#n' his boss theme... sobs

[hismourningflower]

2.1 penacony spoilers (not major tho cause like... yknow i don't discuss much here)

just fought husband and managed to do it first try? like we didn't struggle at all! and i loved the gambling stuff idk why i was having the time of my life :c just didn't wanna hurt my husband that bad yknow

[reiderwriter]

🗝 Don't Back Down 🗝

Pairing: Unit Chief! Sub Spencer Reid x dom! BAU Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 24

Requested: Hello!! You are an excellent writer, and I hope you don’t mind a random request. :)!Basically, Spencer breaks protocol and endangers himself - runs after an unsub without backup, takes off his vest, etc. whatever it is - the reader is either there or finds out and is PISSED. She’s obviously not above him in the BAU, so she can’t punish him at work, but she can punish him in bed through toys/edging.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, brief mentions of details, minor gunshot wound, sex toys, punishment, BDSM themes, male sub Spencer, cock ring, dildo, masturbation (f), squirting, overstimulation (male), multiple orgasms, begging, messy sex, slight cum play, implied oral sex (f), boss/ subordinate relationship, partial established relationship, FWB dynamic. Implied switch x switch.

A/N: Hello! I really loved writing Unit Chief Spencer for my first Kink Bingo fic, so I've decided to bring him back a second time, and I'll be rounding out the challenge with a third part in the Unit Chief saga in July! You don't have to have read the first part, but if you want to, you can find it here~♡ I'm still enjoying the challenge of interpreting all the bingo challenges and this marks my very first bingo line! Let's see if I can get a full board!!

Masterlist || Bingo Board

His tenure as Unit Chief may have been temporary and wholly unwanted, but you admired Spencer's commitment to actually taking care of every member of the team he was left in charge of. 

He'd supported JJ in interviews, actually taking care of the press very effectively, and made sure Garcia was calm and stable. Hell, he'd even made Rossi feel better about his work on cases. And for you - well, he'd taught you to shoot straight. That and more. 

He'd held you in the middle of the night on the tougher cases, letting you sob into his bare chest the day you'd first killed an unsub. He'd distracted you from cases with his tongue, and his fingers and his dick, he'd given you pleasure where the job gave only pain and stress, and you loved him. 

You loved him, even if he was going to get himself killed. 

At first, it had been pulling Luke out of the way of a moving vehicle, being almost mowed down himself when on a case. Then he'd walked into a scene without his gun and had actually taken off his vest in exchange for JJ and Tara being able to back away to safety. He'd closed a door between him and Rossi and an active bomb that had only just been deactivated in time, and more recently, he'd taken two bullets for you. 

It was like he wanted to die. 

Th bullets, of course, had hit his vest, but a third had scraped his shoulder, and the cry out of pain had you nearly hysterical. Luke had taken down the unsub immediately, but you were a flood of tears already, panicking and having and dropping to your knees as you shook, the anxiety of almost losing him flooding your body with adrenaline. 

After all that, he was still the one comforting you. 

“Y/N. Y/N, shhh, it's okay, I'm here. I'm okay. Don't cry were both safe, I saved you. We're safe.” 

You pounded at his chest, but with the others surrounding you, there was nothing to do but stand and pull yourself together, even if you wanted to rage at him and tell and scream. 

He gave out orders and was escorted away to an ambulance, and you wiped your tears and got to work. You'd fucked Spencer, sure, you had been fucking him for months now, but it wasn't a relationship. It certainly wasn't anything your coworkers knew about, and you knew they'd have words if they did know. 

So you wiped your tears, and you put your head down and finished up your work. Then you made your way back to the jet, back to your home, back to your bed, and waited for him to make an appearance. 

You weren't in a relationship, but you knew he'd come. You heard his keys in your door, rolling your eyes at how naive you'd been handing it over - in case of emergencies, really, he had Luke and Penelope’s spare keys as well because they lived alone, it'd be safer. 

You sat up in your bed and waited for him to come in, scoffing when he knocked on your bedroom door.

“Was there a point to that, Spencer?” You asked, calling him in. 

He looked dishevelled, slightly worse for ware, but god did he look good. He wore a new shirt, a bullet hole ripped in the last one, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The top buttons were undone, and he discarded his jacket on your chair before stepping closer. 

“Y/N…” his voice was so tired you almost forgot how angry you were. Almost. 

“No. Don't come to me like that after you pulled that stupid shit today, Spencer.” 

“He was going to shoot you-” 

“He was going to miss. You're taller than me. And if I'd stayed where I was, I would have fired off a round before he could even get one shot in. But you pushed me out of the way and almost got yourself killed instead.”

He stood with his hands on his hips in front of the bed, a scowl on his face as he struggled with words to find next. 

“I won't apologize for saving your life.”

“No, you won't because you didn't save my life. You almost ended yours.”

“Y/N-” 

You knelt on the bed now and grabbed his shoulders, pushing him to his knees. 

“No. I'm done listening, and you're done talking. If you're not going to stop walking into near death experiences, you don't get to walk in here and fuck me.”

He sank to his knees easily, his eyes wide as you sat up on the bed in front of him. You thought of leaving him there the entire night, of kicking him out into the living room to sleep on the couch. If you hadn't been through so much that day, you'd just send him home. 

But sat there on his knees, you saw a flash of desire in his eyes, big and round and needy. 

His gaze flicked to your core, and you suddenly entertained different ways to punish him, to train him out of destructive behaviour. 

“Handcuffs,” you said, holding out your hands for them. He passed them up, and you left the bed, restraining his hands behind his back quickly and grabbing two items from your draws. 

You moved to the bed and knelt again as he looked at you with dark eyes, suddenly aware of what was happening to him. 

“Y/N-” 

“I didn't say you could speak,” you said as you quickly peeled off your nightdress, leaving yourself bare on the bed. 

Usually, you'd feel embarrassed being naked. Even when he undressed you, you felt the urge to cover your tits, to squeeze your legs shut so he couldn't see all of you, to let him pry your hands away, to coax your legs apart. 

Now, you sat confidently, spine straightening as you looked down at him. 

His eyes took in your body, and he winced as if pained when you touched yourself, knowing that usually he alone had that honour. 

“Y/N…”

“One more time, and you won't return to this bed for days. Do you understand?”

Learning, he nodded and sat up again to watch your fingers play with your nipples, twisting them either way as you moaned and sighed above him.

His breathing hitched as you let your hands trail lower and lower until they reached your cunt. You didn't touch yourself yet though. 

“Open,” You said, leaning forward and tapping his chin. He complied, opening his mouth and you shoved two fingers inside.

“Get them nice and wet for me.” 

He licked and sucked your fingers for two minutes, never breaking eye contact as his spit rolled down your hand. 

“Good boy,” you said, pulling them away as you began to touch yourself. Sitting back on your ass, you rubbed your clit, rubbing his spit into your sensitive button, letting him know how good it felt, how close you were to cumming with his spit on your cunt. You plunged one finger in and then another as you watched him bite his tongue, careful not to let even a small sound slip out. 

You didn't even have to glance down to know he was hard. It was in the set of his shoulders, the rapid breaths he took. It was the way he sat back on his heels, rocking back and forth to feel some goddamn friction. 

You couldn't have that. 

You placed your foot on his uninjured shoulder and tried to hold him in place. 

“Don't fucking move,” you said, slipping a second finger inside yourself ad you picked up the pace. Your hips bucked ad you watched him watch your cunt, paying attention to every twitch you made, every moan, breath, gasp, and shudder. 

“I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna- shit! Shit-” 

You came with a spurt, squirting your cum across his face as he leaned closer, desperate to taste you. You grabbed his hair and forced him backwards though, grabbing the two toys beside you as you dropped down to the floor. 

“You're not touching my cunt today, Spencer, not even for a taste. You're not touching anything today.”

You pulled his cock free from his pants and spat on it, not bothering to touch it properly before pushing the cock ring onto him and pressing the on button. 

In a minute he was a moaning mess and you smiled at the painful pleasure disrupting his features. 

“Eyes open, Spencer, you have to keep watching.” 

You kept your eyes locked with his, his mouth open wide in a silent moan as he tried not to cum, desperate to hold out for you as long as he could. 

You climbed back onto your bed and spread your legs again, this time accompanied by a translucent plastic cock. You teased your hole for a few seconds, grabbing Spencer's attention before pushing it in. 

His eyes were stormy as he watched you fuck yourself with your old companion. You hadn't used it in a while, basically since you'd started fucking Spencer. He had rules, and one of them was that you couldn't use the dildo without his permission. He'd never given permission.

The look on his face now was worth whatever punishment he'd had out in the future, a mixture of anger and pathetic arousal, his eyes never leaving your cunt even as his own dick started spurting.

He came quickly, splashing up his shirt, ruining his pants. 

You left him there like that, though, even as he winced from the overstimulation. 

He didn't make a sound still, even as his dick got hard again almost immediately after deflating the first time.

“Look at what a mess you made. You're such a little pervert that you just came all over your shirt and pants. I hope you bought a spare, Spencer.” 

His fight was gone as he looked at you again, only lust left as he panted and writhed beneath you. 

You kept riding the dildo, burying It between pillows so you could ride it easier without needing to hold it. 

He watched transfixed as his cock twitched again, vibrating still right on his balls. 

“Tell me how good it feels, Spencer.’

“Hurts… Y/N, so good…. it hurts.”

You smiled down at him and kept asking him questions, knowing he'd never be able to stay quiet now. 

“Do you want to cum again?” 

“Fuck…yes, please, Y/N, please.”

“Do you want to cum all over yourself one more time?”

“N-No… messy, want to cum…in you.”

“What a shame, Spencer, but that isn't allowed. I won't let you cum in me if you're going to try to take a bullet in the field.”

“Y/N… p-please,” he whined, and you heard his voice break, hips thrusting up into the air now as he watched you. 

“No. You're going to cum on yourself until you promise not to do it again.”

He shook his head, closing his eyes as he tried to resist cumming for a second time, so out of control. “Please-” 

“You can do it. Promise me.” 

“Y/N, p-please let me cum” he moaned again, his hands pulling at the restraints so he could get this infernal cock ring off of him and bury himself inside of you. 

But it was too late, and his second orgssm stretched out longer than the one before. 

You'd leaned in so close you'd caught a drop of cum on your face, but most of it pooled on him instead. He collapses backwards, his cum coating his stomach and chest, his shirt going translucent in places as the ring kept buzzing. 

His moans were loud now, and immediately, he knew it was too much to wish for round three. 

“I promise! Y/N, I promise, please fuck, I promise.”

You quickly fell to the floor, turning off the cock ring and slipping it off as you kissed him tenderly, thanking him and praising him for doing such a good job for you. 

You rolled him onto his side and removed the handcuffs, immediately pulling them into your lap and massaging them, feeling a bit guilty about the red marks. 

“Spencer?” You asked after a few moments when he seemed to have regained his breath and his senses. 

“Mmm?” 

“We should get you in bed. You need to rest.” 

He nodded and weakly sat himself up, falling into bed beside you. He threw the dildo across the room and nuzzled himself into you, head buried between your breasts. 

You pulled away and came back with a wash cloth, stripping his shirt and pants and cleaning the cum off him as best you could so he could sleep comfortably. 

“I prefer when you do that with your mouth, you know?” He joked, and you playfully hit his leg. He couldn't still be thinking about sex after that. 

But he was. As careful as you were to not overstimulate him again, his cock still rose again, and he pushed your hands away, pulling you up to him. 

“I came twice, but you only did it once,” he whispered between kisses. 

“It seems like we need to get even.”

With that, you knew that your turn being in charge was over, and he was the leader now.

"But only if you beg for it," you smirked, looking up at him, but he easily flipped you over, pushing you up so you were kneeling on the sheets above him again, him undernesth you. 

You happily followed him as he pulled your dripping core over his mouth, and he pulled you in for one last taste, begging you for forgiveness with his tongue again and again.

[onlymingyus]

Eyes Roll (Patreon Exclusive Bonus)

pairing; wen junhui x f reader x xu minghao

genre; smut (minor dni), filth

summary; Minghao thinks he might be the luckiest son of a bitch in the world to find himself back in your bed and between your legs. Jun knows he's the luckiest one as he watches, a smirk on his face while his best friend groans between his wife's thighs.

dark content/content warnings; as this is an bonus drabble of Shut Up keep in mind this is mob boss!junhui, second in command!minghao, assistant!reader, some toxic themes possible -- wife!reader/husband!junhui, they are obsessed with one another but if you read Shut Up... once again you will know.

smut warnings; threesome, mlm undertones/poly (because I am me)/ unprotected sex, double penetration, pet names, degrading, praise, so much dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), aftercare, dom!junhui, switch!minghao, sub!reader

w/c; 2.1k and some change (341 this teaser)

eyes roll - (g)i-dle

a/n; written for/out of spite for @junkissed -- thank you for also giving it a good once over june! i really hope you like it and i hope all my peaches like it just as much. sometimes you just gotta write some filth.

this fic is a Patreon exclusive bonus drabble -- to read this drabble subscribe to my Patreon and click here

“You’re so pretty when your eyes roll back like that, doll.” 

Minghao smirks against your thigh as you lick your already bitten lips. He had been between your thighs for what seemed like hours, but he had no intention of leaving or slowing down. This was one of those rare moments when he had been invited back into your and Jun’s bed and he wasn’t going to waste it. 

Biting at his bottom lip as he sits patiently at the end of the bed in a chair, Jun tilts his head, watching your head fall back with a moan. Minghao was the only person he’d allow in his bed and between your legs. He could admit that he liked the way he looked as he ravished you. The way you both looked as you came apart. 

Normally, he would be in bed with you both. He’d be leading the room, much like he did in everyday scenarios, but tonight he was spending the first part of it enjoying the sounds coming out of your and Minghao’s mouths. You were breathless, panting like a cat in heat, and Minghao sounded like he was feral as he lapped at your cunt. 

“You’ve got him humping the mattress, kitten. That’s how fuckin’ good you taste.” Jun’s voice sends you over the edge once more as Minghao’s long fingers fuck you deep. You sob incoherently, feeling his skilled tongue circle your clit, the vibrations of his deep groans causing your thighs to tremble around his head before you fall back into your pillows exhausted. 

