#i don’t really burn ever but knock on wood

[barklikeagod]

went swimming for two and a half hours and i’m already a little tan it’s crazy how my skin absorbs the sun so fast

[tirasamu]

01. CRUEL BEYOND MY YEARS . . . you do the impossibleー you make dazai feel. that's why you're his, even if neither of you know it yet.

ft. pm!dazai + pm!reader, possessive behavior, descriptions of depression, oda, ango, and chuuya are there too, 2.4k w.c.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dazai knows he’s supposed to be in a meeting right now.

He yawns, hands behind his head in a makeshift pillow, overgrown legs hanging off the arm of the couch as he stretches out. The heels of his shoes graze his jacket, haphazardly tossed aside when he first came into his office and laid down.

Even with the sleep mask covering his face, blocking out the sun that pools into the top floors of the Port Mafia’s Headquarters, he knows it’s you who’s approaching his door.

He fights back a smile, something he rarely has the opportunity to do. He keeps his breathing steady and deep as he hears the familiar rhythm of your knuckles against his office door, knocking in a code. You both came up with it when you were younger, freshly sixteen against the hollow walls of his shipping container; your own shared secret. He hears the gentle creak of the old wood as you peek inside.

“Dazai?” he hears the soft sound of your footsteps as you come closer, then a sigh he’d recognize anywhere.  “Dazai. Take that thing off. It’s creepy.”

He remains still. He’s supposed to be asleep, after all.

“I see Mr. Executive is as busy as always,” you say sarcastically, but he can still hear the smile in your voice. You slip your thumb under the soft cotton padding of the sleep mask and slide it up his face, pushing his bangs back. The soft glide of your skin against his forehead leaves tingles in its wake, and it’s easy enough to ignore the burn of his one visible eye adjusting to the bright afternoon light when you’re hovering over him like an angel. “Don’t you want to say goodbye to me?”

A new mission. He sighs exhaustedly, as if was the one who was assigned. “How long will you be gone this time?”

“Not long, probably,” your hip presses against his as you sit on the edge of the couch. You rest your cheek on your hand, arm bridged over his stomach as your elbow props on the backrest. “Chuuya got assigned to it with me. Him and I make a good team.”

“You shouldn’t hang around him so much,” he tilts his head back. “You should be careful. He eats dog food, you know. He really is a dog, isn’t he?”

“Shut up,” you laugh, and the sound makes his heartbeat quicken without his permission. “I know that isn’t true.”

“It is!” he sits up on his elbows so he can meet your eyes, his own shimmering with mirth. “I even saw him do it. You trust me, don’t you?”

You flick his forehead, giggling as you stand back up and straighten your skirt. “You’re just jealous you don’t get to come on this mission with us.”

With us? Dazai swears he could be sick and die right there on the couch, as if there even was a ‘you and Chuuya’. The thought alone makes him nearly double over in pain. If anything, it should be him you were paired up with, and if you asked for his opinion, it was a joke that you weren’t by defaultー even if little assignments like this were below him now that he’s an executive. No one else knew you as well as he did, and no one else ever would; besides, he’d known you longer than that stupid slug. Mori's negligence on the matter makes his stomach churn and his skin prickle uncomfortably.

“Hey,” he grabs onto your jacket sleeve, where the cuffs are still a little too long and the fabric hangs over your wrists, before you can walk away. “Be careful.”

You smile at him brightly, giving him a thumbs up, but it barely fazes him. He watches you leave, gaze dark and mouth firm. Something bitter starts to crawl up his stomach, growing in his chest like thorned vines intertwining and tightening around his ribs.

When Mori first introduced you and Dazai to one another, you were both fourteen years old. The first thing he noticed when he saw you was that your clothing was too big, hanging awkwardly off your body. You’ve both grown since then, nearly identical black jackets and ties over white button-downs adorning your frames. The second thing he noticed was that you were different from him; he could tell from your eyes, bright and glistening.

He can't remember a time when he wasn’t burdened by the feeling of looking through a window, always a spectator. You were different; you had a seat at the table. Every bomb placed, every trigger pulledー you were there with him through it all, with the same fucked up feeling of adrenaline pounding through your veins, except you were attached to the world around you. You saw meaning in it somehow.

He wants to pick you apart piece by piece and study you under a microscope. He wants to understand just what it is about you that makes you so intriguing. What do you know that he doesn’t?

How are you so good at making him feel like this ?

He thinks about you on your mission, even when he tries not to. He flips through his paperwork lazily, pulling sheets from their stapled packets and folding them into origami shapes. He stares at his finger when he gets a paper cut on the edge of a report about some dispute in Kyoto, watching the blood dribble down his skin in small beads. He raids the infirmary for chemicals, slipping past the nurses and picking the lock to the medicine cabinet, pocketing bottles and extra rolls of bandages. He plays on his handheld console, sighing in frustration when his character dies again; if only it was so easy.

It's nearing the latest hours of the night when he decides to sneak into your office that he finds you again, back from your mission and chatting with Chuuya, whose arms are crossed as he leans against the edge of your desk. Dazai skims his eyes over you, noting with satisfaction that there seem to be no new visible injuries on you. He relishes in how Chuuya’s brows furrow when he sees him, and how yours rise in delight, Cheeks rounding in a smile. He throws his arms around your shoulders, your faces close enough for him to count your eyelashes as you tilt your head back to look at him.

“I hope you didn’t have too much fun without me,” he pouts, squeezing you against his chest. “Did you keep Chuuya on his leash during your mission?”

“Don’t talk about me like I'm not here, idiot.”

“Oh, there you are,” he eyes the aforementioned man lazily, as if he were a bug that landed near him. “I almost missed you because you’re so small.”

“I fell asleep right after we were done,” you giggle. “Chuuya had to carry me back.”

“Oh?” he tightens his arms. Dazai always thought you were the cutest post-mission, all sleepy and touchy; he always made sure he was around for those moments. “Did he?”

You’re talking, something else about the mission, but he doesn’t listen. Chuuya looks from you to him when he feels his gaze, eyebrow raising in a silent question. They screw up in irritation when dazai’s eyes narrow as his lips curl up into a cruel grin. He cranes his neck down, nose grazing your temple before he drags his tongue across your cheek.

“Ew, Dazai!” you try to shove him away, but he doesn’t go far, still clinging to you tightly. “What the hell? You’re so gross!”

He laughs in your ear, even as you try to pry his hands off his shoulders. You twist your hand around his wrist, tugging on it and glaring at him over your shoulder.

“Let go, Dazai.”

You’ve only ever looked at him like this when he woke you up in the middle of the night, knocking over one of your chairs after he broke into your apartment; you weren’t able to fall back asleep for hours, and when you finally woke up the next day, you realized he ate the last of the mapo tofu in your fridge.

He loosens his arms, stumbling when you shove him. The feeling of your hands pushing him away is nowhere near as warm as when you brushed his hair back earlier that day. There's no pretty, warm smile dimpling your cheeks either; just the dark wood of your office door grazing his nose, the sound of it slamming shut, and Chuuya’s annoyed glare still prickling his skin. 

His chest tightens. 

The flickering light of Bar Lupin’s sign penetrates the foggy night air, like a lighthouse calling lost ships home. Ango and Oda are already inside when Dazai arrives. A cigarette dribbles loose curls of smoke into the air as Ango cradles his glass between his palms and Oda tilts his head back to sip his whiskey. The bar’s most devoted patron hops from Dazai’s seat knowingly, landing on his little white paws as Dazai sits down on the stool with a huff.

He rests his chin against his forearm, sighing into his elbow as the bartender places his usual in front of him wordlessly. The two older men look at the pouty pile of messy hair between them. Oda knows he’s waiting for one of them to ask, so he does. 

“Did something happen today, Dazai?”

“Yes,” he bounces the sphere of ice against the bottom of the glass, feeling his fingertip go numb. “She’s mad at me.”

“What did you do now?” Ango eyes him wearily from behind his glasses.

“How rude,” he says flatly, his voice sounding hollow without his usual playfulness. “Immediately assuming I’m at fault.”

“Aren’t you always?” he sighs into the rim of his glass, taking a long sip.

They both wait in silence before Dazai shoots up in his seat, his stool spinning slightly.

“How can that stupid slug touch what’s mine?”

“'Yours’?” Ango asks, a thin eyebrow raised. “People don’t own other people.”

“I didn't know you two were dating,” Oda says.

“We’re not,” Dazai sags back down, folding his arms and laying his head down so his eyes are level with his glass again. “That's gross.”

“You’re not?” Oda repeats. “…Then why are you upset?”

He feels the bandages around his eyes loosen as he turns his head away, squishing his cheek into his elbow. The cat licks his paws across the bar, before reaching up and rubbing his little face. He catches dazai’s gaze, looking at him with round, unblinking eyes.

His chest tightens again.

The sun is rising, melting the black of the night sky to gold when Dazai arrives at your apartment. His hand freezes inside his pocket, fingers wrapped around his lock pick, glancing back to your door. He lets it go and knocks instead, beating his knuckles against the wood in your secret code.

You’re in your pajamas when you open the door, and he notices the bruise on your leg that was hidden under your work uniform. He looks at you like a lost puppy; ears down, eyes big, with his nonexistent tail between his legs.

“Hey,” your eyes dart along his body, and he knows you’re scanning him for injuries too. “You okay?”

He doesn’t reply, and you let him meekly slip past you into your apartment. Your blanket is pooled on the floor from where you were sitting at your coffee table, chopsticks and a bowl of stir fry waiting for you; the schedule of a mafiosa has your circadian rhythm flipped, eating dinner as the sun rises.

“Did you eat anything yet?” you ask him, sitting back on the ground.

His big brown eyes blink down at you in a silent answer.

You open the side of your blanket expectantly, scooting over to make space for him. You nudge your food between the two of you when he sits beside you. His stomach flutters as he thinks about you feeding him from your chopsticks, a hand cupped under his chin, your soft thumb brushing his lips as you wipe them clean. He ignores it, plucking a shrimp out of your bowl with his fingers instead.

“You can have the rest,” you bundle the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders, sighing softly as you lay your head down on his shoulder. “I made extra. I knew you’d come over.”

“You did?”

“Mhm,” you rub your thumb along the edge of his bandages where his palm and wrist meet absentmindedly. “I know you.”

You do, scarily so. You like your stir fry spicy, but you kept it mild for him. because you knew he’d come over. Because you knew he wouldn’t have eaten otherwise. Because he only ever gets a home-cooked meal when you make one for him.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbles, voice barely audible.

You tilt your head up and look at him, eyes heavy. He holds his breath as you lift your hand and cup his cheek, tracing the dark circle under his one visible eye with the pad of your thumb.

“Let’s go to bed,” your voice is soft in the way it always is when you’re tired. “We can still sleep a little before we have to go back to headquarters.”

He knows every inch of your apartment, but he still lets you guide him into the dark of your room, and he’s suddenly surrounded by everything that is so quintessentially you. He has it all committed to memory: the title of the book on your nightstand you swear you’ll finish, the delicate splay of jewelry on your dresser, the pajama shorts hanging over the side of your hamper in the corner.

You practically collapse, falling into your bed and splaying your limbs with a happy sigh while he carefully lies down, staring at the ceiling and keeping his hands to himself. It's after a few quiet moments when he feels something warm against him, and when he turns to look at you, his breath catches in his throat.

You’re so much closer to him than anyone else would ever dare to be. You curl towards him even in your sleep, like a sunflower growing towards the sun. Your arm reaches towards his, fingers loosely clinging to his sleeve, as if you wanted to keep him anchored to the bed with you. He could almost make himself believe you really wanted him there.

He watches the daylight fall over your face, just as delicate as the sheet you draped over your body, still thin enough to show off the contour of your legs. You look so relaxed, cheeks full of color with the shadow of your lashes resting against them.

You looked so alive. So human.

His chest tightens.

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (epilogue)

Mom gets fitted for dentures next week 🎊 🎉 🦷 💝

Epilogue (Promises)

You had meant it when you said it so long ago. A promise. One you intended to keep

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x Fem Reader, Valentino x Fem reader (just TRUST ME), nipple chain, Val exists too much, Kaiju cock, pussy wet??, aphrodisiac, Alastor shade, fanatic sinners, misleading porno covers, Angel Dust is perfect as always, blood, stabbing, filming sexy things, Val in a thong, licking, hair pulling, why bad man have big dick, Alastor isn’t horny but he is possessive, pussy in the ether」

Part 1 smut 💦 Part 2 smut 💦 Side Story Part 3 smut 💦 Part 4 smut💦 Epilogue sexual

***Spoiler for people that need Val warnings*** Val dick touches reader pussy. Val explicit scenes are purple. if you skip the purple parts you will still understand the story and still be in the scene, interacting with him. Reminder, reader is there intentionally and consenting.

minors omg look over there! (🏃‍♀️💨Dni)

“I will admit, I was surprised to get your message.” Val exhaled, one hip out as he rest his weight on his right foot. You hadn’t planned on seeing him again, but as you became comfortable in hell you found yourself remembering the promise to yourself. One you made that day you met Alastor. On the floor of that studio. Your eyes scanned the room. The space was different, the set no longer your cursed cabin scene.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You took a deep breath, you’d practiced this, “Well I’ve been in hell for a while now… and I see you everywhere. I’ve been thinking,” your eyes caught on the door you were confident led to the room that held you. To the bed. Another shaky exhale, you never were much of an actress. “I really missed my chance with you. A powerful overlord… a celebrity.”

A dark chuckle from the moth, his ego fluttering, “Ooh, you’re a little celebrity in your own right. My best seller in ages.”

Oh, right. The tape. You hadn’t watched it yet. Alastor set the VHS copy on the bookshelf, an agreement made you could revisit that memory together if you ever wanted to. Not that you hadn’t heard it before. Nearly two years after its release and still people played it in public. Your first visit to Rosie started with you red faced and sputtering, having had someone on the way there thrust a DVD in front of you. 

The stranger asked for an autograph, but as soon as you saw the cover photo the entire thing had been knocked into the street by Alastor’s microphone. He had been trying to shelter you from interacting too much with the movie.

“Was that—is the cover—?” You were frozen as the sinner ran off, mind trying to process the image.

Alastor hummed, “Not what I’d choose, but I signed away all rights when I made the deal. A little misleading of a photo if you ask me.” He watched with glee as a car pulverized the disc and case. 

A blood red demonic seal splattered with a white liquid and a slender hand scraping into the wood.

“But that’s the Vees for you!”

Indeed, that was the Vees. Val gestured at you with his cigarette and its dramatic holder, “Aren’t you still with the radio demon? Not that I care.” He took a few steps towards you, getting you into arm’s reach before grabbing you by the back of the head and pulling you into him, “Just cuz there's a goalie doesn’t mean I can’t score.”

With how your head was angled back as he had your hair tightly wound in his fist you could see the TV. Always Vox News, you assumed. The time was displayed in the corner. “I am but— he doesn’t, ya know… he doesn’t know I’m here. But he’ll be looking for me soon.”

He stared down at you, pupil-less eyes without emotion. Your scalp began to burn and after a few seconds you had to shift your weight to relieve some of the pull. It made your upper stomach rub against his crotch. Not at all your intention. But you knew you’d have to touch him eventually.

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t do shit at anyone else’s speed.” His hand released your hair, “Could be fun though…,” Valentino traced along your jaw with his tongue before squeezing your cheeks in his hand, “fucking Alastor’s woman.”

He was off you as quickly as he had pounced, makeshift jacket swirling behind him as he spun around and walked to the door you’d seen before.

Another glance at the television. You had 10 minutes before Alastor would be calling. A small panic that you didn’t have enough time. 

Alastor rarely called on you, because rarely were you very far away. He didn’t have you on a leash, you just enjoyed his company. You’d scroll on your phone while he worked in his radio station  or read a book while he enjoyed his breakfast in the morning. 

Also, well, going out alone could be intimidating. People swung from two extremes when they saw you— excited fan or terrified sinner. 

The fans knew you were with Alastor. 

The other sinners knew you were with Alastor. 

The DVD incident had spooked you, not helped by the fact it had been your first outing. Alastor had been eager, even if he didn’t say it, to introduce you to the cannibal overlord. 

Having you back in his presence brought a deep seated sense of calm to him, one best compared to the feeling he had when gossiping with Rosie over coffee. Naturally he wanted his closest friend to meet the soul who’d stolen his attention. And Rosie was delighted to meet you, evident with the extravagant tea (and a singular coffee)  she set up and her litany of questions.

But every time she asked something she also seemed to answer it herself.

“Are you happy to be together again in your body?! I’m sure you are.” She offered you a finger you had to decline. 

“I bet you two have been busy.” A wink, “Though you must have been for it to take so long to get down here.”

Alastor shrunk a little as she smacked at his shoulder. You hadn’t seen him allow others to touch him before. Had that been Angel, the second one of his many arms cocked back Alastor would have stepped away or disappeared. Just a hit and you could see how close they were.

You made a point of befriending her, coming often after that initial meeting to her shop for gossip and advice. As time went on, you began to learn about Alastor’s normal. It was nice to have a mutual friend to discuss your worries and ideas with. 

“And oh! That video. Talk about hot under the collar!”, a petite laugh, “Did you see it?” Rosie waited for you to answer this time. When you shook your head no, she waved her hand, “For the best. The climax was totally unwatchable!”

You turned to Alastor, not sure what that meant, but he didn’t meet your gaze and instead slowly blinked out of sync at the bookshelves behind Rosie’s shoulder. 

“Did you know he’s not into all that?” She took a sip, “You better be patient with him ya got it?”

That question caught you off guard. Apparently for him too, Alastor coming back to life at the change of tone, “This isn’t really a tea topic, dear friend.”

Rosie hummed, “Where are my manners! I was just so relieved he didn’t up and leave for another seven years.” 

What’s a scowl shared between friends?

But shared between whatever you and Val were…?

Valentino’s wings unfurled revealing long fishnet covered legs. You watched as he swayed his hips side to side on his way to the bed. The same bed as before. You remembered the shape and purple comforter that you could see down your blindfold.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to already be undressed.” Where were his pants and button up? This was moving faster than you’d anticipated. 

He turned back to you as he plopped down onto the bed, “What I wear isn’t any of your business. Though, speaking of business.” He pointed to the corner, a part of the room you’d never seen before. A camera on a tripod stood there. “Turn it on.”

Your grimace was immediate. “You sure you wanna film this one?”

Impatient, he crossed his legs and leaned back on two hands, “Did you think you could just come in here, ask to fuck me and … what? It’d be all on your terms?”

Yes. 

You’d worn a dress expressly for ease, and slipped off your panties before going to the camera. For some reason you didn’t want that recorded. It seemed embarrassing. More so than what you were about to do.

Val’s turn to gawk, “You’re seriously not planning on staying dressed.”

“What I wear isn’t any of your business.” You opened the view screen and hit record.

His laugh was dark and deep, “Ooh, I forgot how feisty you were. Maybe this can be a recurring thing.”

Ignoring the comment, you tried to take in the details of the room, checking the walls and small bits of furniture. But you were immensely distracted by the moth demon, who had taken to spreading his legs open and running a hand down his barely contained bulge. Tiny, little, itty black thong, fishnets, nipple chain and… well, the hat. 

Two arms pulled you by the waist, hands gripping the flesh of your ass through the dress. 

“Why are you dressed like you’re off to teach Sunday school?” His hands slipped under the fabric and dug into your bare skin. He glanced at the camera and its small monitor to make sure he was in frame.

Your knees were brought to either side of his legs before he began to open his stance wider and wider. The action lowered your center more and more until your naked heat was resting on his package. Things were speeding up, he was moving you around so effortlessly. A problem, an absolute problem.

“Ya know I haven’t had a believable good girl to break in awhile.” His hips rose of the bed suddenly and made you bounce on his growing erection. Val groaned, a sound that made your skin crawl. 

In the reflection of his glasses you saw the white face of a marble clock on the wall behind you. 

“Could we—- can we do this lying down? Missionary? It’s been awhile and I’m feeling insecure.” The thought of the overpowering demon towering on top of you and pinning you down was… a tad terrifying. But you needed to see the clock, you couldn’t keep turning around. 

