one was made in mspaint on my pc hence the quality as a placeholder until i find a better one!)