Smirking against your swollen folds, Minghao glances up at the length of your body as you lay pliant under his touch. With one more long lick of his tongue from your dripping hole to your clit, he relishes in the sound of your choked moans and the quiver of your thighs pressed against his ears before you whisper pleas for mercy. 

“You can’t handle it? Come on, baby... You can take more. Haven’t even had my cock. What about Jun’s cock?”

READ THE ENTIRE DRABBLE

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[aajjks]

Needy (m)

synopsis. you think he’s needy? He’ll show you just how needy he can be.

warnings. mature themes, kissing, extreme yandere behaviour, manipulation, cute koo, sexy times, sexual tension, marking, oh it’s hot, unhealthy dependance, triggering themes.

taglist: @lustfulpjm @bebejungkook @bunnysandsunflowers @livid-and-in-love @dimguin

disclaimer. This is purely fictional, viewer discretion is heavily advised. Do not romanticise this behaviour, strictly for entertainment purposes only!

“Noona.”

His voice calls out, cutting off your thoughts as you felt his hand wrap around your body, his other hand snaking around your waist,

He nuzzled his face into your neck, the cold and wet feeling of his tongue on your neck always sent shivers down your spine, the way his warm breath fanned over your pulse point, making goosebumps appear on your skin.

You could never really get used to his touchy nature.

“Hi baby.” You replied, looking at the papers in your hand. “Noona…. What are you doing?” He whined,

“I’m just looking through some important documents from work.”

Jungkook hummed, rubbing his nose into your neck. “Woke up early today hmm?” You turned the page, sighing. “‘Was cold without you, noona.”

You gave the documents a double look and closed them once you were satisfied. It was cold, undoubtedly, Seoul could be ruthlessly cold in winter.

Jungkook turned your body so you could face him now.

“Noona, can you skip work today and spend more time with me? Please?” The man child pouted, his sleepy eyes looking at you with hope. You caressed his cheek, you wanted to spend time with him too,

well, you always tried your hardest to spend the majority of your free time with him, he was your responsibility after all.

But the thing with Jungkook was that he was kind of…. Needy.

He wanted your attention 24/7.

He didn’t care if you had to work, Jungkook didn’t understand the importance of earning money or having your own privacy.

“Baby I have an important meeting today, I’m sorry.” You watched his gaze turn somber, “I can’t miss it sweetheart.” You whispered in his ear, your fingers caressing his cheek.

“Why?” His eyes turned glossy as he blinked twice. Oh him and his fragile heart, you felt bad, and guilty.

“Baby… actually my boss is hosting a new years dinner party tonight too… so I can’t skip it, it is mandatory for all the senior employees to attend.”

Jungkook whimpered at the thought of being away from you for so many hours, his hands grabbed your waist again.

“N-Noona what about me?”

He stopped sniffling and stared at you with a strange look. “I-I’ll miss you noona! VERY MUCH!” He pulled you in for a hug.

You sighed, “baby you know I don’t like to leave you alone a lot too… but I don’t really have a choice?”

He didn’t reply, his eyes were now bloodshot as he cried. He pulled you in for a hug. Your heart melted immediately at his gesture,

Jungkook was finally starting to behave like himself. But you needed to warn him.

clicking your tongue while you embraced him you spoke, “I don’t want you to behave like before Jungkook I’m serious.” You patted his back.

“I’ll be back before you know it!” No use though. He didn’t stop sobbing, you were sure he whined under his breath.

Your little brat.

He was mumbling something but you couldn’t hear him clearly, “jungkook.” You called out, trying to get out of his grip but the bunny man tightened his hold on your body.

Wow. He was too strong.

“Okay kookie I’m starting to get annoyed, my coffee is getting cold and don’t you want breakfast?”

“Want noona!” You pushed his shoulders [well tried to.] so he’d loosen his grip but it wasn’t working.

“So…” now there was only one way to get him to leave you.

“You don’t want the pizza with extra crust?” His heavy breathing stopped for a moment, he broke the hug and looked directly into your eyes, the glossy pupils dilated at the mention of his favourite food.

Ha, he was easy.

“Noona you’re s-so evil!” His tail wiggled and his ears perked up, his expressions were betraying his body. “But… firstly, you’ll eat the porridge I made.”

“NO NOONA YOU ARE TOO EVIL!”

You rolled your eyes as you walked over the kitchen counter, a wicked smile on your lips.

“Learned from my evil bunny.” You blew a kiss, winking.

“Okay stop drooling Jungkook.”

Jungkook watched you put on the black coat, his long hair almost falling over his eyes that were so focused on you, his eyes followed your every moment but he didn’t speak a word.

Just watched you quietly, his mouth open, his eyes turning hazy with your each moment, God, you looked so sexy.

The shade of that lipstick was perfect, it complimented your beautiful complexion so much,

your lips, Oh God, your lips.

“My noona is so pretty.” He breathed deeply, taking your attention, Jungkook’s heart fluttered when you smiled at him, he loved it so much when your eyes twinkled.

“Aww thanks Jungkook!”

He didn’t reply, too lost in your thoughts as he stalked towards you, “I really want to kiss you noona, can I?”

The room’s atmosphere shifted as he blurted that out, your hands stopped buttoning up the coat and he could tell the way your breath hitched.

“Please?” He stopped right before you, not waiting for your answer as he pushed your body towards his, your chest hitting his hard one as he inhaled your scent.

“So heavenly..” he whispered.

You were at a loss for words but didn’t stop him as he grabbed your face, bringing it closer to his.

Jungkook could feel your knees tremble as he refused to take his eyes away from your face, his lips now inches away from yours,

He was pulsing, he felt so hypnotised as his lips touched yours, his brain froze, his whole body felt like it was on fire.

He felt so hungry.

He swallowed your trembling breath as he kissed you like it was the last time he’d ever get to. Your hands grabbed his dark locks as his fingers traveled down towards your core, spreading your legs easily.

“Oh fuck!” He whimpered when you tucked at his hair.

God, he was sounding so sinful.

Jungkook could die while kissing you and he’d be so thankful, your lips were made for him.

So damn perfect.

He finally broke the kiss, his high getting intense as he kissed your neck, your heavy breathing making his legs feel like jelly.

His teeth were hot on your skin as he sucked on the spot that made your eyes roll back, he was eager to leave his marks on your neck so you couldn’t hide them even if you tried.

So everyone could know you belonged to him age him only,

“My noona. Only mine,” he growled possessively, you mewled out, unable to respond, Jungkook grabbed your hips as he settled your thighs on his waist,

“You can’t leave me, noona. I will make sure of that.”

[lotus-n-l0ve]

SERENITY TO HIS HEART

— Mafia!Manjiro 'Mikey' Sano x Wife!Female Reader

You Will Forever Be My Always.

*⁠.✧ SYNOPSIS : The scarred past of Mikey haunts him even in his dreams, making him loose his mind. Though even through them you stay by his side. Bring him out of his misery.

*⁠.⁠✧ WARNINGS & TAGS : Mafia!mikey, wife!Reader, pregnant!reader, reader held at gun point, ptsd, mafia themes, angst, nightmare, 895 words.

*⁠.⁠✧ — NAVIGATION // TOKYO REVENGERS MASTERLIST

DON'T PRESS [KEEP READING] IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE. MINORS DNI, IF YOU DO THEN IT'S YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.

The cold touch of the muzzle of the gun on your forehead woke you up with a startle. Your eyes shot open, the view of the ceiling was hazy but as you focused your vision you saw the very familiar gun pressed on your forehead. A gun that belonged to your husband, Manjiro, the leader of Toman.

You followed the pale hand holding on to the metal grip of the gun, the pointer finger resting the trigger, ready to strike any second, your eyes met his dead obsidian ones, looking at you like an injured beast does to a potential threat. The only source of light being the lamp on the nightstand didn't help either.

There he is, your husband. Sitting on your stomach, his tights had you pinned on the fluffy bed. A whisper of his name left your lips but did nothing to him. Was it one of those episodes where his past haunts him down and torments him?

“They sent you unarmed?” His empty voice cut through the tension in the room. It was more of a statement than a question, “Have I lost my touch that they thought one unarmed woman is enough to end me.”

Manjiro dragged the muzzle down your nose and lips till he hovered it over your neck, “Who sent you? Hmm? Who's your boss?”

His voice was rather calm but you couldn't miss the threat lurking underneath it. It was the same he used against his enemies. Last warning before the sword strikes.

“Manjiro, it’s me, Y/N.” Your voice shook with the fear of the trigger being pressed anytime.

You saw a silver of recognition on his face but it was gone as soon as it appeared. Mikey said your name, trying to remember who it was. Rolling the name on his tongue. The name left a sweet taste in his mouth but the name did not ring any bell of familiarity.

“Y/N?” His eyebrows frowned in suspicion, “I don't know any Y/N. They sent you here to kill me, didn't they?”

You moved your head to deny but Mikey pressed the gun under your jaw, tilting your head back as a menacing grip appeared on his face, “Do they think I'm fucked in the head that I'll believe this dumb story? You think I'm delusional?”

Breath caught in your throat. Whenever Mikey was going through these episodes, you felt your heart in your throat, ready to jump out. They scared you to the core. But then you think of Mikey, your Manjiro, your husband who loves you more than life. He would rather burn the world down than see tears in your eyes. You loving husband who stood by your side in your most difficult time. All the fear in your heart evaporates.

“I'm your wife, Manjiro. Try to remember.” Even after trying to not cry, a sob left your lips, “Try to remember. I love you so much.”

“No, you don't.” The quick words sting right at your heart, “No one loves me. No one can love me. Who are you?”

Your lips trembled as you thought about the last thing to bring Mikey back to you. You lift your shaky hand and hold his left hand that was resting on the bed by your side. His grip on the gun tightened, ready to shoot and end all this hassle. But something held him back. He could not bring himself to pull the trigger.

The image of this stranger lying on his bed with a bullet pierced through her skull, eye lifeless and a stilled heart, made his heart nervous. He didn't like that. He didn't want that. Mikey let you move his hand and settle it on your tummy.

“I love you and the soul growing in me is the proof of our love Manjio. Snap out Manjiro. For me, for our baby, please.”

Mikey stayed motionless. His eyes staring down at your stomach. Unconscious Mikey spread his finger, feeling up the skin hidden underneath the white nightwear. Then it did. Something struck in his heart.

Y/N. Y/N. His lovely Y/N. The silver speck of light in his ravaged life. How could he forget you? His love, his life, his reason to live. And the innocent soul growing in your belly, was a miracle in his life.

Mikey felt tears pricking his eyes and nose burning. Wails of pain erupted from his chest as if letting all the weight off of his chest. Tears stream down Mikey’s flushed cheeks, in shame, fear and guilt but also from the sense of comfort of your presence.

You spread your arms to the side and said with your ever so gentle voice, “Come here.”

And then the dam broke. Mikey flushed himself into your arms, burying his face into your chest, the gun fell on the floor with a clunk. His whole body shook because of the crying.

You run your hand on his back with comforting strocks, “I'm not going anywhere. I love you Manjiro. I'll be right here, by your side, whenever you need me. I'm sure our little one loves their daddy too.”

Your whispers of solace soothed his wrecked heart. Mikey weeped in your protective arms, letting himself be so vulnerable the world will never see. He let your tranquil embrace bring serenity to his heart.

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© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarise any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

[dariaslookalike]

Building Houses and Burning Bridges Pt 7: Fever Dreams and Baths

Summary:

It seems, oddly enough, that Gregory House lives to annoy you. He takes 'arseholish boss' to the next level. Wake up in the morning, ready to have breakfast, and drive to the hospital where you both work? Nope, you're getting a text that says you're late to his impromptu 4:30 AM meeting where he's had the 'breakthrough of the century' on the team's latest case. Get your hair cut and walk into work, for once feeling confident? Nope, he's saying that he would have done a better job blinded, hands tied and going through Vicodin withdrawals. Finally, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, prove him wrong and attempt to wipe the cockiness off his face? Nope, you're simply slow because you didn't get to your diagnosis quicker and weak-willed because you didn't fight him for it in the beginning. Everything House does infuriates you, and it seems everything you do infuriates him. No wonder you end up pinned to the wall of your apartment and groping him like your life depends on. And knowing House, it very may well.

Warnings: Adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Current Status: Ongoing

Masterlist: Building Houses and Burning Bridges

Next Chapter: Pt 8

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You walk home. You don’t know how, hell you don’t really remember it, but you stand at the stoop of your apartment and slot your keys into your door.

You lock it behind yourself and step out of your dress gently. You want to tear it off, rip it to shreds, and gnash it up with your teeth like a rabid animal. But you force your hands to work meticulously, patiently. They’re shaking and red, and you tug at clasps and hooks even when you can’t feel them. The dress makes you want to sob and scream. It clings to you wetly from melted snow and almost suffocates you by the time it drops to the floor.

You kick your heels off, and let yourself sit down beside them. You pick them up and your feet throb. Really, your feet should be killing you. But the snow and ice dulls the pain. You vaguely register that blood is dribbling from somewhere on your sole, yet you make no move to bandage them.

The heels are black. Glittery. Perfectly sized. They had sat aside your shoe rack since Chase had given them to you, and each time you saw them you became so excited to be able to wear them. Chase. Chase gave them to you. Chase who knew. Chase who kept quiet with the rest of them until it was too late. Chase who told you while Cameron stared at you like a wounded animal and Foreman couldn’t even at you. You throw the shoe as hard as you can, and it thuds against your coffee tables. You pelt the other and don’t see where it lands.

You should probably take a shower. Wipe the makeup off your face. Warm up. Why aren’t you warming up?

Instead, you scratch your nails down your face, not hard enough to draw blood. You can’t feel the contact through your fingers or your cheeks and you do it again and again and again and again until stinging sensations begin to break through the numbness.

You don’t know how long you sit there, in the middle of your entryway, next to your crumpled dress. You stare into nothing. The floorboards warp and merge with each other and eventually you don’t see them.