A brief thought, maybe just turning around on his lap and staying facing away from him would work, but then you remembered the camera. Didn’t need your now-rising dress to give the Vees anything exploitative to keep.

Not that everyone in all nine rings hadn’t already seen you spread open and screaming on camera.

“Actually maybe it’s okay, I can,” turn around? Your suggestion was cut short.

Val lifted you like a toy and flipped around. Your head hit the bed hard, brain jostling in your skull. One hand instinctively came to his chest to keep some distance. “No, I like this better.” A wide grin as he settled between your legs.

You leaned to the right to see the clock past his shoulder. Five minutes.

Why didn’t you wear a watch? Fuck.

He dropped his lower half onto you until his full weight was pressing his half hard cock into your stomach. Your breath tightened, running out of moveable space to expand your lungs and diaphragm.

“I wanna see you squirm.” Pink smoke was blown directly into your face, catching you off guard. But, where was the cigarette? You didn’t see it…

Your muscles went loose, the stress of the moment washing away. Both of your hands came to the center of your chest and pressed down. Security. Readiness.

Four minutes.

Alastor didn’t like you having a phone but he didn’t stop you from owning one. You had assumed you’d be on the set where you knew there would be some way to keep track of the time. Or else you’d have just worn a dress with pockets to carry a cellphone. Maybe set a timer.

You weren’t sure about Alastor’s disdain for tech until you witnessed it yourself. That square headed stalker flitting from screen to screen, riding the wires and the radio waves. He had warned you about the Vees, about Vox in particular. He didn’t have much to say about Velvette, and somehow that was better than the nothing he had to say about Valentino. 

As Val’s tongue slid up your neck, you thought about Angel. A confidant. You wished he had asked Alastor to kill Val, as a thank you for his efforts in reuniting you two. And, now that you remembered, uniting you at all. 

Instead he asked for a bigger room. Large enough for two to comfortably cohabitate.

Alastor maybe couldn’t kill Val, but he could try. When you brought it up with him he was upset. He didn’t like his name being spoken at all unless absolutely necessary 

An inadvertent moan you didn’t realize came from you until Valentino chuckled at the sound.

“Feeling it?” He cooed. You weren’t sure which it he meant. This wasn’t going quite to plan. 

Three minutes.

So much could happen in three minutes. Too much. He slid down his underwear, sitting up and letting you see him in his full glory.

Why did he have to be such a bad man?

Many men who carried big sticks were unkind. Between their legs or between their fingers. 

Alastor was an exception to the rule. 

Things did calm down for Alastor after you returned, eventually. Alastor’s desperate need was soothed with you in hell again. His appetite dying. But he hungered in new ways. Ways you hadn’t anticipated to fill your cup so full. Long and intense kisses where his hands dragged down your body and he sighed into your cheeks. You were often pulled into his side and under his arm when sharing the sofa. Soft pets to your hair as you fell asleep. 

And when you felt the need, and if he wasn’t feeling up to it, he’d lie beside you and whisper into your ear. Talking soft and low about all the ways you stole his heart and mind while his hand pumped those long fingers in and out of your own needy pussy. He’d grin into the nape of your neck when you were incapable of keeping your voice down any longer. A feeling you’d come to need. 

You didn’t need a cock to be full. And by the look of Val’s twitching monster, you’d be broken before he bottomed out.

His thumbs pulled apart your bottom lips, “Ready to spread you open so wide you won’t even feel that lanky fuck in you.” 

His third and fourth hands pushed your thighs open and back, hands you could swear felt familiar. Alastor? Or before him?

You struggled to regain focus, your fingers feeling at your bra.

Two minutes.

Legs suddenly too weak to resist, or perhaps Val too strong. Or, a third option, you weren’t trying so hard. Behind his fingers was left a burn on your skin.

“Closer.” Your lips were tingling, it felt good.

“I need you closer.”

His wide chest grew prideful, “Oh? If you’re looking for love you’re in the wrong bed, princesa.”

“No love. Chest. I can’t reach your chest.” You struggled to sit up, but managed to grab the chain connecting his pierced nipples before falling back into the bed.

A screech, a squeak, “Fuck! Watch how you handle that.” His voice rose several octaves. God, you hated him. 

You gripped the chain tightly, the feeling keeping you a little grounded. “Oops.” A whirlpool was behind your eyes, all five senses mingling and amplifying. This was dangerous. He hadn’t used this aphrodisiac on you before…maybe he had liked how much you thrashed when he tied you up and mocked you.  

His length ran up your core and you jumped. He was so hot. So…. Firm.

No. Too close.

One minute.

You had told Alastor you wouldn’t let it go too far. He said he’d not stop you, because you had said you needed to do it. But you could see the conflict behind his own gaze. What would he do if you returned smelling of Val? Dripping of him? 

Almost. Just a few more seconds. His body rolled into you, rocking you with the motion. Every passing had his cock from slit to balls sliding between your wildly wet folds. 

Timing was key for your safety. Though Alastor had made it clear you could always just bail and wait for his call.

The more Val rubbed and pressed against you you felt your mind melt a little more. Surely it would slip down your spine at this rate. 

A brief worry in the pleasurable fog, what if later on you remembered the pleasure and felt guilty? Guilty to Alastor but most importantly to yourself, for gasping and sighing under the abusive trash that dragged you to hell to begin with.

And what if you didn’t? 

Which was worse?

Which would be easier to live with?

He prodded your inner thigh. He was getting closer and closer to actually entering you.

30 seconds.

“Do you remember my promise?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” His head was hung as he stared between your bodies. He didn’t see you reach between your breasts into your bra and pull out the Carmine angelic dagger Husk had recommended to Alastor. You hadn’t been quiet about your plans.

“Odd, it’s on recording. Maybe you didn’t realize I was talking to you.” As you moved the dagger from your right side to bury it into Valentino’s chest you remembered the man in the woods. The young man at work. Angel. Here you were again. But if this ended the same as the woods, where would you go? Would Alastor be able to reach you?

“My promise to fucking kill you.”

Valentino keeled back, hand raised to slash your throat out when a green light momentarily blinded him. The sound of chains filled the room as you disappeared into nothingness underneath him. He was left slashing at his own duvet while he tried to slow the bleeding.

Alastor caught you as you fell from the portal he summoned you with. Two feet barely touching the floor as he set you in the reading chair in front of his fireplace.

He nodded at the drops of blood staining your cornflower yellow dress, “Was it a success?”

Your body slipped down the chair, dress getting caught in the friction and riding up. He leaned over and tugged it back down to hide your exposed sex.  You were too far gone to feel deja vu.

“No, I think he’s alive. He drugged me with that smoke.” Your legs were spread wide, trying to keep your weight from slipping off the chair. “I was too weak.”

Alastor sat in the chair opposite and took in the scene. Hair messy, legs open, face flush. Bloodied and breathless.

Pride ran a shiver up his spine. His doe’s second murder attempt. While he has despised the idea he couldn’t pretend he didn’t love the initiative. 

“Hey, I know you said you wouldn’t ask.” You crossed your legs at the ankle, which did nothing to stop the way the air that was rising up your dress and cooling your core. “But I didn’t fuck him.”

Alastor shrugged, “As they say, all is fair in love and war. I would understand if you did for the sake of killing him. What’s a little sex if it helps murder?”

Your hand slipped down your chest, a ghostly trail in its wake like your touch had an echo. “What a terrible way to confess you love me.”

A choked cough from the radio demon.

Your eyes slipped close. Relaxed. “I feel good.”

He hummed.

“Not from the stabbing, from the stuff in his smoke. My body is thrumming. Is my heart pounding?” You tried to stand but ended up on your knees, cheek coming to rest on his inner leg. As he leaned forward to let his hand enter your dress and rest above your heart, his face got close to yours.

“It’s frantic.” A low whisper into the shell of your ear. Pulling back he paused at your face to lick an errant drop of blood. “You reek of him.”

“He did lick me a couple times.” You watched Alastor sneer, “And he was naked, like, immediately. Oh! Oh fuck,” your head popped up with a renewed clarity, “He recorded it.”

Alastor stilled, he wasn’t thinking about the recording aspect. He was thinking on your heart, on how flushed your skin was, the sweat dripping down your neck. On the thought of Val’s tongue over your skin. “The medicine— or drug you were exposed to,” a deep breath in, “What does it feel like?”

A topic change you hadn’t expected, your body slouched into his leg, arm over his thigh for support. His eyes on your face as they always were when you were in the room. 

“Like my body is… illuminescent. Every time my clothes or something touches me, my skin lights up and my brain gets so quiet.” His palm stayed on your heart. 

“Hmm,” His hands slipped under your arm, lifting you up. Your feet were entirely off the ground now as he carried you like a dirty cat on its way to the bath. Gently, you were set onto the bed. A lovely juxtaposition.

“Every time I touch where he did, tell me.” Alastor kneeled beside you, deft fingers unbuttoning your dress. A sharp claw popped under the center of your bra and sliced through the fabric.

Your body was humming again, Val’s powerful aphrodisiac lifting up from your senses like dust under heavy footsteps. 

Goosebumps formed up your arms as the back of his fingers traced along the outside of your forearm. As he curved up your shoulder and reached your neck you breathed out a low, “There.”

You watched him lean down, warm lips kissing at your skin. A series of kisses as soft and needy as the ones he often placed on your own mouth. A shudder turned nearly violent as his hot tongue ran up your neck to your jaw.

His nose slid up your cheek, “There.” Kisses to your face, across your nose and to the other side.

He pulled back, eyes lusty and heavy lidded. He didn’t say anything, but his grim smile asked you something. You nodded, running your hands down your chest and to your thighs.

A growl you hadn’t heard in so long rumbled in his chest. He rolled you onto your stomach and pulled the dress off entirely, nails raking along your spine until they dimpled the soft fat of your ass.

“There.”

Alastor straddled you at the back of your knees. You wanted to squirm but your muscles had gone weak again. He nipped at the mounds of flesh, massaging and squeezing after every particularly sharp bite. What little part of your brain could form coherent thoughts was trying to piece together an alarm— his face was so close to your still soaking wet entrance. 

Images bubbled up where words were failing. Val’s large cock head smearing precum up your slit.

His hands roamed down your legs and feet before turning you back to face him. When you could finally see his expression again, you were surprised to see a look he hadn’t given in so long.

Needy. Desperation screamed through knitted brows, hazy eyes, and a weak smile threatening to fall flat.

As his hands slid down your stomach and reached the junction of your thighs, you started to register the little moans you were making.

But it was getting harder to hear past the radio static and pounding heartbeat in your ears.

Soft fingers traveled between your closed thighs, you hesitated before offering what you thought was a quiet, “There.”

You couldn’t hear yourself think let alone speak as the sounds both in and outside your body grew louder with every signal he’d found a new spot to cover up.

His knees pushed open your left thigh, then your right. Lowering himself, he hitched your knees and lied flat on his stomach. A bite to your inner thigh, nearly the back. A suck, sharp and strong, that ended with a pop as he released.

Nose inching closer and closer to your core, Alastor could see your hole clenching. A dribble of the evidence of your arousal being forced out and down the cleft of your ass.

You heard and felt his breathing quicken, when a finger slid down your folds you couldn’t stop the raise of your hips.

“There.”

The lights went out with a pop. Shaky breaths as his tongue swiped from entrance to clit. Lick after lick to your center like he was trying to make you clean again. Another moan you were only sure was yours cut through the now biting static that filled the air around you.

Your mind tried to piece together a sentence, “Crazy stuff… it had me so horny”, your hands ran up your chest without thinking, “I was almost hoping Val would put it in before time was gone.”

The static cut. Not even the sound of the fireplace or the crickets in the swamp portaled into his room were present anymore. 

“Isn’t that insane? Have you ever heard of such a drug?” Your eyes had closed, feeling his breath wafting down your saliva coated lips. “Alastor?”

He was being honest when he said he’d not hold it against you. But he hadn’t even considered a situation where you wanted more to happen. Than had been discussed. The very idea of Valentino mixing with you brought bile to his throat.

The drug was to blame and he could understand that, as a man. But as an overlord, as something more akin to animal in some aspects, he had the clawing urge to reclaim you. To write over even the thought of wanting to feel Valentino.

“My darling little doe, I think you need a reminder of just how much of you I possess. And the parts of me you own in turn.” 

You looked down to see glowing eyes from between your legs, his fingers snapped and while you couldn’t see what was happening past the light of his eyes, you could hear the VHS player click and then a small, “Aunt Sara….” whispered in a familiar voice.  

“I don’t understand what’s happened….”

It took a moment to register it was your own voice you were hearing from the darkness. 

“Aunt Sara isn’t here.” 

Alastor’s acting debut crowing from the old TV beside his bayou door. His eyes shifted with a blink from glowing red to black, just sharp dials visible in the shadow of his face.

“She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.”

The prongs of a buck ready to clash over his territory creaked past your open thighs.

“But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon n , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , , @fizzled-phoenix , @phobophobular , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl

[itsphoenix0724]

Promises (Rhysand x Reader)

Summary: You don't argue with your husband often, and never anything as serious as this. However, some things may be too hard to come back from.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of Rhys' trauma from under the mountain

Word Count: 1.7k

Part 2

A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first time writing for Rhys, but I apologize; this isn't the happiest thing! This takes place during ACOMAF, and I tried to keep it canon accurate. I may have diverged a little though! I really just needed to get some angst out from first week of school stress lol. If you ever want to interact with me my requests are open! As always constructive criticism is very welcome! I tried to makes this a realistic portrayl of real feelings and emotions. I hope you all enjoy even if it stamps on your heart a bit <3

You’re sitting at the dinner table in the Townhouse, nursing a glass of wine, when you feel your Husband’s power rumble into your bones. It normally feels comforting to you, but now all it does is further the knot of anxiety growing in your stomach.

It’s been a long week. 

It was the first time that Rhys had called in his bargain with Feyre. You’ll always be eternally grateful for what Feyre did for your family, for your court, and the entirety of Prythian. It still didn’t stop the ugly jealousy that clawed at your insides at Rhys spending the week away from you with her. Especially after you learned about the dancing. You knew why it had to happen, you really did. He had explained everything to you in the tearful reunion after he returned from under the mountain. 

You hope Amarantha burned in whatever hell she crawled out from. 

“How was your first week,” you take another gulp of wine, trying to drown the spiders crawling up your throat. 

“I think she’s making some progress. Tamlin isn’t even teaching her how to read! Can you believe that? Even after he saw it almost kill her and his supposedly beloved emissary.” He rubbed out the crease forming between his eyebrows, maneuvering around the kitchen as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. “She was paper thin and so so pale.” he shook his head as he knocked back the liquor. 

“You didn’t come home the whole time.” You tried your best to keep the venom tamped down in your voice, you weren’t even really angry just confused. Judging by the way the muscles in his back tensed your endeavor had not been successful. 

You knew he would have to call in this bargain eventually you just didn’t expect him to ignore you the entire time she was here. He could’ve taken you with him, you had even expressed interest in meeting Feyre. You had wanted to thank her personally for everything she did to you and extend an olive branch for her time in your court. Rhys had shut down the idea immediately because he thought she might have been overwhelmed. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he turned around and looked at you from his spot leaning against the counter. You didn’t look at him, staring straight at the grooves on the table. You sensed the defensive tone immediately. Rhys almost looks like a cat with all the hair raised on its back. Feline eyes sizing you up like he’s about to pounce on you.

“I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have come home to even sleep. When I tried to reach you mind to mind your shields were up.” Your nails dig into the wood, leaving crescent marks in the pine. Rhys doesn’t have an answer for that when you meet his eyes. It almost looks like he’s looking through you instead of at you. 

“I didn’t want to leave her alone in case she tried to jump out a window.” He says the answer matter-of-factly. It’s the same tone you heard him use during the conferences he held with the citizens. He wasn’t exactly brushing you off, but it didn’t feel like he was listening to you either. 

“Why couldn’t you have just told me that?” Your voice cracked. You have been married to Rhys for almost one hundred years. You could tell when he was being shifty, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something from you. Judging from that regretful look in his eye you were correct. 

“I thought you would react poorly. Clearly, I was correct.” The clipped tone is enough to send a white-hot bolt of anger through your body. 

“Do not blame your poor communication skills on me Rhysand.” The glare you fixed him with could have brought the monster that lurks in the bottom of the library to its knees, but Rhys just met your eyes with a steeled look of his own. 

“She needed help. She was begging somebody to come rescue her. She was withering away in the Spring Court! You know how many times I’ve been pulled from bed because she’s vomiting during the night-” Rhys sounded exasperated. But you were tired, so tired. 

“You’ve barely come to bed since you’ve been back.” Your voice was hardly more than a whisper, but the deafening silence that followed your words made it sound like an explosion. You knew it was a low blow. Rhys sometimes couldn’t stomach sleeping in your bed after what Amarantha did to him. After he was startled awake one night a bolt of his power shot your sleeping form out of the bed because, in his nightmare-filled haze, he had mistaken you for her. He had felt awful, and now mostly slept in one of the guest rooms in fear that he would cause serious damage to you. You had tried to convince him, but he knew how powerful he could be, so you relented. 

“You don’t get to throw that in my face right now.” The growl that came from your husband sounded like cold black death. “She needs to be trained. She needs help-” all the pent-up emotion started to boil over inside you. Your airway got smaller, white noise was sounding through your head, and your eyes couldn’t focus on a spot infront of you. 

“I DO NOT CARE WHAT FEYRE NEEDS!” the boom in your voice surprised even you. Rhys took a step back, you rarely even raised your voice, let alone yelled at him. His eyes widened, but his flood of emotions quickly matched yours. 

“SHE SAVED ME! I PROMISED TO KEEP HER SAFE!” The way Rhy’s voice ricocheted off the walls made you flinch. The pure night-kissed power had stolen the warmth from the room and all the air from your lungs. 

“You made promises to me too. Do you remember that?” your voice echoed out with calm fury as you slipped your ring off your finger and held it up to the light. “Do you remember the promises you made to me when you put this ring on my finger?” You didn’t even know where the rage was coming from, You weren’t angry, but it grabbed ahold like cold unforgiving ocean waves and kept pulling you farther into the eye of the hurricane. “You pledged to me your undying loyalty, your faithfulness, your honesty.” That last word coated your tongue in acid. 

It burned you and Rhys as it left your mouth. 

“Do you truly believe I have been unfaithful to you?” his voice grated out like shards of glass. However, in your current state, it seemed more condescending than questioning. 

“I believe you are not being honest with me. I have been married to you for practically 100 years, and have known you even longer. Do you think I don’t know when you’re not telling me something?”  You shot up from your seat and slammed your wedding ring on the table. His violet shield slipped for just a moment to see the hurt flash in his eyes. You haven’t taken that ring off since he gave it to you. 

“You are being irrational.” Rhys tried to step towards you, but you only backed away from him, shaking your head as tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Why are you being so secretive about Feyre? She is engaged Rhys-you took her from her wedding. If she truly needed help why not bring her to Velaris? Why not let her meet me? Why not let her be happy with Tamlin?” The questions kept pouring out but the protective growl Rhysand made at your last statement had you recoiling. He had given himself away. He obviously knew it too, as he tried to step towards you. The tears kept pouring out as you shook your head. “You need to tell me what’s going on. Right now.” Rhys finally hung his head in defeat as he slumped into one of the chairs. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as he stared at your trembling figure from the other side of the table. 

“She is my mate.” Your eyes widened in horror. It felt like the dinner you made earlier tonight was going to make another appearance on your kitchen floor. “She is my mate and I don’t know what to do.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know what to do?” Your voice was shaking with scarcely contained fury as you stormed up to the table. “I am your wife. I am your people’s queen. What more is there to think about? I thought you loved me.” A new wave of tears washed over you, and you swear you could hear your heart breaking. It was so loud. You wonder if Rhys could hear it too. 

“Of course I love you!” he looked at you with desperation and pleading in his eyes. “It’s just more complicated.” You shook your head at him as your sobs finally flowed out of your body. 