Hours feel as if they’ve passed but in all actuality it could only be a few minutes. You don’t know. You don’t care. You walk on heavy feet towards your bedroom, leaving behind a fleckered trail of blood and water, still dripping from you.

You collapse onto your bed, surrounded by complete darkness. Even your neighbours are silent; you hate them nonetheless. You should reach around in the darkness, grab a blanket and warm up. You just lay there, your skin rippling with goose bumps and your lungs drawing in shallow breaths.

You expect the tears to come. You expect them to burst from your eyeballs and flood your room and drown you in a terrible end. They don’t. Not even one.

It’s worse this way. You would have been spared if you cried. You were an ugly crier, and by that you meant that you heaved and sniffed and sobbed and wobbled and dribbled; you were loud and messy and distracting. Now, in the silence of your room and the dryness of your eyes, you were left alone with your thoughts.

You slapped him. Your lips almost tilt up at that, at the incredulous look on his face and the stinging in your hand. You don’t smile though when you remember that you quit. You had to though. You either slap your boss and quit or slap your boss, get fired and arrested.

You should have done it harder. You should’ve taken that silver key and jammed it up his nostril; twisted it too. Or maybe kicked his cane out from under him and dragged him down the hallway by the handle. All that shit he said.

Is that what he thought? Is that what he saw? Were you really the same girl that you had left behind in the town you grew up in? Were you the same girl who sobbed into her pillow at night and screamed at her father and hated him and still wished he had been different? Were you the same girl who in spite of her nervous stutter and shaky hands would lap up any attention given to her by a coach, a teacher, a stranger?

You run your blue fingers down your face and shake your head. The movement makes you keenly aware of your soaked hair resting against your neck. No. You weren’t that girl anymore. You wouldn’t let yourself entertain the idea of it. House wasn’t right about jack shit. You knew the experience of liking men when you were still that girl; the giddy smiles, the breath caught in your throat, the butterflies caged in your stomach. Liking House, if that was truly what you did before he threw it in your face, was nothing like that; it was shameful and annoying and pathetic. Because that’s what House was. That’s what House wanted everyone to see him as.

He got what he wanted. The rose tinted glasses were now off and the harsh reality was seeping in. If House didn’t want to be loved, he never could be.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. He doesn’t matter. Yes, you were vulnerable and exposed for once. You didn’t know what it was; lust, attraction, boredom? You would have to wrestle through feelings and dumpster dive through emotions just to grab that little, fading kernel of attraction and label it, and that wasn’t worth it. Once again, you had proven to yourself that it, lust, attraction, boredom or something else, was pointless. You were better off alone.

You don’t register when the dark ceiling becomes the dark of your eyelids, and you fall asleep naked atop your bed sheets.

———————

Hours pass by feverishly, and you wrestle atop your thin cotton bed sheets. You soak through them with sweat but shiver the whole night. Everything aches. The bleeding blisters on your feet now feel like stab wounds that are being pinched and your joints grind and grate against each other with each movement. You don’t lay long on one side because your muscles begin to scream out and you’re awoken in fits of pain before you restlessly slip back to sleep.

You don’t remember getting out of bed but suddenly you’re lurched over the toilet bowl and retching. You vomit until you reach bile and even then, your body is wracked with shivers and your stomach curdles until you vomit again.

You fall asleep against the toilet bowl until you’re awoken again and tip your head forward as acid burns your throat. You don’t know how you make it back to your bed, but the next time you awake from thrashing and kicking out at your wall, you’re atop your mattress again. You must have grabbed at clothes in your freezing mind because you have a stained, inside out pyjama shirt on now. You soak through that too, and the wet material makes you colder.

Hallucinations visit you vividly in the night. Some are fleeting and you can only grasp at vague recollections of them in your mind. Others are as real as day. You see your grandmother’s cat lying at the foot of your bed, but no matter how much you beg her to come and sleep by your side while you shiver uncontrollably, she doesn’t move. Later you see your childhood best friend; you had stopped speaking over something so trivial, so pointless, but it feels as if you’re back to being sisters again. She smiles at you and shakes her head. Her voice sounds melodic when she speaks, “What are you doing, goof? I thought we agreed that only Prince Charming and Daniel-from-school’s older brother are the only ones we’ll be with.” You want to tell her that Daniel’s older brother wasn’t actually that hot, he just knew guitar, but she’s gone by the time you creak open your dry mouth.

You’re slick with sweat and yet somehow in your fever you knew House would show up, and he does. He says nothing for a while. He just stands, leaning against his cane. You try to focus on his face but it warps and becomes twisted the harder you try. Your lips are cracked and you rasp out unintelligible words. He just rolls his eyes. “You shouldn’t be upset. It was more Cuddy’s fault then mine.” You garble angrily at him and he huffs. “Fine, it was kind of mine. But you slapped me. We’re even.”

You don’t know if you are. You want to tell him all the reasons you hate him and all the reasons you like him, and how you might need to slap him a few more times to be even, but instead you mumble out, “Prick.”

The night feels endless and torturous. You’re met with more pain and visions and only when you manage to crawl to the kitchen and dry swallow medicine and panadol do you pass out fully on your lounge room rug.

———————

You’re going to throw up. Again.

You thought you had made it past the worst of this sickness, albeit aided with medicine and drugs. But instead your head is pounding, pounding, pounding, like a harsh knock at a door, and with each knock, butcher’s knives split your brain. You can practically see the knives, feel their sharp tips and dull handles slamming against your skull. You groan and lay there, clutching at your head until you realise it is a knocking at your door.

You stagger in near delirium across your house, and whip open your front door. “Will you be quiet!?”

Your head is reeling. Hallucinations are back, you decide promptly, because Gregory House is standing at your door. You groan.

“Huh.” He says, looking downwards.

Your head is a dumbbell against your neck but to the best of your ability, you tilt it up and squint at the hallucination. He’s got the same silver stubble, the same long face, the same blue eyes. It makes you dizzy but you repeat his words to him. “Huh?”

He suddenly bends at the waist, leaning his weight onto his cane. Near theatrically, he whips his head up to look at you. “You have painted toenails. I thought that was only for 16 year old girls and the fitness bloggers who spend more time on pedicures than teaching their kids the difference between left and right.”

Its weak, and scratchy, but you still bite back. “Aw, someone sounds upset that Mummy likes her nail polish collection more than her neurotic son.” Your words lose their weight when you drawl and garble out a few of them.

Hallucination-House understands you perfectly. “'Sounds like you're projecting, Mummy.”

The snarkiness. The rudeness. The downright cockiness. You reach out a hand and swing at him for pure shits and giggles. It kills your muscles to move, but you image the contact of a professional boxer and force your body to follow through with the movement. Instead, you make a pathetic fist against his shoulder and he stares down at your hand like a bug.

“Oh, you’re real?”

He raises back to his full height and splays his hands out in front of himself. “Last time I checked, yes. But if you like, I’ll let you do a full body search and you can come to your own conclusion.”

Its the fever. Definitely the fever. You flush more than you like at his words, and the sensible voice in your head is quick to remind you that this is House. You hate him right now. But, after spending hours or days- what day was?- in agony, the charity event seems an eternity away. The fever however, doesn’t seem to care about that.

House pauses, awaiting your reply. He cocks an eyebrow and you can almost see the exact words lined up, ready to spill, so you rush to speak. “I’m. Sick.” The words make your head pound. “I couldn’t call out of work.”

His eyes narrow. “You’ve haven’t shown up to work for three days. Like an idiot, I'm sure you got sick from walking home in fucking snow.”

Ah. Shit. Three days had past in your delirium?

Not that it mattered. You quit, right? He’s looking at you like you’ve just grown a second head but you continue to ramble on. “If you’re here to rip me a new one about hospital policy and ‘letting my team down’,” You do mocking air quotes with your shaking fingers, “Then I’m sorry to disappoint but I’ll probably end up throwing up on your sneakers more than anything else.”

He looks almost bewildered, which is an odd expression to see on House. “What?”

You blink back at him as he continues speaking, almost incredulously. “For one thing, I know I’m a cripple but god,” He pops out the last syllable, “I’m still able to dodge vomit as well as the next doctor. And in what world do I show up to your house just to berate you?”

“This world. You would show up to my house just to berate me, in this world.”

He chews his cheek for a second, seeming to debate the best line of insult and mockery he can reply. But in the gap he leaves, you deflate. His sudden appearance was rejuvenating, momentarily, but now you feel just as weak and tired as you did before, if not more. You sigh, “Why are you here, House? Fire me if you’re going to fire me.”

Now it's his turn to tilt his head, and he huffs out your last name “You're sick. You might not register that under all the cough medicine you’ve been huffing during your fever, but you are. And you’re alone.”

You shift to lean on the doorway. “Yes. Don’t tell me you’ve come to warn me of the dangers of living a miserable, lonely, ‘stick in the mud’ life.” His jaw clenches when you throw his words back at him from the other night, and you wheeze out a laugh. “You should go. You hate me, right?”

There’s a beat of silence and he looks angry, his jaw still clenched and a vein bouncing on his temple.

And then he says something you wish that you had CIA recording technology prepared for.

“I’m sorry.”

There was no bells and whistles or shiny strings attached to House’s apology. No explanation. No reasoning. Simply sorry.

You lurch to the side and vomit; House stays true to his gloating and steps back immediately. You lean back up and wipe at your mouth with a shaking hand. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you, the same moment of peak tension before a bubble pops or the crest of a roller coaster where you’re not sure that you’re still moving.

But then he leaps past the puddle you created and through your door. You turn and see him surveying your entryway. “Bedroom?”, he calls out.

You could kick him out. Throw his sorry arse back into your vomit. But, you close your front door and in your feverish state, it almost feels as if that was an action of forgiveness. As if you accepted his apology. Not that you would tell him that.

“Take me out to dinner first, Doc, jeez. Oh but we did that already, right?” You point both of your thumbs down and make a raspberry sound.

At that, his eyebrows cinch together. He reaches forward, and you try to raise a heavy hand to bat his away, but you’re too slow. He touches your forehead and swears. “You’re burning up, jesus. How did you even get out of bed?”

“Well,” You pause, breathing deeply and trying to ignore that his hand was now cupping your cheek. “Someone was pounding on my door and wouldn’t leave til I answered it.”

You turn from him, and he hastily drops his hand from your face, as if he didn’t realise what he was doing. Without saying anything, you shuffle down the hallway.

Your ratty, old and oversized band tee was slick with sweat, you smelled like vomit, and you had deep bags under your eyes. But as you walked away from him, you could feel his eyes trailing up your calves, your thighs, your little bed shorts. Still the same, perverted House.

You’re sure that another time, when you’re feeling better and not looking like you want to murder him as you do now, he’ll tease you about this. Your wrestled-with bed, your stuffed animals in the corner (a large bear, a fat duck and a round cat, all peering at him intensely), your faded, dusty pink walls, your cluttered desk and overflowing drawers, your artworks haphazardly strewn in a corner.

At those, he pauses. “You paint?”

You sigh, crawling onto your bed. You don’t get under the covers, and you can see by the slight squint of his eyes that he notices. “I thought you knew everything about me. Don’t talk so loudly, it hurts.”

House reaches out, and begins to flip through the canvases and painted boards. There’s a pair of calloused, ageing hands. Blue and bloodshot eyes. The back of a silvery, short cropped head.

It appears that he’s not so idiotic that he can’t recognise himself across all your artworks. He turns to you, but you’re not looking at him, instead lethargically fanning yourself and panting.

“House,” A deep, shuddering breath. “It’s so hot.”

You don’t register him striding towards you, but you feel his hand against your forehead again. “Come on, Newbie, where’s your bathroom? Do you have a bath?”

You pale, and before he can even stop you, you lurch out of bed. He goes to steady you, but you run on shaky legs towards an adjoining door to your room. He follows you, just in time to see you lurched over the toilet bowl and heaving up bile again.

You feel him draw closer, and tears sting at your eyes with the acidity in your throat. You thought he would stay in your room or simply watch you from afar but he reaches forward to grab at your hair and hold it at your neck. He doesn’t rub your spine or smooth down your hair, but that gesture alone was tender for House.

There’s moments where you stop, but your body is quick to hunch back to the toilet and continue vomiting. Finally, after what feels like forever, you are able to breathe and lean against the rim. It’s gross, and unhygienic, but the porcelain is cool against your burning cheeks and you couldn’t care less.

You feel House retreat, and you wonder if that pushed him too far. The vomit down your chin, the sweat on your back, the shivers through your body. But then you hear running water and you turn to see him twisting the taps for your bathtub.

He hobbles back to you and his face swarms your vision. You don’t reply when he states “Up,” but you let him reach under your armpits and pull you up to stand on wobbly knees.

He frowns when you don’t fight him or make a snarky comment or try to slap at his hands. “Can you undress yourself?”

You blink at him, and you try not to gag again. Instead your shaky hands reach for your top, and you pull it over your head. You can’t find it in yourself to care. He had seen far better and far worse bodies, you were sure of it. And what you were even more certain of, was that he would have no reason to care. His apology didn’t change the fact that he was insistent that there was nothing between you, that he didn’t like you or even remotely think of you that way. Maybe he would make a joke about you acting like a hooker. Whatever.

When your shorts and underwear pool at your feet, you don’t hesitate to reach forward and lean against House. His hand rests against the small of your back, and if you were more cognitive at the moment you would have been almost shocked it didn’t dip further down. But he’s respectful and leads you to the bathtub, which is now full with cool water.

He winces when you put more weight on him, and raise yourself over the lip of the tub. But then you detach yourself from him, and you ease yourself down, laying in the water and placing your head at the end as your eyes droop. Behind you, there is a variety of soapy formulas, conditioners, shampoos, body washes, all tucked into the corner.

He clears his throat and tsks. “Don’t fall asleep. I won’t be able to carry you back to bed, and wouldn’t that be a mediocre death? Drowning in your own bathtub? You deserve something better. Serial killer patient on the loose or Foreman’s pisspoor attempt at cooking.”

You rattle out a tired laugh but find you don’t have anything to reply. For a moment, you sit in silence. Almost comfortable.