“It shouldn’t be complicated,” you heaved out through the tears “You promised to choose me every day. If you can’t do that I can’t be here.” You turn from the table and march up the stairs. You distantly hear Rhys get up and follow you to your room as you shove clothes inside a bag. 

“What are you doing? You’re not leaving, are you?” His eyes widened in horror as he tried to grab the items out of your hands. “Darling-”

“Do not call me that right now.” You manage to sniff out the words behind the tears. “I just can’t be here if you cannot choose me. There shouldn’t even be a question.” 

“Where will you go?” He at least had it in him to sound concerned about your well-being. 

“I don’t know, anywhere but here.” You shoved the last thing in your suitcase and winnowed away without another word. You left Rhysand in your house, with your ring sitting on the table. He found himself sitting at the kitchen table for the rest of the night, nursing a bottle of whisky and running over the cool sapphire with the pad of his thumb. He didn’t know if you were ever coming back. He didn’t know where you went. 

What the fuck had he done?

[your-bestamericangirl]

Tolerate It.

Paige Bueckers x reader || next: n/a || masterlist

(there will be a pt 2!!)

notes: ANGST , ooc paige cuz obviously she isn't this mean, also not really a lot of paige sorry- sorta setting it up for the caitlin picking up the pieces in the second part.

now playing: tolerate it by taylor swift

(Y/n) would not do this to herself again. The warmth that once kissed her features had long since burned out. Her head hung low, eyes tracing the trail of melted wax pooling under the once-lit candle. Each droplet seemed to echo the tears she dared not shed.

How long had it been? The streetlights pouring in through the windows had been the only thing capable of illuminating the empty chair. Unfortunately, that allowed (Y/n) to continue to remind herself that someone was supposed to be sitting across from her.

Her absence was equally overwhelming as her presence. She sat atop a pedestal of achivements. Before, they had been equals, minds intertwined through a delicate thread of gold. Eventually, she rose too far for (Y/n) to reach.

As (Y/n) stared into the flickering flame, the room felt suffocatingly silent. The oppressive stillness was broken only by the faint hum of the streetlights outside, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. The empty chair stood as a silent reminder of her absence, its weight pressing down on (Y/n) 's heart like a leaden anchor.

It seemed as though now, Paige only tolerated her love.

The click of an unlocked door echoed throughout their shared apartment, bouncing off the walls.

Steps sounded, their treads light, careful not to disturb the sleeping night.

(Y/n) kept her gaze locked on the wall ahead, lest her tears fell as she found Paige’s blameless eyes.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, baby.”

“You shouldn’t have kept me waiting.”

Paige’s face carried no regret. Her eyes shut, breath from the depths of her lungs was let out in a sigh. 

From her seat, (Y/n) craned her neck upwards to meet Paige’s unbothered gaze. She searched within Paige’s eyes, there laid not even a hint of remorse.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, (Y/n) .” 

She felt the weight of Paige's words like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs. The ache in her chest deepened, a gnawing emptiness that threatened to consume her whole. She struggled to find her voice, to articulate the storm of emotions raging within her.

"You don't know?" (Y/n) 's voice rang with a mixture of hurt and indignation. "Of course you wouldn’t know how it feels to wait for someone."

Paige's expression remained impassive, unmoved by (Y/n) 's pain. It was a familiar sight, one that she had grown accustomed to over time. The realization only fuelled the bitterness welling up inside her. Wood gathered under her nails, scratched off as she gripped the table. Whether it be for stability or out of anger.

"I'm tired of waiting for scraps of affection, Paige," (Y/n) 's voice wavered, betraying the depth of her despair. "Why can’t you see me."

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of their breathing. In the dim light of the room, (Y/n) could see the weariness etched into Paige's features, a reflection of her own exhaustion. She always wondered how Paige could be so oblivious to her pleas for affection. 

Long ago, Paige had thrown her weight onto (Y/n) , overwhelming her senses all at once. Perhaps dulling out what their relationship really meant. When Paige suddenly stopped reciprocating anything, (Y/n) had been thrown off balance. Where had the longing gazes departed to? The warmth coursing through both their veins turned cold. Though it had been evident who was was capable of living that way.

"I know," Paige finally spoke, her voice soft but devoid of warmth. "And I'm sorry."

Eyes shut, (Y/n) scoffed. “So?” She questioned, surely that wasn’t all Paige had to say.

It was all she ever did. Early on, (Y/n) worshiped those little apologies. Welcoming them as they had been all she had wanted to hear from her lover. Soon enough, it had been clear that Paige was accustom to using empty words.

And so, (Y/n) found herself trapped in a cycle of longing and despair, unable to escape the crushing weight of her unrequited affection. 

“I said I was sorry. What more do you want?” At this point Paige stood, exasperated and defensive. Her eyes turned sower, expression twisted as she took in the state of (Y/n) before her. 

“Where did you go?” (Y/n) questioned, her voice down to a whisper.  As the candle burned low, casting eerie shadows that danced like ghosts in the darkness, (Y/n) knew she would not do this to herself again. But the ache in her heart, the echo of her lover's absence, remained as a haunting reminder of what she had lost.

“Why are you so sensitive? I just came back from Em’s, calm down.” The answer shot out, burrying it’s resentment into (Y/n) ’s gut and spreading throughout her blood.

“No, Paige,” At last, the table became stained with tears. Ever so slowly, (Y/n) ’s heart broke. “Did you ever love me?”

(Y/n) s heart sank as she waited for an answer that would never come. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and shattered dreams. With a heavy heart, she rose from her seat, her gaze lingering on Paige's impassive form for a moment longer before turning away.

As she stepped out into the cool night air, (Y/n) felt a weight lift from her shoulders, a sense of liberation washing over her like a cleansing tide. The streets were deserted, bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights overhead. 

The night air was cool against her skin. (Y/n) breathed it in deeply, letting go of the pain and disappointment that had held her captive for so long. 

She left behind the empty promises and broken dreams of her past. She walked with her head held high, her heart filled with hope for the possibilities that lay ahead. And as she disappeared into the night, leaving behind the echoes of a love that was never meant to be, she knew that she was finally free.

a/n: OKAY HOPE YALL LIKED IT (may or may not be based off of my own experiences-) sorry for not that much Paige, but send in more requestssss LOVE YALL MWAH

[sad-not-glad]

Sharing is Caring

Soft Dom! Steve x Sub! Bucky x Dom! reader

Warnings: smut!!!! Sm smut. Blowjobs. Mommy kink. Captain kink. MMF threesome. Anal. The list goes on.

Word count: 4198

A/N: I’m a slut for sub! Bucky. Always. This is a repost since I was fkn stupid and deleted my old account. Enjoy!

Your little apartment was quiet save for the soft sounds of the city waking up that drifted in from the window. Today was a cleaning day so you had woken up early, opened all the windows, and set to work. You intended to have the place spotless in time for your boyfriend’s return home. He had been called away on a last-second mission that you weren’t allowed to know the details of and he was due to return later that evening, just in time for date night. Knowing how tired he would be, you had planned a simple night in so he could relax and be pampered by your love. You’ve only just started the kitchen when there’s a soft knock at the door that pulls you from your cleaning induced stupor. Setting down the rag and cleaning spray you wiped your hands on your jeans as you made for the door. After a quick peep through the looking hole you clicked the lock and swung open the wood to reveal a face you knew very well.

Steve Rogers stood there, smiling lazily with his hands shoved in his pockets. Although you couldn’t deny how he shifted between his feet anxiously. “Hey Steve, everything okay?” He nodded, glancing past you into the apartment before answering. “Yeah, can we talk?”

“Well, that’s something.” You sit back against your couch as you cross your arms in thought. Steve sat nearby in the armchair you found a few months ago, playing with his fingers to avoid your questioning gaze. “Like I said, (Y/N), I really don’t want this to change anything. I just- I couldn’t keep being friends with you if you didn’t know. It wouldn’t be right.” You hummed, thoughts running wild as he waited anxiously for your response. It was an odd situation admittedly, but not all that surprising. Especially considering the conversations you and Bucky already had about the topic. And knowing Steve the way you did, this should have been expected. He was a good person and you knew that he was being honest with you out of the guilt he carried for deceiving you. At least he thought he had.

“Would you want things to change?” You sit forward, propping your head against your hand as you stare at him with wide, innocent eyes. It was an idea you had been brewing since the first mention of this from Bucky, and now seemed as perfect a time as any to put it into action. “What do you mean?” Steve clearly wasn’t expecting your answer to be that, but you could see the curiosity in his eyes when he shifted forward ever so slightly. “Things are different nowadays, Steve. Relationships are different. And I think we can work something out where all of us can be happy.”

He considered your words for a moment before squinting his eyes suspiciously. Was this some kind of test in his faith? If so, he was going to fail. “Like what?” The grin that spread across your lips was captivating, mischievous as you told him of your idea. The more you explained the harder he could feel himself blushing and by the end there was a considerable strain to his pants. His voice is weak when he finally finds the courage to respond. “That sounds… amazing.” Your eyes sparkle as you bite your lip and giggle at him. “Well I’m glad you think so. But in the meantime you’re going to help me clean, our boy deserves a tidy house to return to.” His face burns when you specifically emphasize the word ‘our.’ This was going to be a long day of waiting.

Bucky was exhausted. His joints ached and there was a sizable gash down his right bicep. All he wanted was to be home, surrounded by your warmth and love as he recovered mentally from his mission. Opening the door he was met with the warm smell of your home cooking and boisterous laughter floating from the kitchen. He let his bags fall with a soft thud as he kicked off his boots before following the sounds of voices. You stood at the stove, cooking something that smelled absolutely divine as Steve reclined against the counter next to you. Both of you were giggling at whatever had been said and it makes his heart warm to see the two people he loved most getting on so well together. Steve notices him first, greeting the man with a smile and a wave. “Heya Buck. How’d it go?” You turn away from the pans, walking over to wrap your arms tightly around his torso. He sighs, burning his face into your hair before responding to his friend. “It went to shit, I’m just happy to be home.” You leaned up on your toes to press a soft kiss against his cheek before retreating back to your cooking. With a quick glance at the clock and some mental math you deduce that he has enough time for a shower before you finish. “Why don’t you go clean up, baby? Dinner will be done by then.” He nodded softly, disappearing from the kitchen to do just that. A nice hot shower would help him out more than he was willing to admit right now.

When Bucky emerged, clean and in fresh clothes, the table had already been set with dinner. There were two large servings accompanied by your considerably smaller one, something you had grown used to over the years spent with your boyfriend. He could eat your entire kitchen bare and still be hungry, and that was a good day. So you always made sure to pile his plate high with food, doing the same for Steve. There’s little conversation as the three of you eat peacefully. Steve insists on doing the dishes, sending you and Bucky to the living room so you could choose something to watch on the TV. “You wanna watch Harry Potter again?” Bucky asks, sorting through your sizable DVD collection. You sit on the floor beside him, eyes scanning over the titles available as you thought. “Hm, you’ve seen that like three times now. Oh! What about this one, it’s about three sisters who are witches.” You pull Charmed from the stack, passing it over so he can look at the case. After a moment Bucky nods, handing it back to you with a smile. “Sounds like fun, dollface. Wanna go get some snacks while I set up?” That was one thing you thought was absolutely adorable when it came to Bucky. He had such a passion for learning about new technology and the internet. At first it was surprising but after hearing the stories of his fascination with sci-fi before the war it made more sense to you. With a soft peck to his stubble cheek you disappear back into the kitchen.

Steve is drying his hands, sink empty and dishes placed out on the rack to dry. You carefully step around him, grabbing out a bag of popcorn to microwave while you flitted around gathering other various things for your boys to munch on. Steve catches your eye and gives a curious nod of his head towards the door leading to the living room. You step forward and speak in a low voice so Bucky couldn’t overhear. “Second episode.” He nods in understanding, vanishing out to join your boyfriend while they wait for you to finish your own task. After dumping the bag of hot kernels into a bowl and gathering everything else in your arms you make your way back out to the two men. You unceremoniously drop everything onto the coffee table before plopping down on the sofa next to Bucky. His arm automatically comes to rest around your shoulders as he hits play and the DVD begins. The first episode passes normally, it’s about halfway through the second that Steve shifting on the other side of Bucky catches your attention. His gaze locks on to yours for just a moment and you smirk, tilting your head up to kiss along your lover’s jaw.

Bucky sighs, his hold around your shoulders tightening in warning as you nip softly below his ear. He was more than happy to kiss you stupid, but Steve was right there. He couldn’t do that to him. Not with the tension still running so high between the two men. It just wouldn’t be fair. You raise your hand, placing it gently over his chest as you slowly trail your lips over his neck. Your treading into dangerous territory right now and he can’t help the small whimper that tears from his lips when you latch onto the one sensitive spot where his neck meets his shoulder. There’s a pause where his heart drops as Steve sits forward, shame and guilt coursing through his veins. This wasn’t fair-

All of Bucky’s thoughts short circuit as the other man turns, bending down to copy your actions and smothering his best friend’s neck with soft kisses and bites. His whole body is vibrating, torn between confusion and absolute arousal. Your fingers trace a pace slowly down his abs and brush over the bulge in his sweatpants as Steve’s hand takes the place where yours just was. His breath is coming out in short pants as he fights to understand just what was happening. You give a soft chuckle, hand cupping over his dick and giving a soft squeeze as he groans out. “You gonna let us take care of you honey? Treat you nice the way you deserve?”

He stutters, unable to form a response as you tut softly in his ear. Steve had moved on to sucking deep marks against his skin, pulling back and lavishing his work with tender licks before moving to the next spot. And god, Bucky feels like he could explode. His wide eyes jump back and forth from you, his girlfriend, to Steve, the man he still loves. This had to be a dream, or some kind of sick joke the both of you were playing, right? Bucky’s eyes fought to stay open as you gently slipped your hand down past the elastic of his pants and boxers to finally grab ahold of his cock. You give him a few slow tugs before coming to a stop. When you speak your voice is clear and firm. “Bucky, baby, you want this?”

His eyes slide open as he turns to you in question. You answer him, already knowing what was going through his mind. “You wanna let me n’ Stevie love on you? You deserve it baby boy, and you can have anything you want.” Your soft prodding brings his mind back to reality as the situation crashes over him. He twitches painfully in your hand as he considers his options while Steve continues his journey down Bucky’s neck. After a few moments he gives a soft nod and you grin, tightening your grip around his cock. “Words, use them sweet boy.” He struggles for a moment before finally finding his voice. “Yes, mommy. Want it bad.” The moan Steve lets out against his skin is absolutely sinful. Neither of you were strangers to the kinkier side of the bedroom, it was something Bucky took in stride. He had spent so long being in power, even if someone was telling him what to do he was still fighting and killing. And being able to completely let go and lose himself in your safety and warmth was a welcome release from his chaotic and sometimes gruesome life.

“Okay my boy, we’re gonna treat you so good honey. You know your words?” He nods, head already clouding over as he lets himself go into that state of mind where the only thing that mattered was the pleasure you could bring him. And now Steve too.

“Yes ma’am. Platypus ma’am.” The blonde snorts and you can’t help but chuckle too as he raises a curious brow at you. “It works really well. It’s not something either of us would say normally so it’s very easy to tell something is wrong. But we’ve never had to use it, have we, my sweet boy?” He shakes his head lightly as you hum in approval. Being Bucky’s dom was not something you took lightly, and from your earlier conversations Steve understood the importance of the role as well. Of course he didn’t know the modern terms for everything but he understood the basics, revealing to you that neither of the men were new to the roles you had assumed so easily. You make eye contact with Steve and nod your head down to where your hand is stuffed down Bucky’s pants. “Wanna help out, Captain?” He eagerly reaches down, hand covering your own as Bucky gasps and throws his head against the back of the couch. It had been years for him so Steve let’s you guide him on what to do as he slowly re-acquaints himself with the other man’s glorious cock. Only a few moments later he's taking the lead and you move your hand down to fondle Bucky’s balls. He moans and whines as his hips jut up uncontrollable against your combined hands and their efforts.

Your other hand moves up to gently rest against the back of his neck, turning and guiding his head towards Steve’s awaiting lips. The kiss begins soft and slow but quickly grows heated. Your panties are quickly growing moist as you watch the two make out. It’s sloppy and all tongues and teeth as Bucky lets out little whimpers into Steve’s mouth, who happily swallows them down. You increase your efforts, fingers slowly slipping back to softly rub against the furl of his tight hole. Bucky comes with a sharp cry as you gently press down, hips jerking into Steve’s hand as he sprays ropes of this hot cum against the fabric of his boxers. You both slow to give him a moment to catch his breath, Steve keeping him locked in a now softer kiss as you resumed your ministrations across his neck. Once Bucky has recovered you slide from the couch to stand before the two men.

“Sweet boy, how are you feeling?” His eyes are glossy and his lips are swollen, the front of his sweats stained with his cum. A second passes before he answers. “So good, mommy.” You smile, leaning down to gently brush your hand through his hair. “Do you wanna keep going baby? Or are you too tired?” He shakes his head, face heating up with humiliation as he struggles for words. “Want it, mommy.” You hum, gently tugging on his hair as he gasps and moans. “What do you want, baby? I told you to use your words.” He stutters and his skin is quickly darling into a beautiful scarlet color. “I want… both of you? Both of you, I want you both.” He stumbles over his words, shame burning through his veins as you smile reassuringly at him. “Oh sweet boy, you think you can take it?” He nods insistently and Steve’s chuckle rumbles across his skin. “Alright then. You know what to do, go make yourself look pretty for us on the bed.” Bucky shoots up from the couch and rushes away to do as told. Steve casually raises from the couch and you both take the moment to discuss your next plans. “I know you guys have been pretty intense in the past but you remember what I told you earlier?” He nods, running over your conversation in his mind. You had explained to him the formalities of domination and submissives, gone into detail about how Bucky responded to subspace and how to care for him. Steve straightened up confidently before responding. “Of course. I only want him to feel good.” You smile warmly, gently petting his shoulder with an understanding nod. “I know you do Stevie. You’ll do an amazing job. Ready to go take care of our boy?”

“Lead the way, mommy.” He’s teasing you, in a friendly way of course. You roll your eyes and smirk. “Behave, Captain. We don’t wanna overwhelm Bucky just yet.” He hums in understanding as you lead the way back to the bedroom. Bucky is sitting on his knees in the middle of the bed, stripped nude with his hands clasped patiently behind his back. He truly is a sight to behold. You make your way over to the bed casually, reaching down to trace his jaw. “How do you wanna do this, honey? We wanna take it at your pace.” His eyes flick between the two of you as he tries desperately to find the words needed in the moment. “Want… can I have Steve, mommy? Please?” You tut once again, gripping his soft hair and tugging his hair back harshly. “What did you call him?” You can hear Steve swallow thickly as he watches Bucky’s breath pick up and his cock twitch softly against his abs where it’s straining. Bucky rushes to correct himself. “Captain! I wan’ captain.” You let up on your hold in his hair and softly smooth your hand over his neck. “Good job. Where do you want him, sweet boy?” He’s shaking with humiliation but you know he loves it, loves when you force him to explain exactly what he wants. The burn of shame was delicious, cutting into the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his veins. “I want… can I have his cock, mommy? I wanna feel him inside me, been so long.” Glancing over your shoulder at Steve you take note of his wide pupils and prominent bulge. “I dunno baby. Why don’t you ask your Captain yourself?” The blonde licks his lips, eyes watching Bucky intensely as he steps forward while tugging down the button and fly of his pants. Bucky gently raises his eyes to meet his gaze, face burning as he asks for what he so desperately needed.

“I want your cock, Captain. Can I have it, please?” You watch Steve nod, pulling himself out of his jeans as Bucky practically drooled. “Where do you want it?” He whimpers, too enamored by the arousal thrumming through his veins to reply. You chuckle, coming behind Bucky on the bed so you can wrap your arms around his chest from the back. “You want it in your mouth sweet boy? Or do you want him to fuck that pretty little ass?” They both moan out at your filthy words, Steve slowly jerking himself as Bucky fights for an answer. Both options sounded absolutely heavenly, but he knew he could only have one at a time. So-

“My ass, want it in my ass, Captain.” You coo softly, guiding your boy to gently lean back against your chest as you reach down to spread his legs. Steve places one knee on the bed, leaning down and swallowing Bucky’s soft gasps and moans into his mouth. While the two settled into another sloppy make out session you quickly reached back to grab the bottle of lube from the bedside stand. A short moment later your fingers are covered in slick and pressing softly against the ring of muscle hidden between Bucky’s full cheeks. His moan is absolutely broken as you gently push your finger in, only up to the first knuckle. Slowly you begin to work him open while sucking dark hickeys over the back of his neck. Steve pulls back to shift his weight fully onto the bed, eyes trailing down to watch as Bucky greedily swallowed your fingers. The sight was enough to make him throb painfully. With gently pushes you gradually work your entire finger past his hole before adding a second gently. Tears begin to fall from Bucky’s pretty eyes and Steve makes quick work of licking the salty treat away. You sigh softly, enjoying the show so much that for a moment you almost forgot that you were the one calling the shots. You had a fleeting thought of a super soldier sandwich and happily tucked it away in your mind for later. Tonight was about your baby boy, after all.

“Are you ready honey? Think you’re nice and stretched for Captain’s dick?” He nods feverishly, head tipping back against your shoulder as he grinds down against your fingers. There’s a soft squish as you pull your hand away, wiping your fingers off on his thigh. Steve shuffled closer with cock in hand but doesn’t seem to be in any kind of rush. He takes his time, tracing the fat tip from Bucky’s balls down over his quivering hole. Ever so gently he pushes forward and groans lowly as his tip is accepted easily. You gently skim your hands across your boyfriend’s chest as he quivers, eyes squeezed shut and lip caught tightly between his teeth. He’s whining and rocking down, trying so hard to chase the delicious burn of his Captain’s heavy prick forcing him open. It takes a decent amount of time but finally Steve is able to bottom out, holding himself tightly against Bucky’s hips as he fights to resist the urge to absolutely ruin the man underneath him. He gives a soft thrust and you grin and Bucky’s debauched moan of pure pleasure. “Oh! Please, Captain!” He was always so cute when he got needy and whiny like this. Making eye contact with the other man you reach out to pull him forward by his shirt. Spurred on by the heat of the moment your lips meet and Bucky feels tears burn his eyes at the sight as his cock grows impossibly harder. He had never seen something so sexy before. Steve sets up a slow, deep pace as he continues to keep you locked in a lazy kiss. Your attention is pulled away by the soft cries of your boyfriend as you both look over to his face. He’s absolutely ruined already, tears streaming his face as he writhes against the pleasure. Steve seems to get off on the sight as he picks up his pace which only serves to push Bucky even further into his pleasure filled haze.

“Does that feel good, baby boy? Huh?” You can tell that Bucky is drawing close to his release. His eyes are unfocused as he gasps and moans while his face shines with fat tears. Slipping your hand down between their bodies you grab ahold of him and within three sharing tugs he’s cumming with a loud sob, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. Steve’s pace continues for a few more moments before he pulls back with a strangled groan as he begins to fist his cock rapidly. After another moment he also manages to reach his climax, releasing thick spurts over your boyfriend with a soft hiss. A heavy silence fills the room as both men fight to catch their breath while you slyly raise your hand up to your mouth, sucking down the now combined taste of them both. Gently you shift to the side and guide Bucky down onto his back so he can recover before slipping from the bed in search of a wet cloth. When you return from the bathroom the two have curled against each other while Steve peppers small kisses all over the brunette’s face as he mumbles soft confirmations of his love. Bucky is clearly still floating on air as you make quick work of cleaning them both with a gentle hand. Cleaned and thuroughly fucked through you leave them one last time to flick off the light before joining them both in bed. Together in a mess of limbs and warm kisses the three of you fall asleep.

When Bucky wakes up it takes him several long seconds to remember what had happened the night before. The bed is empty but still warm. Carefully he plays his feet on the floor, hissing softly when he stands as a stab of pain cuts through his backside. It all comes crashing down on him then, the memories of being pressed between the two people he loved the most. He pulls on a pair of clean pajamas for the dresser before padding out into the hallway.

There’s soft music playing from your record player, something old that he remembers hearing before the war. He catches sight of you and Steve in the kitchen, giggling and talking quietly as you both made breakfast. He watched as you leant up, kissing the blonde’s cheek before returning to the pancakes you had to flip. He enters the kitchen quietly as he steps behind you to peek over your shoulder. Steve notices and shoots him a smile that makes his stomach flutter.

“Morning Buck. Sleep well?”

He blinks, thinking for a moment before he nods.

“Yeah, the best sleep I’ve had in seventy years.”

He didn’t need to explain why, you both knew. And that was probably the best part of this entire thing, the silent understanding shared between the three of you. You press a soft kiss to his lips and when you pull away Steve takes your place, claiming Bucky’s lips as his own for another sweet peck. Yeah, Bucky though absentmindedly, he could get used to this.

[billdenbrough]

@naturecalls111 prompted me kevaaron + procrastination and was like ‘post grad’, meaning they’re not undergrads if it’s canonverse, & something abt the phrasing latched into my brain so we ended up with this vaguely professor au w/ the flimsiest excuse for a TA-adjacent situation ever instead. idk. as ever this was just for her texts & i’m coming off a 30hr migraine so pls forgive me LMAO <3

“I can see right through you,” Kevin murmurs.

“Oh, yeah?” Aaron challenges. God, he’s close.

“Mm,” Kevin says. “You just don’t want to mark the test.”

It's an accusation, but there’s no censure in his voice. He's amused, mostly; fond too, despite himself. It’s not exactly behaviour he should be encouraging, but—

Aaron huffs. “I never want to mark a test,” he points out. “Undergrads are fucking stupid. Or these ones are, anyway.”

“You were an undergrad once,” Kevin says. He very determinedly keeps his hands steady on the bench. Maybe he’s gripping the edge so he stays in place; so what? That's between him and whatever God Renee believes in enough for the both of them.

“These ones,” Aaron repeats, scoffing. “Anyway, I'd never have taken a history paper. Get real.”

Kevin can’t help the frown there. “History is fascinating,” he argues. Aaron scoffs at him again, but the way he watches Kevin runs counter to that. Like he’s listening to whatever Kevin says, regardless. “It is,” Kevin insists again, clearing his throat.

Aaron's gaze tracks the movement, eyes following the motion of his throat, and Kevin kind of wants to clench the counter edge hard enough to crack the formica. Jesus Christ.

“You like research,” Kevin says. He keeps his eyes on Aaron, watches as he steps in closer again. “History is an endless study of every mistake we’ve ever made—”

“—So we don’t repeat our forefathers’ mistakes?” Aaron asks wryly. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s a non-starter.”

“No,” Kevin says, shaking his head. “We’re bad at learning. Mostly, we don’t even see the patterns for decades, if not centuries.”

Aaron cocks his head. “Doesn’t that frustrate you?” he asks. “I've seen you watch sports. You get mad if people make the same fuck-up within, like, three minutes.”

An image floats in Kevin’s head, unbidden: the two of them at the sports bar, late one night after they finally convinced Jeremy to go the fuck home because the college wasn’t paying him enough to sleep at his desk to reply to nineteen year olds’ panicked emails at 11:17pm before a midnight deadline. Kevin had been unbelievably put-out by the Astros’ scoreline; Aaron hadn’t cared so much, but had seemed to find great entertainment in prodding at Kevin to express his opinion to a bar full of patrons who strongly disagreed with him.

Do you even care about baseball? Kevin had asked in the end, exasperated. He’d unknotted his tie and slipped off his jacket, heated by his opinions and the game and the alcohol and the way Aaron had sat there, head tilted, that clever mouth of his quirked up to the side like a smirk, like a secret.

Not really, Aaron had said, shrugging. He swished his beer a little. I played hockey at school myself. Before Kevin could get too excited about that—a sport! An actual goddamn sport! that wasn’t only worth watching European leagues for, cough cough Jeremy and Jean and fucking football—Aaron added, I like seeing how much you care about it, though, and knocked Kevin right on his ass, metaphorically-speaking.

That night had ended in a blur: Kevin’s flushed cheeks as he lectured the bar at large about heliocentrism after finishing his grumbling about the baseball, Aaron’s quiet snort and eyes that laughed more than his mouth did, alcohol-sticky wood beneath his feet as he made his way to the bathroom, the taste of Aaron’s beer on his lips, Aaron’s cool fingers a balm against his cheek, his mouth a searing heat burning all the way through Kevin.

Then when Kevin’s TA dropped out because of ‘unmanageable stress’ (which was not Kevin’s fault, no matter what Dan says, she and Matt can fuck off) and he had to scramble to figure out what to do, Abby had offered one of her tutors—but only for marking, Kevin, he has no base in history. He’s just smart enough to use a rubric and willing to help. Between this and Jean’s long-suffering offer to lead the tutorial that didn’t clash with his meetings with his advisor, and even Neil’s unlikely assistance in the form of helping restructure the syllabus, it all seemed pretty manageable. (The history department had quietly come to the conclusion that this was not, strictly speaking, acceptable by university standards, but elected to ignore this information until the conclusion of the semester. As far as Kevin’s been able to tell in his years in academia, this is how things tend to work.)

When Abby showed up at his office with Aaron, though, Kevin's cheeks had gone hot enough that she’d asked him if he was sure he wasn’t coming down with a stress fever. Aaron's face had stayed blank, but his eyes were – amused.

It was one thing when Aaron had been the regular third person in the staff room late at night alongside Jeremy and Kevin, rubbing his eyes as he scowled at whatever it was he was looking at. (Anatomy exams, Kevin found out later.) He’d been mostly quiet, but sharply funny when he’d ended up interacting with them, mostly starting with indelicate snorts at whatever madcap thing Jeremy was saying, then incredulous stares at Kevin’s rebuttal, and finally muttered jabs as he worked the coffee machine and Jeremy laughed delightedly and Kevin stared at him with disbelief and a slow-building warmth in the base of his stomach.

It was yet another thing when Aaron had been the guy he bundled up Jeremy with, the guy he got drunk with for hours in a sports bar, the guy who laughed at him and offered him buffalo wings so spicy that they made Aaron’s cheeks red and Kevin’s lips feel like they were on fire, until Aaron kissed him, tipsy outside the bar, the warmth spreading through Kevin overtaking both the chilly night air and the spice-stained echoes on Kevin’s mouth.

But it was another thing entirely for Aaron to be Aaron, meaning Abby's favourite postgrad and the guy who diligently read Kevin’s syllabus on top of his own work just to better understand the marking rubric and hater of psych majors everywhere. Aaron, with his tired eyes and quiet laugh and complete inability to answer a phone call from his brother in a normal way. (At one point, Kevin had been half-concerned he was ordering a hit—less about the morality or legality of the situation, more in a if you get arrested, I’m screwed again type way—until Neil had shown up half an hour later with lunch for Aaron and Aaron had gone, ugh and Neil had rolled his eyes, spotted Kevin, and turned to Aaron to say, you’re one to talk. Aaron had flushed a little, then scowled and flipped Neil off, and said fuck off, to which Neil said, gladly, then see you at dinner? And Aaron had waved his hand. If you eat your fucking vegetables, to which Neil had laughed, and flipped him off, and walked out. Kevin had stared at Aaron, nonplussed, but Aaron had ignored him, focusing instead on the test he was marking while he ate the sandwich Neil had brought.) Aaron, with his unbelievably rude opinions about Kevin’s lack of video game knowledge, and the genuinely unreasonable amount of sour gummies he can put away in an hour, and the unbearably soft look he gets on his face when he’s sleepy and huffy and Kevin has gently dragged away whichever test he’s marking or article he’s reading that’s made him so grumpy late at night.

Aaron, who Kevin actually knows now. And likes even more for it, which is inconvenient and inopportune and probably inevitable.

Kevin clears his throat. “People are meant to try and win in sports,” he says. “History is about things that have already happened. It’s a different ballpark.” There’s a moment, and then, “They’ve already lost the battle. I'm not rooting for anything else there.”

Something flares up in Aaron's eyes at that, and he snakes his hand forward, tugging on Kevin's tie. Kevin, hands still holding onto the bench, allows it.

“But sports are about victory?” Aaron asks. 

He’s not even subtle about procrastinating, Kevin thinks. He wants to laugh. He swallows a sigh instead, and says, a little warningly, “Aaron…”

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop Aaron, doesn’t do anything to stop him. Maybe leans in a little, even.

“Yeah,” Kevin says after a long moment. “History, you live or you die. Sports, you’re the best or you’re not.”

“That's a reductive way of looking at the world,” Aaron says, but it’s that tone he gets sometimes, the one where Kevin doesn’t know if he believes it or if he just wants to poke at Kevin a little. Kevin hates that he likes it as much as he does; that he lets it stoke him up, bites at the bit every time.

“You are not subtle,” Kevin murmurs. The tests are sitting on the table behind Aaron, staring up at the ceiling. Aaron's coffee is abandoned, probably cold.

You are not subtle, Kevin says, and means it, but Aaron’s cocked his eyebrow at him, and there’s something a little taunting in his eyes, and he’s still holding onto Kevin’s tie, and something in Kevin loosens. He sighs, and lets go of the bench, tucking his fingers into Aaron's belt loops instead and pulling him forward.

“Is this a sport?” Aaron asks, because he’s a dick and facetious and he knows just how to make Kevin want to shut him up.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Kevin scolds, and then leans forward to kiss the rebuttal out of Aaron's mouth.

[piratefalls]

i'm back! between work and trying to write my first fic for this fandom i've been falling really behind on reading, so for now these are going to be a more bi-weekly occurrence than weekly. in any event, there's truly a little bit here for everyone, so enjoy this week's mix of a+ works!

masterlist

you and me, babe, how about it? by @myheartalivewrites

Alex sits in the back of their Secret Service approved, PPO driven Land Rover, excitement thrumming through his body. The leather squeaks as he fidgets incessantly; his skin burns where Kieran’s shoulder is pressed into his, despite the layers of fabric between them. On the other side of Kieran, he can see Henry’s fingers twitch on top of his own knee, playing an imaginary piano, flicking out and squeezing in before releasing and starting again. Like he’s so fucking desperate to reach out and touch the leg next to his he’s having to muster up all of his self-control, draw on all the years of keeping himself restrained, just to not start things too soon. Alex can’t believe they’re actually, finally, doing this.

you know i can't be found with you by stutteringpeach

“He’s cute,” Alex declares on the first day of class. Liam doesn’t even bother to look up from his laptop. “Uh huh.” “The professor.” Liam makes a non-committal noise. “I’m gonna fuck him.”

Longer Than Most by happinessofthepursuit

“Oh,” Alex says. “Sick.” Henry can’t help but grin. He can’t believe he’s so bloody gone on a man who says sick and dude, who he’s slept with all of one time and proceeded to knock him up. Henry’s a cliche, honestly. “It is, indeed, sick, as you say.” Alex rolls his eyes, but his cheeks darken a shade, giving him away a bit. “Listen, the closest I get to poetry is your fucking face. Excuse me if my vocabulary doesn’t quite compare to yours.” Or, Alex and Henry have a one night stand. That is, until a baby’s involved.

Baby (Let Me Put On a Show) by SatinBirds

It’s been five months, and still Alex is never completely prepared for Henry’s performances. Private or otherwise. Or, Henry is a night dancer, and he’s everything Alex wants.

Sun Salutations (Waif for Me) by @duchessdepolignaca03

He repeats the movement five or six times, his body heating up with each repetition, loosening the hangovers’ grip on him through very effective breathwork. Wanting to open up his hips a little bit more, he settles into a wide-legged forward fold. He holds the pose, enjoying the delicious stretch on his lower back and virtually all the muscles of his lower body. Then he just about jumps out of his skin when he hears, “Mmm, breakfast is served.” Or: Alex parties hard on a Thursday night and has some deliciously anonymous sex with the glittery blond he calls Waif. When he wakes to do his naked sun salutations, he learns that Waif is a very, very hungry, 'temporarily unhoused' boy whom Alex quickly invites to live rent-free in his head.

secret, scars, and trust by viciouslyqueer

He trails off and Henry takes the opportunity to cup his cheek, gently swiping his thumb over the smooth skin. “Hey. We don’t have to do anything. We can stop right now if you want to, or cuddle for a while. I can put on a movie if you’d like. I don’t mind either way.” Alex’s smile grows and he leans into the touch, pecking Henry’s lips again. “Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, and Henry has to fight the urge to react at the pet name. “But it’s not that. I want to keep going, if you want it, too. I just have to tell you something before, okay?”

make it five by anincompletelist

“Fifty bucks says I can get that guy’s number.” Popping the bubble of cinnamon-flavored gum Alex had just blown, he glances up from his phone to look at where Nora’s pointing. Just over the soles of his shoes, crossed at the ankles and propped on the flaking black wood of the shop’s front desk, there’s a man with broad shoulders lingering by the far wall. Alex hadn’t even heard the guy come in. “Nora. He’s literally looking at one of the biggest dildos I’ve ever seen,” he deadpans quietly. + alex works at a sex toy shop. it's usually a pretty easy job — if he could just stop daydreaming about the blonde guy that keeps coming in to buy literally all of alex's favorite sex toys.

talk by smc_27

Henry records himself for an audio erotica app. Alex finds it. And listens.

Got a ticket for two by clottedcreamfudge

Henry likes his apartment - he has done since the day he moved in a year ago. The light in the sitting room is gorgeous at all times of day thanks to the ceiling to floor windows which lead out onto a south-facing balcony, only just large enough for the plethora of plantlife his flatmates care for. The kitchen is always stocked with his favourite tea, everyone keeps to their allotted cupboard and fridge space, and the bathrooms are kept meticulously clean. There's a rota for chores stuck to the fridge with magnets from Rhode Island and Minnesota, London and Milan, with everything typed up neatly so that nobody has to squint to read someone else's awful handwriting. His flatmates themselves? Well, they're a little… strange.

Far Away From the One That I Love by allmylovesatonce

It's been an agonizing two months of Henry being in London and Alex being in New York. When an opportunity to finally be reunited with Henry comes his way, Alex jumps on it. But things don't go quite how they expected after so much time away.

If We're Caught in a Wage (I Will Carry You Over) by @sparklepocalypse

There it is, up ahead – the small island just offshore, with Alex’s favorite broad, flat stone outcropping, perfect for sunning himself in seclusion. He splashes into the shallows and dives in when the water’s up to his knees, and it’s a matter of maybe a minute’s swim to reach the island. Alex finds his footing among the sand and pebbles, pulls himself upright, and shakes the water out of his hair, then pushes it back from his face. He can practically hear the outcropping calling to him -- you know, if inanimate rock could speak. Alex stretches, his mid-back satisfyingly popping, and then skirts his way between some larger rocks until his sunning rock is in view. Except – there’s someone already on the outcropping, their short blond hair shimmering in the sunshine, the upper slant of their shoulders visible from where Alex is standing. (Movie or Bookverse AU; Alex rents a remote beach house and Henry is a cecaelia.)

Protect Your Solitude by graceofgrayskull

At the 2016 Rio Olympics, Alex stumbles onto Prince Henry crying in a storage closet and is forced to rewrite his perception of their first meeting.

Out For A Bite by everwitch

Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry. He’s staring right at Henry. Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

each time we touch / i wanna take too much by @firenati0n

my fingers slipped and now there are fingers in mouths. wrote this in one sitting at 5am today. please forgive any egregious errors, i wrote it without my glasses on and on no sleep lol. hope you like it. <3 title from New Girl by FINNEAS

you took the time to memorize me (my fears, my hopes, my dreams) by coffeecatsme

The tour guide has a small bisexual flag pinned to his chest, right next to where his name is scrawled in big, bold letters. Alex, it reads; simple, to the point. The name tag rests on a red and black flannel, and underneath is a white t-shirt with Georgetown’s name stretched on the front, reminding Henry ever so starkly that he’s thousands of miles away from what he calls home. The flannel stretches over broad shoulders leading up to a strong jaw, all in contrast with the bright, dimpled grin stretched over a beautiful face. Henry thinks there isn't a place on the world far enough away from his grandmother to escape her clutches - even after transferring to Georgetown. Then, his tour guide extends a helping hand and shows him otherwise. Or, 5 steps Alex and Henry take to memorize each other and 1 time they realize they already do.