But then there’s the clink of his belt hitting the floor and despite your easing fever and tired self, your eyes snap open. “Wow House. Despite all the comments and stares, I never took you as a predator.”

He snorts and you see he’s already kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks. His hands are still at his jeans and you track his movement. His eyes flick up to yours. You feel like prey being observed and you still yourself. Whatever he finds there is confirmation enough, and he peels his pants down. Your eyes trail down and you keep yourself still as you take in the silvery and mangled scar tissue of his thigh. When it’s apparent he’s not reaching to take off his boxers, you gently close your eyes and it seems to break the silence by spurring House to speak again. “I don’t stare at you.”.

“Mmhm. Do you hate me so much that you don’t realise it? Everytime I speak in the conference room or hell, even when I’m not speaking, you look at me with so much…Contempt.”

You feel him now, sliding against the tub and coming to sit behind you. His feet sit beside you, the water going up to his lean calves. You decide you want to see his reply and what he’s doing, so you stare up at him, resting your face against his thigh.

He peers down at you, and the line in his brow, that appears when people are being stupid, appears. You’ve seen it when parents deny a certain medicine, or when patients omit part of their history in embarrassment, but oddly enough, you haven’t seen it directed at you. Until now.

“It’s not contempt.”

“Then what is it?” Your eyes bore into him.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, and you can feel your heartbeat against your ribs. You’re not sure what you’re anticipating. You had wanted this at the charity event, wanted him to tell you the truth. And he did. So why were you wanting him to tell you a different truth?

But the moment slips away and he simply says, “You have vomit in your hair. Lean forward.”

A deep, almost shameful blush settles against your cheeks, and you’re happy to oblige in order to hide it. You hear him uncap one of the bottles to your side, and pour the solution into his hands. He gathers your long hair into his hands and lathers the shampoo across your scalp. It’s almost clinical, his actions. As if you were another patient.

You go to speak, but as if he senses that, he places a hand on your bare shoulder and leans forward. He cups at the water by his feet, and pours it onto your head. He repeats the process at least another three times, and you decide to just settle against his thigh again. Your skin doesn’t feel so clammy anymore, but you feel you must still be delirious because you get the insane urge to turn, and bite him. Bite a bruise into his skin and kiss it better.

He stills behind you, and his deep voice fills the room. “I’m going to wash you. Or I can hose you down, but seem too clingy for that.”

You’re too tired to think about it as he moves your hair over your shoulder. There’s a damp cloth over your back, scrubbing gently in circles. Your breath hitches as House leans forward, and the cloth is wiped across your front. For such a sexually inappropriate man, he attempts to avoid your breasts, and is quick to retreat.

“Thank you,” You mumble against his leg, closing your eyes.

“Don’t worry. You can make it up to me. How does taking my clinic hours for a week sound?”

Prick. At that, you really do turn and bite his thigh. He sucks air through his teeth and tenses, but doesn’t push you off as you place a soft, almost mocking, kiss where you nipped at.

“That’s a no, then?” he clears his throat before you can reply or bite him again. “Well, you can make it up to me by not quitting then. I’ll be back.”

He leaves you swiftly, dripping water across your bathroom and quickly dragging his jeans back up his lean legs. The door clicks shut behind him. You’re left in silence, only interrupted by the dripping of a faucet and your own groans of embarrassment.

He was asking you not to quit? After you had slapped him and now bit him? Really?

God you could see it now. Strolling into work in a few days, and the second you’re in the conference room, House proudly produces a rabies shot and tells everyone how vicious you were.

You drag your wet hands down your face and you’re almost tempted to do exactly as you spoke of earlier and drown yourself in your own bathtub. Instead you settle for leaning your face into the water and screaming out bubbles.

You’re only stopped when a hand pulls your shoulder back. House peers down at you. “Clearly, you need to go back to sleep. C’mon.”

It’s almost in a haze that you step out the tub. Both you stand on your fluffy white bath mat, but while he’s dressed now, you’re strikingly naked.

The fever, which has now receeded to a manageable level, has instead left embarrassment in its wake. First biting him and now flashing him again? What will be next?

You gratefully take the towel he offers you, and wrap yourself in it quickly. You see his staring at the growing patch of mold on your roof and you groan. “Don’t judge me. I couldn’t reach it to clean it.”

House rolls his eyes. “We’ll talk about that when you’re more lucid.”

He grabs his cane from where it is propped up by your sink, and together you walk back to your bedroom. You stop however, and turn to him. “You…changed my sheets?”

Was that why he had left earlier? He’s no nonsense and blunt in his response. “They were filthy.”

“How do you even know where my linen is kept? Or my washing machine?”

He dipped his hand into his pocket and produced a thin box of panadol and a vial of cough syrup. “Next you’re going to be asking me how I know where your medicine cupboard is.”

You stare at him, and debate asking him that very thing. But you’re tired and sore, and instead grasp at the medicine, dry swallowing two pills again and using the syrup’s cap to take a shot of it. He stares at you, almost admirably in a sense. For once, you didn’t argue about the treatment.

You settle against your bed and watch as raps his cane against your drawers. “Pajamas are where?” He draws out the last syllables almost in a whine, looking at you quizzically.

“Top drawer.”

He opens it, and whistles, holding up the sheer piece of lingerie that had never seen the light of day.

Shit.

It’s almost comforting when House’s improved bedside manner slips away and he turns to you with his signature smirk in place. If he’s being rude and unbearable, it’s not so embarrassing or difficult to fight back. “Doctor, what are the odds you can give me some treatment wearing this? You see, I’ve got this horrible swelling down below, and I think this would be the perfect remedy.”

You roll your eyes. “God, you act like a thirteen year old boy who has never seen boobs before, let alone had someone else to take care of his boner.”

House theatrically slaps a hand against his chest. “Excuse you, as of today, I’ve seen one pair of boobs. Try not to generalise us thirteen year old boys.”

You flush, and decide to not bite back at him, afraid he might remark more on your chest. It’s not bad, really, but you don’t like how your core clenches at the thought of House seeing you naked.

He stares at you for a moment, but then he’s digging in your drawers and pulls out a pair of cotton bottoms and a t shirt (in considerably better condition than your last one). He hands them to you, and he turns away, beginning to thumb through your paintings again as you weakly get changed.

You climb into bed, ready to turn to him and admit defeat by thanking him. Annoying as he is, you’re grateful for his help. Holding your hair. Washing you. Changing your sheets. Bringing you medicine. If you thought about it hard enough, you would almost think that for once, he did care about his patient.

But under the duvet covers, warm and recovering, your eyelids are heavy and you quickly slip off to sleep; the last thing you can see is House sitting down at your desk, like a guard ready to begin his shift. You stare at him for a moment. He’s wrinkled and his hair is greying, and it seems like he hasn’t shaved in the past few days, but he’s oddly…Beautiful.

And then you’re soundly asleep for the first time in days.

[rowaelinsdaughter]

Can I request a rowan fluff where reader is just having a really bad day and feels like everything is going wrong bc of a few mistakes she makes and rowan is comforting and its just so much fluff and cuteness overload

GOOD NIGHT

a/n;; sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry this took me so long, BUT after having a breakdown ive finally write it, and believe me when i say i also needed this.

WARNINGS: anxiety, fluff.

if someone asked her to describe her day she would have said awful. terrible. 

she woke up late, and she had to run to her job, earning a scolding from her boss. 

then, she lost an important paper and she felt the anxiety starting to take control of her body. so she locked herself in the bathroom trying to calm her breathing. the morning went normal, people entering, people leaving.

but then she went home. 

she opened the door, feeling the heat of the chimney and the smell of food told her enough of who was cooking. 

rowan. he was home. her mate. her husband. the love of her life. 

taking off her shoes and leaving them in the closet, she walked barefoot to the kitchen, stopping at the entrance. he was cooking barefoot, with loose pants and without a shirt, leaving his toned body in sight. and his long silver hair was tied up in a messy bun. 

“hi babe” he said, his voice a relaxing song for her body.

she walked to him, her arms on his waist and she kissed his back. “hello, ro” 

he was still cooking as he asked.

“have you bought what i asked you?”

she tensed. 

shit. 

no, no, no, no, no. 

she had forgotten. she hadn’t remembered that he asked her to bring something he needed from a shop near her job. the anxiety, the stress of the morning, had erased it. 

moving away from him, she hit the table behind her. covering her face with her hands, a sob broke the sound of the cooking food, her body started trembling so violently, that the table she was supported in started to move. 

“babe” 

she was breathing fast. so fast, she was going to faint.

“babe, hey, relax” a cold wind moved her hair back, and a pair of hands grabbed her’s, separating them from her face. that same hands grabbed her chin so she was looking at him.

her eyes were red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears, and breath heavy and fast. 

“look at me.” rowan said, slowly but demanding it. “come on babe, breathe in, breathe out. repeat it with me”

breathe in.

breathe out.

breathe in.

breathe out.

once she was relaxed enough, her body fell forward looking for her mate’s body. rowan caressed her head and she hugged him tightly. 

“i’m sorry rowan.”

“hey, look at me” she looked at him, her chin on his chest. “don’t worry about it, ok? it’s not a big deal, i’ll buy it. so don’t worry about it” he grabbed her from her thighs, lifting her from the floor and rowan carried her to their bedroom.

he bathed her, sending all the love he could down the bond. 

it was past midnight when they were laying down on the bed. her body on top of rowan and his hands on her back, caressing it. when he looked down at her, she was finally asleep, her breaths slow and steady, and her once tense body relaxed. 

he placed a soft kiss on her hair. 

“good night my love”

all rights reserved to ©rowaelinsdaughter. no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don not copy my work.

🏷️;; @thehighladywrites @shadowdaddies @throneofsapphics @danikamariewrites @loneliestluvr

[dreamersdreamdreams]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ the boss part two -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

content : angst and smut ( minors do not interact )

warnings : hitting , cock warming , yandere themes

key : b / n = boss’s name

author’s note : another request from the comments on the original piece , thank you so much 🫶🏻 i hope you enjoy if you are reading this

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The roar of the expensive car echoes through the empty penthouse. You freeze in your place, as your face falls expressionless. The elevator dings, announcing b/n’s presence. He was the only person that ever went in and out of this place. You haven't seen human life in months. “Baby, I'm home,” b/n announces. The silence is filled by a show playing in the background. “How was your day,” he asks as he walks over to you. “The same as always,” you say blankly.

“Could you smile for once?”

“I’m good.”

B/n storms over to you and you flinch as he wraps his fingers around your arm. He lets out a deep sigh in response.

“You know I love you, right y/n?”

You stand still, letting him hold you.

“I don't care.”

“God, can't you just give a fuck about anything,” he says with a temper.

After b/n gets no response, he whips his hand off of your arm, throwing you to the ground. You whimper. B/n whips around and meets you on the ground.

“Oh god, Y/n, please forgive me. I didn't mean to,” he apologizes as he picks you up. You lay limp in his arms. He sits down on the couch and sits you on his lap.

“What can I do to make up for it?”

You stare downwards and let your head hang. B/n grabs your chin and makes you look at him. His lips crash onto yours. You used to throw a fit when he came onto you. Your screams filled the apartment as you thrashed around in his arms. At that point, a part of you still had hope you could escape from this nightmare. Now all hope has left your being. Your clothes have disappeared to the floor somewhere now. You were being lifted up and onto b/n’s cock. You were still dry as he was trying to enter inside you. But against everything you stood for your body gave into who was once the love of your life. You were slowly sliding onto his dick as you got more and more wet. Tears welled in your eyes as your body betrayed you. You truly hated b/n. Everything he had done to you will never fade with the past. Finally, b/n pushed in one last time and you were filled to the brim with him. “Fuck y/n, you're so tight,” he groaned out. The tears were spilling down your face with choked-out sobs. B/n looked at you with an expression filled with something you remembered seeing before.

“Love, don't cry, I'll make you feel better. I love you so much.”

That's what it was. Love-filled eyes are what look back at you. You wanted to fall into the illusion he made. You could so easily fall in love with him again. You couldn't do that though. This time, love wasn't enough to fix what he had done.

[ashleyh713fanfics]

Dazai X Odasaku!Sister Ch10

Chapter 10: "Maybe With You, This Could Be Home"

Summary: A power struggle between the fifteen year old boy and the demon that lays within him. Which is the truth, and which is a fabrication?

Warning: pm! fifteen year old dazai, dazai self destructing, Odasaku death mentions, dazai torturing himself and everyone around him, manipulative behavior from both sides, mori mentions and grooming themes, underage drinking, talks of suicide. I gave Oda's sister a name but you can imagine it as y/n.

(This is chapter ten of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. It carries on from the three part intro I posted a couple days ago. I'll link it below to fully understand the story. Oda's death has been moved up to when Dazai is fifteen for plot purposes. Asagao's ability is to stop time for up to six seconds.)

Three Part Intro Here: (just cause the first chapter is so long)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

A03 Version Here:

Word count: 8k total

One Year Ago

Sitting across their usual spots at Bar Lupin, Ango and Oda waited patiently for their other friend to join them only for the glasses-wearing informant to break the silence first. “I still don’t know what to make of that boy..” 

Odasaku only raised an eye though, his fingers reaching around the golden colored alcohol in front of him without a care in the world.  “Who, Dazai?” 

Nodding once, Ango frowned. “Yeah, that kid is like an enigma. I can’t ever understand what he’s thinking. What about you, Odasaku? Do you understand him?”

The red haired man paused then, his head lifting up the ceiling in order to think about his question. He had known Dazai for a couple years now, ever since he had shown up in front of his doorstep covered in blood. 

He could still picture it like it was yesterday, the events that brought him here. “Well, I don’t think anyone could ever truly understand him, but I have a couple ideas..”

Leaning forward in interest, Ango coaxed. “Please share..”

And for a moment, Odasaku’s mind traveled back to a certain red haired girl that he had known maybe just as well as the boy. Perhaps that is how he could come to these conclusions, because he was drawing experience from somewhere else. 

Pushing his head down to stare back at his liquor, Oda spoke honestly. “He's sharp witted with a mind like a steel trap..”