Praise & Supplication by NoCoastPosts

Alex is always moving, always going, always seeking. He is defiance and brashness tinged with anxiety, but not in these moments. Henry pins him down with a gaze as heavy as his touch, and all of Alex’s motions cease. He is calm, he is obedient, he is pliable. He knows he’ll be broken apart piece by piece, sending waves of heat deep into his core. or When Alex gets stuck in his head, Henry helps him let go.

Another Door Opens by 14carrotgold

Henry takes a long drink. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad's dead. He and my mum had the type of love straight from the storybooks and it got cut tragically short, so what is the point in finding something real if it's just going to hurt you?” Alex bites back a smile and shakes his head. “How in the fuck was that supposed to make me feel better?” He waves his hand awkwardly. “Oh, I just thought we were both sharing the trauma that impacted our romantic relationships.” - Henry and Alex first meet when Henry reveals their partners are cheating on them with each other.

Fifteen Hours Till Forever by inexplicablymine

“I would say that in this life, we aren’t granted many chances at true happiness, at the unadulterated freedom and joy that comes to the lucky ones. I would say that I know right now only fifteen feet apart, fifteen hours till forever, and somehow the universe has decided I ought to be one of the luckiest there are.” “But tomorrow,” he continues, “when we are saying our vows, when we are promising ourselves to one another forever, I want you to look me in the eyes and know that you are it for me.”  OR The year is 2025, and the world doesn't know they are getting married. 

home by rizcriz

For a moment he fears Henry’s been outed against his will somehow, but he scrolls down to find a video clip. Unable to trust himself to watch the video, he scrolls a little further to read the transcript. He learns that Henry had come out during a ribbon cutting, of all things. He’d stood in front of a crowd of a couple hundred people gathered for the opening of a new youth shelter, and he’d told his truth. Alex is tempted to watch the video, to examine his body language to see if it was planned or not, but he reads further and one sentence stands out to tell him it wasn’t. There is no comment yet from Buckingham Palace. -- or, six months after Henry rejected Alex at Kensington Palace.

The Way of Things by writerkenna

Henry and Alex have been very much enjoying the life they’ve managed to carve out for themselves. They’ve had to compromise and work and change to maintain it, but it’s worth it. Henry finds himself pregnant, though, and everything they’ve built starts to turn on its head. as always, let me know if you want to be tagged either because you're a writer or a reader (or both!) and i'll see you next time!

My life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person by lizzie_bennetdarcy

Alex plans to be a lot of firsts in the world. But this absolutely isn't the kind of first he was thinking. He stares wide-eyed into the mirror at the letters on his shoulder while June whines to be let in. Alex finally unlocks the door and June bursts through. “Show me!” Wordlessly, Alex turns to show her his back. "What the actual fuck?" June exclaims, then claps a hand over her mouth. "Sorry, that was rude, but — is it more than one person?" Or: Five times Alex doesn't find his soulmate, and one time he does

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift omg i feel like i'm missing someone

[healer-pop]

U know what I been thinking abt.....an aphrodisiac fic. I've got it all written out in my head, reader and Sloane are out camping. They are having a good day, set up camp and while gathering wood reader gets poofed in the face by a flower (sporess ooo). Sloane laughs their ass off, and reader is a little peeved getting spores all over themself.

Fast forward, dinner is being cooked and reader starts to feel weird. Hot, high, and really bothered!! They go into the tent to hide, and Sloane knocks on it saying dinners ready. Reader never comes out tho and Sloane goes in to see them sweating, hot and almost sick looking. Sloane tries to tend to them, a wet rag and asking what's wrong are they sick?? The second Sloane touches reader tho...they mewl. Almost a whine that creeps out of the back of their throat. Super sexy sounding. Sloane chooses to ignore it because they think reader is sick... it's just them being sick.. yes obviously.

Maybe Sloane helps them sit up to drink some water and the touch has reader grasping onto their leg HARD. Readers panting like a dog and got them bedroom eyes...

Was toying with the idea of Sloane and reader being best friends everrr with some huge unresolved romantic feelings. This is just the dam that breaks it all open. Obv all consent is given and gotten, and I think it was actually well talked out. Reader reassures Sloane they've wanted this for so long, but if they said no that they could forget it ever happened. I'm crazy insane I'm shaking the bars of my cage.

Googling, “can I sue the anon that wrote the hottest, absolutely most well thought out, mentally damaging fic in my inbox for emotional reparation?”

LIKE HOW DO U DROP THIS AND NOT EXPECT ME TO FROTH AT THE MOUTH???? Anon, I don’t know how you knew that sex pollen fics have always been my favorite but I do blame you for the fact that this kept me up last night!!!! mainly because this is so spot on and also why I don’t really get together fix with Venture, especially with my flowery writing, lengthy ass. That shit would be like 20K before you guys even touched. To me, Sloane is not the one to make a first move. And if you aren’t either, it’s just never gonna happen. Once you’ve actually gotten established, they’re super touchy and able to respect your boundaries, but before? They are wayyyyy too nervous, their biggest one being that they’re just overthinking your interactions with them and they don’t want to mess anything up. Unless you directly say, “I like you and want to date you,” it’s gonna go over their head.

And that would work perfectly for this fic, it would be such a desperate, hot sloppy mess for the both of you: With Sloane, trying to preserve your friendship and not mess this up despite their desire for you, how much this is actually you and how much of this is just the pollen and desperation. And you pleading with them, trying to get across that no, you have wanted this for so damn long and it sucks that it took some stupid horny flower to make you say it, but please, for the love of AURORA, Sloane, TOUCH ME. God I could imagine how red their face would be. They would keep checking in with you to make sure they’re doing it right for you, whether they’re sliding their fingers in your cunt or sucking on your tits!!! You’re almost tempted to go and grab that damn flower and shove it in their face so they can loosen up, but… the way they take care of you, trying every single position to quell your burning arousal…. so loving and tender… it’s honestly what you crave more. They have you on your knees, thrusting back onto their fingers as they encourage you, their beaded bracelets click with every motion, their hand on the small of your back, kneading your ass. On their sleeping bag, legs wrapped around their shoulders, eating you out like you’re as yummy as those s’mores they had earlier, telling you to wet their sleeping bag, they’ll just cuddle naked with you in yours while you put that one out to dry. And yes…. you CAN fall asleep with their strap in you, if it feels good. You can wake up at any time and fuck yourself on it. Sloane will be awake in an instant, helping you roll your hips back, digging into them because god, this has only been a dream. Feeling your flesh in their hands, being able to touch and hold and clench. Might keep a mental track of how many times you’ve cum. You know. For posterity.

And after you’ve been fucked through it? When you wake up with the worst bed head you’ve ever had, covered in sweat and bruises, naked and pressed against Sloane in your sleeping bag? Sloane will kiss your lips shut, guide you back down, and show you the most loving, intimate sex, you’ve ever had. You’ll feel like you have never connected with a partner more than you have right now. Whispers of love from Sloane, complementing how pretty you are, how perfect, how you were made for them, how good you are to them, how they want to see you every day of their life. Completely overwhelming, yet so needed, especially how you were held so helpless to your own lust. They make sure you know that they aren’t leaving. They’ll be here by your side through anything.

[edupunkn00b]

Spaced

WC: 1416 - Rated: T - CW: mild swearing, minor angst, happy ending

Happy Birthday, Roman. The moment I saw the video explaining Roman's birthday celebration would be late, I couldn't get this out of my head, so, here we go…

Illuminated only by the fairy lights draped along his walls, and the dull blue glow of his phone screen, Roman sat up in bed and scrolled through Thomas’ mentions. 

No big deal, just going feral…

Dayum, the LACE! Those HEELS!

Not to be a lesbian but…

Logan is the HOTTEST side, hands down!

Growling, Roman flung his phone across the room. Lucas popped up and caught it in one hand just before it hit the wall. “Temper, temper, my Prince,” he tutted before launching the phone up into the air and smashing it with his baseball bat. “You could break your phone like that.”

Roman conjured a new device and let his head fall back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut. If he didn’t look at him, maybe he would just leave.

It didn’t work. 

“Get out,” he said, listless. Roman had burned up all his rage on throwing the phone and now he just felt… tired.

“That’s it?” Lucas chuckled. Glass crunched underfoot as he stepped closer to the bed. “Where’d that fire go?”

“Catharsis.”

Laughing, Lucas tapped his bat against his orange Doc Martens, knocking away bits of glass and shattered plastic from the chipped and dented wood. Roman glared at him. “Why are you here?” 

He scooped up a handful of the glittery remains of Roman’s phone from the floor. “Do you really have to ask? Or do you just enjoy stupid questions?”

Eyes fixed on his new phone, Roman did his best to pretend Lucas didn’t exist. Switching apps, he scrolled through his history until he found today’s video.

“…This month has been wild and I’ve just been so focused on the Logan skirt photoshoot that I’ve been working on… I completely forgot there were Sides birthdays comin’ up this month…”

Roman’s thumb hovered over Thomas’ face on the screen, ready to pause but knowing that wouldn’t stop the next words from coming. Wouldn’t stop them from playing on a loop in his head as they had for the past four hours.

“…Hopefully it’ll come out the week after? I’m working on it… I completely spaced.”

Three brief knocks broke his concentration and his phone fell to his lap. Roman looked up to where Lucas had stood, but he and the destruction he’d caused was gone. Three more knocks. “Roman?” Logan’s voice outside the room was low, but modulated to be heard through the door. “Roman, I wanted to apologize.”

“What for?” he asked, filling the air as he moved to the door.

“I am in charge of the schedule,” he said, voice clipped. “I should have alerted Thomas to the tight timeline and predicted that—”

“It’s fine, Specs,” Roman muttered, picking at a loose thread on his sash. “I don’t blame you.”

“Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies…” Janus sang quietly, close enough his breath ruffled Roman’s bangs.

“Don’t you ever knock?” he hissed back, adjusting his hair.

“Now why would I do that?” Janus arranged himself on Roman’s chaise, legs crossed and one arm draped over the backrest. “When I can simply make myself at home.” Roman stepped closer, prepared to tip the Lord of the Lies right out of his seat.

“Roman?” Logan was still outside his door. Could he hear Snakeface?

Roman shook his head and let out a slow breath before approaching the door again. “Truly, Logan, we have the birthday video planned for the day after tomorrow. You made sure of it. Ultimately it was Thomas’ choice. I am fine—“

“Oh, sweet, sweet lies…” 

Roman shot Janus a look, jaw clenched, but he kept his voice even and calm. “And I will be down momentarily. I’m nearly done with this script.”

Janus shrugged and disappeared.

“Very well.” Logan was either mollified or else he correctly determined further argument would get him nowhere. “We’ll see you shortly, then.”

One hand pressed to the door, Roman listened to the retreat of Logan’s footsteps down the hall.

“I thought he’d never leave!” Remus cackled from behind him.

Roman spun around. Remus lay sprawled on his bed, head hanging off the side, a series of red and purple splotches running over his neck and down his chest.

“Your hickeys are showing.” Roman rolled his eyes and sat at his vanity. “Here,” he said, offering a golden compact and a beauty blender. “This tone suits you. Cover up.”

“Why would I want that?” he laughed, shoving the compact back at him. “Everyone downstairs will understand how I ended up with these.” Remus locked eyes with his reflection. “Today the whole world saw how hot our Nerdy Wolverine really is.”

Avoiding his brother’s gaze, Roman opened the compact and dabbed at the shadows under his eyes.

“Or didn’t you notice?” Remus added, chin propped up on his fists and kicking his feet.

“Of course I noticed!” Giving up on his makeup, Roman snapped the compact shut and stomped over to his bed. “He looks amazing but that’s not the point! This is the beginning of June and tomorrow’s my—“ Roman’s voice cracked and he plopped down on his bed, hiding his face against the cool satin duvet.

“Now we’re gettin’ somewhere…” Remus purred, inching closer and tilting Roman’s face so he wouldn’t smother himself in the plush bedding. He tapped his brother’s temple. “I could hear you all the way from my room.”

“Apparently so could Janus,” he mumbled.

“Hey,” Remus laughed. “At least you weren’t feeling murderous enough that Lucas could—“

Roman heaved a sigh and flipped over onto his back. “He was here, too.”

“Pretty fly for a Light guy.” When Roman merely shrugged and closed his eyes, Remus snaked too-long nails through his hair, like a bonobo searching for lice.

Roman shuddered. Remus would just as likely put lice in his hair just to pick them out again. “You know Tommy-gun admitted to forgetting both of our birthdays,” Remus sing-songed.

“Yes, I know,” he breathed. “You’re right.” Roman opened his eyes just in time to catch his brother’s frown. Just before he plastered his face in another manic grin. “But he has time to do something proper for your birthday.”

“You know he’ll make it up to you,” Remus said, more serious than Roman would’ve expected. “Jannie wasn’t lying. You’ll always be his hero.”

“I know,” Roman muttered, nearly believing it.

“Do you need me to go get Jannie?”

“No!” he said, louder than he intended. “No, I mean…” Roman shook his head, out of words. Out of any words worthy of a prince, at least. Laying back, hands folded over his belly, he let Remus pick at his hair and they both fell quiet. Quiet enough for the sounds of the others preparing an impromptu party for Logan to filter through the gap between his door and the hallway.

Sudden laughter rang out from downstairs. Logan’s laughter. The brothers’ eyes darted to the door in perfect unison.

“Now when was the last time you heard that?” Remus murmured.

Roman sighed. It’d been far too long. “I don’t remember, actually.” He sighed again and turned to his side, head pillowed on his brother’s knee. “I know I can’t begrudge him this celebration.”

“Well, you could,” Remus drawled, scratching his head.

“I’d be a real dick if I did.”

“Ah! Language!” Remus scolded, tone serious. But when Roman looked up, his brother was grinning. “You know what’ll make ya feel better?”

“What?” Roman tried not to smile but Remus’ grin was infectious.

“LIke pus,” he winked, reading his mind. “A little tromp through my side of the Imagination will turn that frown upside down. Slaughter some slimy demon spawn?” He wiggled his eyebrows and conjured his morningstar. “I’ll even let ya borrow Lucie…”

Roman narrowed his eyes to hide his excitement. It had been a long time since he’d let loose in the Imagination. Nearly as long since the last time Logan himself had let loose.

The voices in the living room grew louder and two sets of footsteps skipped up the stairs. “Come on, Kiddos! We’re waiting for you!”

Roman stood and pulled his brother to his feet, as well. “Tomorrow we shall hunt your orcs. Tonight?” Squaring his shoulders, Roman took a deep breath and caught a glance of his own reflection. He nodded. Very nearly the picture of regality. “Tonight, we celebrate Logan.”

Remus bumped his shoulder and flung his morningstar in the air. It lodged itself into Roman’s ceiling just before disappearing. “And you really have to wonder why you’re anybody’s hero?”

“Shut up,” Roman muttered, still smiling. “Hero.”

[oldiesstationlover11607]

hey!! i’ve never requested before so 😢😅😅 anyways i’m obsessed w ur writing!! plus im so happy to see a fellow tøp writer still around!!:3

i’ll kind of you let you take the lead here of what you want to do, but i think the idea of “my brothers best friend” is sooo🥰

like josh is the readers brother, and of course tyler is always around & maybe you can do something fluffy where tyler was sleeping over at the house, and reader gets home late from an AWFUL date & they converse about it & reader admits that maybe these dates aren’t working bc her mind is on someone else..🤗

or something a bit “angsty” where josh teases his sister all the time, but tyler joins in as well and it really upsets the reader because she adores him

up to you!!!! i just like the concept^^

Bad Date - Tyler Joseph x Dun!Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph × Dun!Reader

Warnings: mild language, the date being weird and uncomfortable to reader

Word Count: 2659 - it's a longer one so ur welcome :)

A/N: Welcome new anon! Hope you like this one! It was super fun to write :) Definitely feel free to request another fic and if you become a regular we can assign you an emoji just like 💛 anon!

“So… did you like the movie?” My date asked as he pulled into the driveway of my house. He’d been begging me to go see some action movie he’d already seen twice before with his ‘boys’, because apparently ‘I was gonna love it.’ I’d met Matthew at work and he’d flirted with me for months before asking me out. Yeah, he was cute but not enough for me to be head over heels yet–I barely knew anything about him other than the fact that he was into movies and videogames. 

“Yeah,” I lied, staring at the front door and planning my escape route. Matthew turned to face me, a soft smile growing on his pale face. 

“Am I gonna get to see you again?” he breathed, the smell of the spaghetti he’d eaten for dinner wafting into my face. “Maybe I could meet your brother?” He reached out to stroke my hair like I was some domestic animal he could touch. I wanted to slap his hand away, the warm dampness of his palms waving over me. 

“Josh? Why would you want to meet him?” I scoffed. None of my other dates had ever talked about Josh and I was 90% sure I’d never even mentioned that I had a brother. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him more than anything but my dates were supposed to be about me. 

“He’s in that band that was playing Ichthus a few months ago right? Twenty one pilots?” Oh. It was about the band. It was about twenty one fucking pilots. 

“You know what? I’m gonna go,” I said, peeling his hand off me and getting out of the car. The lights beamed from the car, pathing the way for me to get into the house. 

“Y/N! Wait!” he shouted after me but stayed in the car. If he really wanted me to stop then he would’ve run after me. He was still shouting my name when I got to the front door. I knocked frantically on the wood, trying to get inside before I further embarrassed myself in front of the entire neighborhood. No one was answering and the lights inside were turned off as far as I could see through the window. I dug through my bag desperately trying to either find my keys or phone–anything to get into the house and out of the burning headlights of the car. The door in front of me creaked open before a hand pulled me inside and out of the cold night air. Tyler. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, leading me further into the house and into the lounge. It wasn’t rare that Tyler would spend the night at our house–he was Josh’s best friend and bandmate which meant after many late nights working on music he would just sleep over instead of going home. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I nodded, taking off my coat and hanging it on the rack in the hallway. “Has Josh gone to bed already?”

“Yeah, you know him,” he chuckled. “What was that about?” he pointed in the direction of the front of the house where Matthew’s car had undoubtedly already left. He moved to sit on the other end of the couch, resting his feet on our coffee table. 

“Just a bad date,” I attempted a laugh but failed to hide my embarrassment. 

“What made it bad?” he asked. I didn’t think he would care about his best friend’s little sister’s date. 

“Honestly?” He nodded. “I think he wanted to get to know Josh more than me–because of the band,” I sighed. Tyler’s mouth opened as if to say a silent ‘oh’. He looked upset, his face falling into an introspective visage that broke my heart. 

“Wait really?” he muttered and I nodded. “I’m sorry, that’s not fair at all.” He was right, it wasn’t fair at all. Clearly Matthew wasn’t for me. I got up to grab myself a drink from the kitchen and Tyler moved so he could see me from where he was sitting. 

“It’s okay though. I think I just haven’t found the right person yet, you know?” I grabbed Tyler a Red Bull from the fridge and poured myself a glass of ice cold water. His face lit up at the sight of the Red Bull can and I didn’t have the strength to hold back my own smile–his smile and laugh were just too contagious. I couldn't go longer than 10 seconds without bursting at the seams. 

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m just worried I’ll never find the right person,” I sighed. Tyler chuckled, taking a sip of his ‘liquid death’ as I’d called it almost every time I caught him drinking it. “What’s so funny?”

“I–I’m just thinking about it. What if you’ve already met the right person but you just don’t know it yet?” he hummed. I scoffed as if what he had said was ridiculous. Tyler was that person to say things no one else ever thought to say out loud–most of us just kept it inside out of the fear of being seen as ‘weird’. Tyler wasn’t afraid to be called weird. 

“That’s a bit unrealistic isn’t it? Surely if I had already met that person then I would know,” I responded. He pulled a face at me, as if to say ‘are you sure about that?’ “I don’t know Ty.” I shrugged. He scooted closer to me on the couch, moving so he was sitting right up against me. He reached up to curl my hair behind my ear in a much more genteller way than Matthew had earlier. I wanted him to keep his hand there, resting against my face–I really hadn’t realized how comfortable I was around him until tonight.  

“Listen, I think you’re going to find the perfect person for you in life. They’re gonna care about you so much and know every little fact about you–like how your favorite color is (insert favorite color here), or how Josh used to hide candy under your bed so no one other than you two could eat it. They’re going to love you more than anything and want you around 24/7,” he proclaimed. I really couldn’t hide the grin on my face, especially since it was now accompanied by a warm blush. 

“Have you met that person?” I asked. 

“I think so, yeah,” he breathed, placing the can in his hand onto the coffee table. 

“What’s she like?” 

He let out a loud breath before thinking. “She’s cool. One of the smartest people I know, beautiful and talented–though she doesn’t think she is–and she makes me love life more than anything. I haven’t told her how I feel though,” he dragged off. 

“Why not?” I questioned, taking a sip of my water and placing it next to Tyler’s can. I was invested now. 

“I think it’s just never come up before you know? It’s not like I can just blast my feelings at her when she’s off doing her own thing or it’s out of the blue.” 

I nodded, completely understanding. “I get that. I’m sure she likes you too, you’re a pretty great guy Tyler,” I smiled. 

“Pretty great huh?” he boasted. Tyler never really talked about his life outside of the band, Josh and I. I knew he worked at a church nearby and helped out with their music but other than that I had no idea what he did in his spare time. He smiled back at me and I found myself staring into his cinnamon brown eyes. I didn’t want to look away, in fact, I would stay here all night staring into his eyes if he’d let me.  He slowly and cautiously moved his hand back to my face, gently touching my cheek before speaking. “Can I ask you something?” I snapped out of the daze he’d caught me in. 

“Yeah anything,” I nodded. 

He took a deep breath before speaking again and looked away for a moment, curling a very short strand of his hair around his index finger and tugging it slightly. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to get mad?”

“Tyler, it's me. I’m not going to get mad at you,” I stated. I’ve never really been the type of person to get mad easily. His shoulders rose and fell as he chuckled quietly.

“And you won’t tell anyone? Not even Josh?” 

“That depends on what you’re about to tell me,” I answered. Josh and I didn’t really keep secrets from each other, ever. If he was going to tell me the band was breaking up of course I would tell Josh but if it was personal and didn’t affect my brother then of course I’d keep it a secret. He started to pull his hair a bit harder which I noticed as he became anxious. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just tell me what’s going on,” I reassured, taking his hand in mine and holding it gently. 

“I’m not sure how to say this but.. I… just… please promise me you’ll try and understand what I’m about to tell you…” Tyler was good with words, always knowing what to say so if he didn’t know how to tell me something then it had to be a big deal. He took another shaky breath, his eyes closing and opening again as he continued to look between me and our hands. I felt like I was about to pass out from the anticipation. What on earth would he want to tell me and not Josh? He squeezed my hand and swallowed before speaking. His voice was gentle and shaky, the most vulnerable I’d ever heard–even in his music.“I think–I think you’re my person.”

I’d never really thought of Tyler like that before. Sure, he was famous and talented and handsome and kind and actually interested in my life, but he–we weren’t supposed to–god he was pretty wasn’t he?

“Huh?” Damn it Y/N! What kind of a response is fucking ‘huh’. The awkward silence was growing rapidly with every second and I was beginning to panic. Tyler’s eyes were locked onto mine, his face conflicted but retaining the little confidence he had. “I–uh. Does Josh know?” He shook his head, holding my hand closer in his hand and rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. He let out a short chuckle, his eyes darting away for a moment in embarrassment. It was a quiet chuckle, one that let out some of the shakiness he had before. 

“No, he doesn’t,” he muttered. “And I’d rather he didn’t know until… well until I’ve talked to you about it,” he continued, glancing up at me again and meeting my gaze. I nodded, trying to bite back the delusional smile growing on my face. He undoubtedly had noticed my poor attempt because his nervous demeanor softened as he cupped my face. “Can I do something that I’ve wanted to do for a really long time?” I hummed a yes, looking up at him through my eyelashes. He let out a shaky breath, his heart racing as he moved his free hand to gently rest against my chin. He tilted it up so he could meet and hold my gaze. He could feel his own eyes staring into mine as he almost lost all train of thought. There was so much I wanted to say. My brain was speeding like a bullet, endless trains of thought rushing through a mile a minute. He leaned forwards slowly, his hand still holding my chin and his other hand gently gripping my fingers. He was so close I could see every single detail–every tiny imperfection and scar, every eyelash, and every crease. There was something about him that made me feel like my life depended on this one moment and I absolutely could not mess this up. His thumb brushed against my lower lip and my eyes fluttered closed. He pulled my chin so he could meet me face to face, my neck tilted up to look at him directly. His cheeks had reddened from the intimacy of the moment. His eyes were staring into mine again, his gaze flickering between my eyes and my mouth. He was so incredibly close to me, his lips millimeters from my own. I could feel his warm breath against my face, my own coming out shakily. His fingers moved from my chin to my jaw, his touch feather-like against my skin. His thumb continued to gently brush back and forth across my lower lip and I found myself leaning up to him without even thinking. I didn’t think he could get any closer, but then he started to move his head down towards mine, and my breath got caught in my throat. I was absolutely, one hundred percent, completely and utterly screwed. My heart stopped as he pressed his lips to mine. I didn’t realize until now just how much I wanted this. How badly we had wanted each other. I breathed in sharply, trying to control myself and the flood of emotions that were trying to swallow me whole as I reached up to cup his face with both my hands. He pulled me closer to him, so that there was no space left between us. He let every single piece of love he had for me pour out of his body and into the kiss. And he made sure I felt it by pulling me so that I was almost in his lap, my legs on either side of his as he ran his hand up and down my back and through my hair. Everything he was doing was perfect, the kiss and the way his hands felt against my body. He was everything. I broke the kiss to take a breath, pulling back and getting my hair out of my face. “I’m guessing you probably want to give us a go then?” Tyler laughed, his hands moving down to my waist. I nodded, cupping his jaw with my right hand. “I’ve waited so long to do that.” He breathed out. He was smiling, a genuine smile. He gently gripped my hips, shifting me a little so I was fully in his lap. “You have absolutely no idea just how long I've wanted to kiss you.” 

“Well I’m glad I’m not the only one who was thinking about this,” I laughed. “At least now my dates aren’t going to ask me about Josh or the band.” Tyler’s chest rose and fell with each breath. 

“That’s true. Now you’re with the lead singer,” he sarcastically bragged. 

A quiet shuffling noise sounded through the hallway causing me to dart my head over Tyler’s shoulder. 

“Shit.” I climbed off his lap and grabbed my glass, running into the kitchen before the shuffling reached us. Josh. He was wearing his red plaid pajama pants and was shirtless. 

“Hey,” he croaked, rubbing his eyes. 

“How was your date?” he asked, filling up his water bottle in the sink. I looked at Tyler who had his arms folded behind his head and a smirk covering his face. I flashed a warning his way before answering my brother. 

“He was asking about you and the band,” I muttered, “we’re not having another date.” Josh looked apologetic, a hint of regret tangled in his voice. 

“I’m sorry. You’ll find someone–I’m sure of it,” he sighed, pulling me into a hug. 

“Yeah I have a feeling you’ll find someone soon. For all you know they could be right in front of you,” Tyler chimed. 

“Yeah, they could be right under your nose,” Josh yawned, pulled in into a hug before disappearing back into the hallway and away to bed, leaving Tyler and I alone once again. I waited a bit before jumping back onto the couch next to him, falling into his embrace. 

“You cannot do that again,” I scoffed, shoving him playfully. 

“You know you love it."

//

Requests open!!

[eeechooo]

Sweet Victory

Fandom : Lockwood and co Gn x George Karim Request by : @happygoosebird "You’re struggling with studying for a test and George offers to help. There are cookies involved."

__

You banged your head on the table, making it shake once before it stilled completely. The library was quiet, or would be, if it weren’t for the way you were scribbling in your notebook, full of doodles and messy handwriting. There was no way you’d be able to learn everything for tomorrow, and time was ticking, leaving you only a few hours before dinner.

Great. You could do it.

One glance at your notes was all it took to make you groan, resisting the temptation to bang your head on the wall this time. Why didn’t you study earlier? Maybe because the goddamn agency needed you. Working here part-time was extremely odd, but you didn’t mind one bit; your colleagues were lovely (most of the time, when tea was ready). However, most of them did not know how to study properly.

One was reckless, never thinking twice before doing something that could lead to an awful, atrocious death. Or maybe he thought twice and was just THAT crazy. I guess we’ll never know. The second one would follow him with a groan followed by heart eyes—mixed signals, if you ask me. That left the last one, who knew best how to work like you had to do right now.

Except he was always busy nowadays. Working on a new case, you all had to be prepared. If one guy HAD to be prepared enough, it was him. One wrong piece of information, and you were all screwed. Mind you, that never happened—knock on wood.

How could you even focus with the smell of cookies, warm and— you knew it—so, so sweet? Your stomach growled, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten for hours. You suddenly stopped doodling mindlessly.

That was NOT Lockwood; he could burn water. That was NOT Lucy, and you could tell from a mile away that those weren’t store-bought. The realization hit you like a cold splash of water—it had to be George.

You stood up immediately and ran to the kitchen, notebook and pen in hand. George was standing by the counter, meticulously arranging a tray of freshly baked cookies. The aroma was heavenly, a perfect blend of chocolate and something else—possibly a hint of caramel.

“You know, staring at your notes like that won’t magically transfer the information into your brain,” George said, his tone laced with his usual sarcasm. He didn’t look up as he continued arranging the cookies, his fingers deftly moving each one into a perfect row.

You sighed. “I know, George. I’m just… overwhelmed. There’s so much to cover and so little time.”

George finally looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Then you’re in luck. I’ve decided to bestow my infinite wisdom upon you. Plus, I’ve got cookies. One for every chapter we review together.”

Your eyes lit up at the mention of cookies. “Really? You’d help me?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” George smirked, handing you a cookie. “I can be quite the Good Samaritan when I want to be. Now, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You handed over your notes, watching as George’s eyes scanned the messy handwriting and doodles. He raised an eyebrow. “Interesting approach to note-taking. Ever considered actually writing down useful information instead of… whatever this is?”

You shrugged, feeling a bit defensive. “For someone who hates hypocrisy, just look at the Thinking Cloth! It helps me think...”

George chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, we’ll work with what you’ve got. First, let’s tackle this chapter on medieval history. Did you know that if you break down the timeline into smaller chunks and associate each with a specific event, it’s easier to remember?”

You nodded, trying to keep up. George’s way of thinking was always so methodical, so precise. It was intimidating at times, but right now, it was exactly what you needed.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook, flipping through it quickly. “We’ll use these cookies as mnemonic devices. For example, this cookie shaped like a castle can represent the year the Normans invaded England.”

You took the castle-shaped cookie, turning it over in your hands. “That… actually makes sense. What about the Battle of Hastings?”

George handed you a cookie with a little sword drawn on it with icing. “This one. Every time you think of the Battle of Hastings, think of this cookie. Easy, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile. George’s unconventional methods were starting to make studying seem less daunting. “You know, you’re pretty good at this.”

George shrugged, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Just don’t let it get around. I have a reputation to maintain.”

The two of you settled into a rhythm, reviewing each chapter, associating key events with different cookies. The study session became a game, and with each correct answer, you felt more confident, more prepared.

Hours passed, and you realized you’d covered more ground than you ever thought possible. George’s sarcastic remarks and acerbic sense of humor kept the mood light, making the information easier to digest. By the time you reached the last chapter, the tray of cookies was nearly empty, and you felt a sense of accomplishment.

“See?” George said, handing you the last cookie. “I told you we’d get through it. You just needed the right motivation.”

You took the cookie, feeling a wave of gratitude. “Thanks, George. I really appreciate this.”

He shrugged, looking almost embarrassed. “Don’t mention it. Just make sure you ace that test. I don’t want my efforts to go to waste.”

You laughed, feeling a renewed sense of determination. With George’s help, you knew you could do it. As you packed up your notes, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, studying wasn’t so bad after all—especially when there were cookies involved.

__

Days later, after the test results were posted, you rushed to the bulletin board, heart pounding. There it was—your name, right next to a high score you could scarcely believe.

Feeling a mix of relief and elation, you immediately thought of George. You found him in the library, nose deep in an old, dusty tome about the Problem, George being George.

“George,” you called, a wide grin spreading across your face. “I did it! I aced the test!”

George looked up from his book, his expression as neutral as ever, though you noticed a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Of course you did,” he said with a smirk slowly appearing. “Those cookies weren't for nothing.”

You laughed, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Suddenly, an idea came to mind. “Do you know what we should do to celebrate?”

He stared at you for at least ten seconds, his features still.

“Cookies?”

“Cookies.”

--

I lowkey hate it, but I think it was a nice excercise, thank you for your request! I actually thought about some ideas during an exam, not sure if it was the best thing to do but what's done is DONE.

@neewtmas

(if you want/don't want to be tagged in the future, just tell me!)

[cacoetheswriting]

pearl: august 1984

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2k chapter summary: goodbyes are always hard. and as eddie comes to learn, they're especially hard when they happen with a person you love.

content warnings: best friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, angsty, hard goodbyes, self-doubt / insecurities, mentions of recreational drug use, use of pet names - if i missed anything, pls let me know!

The day Eddie had been dreading for months has finally arrived.

His best friend was leaving to start an adventure in college and she was doing so… without him. 

He really shouldn’t be this upset, after all, he’d been anticipating this moment ever since the two of you found out he wouldn’t get passable grades. But as he watched you pack the rest of the boxes into your parents car, his heart ached. It was suddenly all too real.

The two of you spent the entire summer trying to knock off as many items as you possibly could off a spontaneous bucket list you once came up with while high. From camping in the woods, then watching the sunset and sunrise together, randomly putting up Christmas decorations in July (the trailer looked like something out of a holiday special, for which Wayne almost killed you both), to even getting small matching tattoos — your initials on the inside of your right pinkies. The two of you completed every ridiculous thing on that list and honestly had the time of your lives while doing so. 

“We should come up with a new list for next summer,” you muse, sitting with your legs dangling off the edge of the roof of your parents house.

Eddie smirks. He’s next to you, laying down and looking up at the cotton-candy clouds above as he gently rubs his hand on the bare skin of your lower back in a circular motion. The two of you had been in this position for the last twenty minutes, talking about nothing and everything all at once. And Eddie’s not a religious person by any means, but he thinks this is what heaven must feel like. He’s sure of it, actually.

“Maybe we could go on a mini road trip? Hm?” You continue, glancing back at your best friend's relaxed frame. “Celebrate you graduating in style, in New Orleans, as opposed to the stupid Hideout. What do you think?”

He smiles at the thought. He smiles at the fact you’re actually planning to still be in his life next year, never mind going on a trip together, despite your clear ability to make friends anywhere you go. Then, because of the same exact reason, his smile falters and he sits up slightly, propping himself up on his forearms before tilting his head as he looks at you.

“What if you meet someone new?” Eddie ponders and although the tone of his voice is teasing, the expression on his face is filled with worry. “You’re not gonna want to celebrate my delayed High School graduation when you could be goin’ on some fancy trip with your fancy college friends.”

You roll your eyes then lay backwards, leaning against his side. “Why would I want to make new friends when the one I have now provides me with enough dramatics?”

The tease earns you a melodic chuckle and a poke to your ribcage. 

“Ha!” Eddie mocks, “You’re hilarious.”

“And you’re being stupid, so just agree to the New Orleans plan and shut up ‘cause all I’m tryin’ to do is have another perfect summer.”

Eddie huffs lightheartedly before laying back down, one arm now around your shoulder, holding you close. The giggles die down slowly and he lets out a content sigh.

“Shit, princess. I gotta be honest, I don’t think we’ll be able to create anything nearly as perfect as this.”

And for Eddie, it really was the perfect summer with the perfect girl. His girl.

Unfortunately for him, his girl was playing tetris with her belongings, making sure it all fit in the boot of the car, as he watched with a sullen look on his face because you weren't really his and this would be the last time you two saw each other at least until Thanksgiving.

Eddie realised his feelings for you developed into something he wasn’t used to after that afternoon in the back of his van, back in March, when he sang Me and Bobby McGee to you. Ever since then, he had tried to navigate around this unforeseen situation and later, the last few weeks to be exact, he even tried to tell you how he felt on numerous different occasions. Well, actually, tried is a strong word. 

The correct expression would be he thought about telling you, but every time the moment felt somewhat right, he chickened out. His insecurities got the better of him because what if he didn’t really like you in a romantic way, just made himself believe that he did since you were leaving and his mind was selfishly trying to convince him professing his feelings would get you to stay. Or worse. He was scared to be honest ‘cause what if you didn’t feel the same way and he just flushed years of friendship down the drain.

But right this second, despite all perceived consequences and scenarios he replayed in his head on loop, Eddie was full of regret. He should have been honest with you since, at the end of the day, it didn’t matter if you liked him back ‘cause he’d remain your friend regardless. You, your friendship, meant more to him than any potential relationship.

“Eds,” you hail him back to reality, “Can you be a gentleman and help me with my last suitcases? They’re all that’s left in my room.”

He nods, plastering a fake smile on his face, and follows you inside. 

The once colourfully decorated bedroom, your safe space as well as his, was now pretty much empty. Everything was gone, aside from permanent pieces of furniture, random posters, awards for different high school accomplishments, and knick knacks you thought were too childish for college.

You point to the suitcases you would like for him to take, but Eddie's distracted. His eyes are darting around the space. He's remembering where things used to be and all the memories associated with them, and he seriously thinks there’s nothing left to do but break down.

“Eddie,” you say in a soft tone, standing in front of him, “Are you okay?”

All he can do is shake his head. The action, albeit small, was enough for you to drop the bag you were holding and wrap your arms around him.

The hug is intense yet gentle all at the same time. You rest the palms of your hands on his back as he lifts his own arms to hold you in place by your waist, grip tightening with every passing second. And he’s a complete goner. Head over heels. I think I like you as more than just my best friend, he thinks to himself and it really takes everything he’s got not to say those words out loud.

Instead, Eddie gets lost in the scent of your perfume and the comfort of your delicate breathing into his frame. He’s memorising how your touch feels, how peaceful it is to simply be hugged by you. He wants to remember this forever and be able to think about it when you’re a thousand miles away.

He's not exactly sure how long the two of you stand like this for. Not like he cares, though. He wishes you could remain in this position forever. Reality unfortunately strikes when he hears you sniffling into his raggedy t-shirt. You proceed to reluctantly pull away and wipe your nose along with any lone tears that may have escaped while the two of you hugged, before offering him a warm smile.

“I-I actually have something for you,” you say and retrieves a cassette tape from the back pocket of your jeans. “I was going to give this to you when we said our final goodbyes, but I guess it doesn’t have to wait. Here.”

Eddie reaches for the gift and for the first time all morning, the smile on his face is genuine. It’s a copy of Janis Joplin’s Pearl.

“It’s my tape. The same one we listened to in your van that time,” you explain as his fingers graze across the cracked case. “I wanted to get you a new one but I figured the sentimental value of this one is priceless. After all, one of my favourite memories with you is associated with this specific tape.”

That’s when the metalhead looks up to catch your eye. 

“I can’t accept this.”

“No, no, no,” you protest, “It would really mean a lot to me if you took it, Eddie. I kinda like the thought of you listening to it when I’m a thousand miles away.” There’s a brief pause as you hesitate, “Maybe you’ll even think of your best friend when Me and Bobby McGee plays.”

There’s a glimmer in your eyes that Eddie can’t quite decipher, though, it’s a look that makes him want to reach out for you and wrap his arms around you once again.

So that’s exactly what he does.