Stopping himself then, the man pushed his lips in silent thought. Yes, that was common knowledge, something even he was sure Dazai knew already. He was a port mafia executive after all, the youngest in the history of the organization. 

But there was something else, something that not even the boy probably realized. Something that he tried to hide, and yet would always be buried deep underneath. 

 “And he's just a child━a sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier than the one we're seeing.”

------

Present

Hours. 

Dazai spent hours with his victims, his fingers sticky with blood as he finally threw the descared knife on the ground of the unmoving and unrecognizable man. He had done what Mori had requested, what he was designed to do with his own horrible monstrous hands. 

He had slashed his knife through every single pathetic whining baby that Mori had brought in front of him and made them talk one by one until there was no more.

All the information was received, and now there was nothing left but to stare blankly at the dead body in order for the heart crushing disappointment and guilt to quietly suffocate him with each breath. 

He didn’t feel like a man or boy. He didn’t feel any sense of humanity anymore, that fleeting feeling back in Mori’s office now completely and utterly dissipated. Now there was only the demon, the monster that laid beneath it all. 

Numb, empty, a hollow shell that’s all he was. 

He vaguely heard the sound of footsteps only to feel his boss’ hands grace his shoulders from behind, eyeing the work with satisfaction. “I knew you could do it. Good job, Dazai.” 

The boy didn’t respond though, his body unmoving at Mori’s fingers clawed deepered into his jacket with ease. “Oda was a fool to treat you like a child. In fact, it was wrong to assume you could ever be one. You have been and will always be so much more than that.” 

His tone was cruel and mocking, like he was proving some kind of sick point and Dazai knew that’s why he did this. The boss was proving to the executive that he was right all along, that he didn’t deserve the term “child” not when it held the connotation of innocence and naivety. 

That he could pretend, he could wish for himself to be a fifteen year old boy but in reality that would never be the case. Odasaku’s gentle manner towards him was a lie, that's what Mori wanted to get across. 

And he had, he really did, because looking down at the mutilated body and bloodied clothes stuck to his skin, Dazai didn’t feel like anything else but a monster, a demon prodigy and an inhuman machine. 

He had desecrated his best friend's final wish, he had mocked Odasaku’s sister’s kind words, he had disappointed and betrayed both of them in the worst way possible. What was wrong with him? Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he change? 

Death was the only thing that he deserved now. He deserved to be wiped from this earth completely without a single trace. But even a sweet release seemed unworthy from his grasp now. 

Feeling the hands fall from his shoulders, Mori then took a step back before allowing his puppet to be swallowed by the darkness completely. “Now, have a wonderful night. Dazai. You’ve earned it.” 

The next few minutes were a blur, the brown haired mafioso robotically moving to the nearby sink in order to run the scalding hot water on his skin to rid of the blood before slowly undoing his bandages around his arms in order to clutch the metal sides with silent despair. 

He couldn't even bring himself to look into the mirror, already knowing what he was going to find. A disappointment, a traitor and a lifeless corpse staring back at him. No, he didn’t want to see, he didn’t want to come to terms with such a sight. 

Silently re-wrapping the hideous sight with a new batch of gauze, Dazai then stepped back with a sigh. And though the blood was physically gone, he could still feel it. Coating his skin, corrupting his mind like some sort of punishment. 

He couldn’t just simply erase what he had done here today. 

The world wasn’t ever that kind. 

Muscle memory then seemed to bring him back to the familiar apartment buildings he seemed to always slump back to, the demon’s steps slow and silent as he passed by hoards of faces he couldn’t care enough to recognize or acknowledge. 

And as the elevator sounded, Dazai knew what he’d find when he stepped into his sad, pathetic and suffocating apartment. 

It was the same as always. He knew that he would probably drink himself to sleep, or some sort of equivalent of that while sitting inside his dark isolated space without a single sound. 

Always wallowing, always drowning. Nothing more and nothing less. 

Pushing open the door to the entryway, Dazai’s blank and clouded body then reached for the black jacket on his body in order to throw the object onto the floor without a single care and fully step inside the place. 

And then he was alone, standing in solitude like he always was. 

Yet that’s when his foot couldn’t help but tap against something on the floor in front of him, the mafioso stopping for the first time since arriving only to register a small sleeping body curled up into herself. 

The move caused her to stir though, groaning before her drunken and sleepy coated expression lazily gazed up at the boy in order for her to yawn through her words. “Oh, you’re back. Sorry, I don’t know how I got here. Guess I got a little sleepy while waiting for you. But look, I’m here as promised!” 

Dazai then watched as the red haired girl then scrambled to her knees in order for her lips to curve upwards in adoration for his very presence. “Welcome home, Osamu.” 

At the sound of her voice, the boy felt the numb constraint on his body dissipate.

Oh. 

That’s right. He wasn’t alone. Oda’s sister was here. He had left her here and she had promised to welcome him back. What a foolish and stupid little thing, and yet she had honored it even so. She had even gone as far as to sleep in front of his door like this so she wouldn’t miss him. What an idiot. 

He then watched as she pushed herself back to her feet, stumbling a bit in the process in shaky unreliably before beaming happily. “Oh! Now that you’re here, I gotta show you my surprise! Come on, take a look!” 

Reaching forward in order to grab onto his hand, Asa then felt herself freeze before she made contact in order to reel back with an apologetic smile, almost like she had forgotten about his fear of touch in her excitement. 

 She recovered quickly though, simply skipping away from him in order for the boy to look down at his hand and close it in response. She was always so considerate of him, even while drunk. 

Yet, the second Dazai stepped closer into his apartment, the boy couldn’t help but freeze at the sight before him. Gone were the blank and empty walls, replaced by the warm glow of string lights, the sight almost like tiny little fireflies as he couldn’t help but move even closer. 

The tables in front of him were filled with various candies and unhealthy junk food, covering the entire surface along with a giant blanket fort in the center of the room, the sheets revealing dozens of pillows and cute stuffed animals inside. 

Pushing herself back in front of his vision, Asa then clapped her hands together. “Ta da! It’s a sleepover! I’ve heard about these things from people at my school and I’ve always wanted to try it! Look, there are snacks and pillows and we can even watch movies or tell scary stories!” 

Dazai couldn’t help but scoff in disbelief at what she was suggesting though. “You’re inviting a port mafia executive to a sleepover?” 

She only laughed at his negative response though, already hurrying over to the small opening just a couple feet away. “Yeah! I mean, why not? We are still kids, you know. Gotta enjoy this stuff before we become boring old grown ups. Now, come on! There is plenty of room in here!”

Kids.

 There was that word again. It was like the universe was mocking him with it, taunting him with a term he could never attach himself to. Tonight had proved that. 

How dare she, didn’t she know what he did? Didn’t she know about the phantom blood that was coating his hands even now? What a ridiculous statement she had just uttered. 

And looking at this display, the warm and welcoming aura was literally the exact opposite of the cold and dark port mafia basement that he had drowned in for the last mind-numbing hours. He didn’t know how to take it, this sudden whiplash and change. 

So much so, Dazai felt his unstable mind start to falter, his fingers twitching in response before falling back into the old habits that were familiar and safe. He needed to, he needed to show Asagao that he couldn’t have what she was suggesting. 

He didn’t need it. He was far too tainted for it. 

Reaching his hands forward, Dazai’s fingers then roughly wrapped against Asa’s wrist before purposely swiping her drunken feet underneath her, the girl falling back onto the waiting pillows only for the boy to appear above her just like with any other whore that wandered into his place. 

Asagao’s eyes couldn’t help but widen at the gesture, now finding the bandaged captive holding her down by her wrists, the distance barely breathable between the two. 

The executive then smirked deviously in order to twist the tips of his fingers around the longest strand of hair he could find. Anything to corrupt this seemingly innocent construct she had built.  “Oh sweetheart, I’d much rather continue where we left off in that elevator.” 

Leaning forward, Dazai’s cruel gaze then locked with her confused little eyes before forcing his knee into the space between her legs, pulling them just slightly apart in a tease as he pressed himself deeper into her. 

And though he had no plans to actually go through with anything, he needed to get it through her thick head how wrong she was for saying that stupid little phrase. “I mean, you didn’t seriously think that this is what I meant by you spending the night? Oh how innocent you are, darling. So defenseless against a man like me. I guess I have to show you what I mean firsthand. Hmm?” 

Then to prove his point, Dazai shifted his head to the left in order to teasingly blow a breath of hot air into her ear before his tongue just barely grazed the side as he felt her chest constrict in surprise at the motion. “Calling the demon prodigy a kid, how wrong you are. Well, tell me. Does this feel like something a kid would do?” 

That was it, now she would see that he couldn’t fit in that innocent box she had foolishly built. Just a little more to get his point across, then she would learn her mistake. 

As if on cue, he then heard the girl in question whisper, the sound just barely audible, like she was desperate for something. “Osu..” 

And because of their position, Dazai assumed it was because of his touch, the boy’s head pulling away cockily in order to look back at her with a small tease. “What is it, love?” 

Yet that’s when the two locked eyes as Asagao’s anxious hands moved against his handmade chains, almost like she wanted to touch him. “Did something happen?” 

Then all at once, Dazai felt his carefully crafted exterior start to crack ever so slightly. She sensed his distress? No, it couldn’t be. He had hid it so well in his womanizing ways. There was no way she knew about the disgusting thoughts of self hatred inside his head. 

Forcing himself to remain calm, the boy then gave her a signature smirk before purposely pushing his hands even tighter around her wrists in order to slam her back into the floor. “Whatever do you mean? I’m just excited to play with my favorite girl.” 

And yet, Asagao didn't take the bait, her lips twisting together in conflict before sadly replying.  “It’s just...it seems like you're forcing something..” 

Forcing something? No, of course not. What could he be forcing? This is who he was. He was just trying to prove to her that he wasn’t a child. He was trying to show her how much of an adult he actually was by seducing her. That’s what he did for everyone else. 

For a kid, growing up in the mafia meant no restrictions. It meant killing and drinking and sex and following the lead of everyone else in the organization.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t old enough for any of it. That didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except forcing himself into the adult box that everyone else around him conformed to easily. 

And Dazai did it all. He brought woman back and fucked them just because it was what he thought he had to do. He learned how to seduce and flirt in order to get information for the mafia. He did everything like it was a textbook list in order to seem more grown up and mature and fit into the mold. 

It wasn’t about what or desire. 

It was a necessity, a skill to use in order to pretend to be a man. 

No, he was a man .

He had to be. Since he couldn’t be a child that was the only option. 

Feeding her another one of his rehearsed lines, Dazai tried to brush off the accusation. “Well, I can be quite forceful…”

Asa only frowned though, her voice just as sharp as before. “You know that’s not what I mean. How am I wrong? I thought we were both the same age..”

Laughing back at her ridiculously naive statement, he shook his head. Just because they were both fifteen didn’t mean they had the same luxuries and freedoms. “We may be the same age but we are worlds apart, love.” 

Asa raised an eye in reply. “How so?” 

And at that, Dazai felt his eyes close in that same suffocating shame that he had felt back in the port mafia’s basement. She was so stupid, if only she knew the things he did tonight, if only she saw the way he utterly disregarded Odasaku’s plea for change. 

Then she would know why he had to force this right now, why he had to hold onto the routine that he had always fallen back on. Because if he broke out of that now, the boy knew he would break down completely. 

Because of that, Dazai decided to be cruel, to unveil his entire evil heart to her in hopes that it would finally get her to understand why he needed to keep that mask on. “Would a kid skin something alive tonight? Would they watch the life leave their eyes, break all their bones and dismember each of their limbs until they were hardly recognizable? I don’t think so.” 

He could still feel it, the blood on his fingers, the screaming shouts of his victims to stop and the sound of them choking on their own death over and over again. Whatever imagine she had conjured up in her mind about him was not reality. 

And for a moment, he watched that happen, Asa’s eyes widening in shock at his gruesome and horrifying explanation before Dazai forcibly let up on her wrists so that she could run away or slap him for the betrayal. 

But even so, it seemed the girl was frozen to the spot, her body and arms unmoving as Dazai cruelly finished above her. “Perhaps you should think twice before you call the demon prodigy something so innocent like a child..” 

It was just as Mori had said. Anyone would be foolish to correlate those words together about him. He didn’t deserve that kind of title. He never did. 

Yet, that's when Asagao spoke, her voice small and curious. “Why can’t it be both?” 

And for the first time at night, Dazai was clueless by her words, his head turning in pure intrigue. That’s not at all what he thought she’d say. “Huh?” 

Pausing for a moment, Asagao then thought about her words before blinking her eyes in pure unruly innocence for the situation before her. “You say it like it can only be one or the other, but why can’t you be both the demon prodigy and a kid?” 

At that, Dazai felt himself scoff in absurdity 

Both? What an idiotic way of thinking. Someone couldn't be a devil and yet an angel, they couldn’t be black and then white. That was impossible. Didn’t she know that those two terms were polar opposites, like fire and water? 

Shaking his head, Dazai then leaned back into her body, his fingers latching onto her cheeks in order to pull her closer with a glare. “Don’t be stupid. There is no way those two things can exist in the same universe. They contradict themselves, they are..”

Asagao only smiled though, her words far too honest for him to handle. “You. Both of them. I’ve seen it firsthand. Your goofy/teasing smirks, your carefully thought out scripts, the way your face lights up when you see a letter from my brother, the way you manipulate and take control of every single situation. They are a contradiction yet they are all you, Osamu, and I’ve never seen anything wrong with that.” 

And that was something Asa believed wholeheartedly. She had read about this boy for years after all, she knew everything about him and now that she had actually spent time with him, Asagao knew that Dazai wasn’t a simple man. 

Yes, he was cruel and controlling with little to no boundaries but there were moments, brief cracks in his exterior that showed another side to him, a softer one. And whether he realized it or not those tiny fractures had shown her glimpses of who he really was. 

It was hard to pinpoint exactly with all the masks he wore but pretty quickly Asagao had realized that her claim about Dazai when they first met was no longer valid. She had read him wrong this entire time. 

She called him open and real but that wasn’t true at all. No, from the three weeks they had spent together she had learned that the boy was fabrication, a professional shapeshifter in the most impressive form. 

He could be so many things at the flip of a hat, going into so many roles that fit his desire. He could be a brutal port mafia executive, a cruel controlling conman and yet a gentle and sensual lover. 

But none of those were actually the real Dazai Osamu, not really.

They were just fragments, pieces of him sure, but he had never allowed himself to paint an entire picture.

Perhaps he didn’t know how to, perhaps he had acted and pretended so much that he didn’t know his true self anymore. 

But as selfish as it was, Asagao wanted to find him. She wanted to uncover the mystery that was Dazai Osamu and admire him for who he actually was. 

Even if it turned out to be a sad, scared little boy that had built up walls to keep himself safe. 

It didn’t matter, she would cherish him even so. She wanted to, simply because her big brother had done the same. Brother, did you know the real him? Did you figure out who he was underneath it all? I’ll never know, but if you did..I want the same..

Feeling his hold loosen on her jaw, Asa then continued her explanation, her gaze catching on the self made blanket roof above the two of them before softening. “Just because you grew up in the mafia doesn’t mean you still can’t be a kid. You can still allow that part of yourself to come out, you know. I mean, I get not wanting to show it at work cause you gotta put up a front but don’t think it’s all bad..”

She then turned back at him with admiration, recalling the goofy and child-ish reactions he had given her throughout these past few weeks. 

And although she knew that wasn't completely genuine, she wanted him to know how much happiness the fragment had brought her. “Because when I get to see it, I love it every time...” 

Dazai couldn’t believe what he was hearing though.

Love? She loved his pathetic weak side? She loved that he was a contradiction of fire and water? What was she saying, of course being a kid was bad. He couldn’t allow such a thing. 

Seriously, why couldn’t she just be normal, why couldn’t she just hate him and be stupid like everyone else. Why did she have to read him to his very soul every single time? He hated it, he hated how he could never hide with her. 

Of course there was something wrong with it. He was an amalgamation of broken parts, forced to be shoved together with the flimsiest glue in the universe.

But the way she was speaking, the way she looked at him with so much admiration and passion, he couldn’t help but feel his stomach twist and turn with mixed emotions. 

Whatever he did, it really didn’t bother her, did it? He could really just murder, torture and explain the darkest parts of himself and still she wouldn’t ever bat a single eye. He knew she wouldn’t. 

Now did that make her insane or just way to accepting? That was still up for debate. 

But either way, Dazai felt his lips twist upwards into a disbelieving chuckle, his arms growing numb in order to turn and collapse next to the stupid girl with a sigh.

He gave up. Her thinking had stumped him again. “Idiot...you’re a real idiot, Asagao.” 

She didn’t seem to mind though, the sound causing her to smile as well, in order for the tense atmosphere to disappear. “Believe it or not I’ve been told that before.”

Dazai only nodded though, not surprised at all. “Oh, I believe it.” 

The air was quiet then, coating the two with silence only for Asa to speak first, happy to change the subject.“So, what else did you do tonight? You know, besides the torture.”

She said it so comfortably, like she was talking about the weather and Dazai wondered if she had seen and/or done the same kind of thing when she was a hellhound. That would explain her unbothered air to everything.  

Pushing his bandaged arm up in the air, Dazai sighed. “Not much, had a boring talk with Mori and then played around with my dog a bit..” 

At his sentence, Asagao felt herself perk up, her eyes practically giddy at the memory of the ginger haired boy that she had encountered just hours ago. “I met him tonight, your dog.” 

Then all at once, Dazai felt his entire body turn on his side in disbelief. Hold on, did she just hear that right? She had met Chuuya? 

Well, that was unexpected. “What, really?” 

Nodding, he then saw as the girl beamed back, pointing an excited finger towards her nose with a goofy smile that filled up her entire face. “Yeah, it was great! He hit me in the face!” 

Although that’s when she watched Dazai’s eyes lower into a more dangerous expression, as he felt his throat tick with anger. What did she mean he hit her in the face ? 

Just what was that stupid dog doing? Hurting his precious little darling, that guy had a death wish for sure, and not the fun kind. 

Reaching his hands up, the boy then placed them on either side of her cheeks before inspecting every inch of her skin. “He hit you..?” 

Although that’s when Asa quickly perked up and finished the sentence. Ah, that sounded bad, didn’t it? Sorry, Chuuya. “Oh I mean, accidentally of course! And then he helped me stop my nosebleed.” 

The explanation was better, but not by much, the boy softening just slightly when he realized that there were no marks on her face. Chuuya was lucky there wasn’t any too, or else he knew he’d have to have a word with him about it. A very violent word.

Allowing her skin freedom, Dazai’s hand then reeled back before shaking his head with a scoff, still not okay with how things played out. “That idiot, he never looks where he’s going..” 

Asagao couldn’t disagree with that though, knowing that Chuuya was distracted when his hand accidentally connected with her face. It was both their faults really, but she was sure Dazai didn’t want to hear that. 

So instead, the girl allowed another quiet to overtake them in order for her to recall the kind ginger haired boy that had taken care of her. He was so sweet, cleaning up that blood for her. She kinda wanted to meet him again, to talk to him some more like Dazai did all the time. 

Taking in an anxious breath, Asa then began to play with the ends of her skirt in order to turn towards the bandaged boy with a hopeful whisper. “Hey Osu, do you think he’d wanna be friends with me?”

Dazai only twisted his lips in disgust for the idea though, his opinion very known. “Why would you ever want to be friends with that slug?” 

Asa only shrugged her shoulders though, recalling the conversation the two had shared in the bathroom's waiting area. “I don’t know, I just figured that if he could handle you then maybe he could handle me.”

It was something that crossed her mind ever since Chuuya had mentioned Dazai’s name. And it was no secret that her and Osu’s mindsets were rather similar in style. Perhaps in some way, she hoped that she had finally found someone that wouldn’t run away for once. 

Wishful thinking, she knew, but it was worth a shot to ask. 

The mafioso only scoffed though, his feelings not mutual on the subject. “You don’t need to befriend that idiot. His stupid will rub off on you, and you already have enough of that as it is.” 

And yes, a part of his answer was because Chuuya was in the mafia which meant another dangerous tie to Mori but that wasn’t completely the reason why Dazai had shut the idea down. 

It was insecurity, it was anxiety that the ginger was a much better man than him, and if Asa knew that then she would abandon him for Chuuya without a second thought. Anyone with a brain would do that. He was normal, and Dazai was not. 

Sighing heavily, Asa then frowned at the disapproval. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just know I’m a lot to handle and most people can’t really understand it. I just thought that maybe since he already knows what you’re like then there was a chance that..” 

The rest of her sentence disappeared due to nerves, and yet her mind finished it even so. Maybe there was a chance I could finally have a friend, that someone could tolerate me enough to finally stick around. 

Dazai’s lips couldn’t help but pout at that though, his fears of being abandoned and left behind showing in a jealous and bitter whine. “And what am I, Asa-chan? I understand your twisted little mind better than anyone, especially better than that stupid yapping dog. Trust me, you don’t need him.” 

At that, Asagao felt herself smile under her breath. Did he really think she would forget about him? Osamu was and would always be the most important person to her. Even more than a friend, he was her lifeline. 

Not wanting him to feel left out, Asa then turned on her side to meet him, her soft gentle gaze meeting his anxious one. “That’s true, you’re plenty enough for me.” 

And with that, Dazai’s shoulders began to relax ever so slowly, his breathing retreating back to normal before looking up at the blanketed sky above them. This looked like a lot of work, it seemed to take hours at least. 

He could even picture her drunken little stumbles as she carefully crafted each aspected of her little surprise. What a silly little thing she was, doing all of this. He didn’t deserve it. 

Feeling his voice come out far more uncertain than he had planned, the bandaged boy whispered apprehensively. “Did you really put all of this together..?”

The rest of the phrase was lost in the air but it was obvious even so. 

..for me?

Did she seriously put all of this planning and hard work together just for a pathetic little boy like him? He had never had that before, he had never been surprised with good intentions. He had never had anyone think about him or care about him in this kind of way. 

Asa only nodded her head though, like the answer was obvious. “Of course, I wanted to make you happy, like you do for me. So, did it work? Are you happy? Did I make your home a little more fun?” 

Happy? 

What did that feel like, to be happy? And was that what he was feeling now? He wasn’t sure, but Dazai did feel a strange tumble inside his chest, the feeling so warm that it was almost too nauseating to process. 

It was a foreign sensation, one that the boy couldn’t understand in the slightest. How was one supposed to react to that question? He didn’t know. 

But what he did know was how utterly wrong she was with that little sentence of hers. She kept calling this place a home, and he knew that wasn’t accurate at all. 

Forcing the warmth from his chest, Dazai then narrowed his eyes in order to focus on correcting her absurd sentence. “This place has never been my home. It’s just a building with rooms, that’s all.”

Asagao wasn’t surprised by that though. She had gotten that much from her very first inspection. A home wasn’t supposed to be that sad and lonely after all. That’s why she did all of this in the first place, so he would feel better about coming back here. 

And because he had shown her a bit of vulnerability, she wanted to do the same, even if it was hard to talk about. “I get that. Oda’s place doesn’t really feel like home either. So I can understand how you feel, coming back to somewhere that doesn’t feel right, like you're a stranger in your own house..”

Someone else’s place, someone else’s bed, it never did feel right for her to be there, especially since she never knew the previous owner. Maybe if she knew Oda then the walls wouldn’t be as mocking but that wasn’t a luxury she was given. 

Dazai remained silent at that, almost like he had wordlessly agreed with her as Asagao closed her eyes in simple thought. Tomorrow their little “freebie” would be done and they would go back to the strangers they were before. 

And although it was far past what they had decided, Asagao didn’t want that. 

She didn’t want them to go back to being strangers, not after she had gotten a taste of who he was. That lonely, sad and suffocating feeling, she never wanted to go back to that again now that she had found someone that had understood her.

Just a little bit more, that’s all she needed. That’s all she wanted from him. Perhaps it was impossible, but she would never know unless she tried. 

And using her drunk confidence, the girl did just that. “Osamu..I..uhh..”

Stopping her failing tongue, Asagao then took a heavy breath before pouring out her feelings. “I know the specifics of our deal are already made and everything but these last two days have been really nice. I’ve never had this before, and I wanted to thank you for it. For giving me Bar Lupin, for showing me that photo, for bringing my brother back to life, and for allowing me to be myself without judgment. It means a lot to me..really..”

It was something she would never forget, the kindness he had shown her tonight. She somehow felt closer than she had ever been before to her big brother and it was all because of him. 

Pausing for a moment, Asa then squeezed her eyes shut with anxiety before shoving the words out before she could change her mind. “And I just...I want you to know that if there is a day that you don’t want to come back here, then you can come to me..” 

Oh god, she said it. She really said it. Hold on, that sounded creepy, didn’t it? She didn’t want him to think she was creepy. Quickly Asagao, explain yourself before he laughs at you. 

Pushing her hands up, Asa then stuttered through her embarrassed pink cheeks, the room suddenly feeling way too warm “I-I don’t mean that in a weird way or anything. I know you’re still gonna come over for the letters but that doesn’t have to be the only reason we have to see each other if you want to. You could always just stay the night and leave right after or hang around the place, or even sit in complete silence if you just need to be near someone. I don’t mind, really.” 

Finally taking a much needed breath, she then forced her mouth closed before a small smile crossed her lips. She did it, she had taken a step forward and pushed herself out of her comfort zone. 

Speaking mostly to herself, the girl then finished wistfully imagining a perfect world where her dreams could be. “In fact, I’d actually really like it if you did that. Because then, maybe with you, that place could be home.”

And maybe it could, maybe with Osamu there, Oda’s apartment could feel like home, like she could belong there. She had seen small glimpses of it when he came over for her brother’s letters. Perhaps the house could be that lively all the time. She hoped it could. 

A heavy silence then appeared between the two, causing Asagao’s head to turn towards Osu only for her eyes to widen at the sight before her. 

Because for some reason, the scary port mafia executive, the demon prodigy, looked like the embodiment of a ghost, his skin sickly pale and unmoving as his eyes stared into what seemed like absolutely nothing at all. It was almost like the boy had ceased to function completely, his mind unable to process the offer that Asa had given him. 

All at once, Asagao leaned forward in concern, her voice laced with anxiety and fear in order to try and snap him back out of whatever state she had put him in. 

Oh no, what had she done? Did she offend him? “...Osamu?”

Yet, before she could process it, Dazai’s fingers had quickly found the edges of the blanket she was laying on and lifted them up in order for her entire body to flop around like fish as the boy beamed happily. “Alright, time for bed!” 

Gasping out a squeak in surprise, she then felt her entire body start to get constricted by the blankets in order for Osu to comically roll her up until just her head and wiggling feet were showing. “Whaaa, wait Samu, what are you doing?!” 

He only laughed though, picking up the poor wrapped girl before throwing her over his shoulder in order to move over to his bedroom with an over the top air. “I’m making an Asa-chan burrito so that way you can’t escape!” 

Asagao then felt her entire body plop onto his bed in order for her to whine in disappointment. “But what about our sleepover? I worked so hard.”

Dazai only placed a finger to her nose though, stopping her self pity party with a teasing smirk. “But isn’t sleeping also a part of a sleepover?” 

Nodding apprehensively, Asa frowned. “I guess..” 

Reeling back in finality, the boy then clapped his hands goofily before already walking away, almost like he needed to leave this conversation sooner rather than later. “That settles it! Now come on, my drunk princess needs her beauty sleep or else she’s gonna regret it in the morning.” 

But as she watched him go, Asa couldn’t help but call back in concern. “What about you, where are you going to sleep?” 

She had taken up the entire bed after all, and Asagao didn’t want Dazai to have to sleep on the sofa or something uncomfortable like that. Hell, if she wasn’t tied up like the giant sushi then she would’ve offered to move. 

Although that’s when Dazai paused, his overconfidence dropping for a millisecond in order to glance back at the girl with a more genuine, less happy smile. “Aww, don’t you worry, darling. I’m naturally beautiful. It would be impossible to lose my good looks.” 