He slides the tape into one of the pockets of his denim jacket before pulling you into another embrace. You slam gently into his chest, smiling wide, and let out content hum as Eddie places a kiss on your crown. 

This was your last moment together for months. Months. That terrified you both equally. Since the two of you first started hanging out, you’ve only ever been apart for maybe a day or two at a time — usually when either of you was sick, but even then you’d find a way to see each other, if only through a bedroom window.

Eddie was also fortunate enough that your parents really liked him. They never judged him by his appearance or thought of him any less because of the way he was brought up. Even with your dad being a police officer, bailing the curly-haired teen out of trouble on more than one occasion, your parents were always supportive of your friendship.

He’s gonna miss the Thursday dinners at your house. The family trips he was always invited to join. Learning how to fix up cars with your dad while you sat on a broken chair in the corner of the garage and did your homework. And even though Eddie knows that even with you away at college, he always has support in your parents, the thought of doing any mundane task without you, makes him sorrowful.

“I’ll never not be thinking of you, princess.” Eddie announces honestly. “Even when you’re making new friends and are busy forgetting all about me,” he tries to joke, but it just pains him more, “You are always, always, going to be on my mind.” 

He thinks then that his feelings are indeed genuine. He’s convinced mainly because this feels right. Him and you, holding each other like this. It feels… right. And his heart grows fonder as you squeeze him tighter, plus he swears there’s an aura around the two of you, glowing a bright fucking pink like in the comics he’s always telling you to read. Jesus Christ. Screw “liking” you. He may actually even be deeply fucking in love with you.

Which is exactly why he cannot tell you. Especially now.

You deserve to say goodbye to Hawkins, even if it’s just temporary, and get the education you’ve been dreaming of ever since he’s known you, meet new and interesting people, and make memories that he’ll gladly listen to detailed retellings of. Eddie knows if he told you right now, whether you felt the same way or not, you would feel guilty for leaving. You wouldn’t enjoy yourself as much as a college experience is supposed to be enjoyed ‘cause you’d be constantly thinking of him.

Eddie couldn’t do that to you. Not now. Maybe one day he would admit it to you: “Princess, I’ve been in love with you since we were eighteen.”. Honestly, he doesn’t mind that at all. Just depends on where your life takes you, which he selfishly hopes isn’t too far away from him.

“Shit, I am really gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Eddie.”

pearl masterlist | main masterlist

thank you for reading <3

& tagging some cool people that expressed interest in this lil series: @cactusangie , @spenciesprincess , @capitanostella

[miabebe]

I Am What I Am (I)

A man of the shadows and a woman who belonged in the skies - fate could not have brought two more different people together. But was this fate or was this a choice?

Pairing - Im Changkyun x OC

Word Count - 6.3K

Warnings - Mentions of blood, guns, kidnapping, possible violence, a make out scene or two?

Chapter summary - Na bi, who gets briefly pulled into the world of shadows, drowns further in it with every step she takes. After all, he did say 'You'll come back to me.'

Masterlist

The smell of gasoline was undeniably lingering in the air. The mud under her shoes was thick and wet, consistent with the sound of the rain echoing in the silence. The rope on her wrists was starting to burn into her skin and the heat of the car disappeared behind her as she got dragged into the darkness. It sounded like she was accompanied by three sets of footsteps. Or was it four? She couldn’t really tell. A sudden jerking motion threw her against what felt like a chair, her back hitting the wood, eliciting an involuntary groan. 

She had seen and heard enough about Seoul to tell she was going to die today – she just didn’t know how or why. All she wanted was a bottle of juice. Though pouring rains had taken over the city, she was feeling unusually dehydrated. A simple detour to the grocery store after work, somehow ended with an opaque bag over her head and her body shoved into a van, the dim streetlights being the only witness. I should’ve just gone straight home. 

Throughout the ride, to her own surprise, she sat unusually still. It was a fight or flight situation; her survival instincts should have kicked in; she should’ve done something but she simply froze. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything to save herself. She was never really scared of the unknown or the darkness but today? Today the black was somehow stifling. Having that bag over her head finally taken off didn’t help much either - darkness was soon going to be a constant in her life anyways. 

Her eyes struggled to adjust to the very dim, barely visible surroundings of what seemed like an old abandoned warehouse, streams of light and rain making their way from scattered holes in the roof. Textbook kidnapping location, what a dramatic way to go indeed. There were people all around her; definitely more than four, perhaps around twenty? but they all stood half hidden in the shadows, visible only waist down, light particularly shining off those combat boots they all seemingly had in common.  

Her cold sweat was replaced by the cold metal of a gun pressed against her cheek, turning her head towards its wielder. His frame blocked nearly her entire visual field – he was tall and broad, looming over her, his golden tresses falling into his cold eyes. Thank god his vest didn’t have sleeves because his biceps looked like they would have ripped right through the fabric. She knew he could knock her out cold with barely a swing of his arm, so she told herself to be very careful about when and how she opened her mouth before him. But that warning to herself barely sustained for a minute.  

Suddenly, a light was flashed on her face, making her wince and look away but grabbing her face, the blonde man forced her to meet his eyes again, frowning in confusion.  

“Who are you?”  

She blinked at him rapidly, not being able to fathom if she misheard him or he had indeed just asked her the dumbest question possible. The uncomfortable series of whispers that went around like something was not right. Did they…. Did they make a mistake? Was she not the one they meant to kidnap tonight?  

Her perpetrator turned towards the darkness at the far end of the room, talking to it, his voice ever so slightly shaking. “We were outside the hospital all afternoon; we had our eyes on her for hours. I don’t know how this happened…” He turned back, his eyes void of even the slightest tinge of guilt – they blazed with anger. “I asked who the hell are you.”  

How dare he. How dare he be mad at her like it was her fault she was sitting tied up in this chair. Like she was the one who fucked up.  

He wasn’t patient enough for an answer. She wasn’t planning on giving him one anyways.  

She watched as a woman walked up with her bag, emptying its content onto the floor carelessly, eyes skimming over her discarded things. Spotting a wallet she reached for it, scouring through and then tossed a card to the blonde man who held it under the light. “Baek Na Bi” He frowned. “Emergency medicine, Seoul National University Hospital…..”  

Na bi spat the blood-tinged spit pooling in her mouth on the wet mud around her. “So you’re not blind.” She looked at him, anger bubbling in her chest. “Just devoid of human intelligence then.”  

“Shut up.” He snarled, his gaze on her hardening as did his grip on the gun. Of all the ways one could die, Na bi was sure hers was going to be the most deservedly pointless one. 

“Or what?” Her eyes flickered to his gun and back. “You’ll stalk, kidnap and threaten me? Oh wait, you’ve already done all of the above.”   

“There is a fourth option on the list.” She felt his gun right in the middle of her chest, the nose of it digging into her sternum. “Don’t push me to do it.”  

Na bi tried not to swallow the phantom lump in her throat or let the defiance in her eyes die out. Thankfully for her, a sound from the shadows turned the blonde man’s attention away - The sound of a lighter click. 

“We made a mistake.” His otherwise harsh voice had a tinge of fear yet again. “It was dark and they look so alike I- “ 

“They look nothing alike.” An unfamiliar low voice echoed across the warehouse. Na bi tried to look through the darkness, searching for its owner but all she saw was a small dancing flame.  

“We can still find her.” The blonde man stashed his gun back in its holster, his hands searching his pockets for a minute before he pulled out a photo. “They work in the same hospital, maybe they know each other.”  

Turning to her, he held it up in front of her face, shining light on it. “Who is this?”  

Na bi didn’t know what good resistance was going to do for her but at this moment she did not feel like being of any use to him at all. She continued stubbornly staring at him, making him grab her face once more, forcing it to turn towards the photo in his other hand. Na Bi squinted at what seemed like a picture captured from a security cam of a woman maybe in her mid-twenties, face half hidden under her cap but still revealing the brown eyes that matched her brown hair…... Ana. 

“Don’t know.” She pulled herself away from his grip. “I don’t know who she-.”  

“She knows.”  

The voice from the shadows sent a chill down her spine. Na Bi thought she did an excellent job of concealing her shock on seeing Ana. She was only betrayed by the very slight widening of her eyes, a momentary slip he caught from all the way across the space. Denial was going to be futile. 

“Why are you looking for her?” 

The blonde man narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re in no position to ask questions.” 

“If not for your incapability, I would not be in this position.”  

Na bi could practically hear his jaw tighten, letting her know she was mere seconds from being hurt real bad but before he could do anything, the low voice boomed across the warehouse.  

“Wonho.” 

So that was blondie’s name. And a warning too. 

Wonho immediately took a step back and Na bi realised belatedly - the man in the shadows was the leader. She felt herself stiffen at the sound of him walking ahead. More accurately, at the sound of his shoes, which she noticed were not combat boots like the rest but a pair of dress shoes that appeared in the light when he neared.  

“I’m looking for some answers Ms. Baek. I just want a conversation.”  

“What could she possibly know that’s of interest to you?”  

“To begin with, on who’s orders has she been going around looking for me.”  

Na bi raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “She’s looking for you?”  

“It appears so. But no one simply looks for me Ms. Baek.” The click of the lighter resounded in the silence, this time the tiny flame briefly illuminated what looked like a grey shirt. “I’m the one who hunts.” 

Na bi scoffed incredulously. “Not so good at it, are you? Clearly you can’t even pick the right prey.”  

He hummed; a tinge of amusement laced in it. Wonho though, stared at her like he had just mentally put a dozen bullets through her. Na bi didn’t care; aggravating him felt alleviating for some reason. Besides, she didn’t think he would actually do anything without instruction from the man in the shadows and strangely, it didn’t feel like he wanted to hurt her.  

She knew how stupid that thought was. She knew what it meant to be kidnapped in this city – it was a one-way road; no one ever came back. Even though she was not the right target, she was a liability, a risk factor roaming on the streets. As much as she hoped and prayed, there was no way they were going to let her go tonight; her fate was sealed.  

“Let her go.” 

Na bi felt herself choke on nothing, launching into a coughing fit, thrown off by his words. If she didn’t see the sheer shock in Wonho’s face, she would have thought she misheard him but the blonde man took both a hesitating and obedient step towards her and with a small pocket knife, cut the ropes binding her hands. She rubbed her wrists ignoring the sharp pain in her shoulders. 

“You’re… you’re letting me go?” 

Though she had accurately predicted the lighter click to follow, she did not expect to hear a smile in his voice. “You’ll come back to me.” 

To this hell hole? “And why would I do that?” 

He didn’t answer.  

Giving her barely a minute to gather her discarded things, Wonho pulled her up to her feet impatiently. As she was led out, she heard footsteps receding into the darkness behind her and as much as she was surprised, sceptical and relieved all at once to be walking out of here alive, when the bag made its way back over her head, a part of her was disappointed to not being able to put a face to the voice that was ringing in her ears. 

You’ll come back to me. 

“I won’t.” She muttered as she was shoved back into the van.

Na Bi looked at herself in the mirror as she stepped out of the shower. She was a mess. 

As if her job as an ER resident did not contribute enough to her ever so permanent dark circles, last night’s events further threw her into a sleepless night. Pushing her bangs up, she ran her fingers over the bruise on her forehead. She did put up quite a struggle when she was being forced into the van but in vain. She was no match for those clearly trained hands that were tying her up - The scars on her wrists were still burning. Letting her fringes carefully cover the bruise on her head, she pulled her hair into a ponytail, eyes glancing at her phone for the hundredth time this morning. There was still no response from Ana.  

Last night, when Wonho had kicked her out of the van onto the street by her house, he had given her a warning loud and clear. “If you know what’s best for you, you’ll forget tonight ever happened.” Heart racing in her chest as she entered the home she never thought she would see again, Na bi neatly ignored his words and called Ana immediately. Sure, the two of them weren’t really close and barely knew each other but how was she supposed to just stay quiet when someone was in danger? She had to warn her at least, tell her that some very sketchy people were out there looking for her, but every call she made went straight to voicemail. Not knowing what else to do, she left her a bunch of messages, explaining the situation and it had been hours but there was still no response.  

Na bi looked up at the face in the mirror, her brown eyes reminding her of Ana. She was often told that the two of them looked similar but she could never see how. Yes, they had the same brown eyes and wavy brown hair but other than that, they were nothing alike. Ana looked angelic. She had such kind, warm eyes, a beautiful smile; she was the kind that stood out in a crowd, making heads turn as she walked by. Na Bi on the other hand was as ordinary as could be. Not so pale skin, tired eyes, tired posture, average height, average looks. Nothing about her was really noticeable…..except maybe her lips. She was told more than often that she had very irresistible lips but it was usually in very drunk and desperate settings so she never really took it seriously.  

Throwing on an old t shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, Na bi dressed herself to work, eyes and mind still on her phone. From what she understood, it seemed like those men knew they could find Ana at the hospital. If Ana was lucky and Na bi was not too late, then maybe she could find Ana at work and warn her before they got to her. The man in the shadows did say all he wanted was a conversation but honesty was not exactly the defining factor of men who hid in the dark behind their guns. There was no reason to believe that Ana was not in danger from him.  

Then again, he did let her go. 

Na bi might not have seen his face or know who he was but she knew of their intentions, she had seen their hide out, she had seen enough. She was exactly the kind of loose ends that people like them made sure to clean up. They should have done away with her and ended this instead her she was, safe and alive. Either they were not smart enough to realise just how risky it was for them to let her go or they were somehow capable of some form of humane reasoning and had spared her considering picking her was their mistake. Na bi didn’t think either were possible, which meant there was something else she was missing here.  

And those words of his kept ringing in her ears. 

“You’ll come back to me.” 

“I won’t.” She stubbornly muttered again to no one in particular and stepped out of her house into the darkness before dawn.  

Two hours later, Na bi found herself standing in front of apartment number 186. 

The moment she reached the hospital, she hastened to the oncology ward, looking for Ana. To her surprise, it had been days since Ana came to work and no one had heard from her in quite a while. Something was not right. Na bi immediately got a nurse to look up Ana’s hospital records for any alternative forms of contact but suspiciously, there were none - no emergency contact, no family members mentioned, no workplace hotline, but there was an address. Quickly scribbling it on a post-it note, she dropped a message to her attending about an upset stomach and left the hospital. After a 20-minute bus ride, a short walk and a ride up the elevator, Na bi was finally standing in front of the door number on her paper, praying Ana was in there.  

She wasn’t picking calls and hadn’t been seen for days – the idea of finding her in her home was hopeful but given this was Seoul, it was not realistic. And Na bi’s gut feeling was right. No matter how many times she rang the doorbell, there was no response; no one was home. She had a feeling the trip here would be pointless but maybe it wasn’t that futile after all because just as she turned to leave, a chilly wind brushed her arm and Na bi traced its source to a small crack between the door and the frame. It was open. 

Without much thought, she pushed the door and stepped in. Na bi didn’t know what exactly she was expecting to find in here, but everything seemed….. fine? At least at first sight, till she noticed the details. 

The dishes in the sink were giving off a repulsive smell, the trash clearly hadn’t been cleared in very long. There was a bowl of cereal and milk which seemed like it was sitting on the counter for days now. The fruits in the bowl had rotten and the bread loaf on the table was way past its expiry date. To simply put it, it seemed like no one had been here in quite some time. There were no signs of struggle or injury though, no smell of blood. But there were two fading, faint lines made perhaps by suitcase wheels, leading from the door to the cupboard in the room. 

Na Bi walked in and opened the wardrobe, immediately noticing it was almost empty. Her eyes skimmed over the remaining contents, mentally noting that there were no pants, not many t shirts and no inner wear at all. She did notice a white shirt that clearly belonged to someone much bigger than Ana - a man's, perhaps a partner? Na bi didn't know Ana had a partner but then again, she didn't even know Ana that well.  

One thing was evident though. Given how things were left in the house and that clothes and even cash was missing, Na bi could tell Ana was on the run, perhaps for days now. Maybe she already knew the man in the shadows would come looking for her. Maybe she made sure to disappear before she was caught.  

As much as Na bi was curious, there was no time to speculate – the front door creaked; someone else was here. 

Following her instinct, she quickly climbed into the cupboard, closing the doors as softly as she could, covering her mouth tight to not let even the soft sound of her breathing be heard. She watched through the tiny air vents of the cupboard as two men she had never seen before walked in, armed with guns, looking around. 

“See, there’s no one here.” 

“But I swear I saw her. A brown-haired woman walked into the building-" 

“Hundreds of people live in this apartment; it was clearly someone else. Where’s your head at, are you drinking on the job?” 

“Of course, I wasn’t…It really looked like Ana….” The shorter of the two looked around, first confused then disgusted. “Every time I come in here, I forget how terrible the smell is. Why can’t we get someone to clear the trash? Those bananas especially- ” 

“Boss said nothing here was to be touched remember? Just do your job. Watch the place as you were instructed.” 

“But it’s terribly boring…” 

And the voices faded away, perhaps as they left, allowing Na Bi to loosen her tense muscles just before they began to cramp. She gave it a good ten-minute grace period to make sure they were truly gone and climbed out of the closet. Thinking fast, she quickly stripped out of the shirt she was wearing, stuffed it into her own bag and pulled one of Ana’s pink sweaters over her head. She then grabbed a cap that was lying in there and put it on, tucking her hair into it. Without wasting much time, she left the house, leaving the door the way she found it and got into the elevator. Looking at her fuzzy reflection in the silver of the walls, she adjusted her clothes and put on a mask to hide her face just before it opened at the ground floor, revealing the two men from earlier standing right there. 

They looked at her but Na bi didn't panic - she made sure they wouldn’t recognise her, there was no reason to be worried but she held her breath nevertheless as she walked past the oblivious men, still arguing about their ‘job’. Head down, she made her way out of the gates and onto the street, processing all the information and most importantly, her biggest observation – those two men, they were not wearing combat boots.  

That meant someone else was looking for Ana as well. Someone who already knew who she was and where she lived and by the look of their guns, someone who was equally dangerous. Clearly this whole deal was a lot bigger than Na bi had ever imagined and like an idiot, she had just walked herself straight into the mess. 

And also, into the rock-hard chest of a very familiar man. 

She looked up, rubbing her hurting forehead to see the man standing with his arms behind his back, a disapproving look all over his face. Wonho. And over his shoulder, Na Bi saw a black van. Fuck, don’t tell me- 

And sure enough, she was grabbed by her wrist and shoved into the van before it sped off. 

10 days later. 

“Are you sure you want another drink? You’ve had quite a few tonight.” 

Na Bi raised her head and looked at the bartender through her hooded, heavy eyes. 

“Just pour what I’m paying you for.” She slurred. 

The man shook his head disapprovingly before placing a shot glass with pretty, pink coloured drink on the counter. “You don’t have to pay; the gentleman there already did.” 

Na Bi rolled her head back lazily and looked in the direction he was pointing at. Like any other drunk woman, she was used to being approached by all kinds of men in the bar but she usually didn't care much. Though it didn’t take much to bring her inhibitions down, she was always in control of herself and a woman who knew what she wanted. The older men she refused, the younger ones she laughed at, the sleazy ones she steered clear of. But very rarely, a captivating one like him would appear and Na bi did not think she minded this one.  

She got up with her drink, a bit too tipsy to fix her shorts that were far too up her thighs and made her way to this so-called gentleman sitting on the bar stool, further down from her. She found herself a place between his manspread, her eyes running from his long, bared neck to his only partially concealed chest. His eyes though, were fixed on her mouth. She knew he wanted it but what was the rush? 

“Why this drink?” 

“Try it.” He half shouted over the music, so she raised her glass to down it, the warm liquid pleasantly burning her throat. 

“I like it.” She licked her lips, knowing his eyes were fixed there. When they flickered up to meet hers, she felt hot under his gaze. 

“I like you.” Uh oh, too cheesy. 

Na Bi was decently good at reading people which meant she saw right through him. He was incredibly handsome, with the kind of built that probably had women fawning over him all the time, but looking at his soft doe eyes, how his hands didn’t even try to touch her yet and his terrible way with words, she could tell approaching women was not something he did often. Normally Na bi wouldn't have done the following, but today, something pushed her to.  

Setting her glass down on the counter, she slowly took his hands and wrapped them around her waist before letting her own go round his neck, fingers making their way into his hair. With just millimetres between them, hot breaths mingling, she expected to feel her pulse quicken, like his did, in the veins of his neck. What she wasn’t expecting was how fast his mouth found hers, latching almost hungrily, like it waited too long. He felt like a strange ecstasy, lips, tongue, teeth, all of it, her stomach knotting like she was plummeting from a height as he pressed her up against himself harder. 

Noticing his hands starting to get more daring on her body, much to his surprise she pulled herself from him and walked away, past the dancing crowd to the edge of the club. He watched as she stopped right by the washrooms and turned to him, beckoning him with her finger. His lips breaking into a small smirk, he followed, somehow getting more urgent with each step until he reached her, pushing her back, trapping her between the wall and his mouth.  

“You’re so fucking hot, I could take you right here.”  

Na bi chuckled at his unexpected desperation, a snide response dancing at the tip of her tongue but it was lost when his mouth moved down her neck and his hands found her ass. Biting back a moan, she revelled in the feeling of his mouth on her, not caring about the many judging eyes she met over his shoulder. Until she saw them.  

Two pairs of combat boots. In the middle of the dance floor. Watching her unblinking.  

Na bi immediately stiffened and it did not go unnoticed by the man before her who pulled back, looking tensed.  

“Is something wrong?”  

“No, I uh…” Her head slightly spinning, she shook it. “I think I need water. Could you get me some?” 

Making sure she was okay once again, he left for the bar, allowing Na bi to look around, observing her surroundings that were starting to turn hazy. They seemed to be the only pair of combat boots around and maybe the alcohol was seriously affecting her judgement but she had enough. Turning on her heel, she quickly walked past the washrooms to the back door of the club, swung it open and stepped out. As expected, the two men instantly followed her but when they stepped out after her, she wasn’t there.

As the door shut, Na bi who had hidden herself behind it, grabbed a discarded metal rod and took a swing at the man closer to her, knocking him out in an instant. His partner immediately turned, his gun pointing right at her but even drunk, she was faster than him, striking him with the same rod, his gun dropping to the ground. Within a second, the tables had turned.  

Na bi had possession of the gun, as the man across her stood with his hands in the air, the slightest tinge of fear in his eyes.  

“Keys.” Na bi held out her hand. “Car keys.”  

Reaching for his back pocket, he took out a bunch of keys and handed it to her slowly.  

“Where’s the car?” She raised an eyebrow, repeating when all her gave her was silence. “Where is it?” 

“Near the entrance.”  

“Do you have a phone?” He shook his head. Sighing Na bi tossed him her phone which he caught frowning in confusion. “9963. Unlock it.”  

He complied, holding up the phone to show her. 

“Good. Does this gun have a silencer?” This time he nodded. “Then I suggest you act fast. Ambulances take time on Friday nights and this guy has 20 minutes before he bleeds out.”  

And without a warning, she aimed the gun at the leg of his partner lying unconscious on the road and took a shot, blood instantly gushing out. Stashing the gun behind her, Na bi ran towards the entrance, without even so much as looking back at what she had done. Reaching the parking lot, she let the sound of the car unlocking to lead her to a black Mercedes and got in, immediately turning on the engine, driving away from the dark of the night to where it was darkest.  

It had been a little over a week since Na bi’s little visit to Ana’s house.

That day when she was shoved into the van again, everything made sense - this was why they had let her go. They had expected her to contact Ana to warn her and so evidently, they had their eyes on her the whole time, waiting for her to make a move. Lucky for them, within 24 hours, they went from not knowing a thing about Ana’s identity right to discovering where she lived.  

Na bi had underestimated them; she knew something bigger was at play yet she allowed her emotions to cloud her judgement and now she was truly done for. She had given them what they wanted; she was of no use anymore. She accepted that finally her time had come to an end but turned out, she was wrong again. Instead of the warehouse, Na bi found herself being tossed onto the street near her house once more and the black van sped off once before Wonho gave her yet another warning.  

“Third time’s a charm Baek. I might not be so merciful if I see you again. Stay away from where you don’t belong.”  

Anyone in her place would have thanked their stars for getting not one, but two chances to live but Na bi felt an unwarranted anger. The first time they let her go, they had an agenda. They used her to their advantage which meant this time too, they were up to something. Na bi hated the how they kept playing her but the truth was, no matter how many ways she tried to analyse the situation, she had no idea what they wanted from her now. The only one who could put her mind to ease by giving an explanation was the man in the shadows and with a bitter taste in her mouth, Na bi remembered that he predicted she would go back to him.  

“You’ll come back to me.” 

Recalling the sheer confidence in his voice, Na bi promised herself to do anything but that. He was clearly playing some mind game with her and she was not going to fall for it again. 

As far as Ana was concerned, after a lot of contemplation, Na bi decided to go to the cops. After all, that was what any logical, reasonable person in her place would and should do. There was more than one group of dangerous people looking for her and it was only a matter of time before they managed to find her; only the law could help Ana now. But the next afternoon, the moment Na bi stepped into the police station closest to the hospital, she realised that yet again, she was wrong.

Sitting right there on the bench was a widely built man dressed in a black shirt and olive-green pants, tapping away his foot on the concrete floor. His combat boot clad foot. Before he looked up and caught her eye, Na bi looked away as though she didn’t notice him there at all. When a cop approached asking why she was here, thinking fast, she took out the largest bill she could find in her wallet and handed it to him, claiming she found it on the street and left immediately.  

Of course the man in the shadows had his men in the police station. Criminals always made sure to stay close to law enforcement - prevention was after all better than cure. Na bi sighed in relief, glad that she was quick enough to notice the man. Had she given her statement, she would have turned from a mere risk factor to an actual threat and the man in the shadows definitely could not be benevolent or dumb enough to let her walk away with that. As much as she hated to admit, there was nothing Na bi could do to help Ana anymore – the time had come to forget any of this ever happened.  

Except they wouldn’t let her.  

The first time she noticed was that night when she went to close the curtains of her window – standing right across her building on the street was a man leaning against the lamp post smoking his cigarette, the combat boots evident on his feet. Though she felt like her heart was in mouth, Na bi simply drew the curtains and told herself to calm down. She was tired and lived four floors above the ground floor, maybe she was just not seeing right. But the next morning when she left her building, Na bi knew she didn’t make a mistake – he was still there and he was definitely wearing combat boots. Turning up her senses to high alert, Na bi made her way to work and realised much to her horror, the men in combat boots were everywhere – on the roads she walked, in the trains she took, the bakery where she grabbed her breakfast, the library where she worked on her papers and even in her workplace, one sitting aimlessly in the visitor lounge and another with an IV line hooked up for ‘dehydration’.  

Na bi was wrong once more. It wasn’t the police station they had their eye on, it was her they were watching. More than just watching actually. She could tell her mail had been opened and checked before she got to it. The newfound buzzing sound in the background of all her calls meant her phone was being tapped. She was being monitored round the clock.  

Na bi tried her best to behave like she didn’t notice anything. She still had no idea what these men wanted from her so she knew had to make her every move carefully – she was not going to be their little scapegoat yet again. Though as days passed, it got more and more hard to pretend. Not only was the feeling of constantly being watched invasive, intrusive and extremely uncomfortable, the fact that Na bi still couldn’t fathom why the hell they were doing it was driving her up the wall. But she held it in and let her despisal for ignorance take a backseat while they continued to treat her privacy like it was nothing.  

And now, after whole week and a half, she had finally reached her limit. It had been a few very draining days at both work and in her personal life and after weeks, she had come out with some colleagues to wind down, so to see those men watching her when she was having a preferably private moment was just – 

Na Bi slammed the brakes as she reached her destination. The man at the bar. She had forgotten all about him and left without an explanation. A slight guilt rose in her chest but it quickly died down. She didn't owe him anything - he was company for just a bit, a momentary escape, an illusion before she threw herself back into her regular life. After the days she had, she badly needed a break from everything but here she was instead, in front of the large doors of the warehouse where it all began. 

You’ll come back to me.  

She stumbled out of the car, her footing trying its best after all the drinks she had tonight and walked up to the metal doors, pushing them open. Standing right in the middle of a familiar scenery was Wonho, who’s eyes narrowed at her first in suspicion, then annoyance.  

“How the hell did you find this place?”  

“Wasn’t so hard.” Na bi pointed around vaguely. “Looks like a warehouse, reeks of gasoline, mud on my shoes from that night was coal black. Considering It took 30 minutes at average speed when you brought me back home and there were barely any stops on the way means no traffic signals, means highway, means outskirts. Combine all that and there was only one abandoned car engine factory that fit the profile.”  

When the weight of her words sunk in, Wonho chuckled. “You’re smart.”  

“I know.”  

“But not smart enough.” He walked up her. “You found a way in but do you have a way out?”  

Na bi reached for the gun stashed behind her back and pulled it out, pointing it right at Wonho’s chest, history repeating itself, just a little differently. Immediately she heard the click of at least 40 guns, men and women finally stepping out from the shadows around, their weapons aimed right at her.  

“Now now, let’s not be hasty.” She threw the gun down in the mud, holding her hands up. “I just want to talk.”  

“Conversations don’t interest me.”  

“I don’t need long. Actually, I can’t take long. You see, I just left a party about 20 minutes ago without informing anyone. Now the amazing people that my friends are, the longer I’m missing, the more likely they are to try to locate me by tracking my phone, which, I should let you know, is with two of your men who are in a very unexplainable, compromising situation right now. So, before it becomes a scene and the cops get involved and this whole thing spirals out of your control and mine, I suggest you let me get my answers and let me go.”  

Wonho laughed but when his subordinate walked up and whispered something in his ear, the smile was wiped off his face, landing on Na bi’s instead. Her claim had been verified. 

“What do you want to know?”  

Na bi shook her head, instantly regretting it when her head started spinning. “Not you. I want to talk to your boss.” Wonho stiffened, making her click her tongue. She knew she didn’t have long before all those drinks in her body betrayed her. “Tick tock.” 

Sighing he moved out of the way, his voice disgruntled. “Straight down, door on the left.”  

Taking a deep breath, Na bi followed his instructions and a big white door loomed into sight. Every part of what she was doing was stupid and reckless and insane but it was too late. She had come too far for answers, she just had to go a little further. Ignoring the way everything around her was spinning, she opened the door and stepped in.     

Na Bi didn’t know what she expecting to see in here. Her best guess was something straight out of the Godfather movie. Some sort of luxuriously decorated room with a middle-aged man sitting on a velvet couch drinking whiskey on the rocks. But the sight before her was nothing like that. It was a small, simple, dimly lit room with empty white walls, just a wooden table and chair in the middle and in front of it was a young man with his back to her. He was tall and lean, putting on a black vest over his white shirt, looking at her over his shoulder, the long fringes of his hair covering most of his face. 

“You came back Ms. Baek.”  

He turned, walking up to her, finally appearing in the light and Na bi felt her lips part wordlessly.  

He was beautiful. Beautiful in a way dangerous things were. Skin pale like it had never seen the light of day starkly contrasting his jet-black hair pushed back in a way that framed his face so appropriately. His eyes were empty but also saying a hundred unknown things at once. Her gaze wandered down his sharp nose and thin, blood red lips and Na Bi felt like she finally understood what people meant when they told her lips were captivating. There was nothing more she wanted to do than feel them just once, her hand unknown to her, reaching for it. 

He took a step back, moving away but she held him by collar and pulled him back towards her, their faces inches away from each other. If Na Bi thought she felt electricity with any other man in her life, what she felt with him was feral. The attraction was inexplicable and illogical and inappropriate.  

“Sorry, I don’t know why I just really wanted to….” She let him go, stumbling back, feeling her knees starting to give away. “Who… who are you?”  

A whole minute passed before he decided to answer. “I.M”

“Hmm, you are?”  

The edges of his lips curved into a small smile. “I am Changkyun.”   

Next Chapter

[i-think-i-did-it-again]

The Tour III

Warning: swearing, smut

Your mind has gone blank. Colson’s lips are on yours, desperate and needy. He presses your body against the door with his and you can feel his arousal through his jeans, much like your own. Your body is hot. A fire is burning in your core and you’re in no rush to put it out. Desire pools in your panties and Colson grinds his hard dick against you. The sensation is tantalising and you find yourself panting and half moaning against his lips. Then it hits you. You’re in Colson’s room and he is kissing you like you're a tall glass of water and he’s been wandering the desert but this is wrong. 

“Colson,” you warn but he’s too busy attacking your neck. 

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” he breathes against your skin and a shiver runs down your spine at his husky voice. 

“I….” your words trail off when his teeth graze your throat. 

Don’t let him do this!

A knocking on the door makes you yelp and Colson clamps his hand over your mouth as he continues to trail kisses down your body. He makes no attempt to answer the person on the other side and you’re too lost in his lips to want him to. 

“Kells, is Y/N in there with you?” Rook’s concerned voice breaks through the wood. “Her phone is going crazy.”

Colson growls a low, guttural complaint but pulls himself away. Creating some distance between the two of you, he lies back on the bed and gestures for you to open the door. You do that and look up Rook with what you know is a guilty as fuck expression. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you apologise, trying to play off your guilt as he hands you your phone. 

“It’s cool, I should’ve been up 20 minutes ago anyway.”

He doesn’t say anything else, he just turns on his heels and heads back to the front of the bus. You look at your phone and you have 2 missed calls from Francis and some texts and a half a dozen missed calls from Ashleigh. You decide to call her first. You look back at Colson but his arm is back over his eyes and he doesn’t look pleased. You leave without saying a word and head to the private lounge area to call Ashleigh back. She seems like the lesser of two evils at this point. 

“Hey, is everything-” you start but Ashleigh’s panicked voice cuts you off. 

“Where the fuck have you been?!” she screeches down the phone so loudly you have to pull it away from your ear. 

“I was…”

About to bone Colson on the first day of tour.

“Just getting my bearings,” you answer, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Well Francis is freaking out because he wanted an update on Colson’s mood and you didn’t answer. He doesn’t like to be ignored.”

“He wants an update about Colson after 2 hours on a bus? He’s…sleeping. It’s not like we’re in here throwing a rager and everyone is wasted out of their minds.”

“Ok, point taken. I’ll call him and tell him to back off a little bit.”

That wasn’t really what you meant but Ashleigh disconnects the call before you have a chance to point that out. You sit in the lounge unsure of where to go. You have a feeling that Colson is pissed off you got interrupted so you don’t particularly want to go back in there but you don’t want to be around Rook either. Your best friend is one of the most perceptive people you’ve ever known and he will smell something is up the minute you’re around him and, if you’re being honest with yourself, you have no fucking clue what just happened. You decide Colson is the safer option but when you open the door, his quiet snores fill the room and your heart flutters. 

He’s lying on the bed, his arms wrapped around his pillow like he’s cuddling it, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. He looks so peaceful and soft. The usual angles and harsh lines of his face are relaxed and his brow is not drawn in its usual frown. 

“Y/N,” your chest tightens when you hear Colson lightly breathe your name in his sleep and you have to leave the room before you do something stupid. Well, another one. 

So fucking screwed. 

[sailorshadzter]

stay.

shout out to this piece because i've officially cracked 900k words on ao3!

my goal was to hit 1mil words by the end of this year, which feels pretty daunting now considering its december 1st tomorrow lol. but we'll see how the month goes :)

He knows better than to take this path.

Yet, there he walks, his feet taking him the ever familiar pathway to her rooms, and he finds himself standing outside her door. From within he hears her muffled voice, perhaps singing to herself, perhaps singing to Ghost, a thought that warms him from his head down to his toes. A shaking breath escapes him and he raises his hand, knocking three times, his usual, she would know it to be him without even opening the door. Her voice silences and from behind the wood he hears shuffling, her footsteps, then the door swings open and she stands there in her dark gray gown of wool, red hair hanging down her back, the pins already pulled free. “Jon,” she says his name softly, blue eyes widening ever so slightly. But she takes a step back, allowing him entry, the door falling closed behind him.

Just as he’d thought, Ghost sits on the rug before the hearth, his tail thumping a greeting before he lays down, head to his paws, red eyes falling closed. “I thought you might be in bed,” Jon admits, turning his gaze from his wolf and back to her, finding she’s already looking right at him. “It is late.” The hour is so late that many of the candles that burn in the corridors have dwindled to little more than puddles of wax. 

She tilts her head, doing her best to keep her face passive as she stares back at the man she feels like she doesn’t even know anymore. Her mind turns back to their argument from earlier that day- did you bend the knee for the North, or because you love her? Have you no faith in me at all? She swallows, shaking her head. “No, I’m not all that tired,” she says finally, the silence between them palpable. “And I thought you might be with her.” She silently curses at herself for mentioning the dragon queen, but jealousy once again gets the best of her.

Surprisingly, Jon does not flinch, rather he shakes his head. 

“I always come to bid you goodnight.” Is all he says, simply, perhaps even defeatedly. 

Now her heart twists, her stomach sinking to her knees. 

“You do,” she responds softly, hands curling into fists at her sides. She can’t really explain why things have become so difficult between them… Except… The dragon queen’s beautiful face flashes in her mind and she sighs, knowing that it’s no more than jealousy on her part. Of course Jon was to fall in love with a woman, a beautiful queen no less. She can’t blame him for that, surely? Yet… She’s angry with him for it. “Jon, I…” His name is still so sweet upon her lips and she wonders why they can’t just fall back into what it was before he left for Dragonstone. But perhaps that was because if he loved another, they could never have back what they had before. 

Yet, he could never have loved her in such a way, being her brother and all. Such an idea was sick, was twisted, a thought that makes her no better than a Lannister. “You don’t have to say anything, Sansa,” he says next, interrupting her whirling mind. “I was wrong,” he goes on, quieter now, taking a single step closer to where she stands. “For not telling you the truth right away.” Her eyes widen with silent surprise, a perfectly sculpted brow arching with the question she doesn’t even have to ask. “I thought I might shoulder the burden of it all alone.” He had thought, in order to keep her and the North safe, that he would tell no one of his plans. But then, Bran had found him after their fight that morning and everything changed. There would be no hiding things from Bran and it was his encouragement that sent him to her rooms tonight, simply so he could be honest with her. And now that he thinks about it, he knows he should have told her it all from the very beginning. 

“We’re family, Jon. You never have to do anything alone.” She speaks passionately, reaching out for him- as always, she’s the one to reach for him. Her hand takes hold of his and squeezes, reminding him of those nights so long ago when she’d climb into bed with him after a nightmare, the feel of her hand grasping his in the darkness, the scent of her freshly washed hair against his pillow. “You can trust me.” 

Of course he can, there’s no one he trusts more in this world. 

Without another word, she draws him across the room, to take a seat at her small table, she sitting just across from him in the opposite chair. He wonders, just for a moment, who had sat across from her like this while he’d been away. “She must think we’re on her side, at least for now.” Jon says softly, as if anyone in the castle could be listening. “I can’t say what will happen after the Night King, but until then, she must be our ally.” Sansa nods, listening, thinking, deciding. “We can’t win this without her.” Another nod and she’s still holding his hand. 

“She’ll expect us to ride South for her,” Sansa predicts and Jon nods, a thought he’s had himself. 

“Aye, but we can’t worry about that now.” Right now, all that mattered was if they would come through alive after the fight with the Night King. “I missed you,” he says next, surprising her once more, but in an entirely different way. “Every day and every night that I was gone, I missed you.” He isn’t certain where the courage comes to say these things, but somehow, this moment feels right to speak the other truth he’s kept inside. This time, he is the one to give her hand a tender squeeze. 

“I missed you as well,” she says softly, slowly, blue eyes dark and damp.

Jon swallows, uncertainty between them, a feeling of what could be, what should be, but she’s smiling then, a beautiful sight. It gives him hope he’s not had in all the time he’s been away from her. “I should go…” He says quietly, knowing the hour was late, she needed rest, she needed sleep. But her hand keeps him in his place, shaking her head.

 “Stay,” she urges, a simple request. 

One which he’ll readily give into. 

One which he’s always longed to hear.