Then before she could argue, he was gone, leaving Asagao to slump against the pillows with a heavy sigh of defeat. He didn't answer her question, now and back under the fort. But what did that mean? 

And why did he look so sad when he turned back to her?

------

Carefully closing the door to his bedroom, Dazai waited until he heard the soft click of confirmation before his happy go lucky and cheery exterior dropped away into nothing, leaving only a placid and sunken expression. 

He had run away. 

One push from Asagao and he had retreated into himself so quickly, it was almost like second nature. Her request to get closer to him, to have him rely on her past their original agreement, just what was she thinking? 

Of course, he wanted that. 

He wanted to have somewhere he could call a home, he so desperately wanted something to stop the crippling loneliness that he felt whenever he returned back to these sad and hollow walls and floors. He wanted it so badly that it physically hurt him to even think about it.

To have a family, to have a friend, to have something to hold onto when life abused him and kicked him down over and over again. He so desperately wanted someone to hear his cries and reach out their hand so that he could collapse safely and never leave again. 

But, Dazai knew that he couldn’t, because he had already done so before. 

And it had ruined him. 

He had let his walls down around Odasaku, and for a split second, the boy thought that he could have those things too, but then they were taken from him. Just like that, in a blink of an eye, they were gone, leaving him in the dark once more. 

What was the point of it all, why did he even do that? Why did he try? It’s not like it mattered in the end, if anything it made everything worse. Because now that he had gotten a taste of companionship, it was like a drug, never leaving him alone.  

And Asagao was the worst kind of drug of all. 

One that he couldn’t allow himself to indulge in, to addict himself so heavily like before. No, he had learned his lesson, he wouldn’t get his hopes up and destroy himself a second time. 

Because it never changed anything, and Dazai knew in his sick little twisted brain that the moment he crumbled and closed their distance, she would be taken away from him as well. 

No, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t lose someone like that again. 

That’s why it was better to never know what that warmth was, what that path felt like. Yes, it was better to never know then to find out and have it ripped away in the end. 

Moving over to the large window by his living room, Dazai then leaned against the cool glass, allowing it to chill his entire soul.

 It would be easier to just let her go completely, to cut ties with Oda’s sister before he was tempted with more. 

But just the very thought caused his entire body to tense in response for even thinking about such a thing. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t let her go, not when she was close to his dear friend, not when she had brought him so many wonderful things. 

Even Dazai knew he wasn't that kind. He was far too selfish to give her that kind of mercy, to completely lose her in his life.

 And though it was dangerous, though he realized he was walking an extremely thin line over a cavern-like pit, he couldn’t help still balance on it. 

Standing still from the distance they had but never taking a step forward, that was the fate the boy that resisted himself to, and he was determined to keep it. 

It didn’t matter if that result left him alone, it didn’t matter if twisted his heart and shoved his invisible needs down, it didn’t matter if that result left him screaming in the dark like he had always been, this was the only path for him now. 

And he would walk it, simply because he had to. 

Taking out his phone from his pocket, Dazai then pushed a very familiar button before he heard the singular ring inside his ear.

 And then, after two little sounds, Ango’s voice picked up, just as panicked and anxious as he expected it to be. “Dazai? What is it?” 

The mafioso only hummed though, his fingers trailing the glass in front of him. “Oh nothing, I just thought you’d be interested to know that I found our little lost princess.” 

Almost immediately, the voice jumped up, the tone growing louder. “Wait, you did? Where is she? Tell me the address and I’ll come over right now..” 

Although that’s when Dazai cut him off completely, a suppressed laugh inside his throat. “Oh, that won’t be necessary. You see, Ango. I’ve taken quite a liking to her. I think I’m gonna keep her.”

And from the other side of the phone, Ango felt his face drop. No, this was the worst result he couldn’t ever have imagined. “K-Keep? Dazai, you know you can’t do that. It’s too dangerous. What if Mori..” 

Yet that’s when Dazai responded, his voice serious. “He won’t.” 

Catching the agent completely off guard, Ango couldn’t help but twist his eyes in confusion. Where was that cruel teasing air he had been using? It had disappeared completely. “What?” 

The bandaged boy only narrowed his eyes though, clutching the phone between his fingers before allowing his voice to ring with soft honesty. “Mori won’t find out about her. Odasaku wouldn’t have wanted that, so he won’t.” 

And for a moment, Ango felt himself freeze. Was he saying that he was going to protect Asagao, that he was going to keep her safe from Mori and the port mafia? No, it couldn’t be. Dazai wasn’t that kind of man, well at least that’s what he thought. 

It was surprising to say the least, suggesting such an out of character thing for him. Was it because of Odasaku, was that why he was going out of his comfort zone? Ango wasn’t completely sure but from his tone of voice it didn't seem like he was lying. 

But with Dazai, he could never really tell. 

Because of that, the man was still apprehensive. This was such a precious thing they were talking about, this was their friend's dear little sister. He couldn’t let up on such a thing. “I don’t know, I just don’t think that she should..” 

Yet that’s when the boy cut him off again, a sharp threatening edge to his voice. “Ango, if you continue then you’ll be my enemy. You know what that means, right?” 

And for the first time since their conversation, Ango felt his eyes widen. 

Because he knew exactly what that meant, he knew the death sentence that was implied by being labeled the misfortune of the enemy of port mafia executive Dazai Osamu. 

But could it really be true? Dazai was threatening war with the government just to keep her? He wanted to risk that much? Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps Asa did mean more to the boy than just a simple plaything. 

Could it really be, had the brutal mafia executive finally grown a heart? 

He couldn’t really tell for sure but the lethal threat was enough to make Ango close his eyes in unsaid defeat. If Dazai was really that serious about defending her then he knew he couldn’t argue. 

But that didn’t mean he was going to let up if that changed. “You better keep  your word, Dazai. If anything happens to her, just know Odasaku would never forgive you, and neither will I…” 

And just like that, the line went dead, causing Dazai to drop the phone to his side in silent confirmation. 

Ango didn’t need to worry about that. He would protect her, from Mori, from the world, but mostly from the most dangerous threat of all. 

Himself. 

---

(It's been a month since I've started this fic! Thank you so much for all your support and love on my first bsd story!)

I call this chapter "let Dazai be a kid" because in most fanfics I've read a lot of authors focus on either the "fifteen year old boy" aspect of Dazai or a "brutal executive" side of him and although none of them are wrong, in my mind I think he's really a mix of both. The line that Odasaku uses to describe him in the novels really inspired this chapter in order to show both sides of the complex boy. We see this in the expectations and the box that he tries to put himself into to seem more adult (the drinking, the pressure of seduction) but in reality it comes across from of a child playing dress up than the truth.

[yandereheathen]

Boss's Plaything [18+ Ateez Yandere Hoongjoong x Fem Reader] Part 1.5

Yandere Hoongjoong x Fem Reader Warnings:Warnings: Yandere dark themes!! NSFW Non-con, Mentions of hurting other people, violence towards Reader, jealousy, voyeurism. hair pulling Word count 1.2k

Numb. Hongjoong left you numb on his desk as he adjusted himself and smiled at you again, looking back. His hand traces on your inner thigh just once, appreciating his work.

"Join the party back when you have Cleaned yourself up."

Your heart breaks even more at those words. It hurts even more than the cuts and scraps on your back. You just whimper in response, a soft noise, jumping like a scared cat when the door closes behind him. 

You curl yourself up on the floor, sobbing, hugging your knees to your bare chest.

How could he do this? Had you done something wrong? Was this some sick punishment for a work mistake? Your head was smiling, thinking back to anything you might have done. You know it was to distract yourself from what just happened. You didn't want to, no, you couldn't think about it. Everything hurt so much. It was too painful. You didn't want to be here, let alone return to the party and face all those people.

You just wanted to disappear.

"...y/n.."

A soft voice calls out to you. You panic, pressing yourself to the desk. Scared that it was Hongjoong coming back to pull you to the party. You tried to cover yourself, looking up at Songhwa's remorseful eyes. You tried to hide in the solid desk, looking away, not wanting anyone to see you like this. He carefully sits down, placing his jacket over you in an attempt to cover your bruised, naked body.

You just whimpered in response, unable to find your voice.

"shhh, it is ok...it is ok.." He goes to pet your head but pulls back visions of the acts he was doing to himself when he watched you be raped, forcing a mix of sick pleasure and searing guilt in the pit of his stomach. He stands up, speaking softly.

"Go home. Take a warm shower. I will call you a car. Take the weekend off...and Y/N"

He bends down again, speaking low.

"Please trust me on this warning. He has eyes and hands everywhere. It is better for you to not call the police."

You threw your phone at your wall with a cry of rage. The cop's voice ringing in your ears.

"Miss, this is a police station. We don't take prank calls lightly."

After you were screaming clearly that you had been raped by your boss, it just fell on a dial tone. The 911 operator would even transfer you any more.

No one was calling you back or responding to you. San, Yosang, Yunho, no one was picking up or answering you. You woke up to your tired slashed the day after you called the police and your cards were zeroed out. All you had was the little cash you kept on hand. You felt an agonizing hand not only covering your eyes but also seemingly silencing your voice. Your whole life, you had work SO HARD FOR. Gone. Everything you knew was upheaved, and you didn't only have your hands tied behind your hand, but you were gagged and blinded as well.

On Sunday evening, you just didn't have any energy left. You hadn't eaten and barely slept. In what seemed like another world, you would be going through emails, maybe even with Hongjoong and Songhwa laughing and drinking a glass of wine.

It might have been only 3 days ago, but you felt like a new person. A retch of a used and broken woman compared to the happy, bubbly person you were before.

You didn't even know how to move forward. What would you do tomorrow? When you were expected to see. Him. You couldn't stand it. You just wanted to curl up and never wake up. Everything was gone.

"Y/N, look how cute you are snuggled up in those blankets. You look upset. Tell your new master what has his cute plaything so upset."

You jump, goosebumps rising on your nack, and you look back at your door. You didn't hear it unlock, and of course, he had a key.

HE stood as he always did, impeccably in a button-up shirt with roses imprinted and tight black pants with boots to match. Tainted glasses just barely showed his cold back eyes. He honestly looked like a demon who had come to collect your soul.

Frozen with fear, you must shake your head, not close your eyes, wishing this was just a bad dream.

"Awww, Baby girl. Devil got your tongue?"

He moved closer to you, trapping you to your couch and pulling your chin up to him. Making you open your teary eyes. 

He had missed you. It was hard not to take you back to his apartment with him after you both had made love. Even more so to not come storming into your house after he had gotten notices from the branches and police of your cries. You were so cute. Trying to escape him. Little did you know you had been nested into his clutches right from the day you met him/

He just cooed, grinning in your face, and then his eyes looked down and saw your bare neck. His eyes turn violent. Grabbing a fist full of your hair, yanking your head back, making your whimper turn into full-blown sobs as he screams at you.

"Where is it?! WHERE IS THE PROOF YOU BELONG TO ME"

You try pulling back and pushing him away, but he only gets angrier.

"I owen you Y/N. The sooner you learn that, the better. I built you from noting you would have been eaten up and spit out a long time ago if it wasn't for me. Without me, do you know what you are?"

He takes your head, slamming it on the window near your couch, cracking the glass, making your vision go fuzzy, and the ringing starts in your ears but not loud enough to hear what he says next.

"Nothing. You are nothing without me, Y/N."

"I own you. Your mind, your body, and spirit all belong to me."

He pins your arms behind your back. You just cry, begging him to stop telling him it hurts. You are sorry that you will listen if he is gentler.

He was cursing himself. He had not placed the cards right, and he knew it. He was usually so careful with everything, ready to take his time, and he just couldn't be with you any longer. Seeing you at his desk, in a tight dress, and his symbol around your neck. He has to have you. Now, he was paying the consequences. He didn't like being rough with you. However, he would have to if it was needed.

As you look up at him, pathetically, trying to pull on his mercy, he licks his lip, standing above you, running his finger on your lips.

"Let's get started with some new professional development. Shall we, my cute Y/N?"

He bites into his lip, drawing a little bit of blood, pleased at the image of his love dripping down, mixed with your tears and the slight blood from when he smashed your head.

"That's a pretty girl. Just wait until work tomorrow."

Author notes: ahhh Abit shorter I feel like a mini update I just wanted something in-between. Here we are :>

[discount-shades]

Dead or Alive Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Chicken Run

A/N: I think I am going to give gold stars out to the people who get the references to other westerns in this series. 

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader 

Warning: Western themed violence. Law inaccuracies.

Word Count: 2000 ish

Summary: We meet the reader. 

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“You have been found guilty by a jury of your peers and I sentence you to be hung by the neck until you are dead.” You flinch at the crack of the gavel as the judge bangs it down on the teacher’s desk in front of him. There is no courthouse in Pine Creek, just a schoolhouse, a church, and a saloon. 

The judge decided that it would be an affront to God to hold the trial in a church and refused to set foot in the saloon so here you sat, squeezed into a child’s desk off to the side of the little one room schoolhouse. A jury of your ‘peers’ gathered off to the side had declared you guilty of horse theft. All of them were men, and all of the had refused to believe that you only stole the horse to escape a boss that was going to rape you. 

It didn't help that your previous employer owned the Hanging Dog Ranch. Half the town worked for him and the other half depended on his business. There was no way you would get a fair trial in this town. 

When the railroad had bypassed the town to go south, Pine Creek had started to fade with only a stagecoach connecting it to the outside world. The only thing keeping it from becoming a ghost town was the Hanging Dog Ranch. 

One of the deputies grabbed you by the upper arm and began to drag you out. In the doorway you passed Pete and Bradley being marched in. The second trial of the day. They had been a part of the bank robbery that happened the day after you were arrested. You remember hearing the sound of gunshots from your cell. All of the Hanging Dog Ranch’s payroll had been stolen by the rest of the gang but two of the robbers had been caught.

They would be getting the same fate as you. The gallows in town had already been built, three nooses hanging above one long trapdoor. The newly sawn boards bright against the weathered store fronts outside the Pine Creek Sheriffs’ Office. 

The men had been sharing the cell next to yours for the past few weeks waiting for the judge to finally make his way to town. As far as robbers went they were a decent sort. You had been on the wrong side of the law, and morality for years, and you could tell the difference between good and bad men regardless of the law. Your parents died from consumption when you were young, leaving you to fend for yourself. The world isn’t kind to pretty girls with no one to look out for them. 

But you survived. You had done what you needed to do to get by. You had thought that working as a cook’s helper and general maid in the big house on a prosperous ranch would be your chance to leave your past behind and get on the right side of the law. How wrong you were. 

The deputy puts you back in your cell. The only concession for you being a woman was a sheet that could be hung for privacy if you needed to use the bucket in the corner. You sit on the wooden shelf that served as a bed. When the deputy left you pull your knees up and muffle the sobs into your skirt. You were alone in the jail and so you finally allowed yourself to cry. The small part of you had been holding out hope that you would be found innocent had flitted away when you had seen the freshly built gallows on the way to the makeshift courthouse. 

At the sound of footsteps on the boardwalk out front you dry your tears and take a deep breath as the numbness sets in. You were going to die. Well you were always going to die, everyone does, but your fate had become very immediate. The footsteps fade as the person making them carries on.

It doesn’t take more than ten minutes for the sheriff and deputies to bring in the other two men who would be joining you tomorrow. Ten minutes to sentence two men to death. Their faces are grim as you meet their eyes. “You too?” you ask and they nod. 

“It was nice knowing you.” Bradley says with a ghost of a smile. “I wish it was under better circumstances.” You let out a little laugh nodding before the sheriff snaps at you to be quiet. The night guard usually allowed you to talk but when the sheriff was in the jailhouse he demanded silence. You lay back on the bed and drift into an uneasy sleep.

You awake when darkness falls. The night guard brings you all some food and you eat quietly. Bland stew from the boarding house, it’s not much of a last supper. You eat mechanically. More so for something to do than for any real hunger. The meals the past few weeks had been more regular than any time in your life. Even working at the big house you had only been fed twice a day. Here you were guaranteed three solid meals a day until your execution. 

You set your empty bowl on the gap in the bars for the deputy to collect and return to your bed. You talk with Pete and Bradley quietly all night. Telling stories from your lives, all of the coulda, shoulda, wouldas. With dawn comes the return of the sheriff and breakfast. Lukewarm porridge, but unlike every other morning there is a dollop of brown sugar on top. 

The churning in your gut makes it impossible to eat. If it had been the same as every day before you are sure you could have forced it down but the added sweetener makes your stomach clench. Another signal that your time on this earth is limited. The hanging is set for 10:00AM. This is your last meal and you can't even eat it. You quietly set the still full bowl on the ledge and return to your bed.

As it draws closer to 10:00 you can hear the crowd gathering. The sky that you can see through the bars of your cell window is blue and cloudless. More than a few voices carry through the window. “It’s a great day for a hanging,” a faceless voice calls out. Any day is a good day for hanging if you are not the one being hung you think bitterly.

At quarter to 10:00 you are ordered to put your hands through the slot they pass the food through and one of the deputies firmly ties your wrists together while another ties Pete and Bradley’s in turn. 

Ten minutes left. The deputies lead Pete and Bradley out first with you following meekly behind. You walk through town to the jeers of the crowd. Many lost money when the bank was robbed and a woman hanging is uncommon enough that people were willing to travel to see it. It was one of the reasons the judge insisted the sentence be carried out so soon. He didn’t want a huge audience. 

Stumbling on the steps you stoop to hold up your dress with your tied hands as you ascend the gallows to stand behind the last noose in the row. The rope is coarse and brown and you can’t help but think of how it will feel around your neck. You tune out the voice reading the charges against the three of you, barely registering when they say your name. Your eyes fixed on the rope as it twists and moves gently in the faint breeze. Would your body move the same way?

You don’t notice the steady rumble of hundreds of hoofbeats until the screams begin. You glance away from the rope to see hundreds of shorthorns stampeding through town. Gunfire draws your eyes from the cattle to the people on horseback, their faces covered by bandanas. The sharp scent of gunsmoke fills the air as they fire causing the cattle to scatter, the whites of their eyes showing as they bawl in fright. The Hanging Dog Ranch brand on the right rib of every animal. 

A man on a black horse leading two riderless horses slows as he leads them past the gallows. Pete and Bradley dash for the horses, fighting off the deputies as they run to jump on the riderless horses. No one is watching you, so without thinking you follow. You throw your bound hands over the head of the man on the black horse, knocking his hat off in the process and revealing a head of blond hair. 

“What the hell?” You hear him curse as he tries to throw you off. Clutching the fabric of his shirt, you feel your nails digging into the flesh beneath. 

“If you throw me off I’m taking you with me!” You yell in his ear as he curses, struggling to keep his balance with you hanging off his neck. Scooting forward, you flatten yourself to his back. He curses again and threads one arm through yours so one of your arms is over his shoulder and the other is curled under his arm. Now if one of you fell, it was inevitable that the other would fall as well.  His heart is pounding against the palm you have pressed to his chest. 

Bradley and Pete are now on their horses and all the riders whoop and begin firing at the deputies as they follow the herd, galloping out of town. 

“They are going to form a posse and follow us!” You yell in his ear glancing back at the town of Pine Creek.

“They’ll have a hard time without their horses.” The man in front of you shouts back and motions to the open doors of the livery stable and the horses you see galloping free from the burning building. The townspeople are frantically running to put out the flames. In a town where everything was wooden and connected by wooden boardwalks, fire spread fast. 

A few miles out of town the riders slow at a crossroads. Your body is already aching from the quick getaway. “So did the nooses bring back any memories, Hangman?” Bradley asks and you can feel the muscles of the man in front of you tense. 

“Remind me why I saved you again, Rooster?” He growls while pulling out a knife and sawing at your bindings. 

“New friend there, Hangman?” The voice of a woman startles you and the smallest rider pulls down her bandana to reveal her face, everyone else following suit. “Can’t even save people from the noose without trying to find a girl.”

“It was a hitch in the plan.” With a final tug you feel the bindings give way. “Now get off.” He reaches around to pull you from the saddle.

“Wait, you can’t just leave her here!” Bradley exclaims as you clutch the shirt of the man in front of you. “They’ll find her for sure.”

“Not my problem.” The man in front of you grumbles and he resumes tugging on your arm.

“Hold up Hangman,” Pete says in a calming voice. “We’ve got to take her with us. She was going to be hung beside us, she’s good people.” You can’t help the snort that escapes you. Being declared ’good people’ because you were in a cell next to someone was a first. 

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Who’s she going to ride with?” Everyone looks around uncomfortably. 

“Well she is already on your horse,” the woman says with a grin. “Come on, everybody split up. We’ll meet at the Hard Deck, she better be with you, Hangman. ” She spurs her horse and gallops away, everyone else following her lead and scattering in different directions. 

The man on the black horse doesn’t move. You tentatively introduce yourself and he doesn’t respond leaving you wishing you could have rode with Bradley or Pete. After a long silence he finally gathers his reins. “Sugar, you owe me a hat.” With that he gives his horse a nudge and takes off down the narrow trail that leads into the mountains. 

[jung-shook-iieee]

Masterlist.

18+. Female reader. Do not copy or repost my work.

DISCLAIMER: My works contains dark content, yandere, dubcon, cnc etc such themes, I also write soft themes but I'm more into dark au's! , so please do read the warnings, genre, tags before diving further into my works.

Second thing, I do not own any bts members. I just write in a form of Fiction and i would never want them to act this way in reality, I also do not encourage cnc, dubcon such heavy topics in reality. There's a line between fictional World and real world please do understand that. <;3

And lastly, it's my second account. Tumblr really sucks, I lost my first acc and I'm starting fresh again, so please do help me by indulging with my blog. 🖤

°°kim Namjoon°°

*Hot wheels

⭃➳Pairings: idol Namjoon x reader (f)

➳ genre: idol verse, relationship au.

➳ summary: teasing namjoon when he goes live could never get you in serious trouble, right?

°°Kim Seokjin°°

* Daddy issues.

⭃Pairing: seokjin x (f) reader.

⭃ (Sugar baby / sugar daddy.)

(" You’re ruining your dress and makeup pretty. ” )

°°Jeon Jungkook°°

* Mine.

⭃Pairing : mob boss jk x chef reader (f)

⭃Genre : oneshot, mafia au, yandere.

(You stumbled upon something you shouldn't have, and now jungkook needs to make sure you stay silent.)

3:15

⭃Pairing : jk x venom x reader (f)

⭃Genre : dark au! , stalking, yandere.

⭃( Jungkook and venom really likes you. )

Regrets

⭃Pairing : jk x rader (f)

⭃Genre : angst, breakup drabble.

(" So this is it then? " You nodded your head with tears filling your eyes. , It is... I never meant to hurt you y/n." He swore and his doe eyes widened when he heard you sob. But you did. You did jungkook. " You whispered. )

°°Min Yoongi°°

⭃On the low

⭃Pairing : assassin yoongi x assassin reader (f)

⭃Genre : oneshot, assassin au, smut.

⭃ Yoongi hates you, but does he?

°° Jung Hoseok °°

➳Thinkin' bout you

➳Pairings: mafia hoseok x reader (f)

➳word count : 6k ( sorry lol)

➳ genre : Cnc smut, oneshot. ( with a little plot.)

°°Park Jimin°°

⭃Darkside part two

⭃pairing : jimin x reader

⭃genre ; arrange marriage au, dark themed. ( 2/2)

⭃summary: after the demise of your father, you were forced to marry a mob boss who was a decade older than you. Jimin has always been ruthless and marrying someone like him wasn't your first choice, but living with him made you crave for his attention. For getting his attention you were repeatedly acting out until one day he decided to take the matter in his own hands.

°° Kim Taehyung°°

➳ anon req drabble.

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 20 - Self Control

IN THIS CHAPTER: The last high school party, apple flavored Kool-Aid, and Andy gets what he deserves [10.3k]

WARNINGS: underaged drinking, mentions of drug use (weed), slut shaming, a little misunderstanding (gets resolved really quickly), suggestive themes? (very mild, eddie's just a little bit wired, okay?)

A/N: i know i'm a day late, i'm sorry T.T someone got fired at my job and i'm supposed to handle their shit now because my boss is kinda cheap. it is what it is. BUT. hopefully this chapter makes up for my tardiness because as you can probably tell from the banner, the slow burn is officially boiling, you guys! enjoy <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

In the night, no control Through the wall something's breaking

Saturday, May 31st - 1986

Dottie was pacing like a nervous dog in a cage, feet hitting the soft rug in front of her closet with each step she took. It was the first Saturday in a long time that she hadn't spent in a blissful domestic bubble with Eddie and she was feeling downright antsy. The night before, once Hellfire had officially said goodbye to its Class of '86, the two teens had sat themselves in a booth at the back of The Hideaway with burgers, fries, and milkshakes, and something had finally clicked into place for her. There was no longer a specific need for them to spend so much time together anymore - no more exams to study for, no more books to read or worksheets to fill, and yet there they were still, on a Friday night, getting food together like usual. Sitting opposite of Eddie in that booth, watching him try to lick ketchup from the corner of his mouth and not reaching the smudge with the tip of his tongue, it dawned on Dottie that she had never loved anyone the way she loved him.

It wasn't that Dottie hadn't loved throughout her life, because truthfully she had. She had loved her Dad first, tiny fingers wrapping around a big thumb when she was just a few hours old. She'd loved her Grandparents, all four of them equally, but maybe no one should tell them that Grandma Jo leaving after a visit would always cause the biggest sobs to escape her tiny toddler body. She'd loved her Uncle Johnny, always cuddling up to him while they lived together, not really understanding that he wasn't actually her Uncle until it was too late to start calling him anything else. She'd loved her friends back in New York, even though she knew now that they hadn't loved her back in return. Hell, she'd loved Tyler, or else it wouldn't have hurt as much as it did when he broke her heart. Dottie wasn't someone that didn't know what loving meant or felt like, but the way she loved Eddie was unlike any other kind of love she had ever experienced before, and she knew she had to tell him sometime soon or she'd regret it for the rest of her life.

But first, there was prom, and graduation, and most pressingly, a party for which she had absolutely no idea of what she was going to wear, hence the continuous pacing. James, tired of hearing the back and forth on the wooden floors for the last fifteen minutes, came into his daughter's bedroom resigned to play stylist for the night like he'd done so many times before. Keeping up with the latest trends for the sake of his little girl was a full time job he had long ago learned to love.

"Do you know what Nancy is gonna wear?" he asked, sitting down at the end of Dottie’s bed.

"No, I didn't think to ask. But she always looks so pretty, Dad, I can't look like a bum."

"How about you tell me what you don't want to wear and we can start from there, okay?"

Thirty minutes later, Dottie had an outfit laid out where James had been sitting and she was doing her makeup in a hurry before Nancy picked her up. The plan was simple: go to the party, say hi to Chrissy and thank her for the invite, hang out with Nancy for a bit, meet up with the boys, and if the party sucked, head over to Jeff's for a movie night. He'd rented Ghoulies and Weird Science for the weekend and he still hadn't seen either, so it seemed as good a backup plan as any. Besides, movie nights had always meant sharing a blanket with Eddie and cozying up to him when she got sleepy. No matter what ended up happening, she knew her night wouldn't be completely terrible.

"Honey? Are you done yet? Nancy is here!" James yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

"I'll be down in a second!" she hurried to put on her clothes and ran down the stairs to meet her friend, crossbody bag bouncing behind her and hitting her backside.

She found Nancy politely making small talk with her Dad on the foyer; James had gone to school with her mom Karen and had fond memories of sharing a desk with her throughout their many years at Hawkins’ various academic buildings. They hadn't exactly been friends, but they always were on good terms and had even worked on a few projects together, namely one about growing sprouts from beans in mason jars when they were in middle school.

"Hey! Sorry for making you wait," Dottie said, stopping to hug Nancy who was better prepared to receive it than she had been in the school’s bathroom a day before.

"You're fine, don't worry about the time," Nancy reassured her. "There aren't any schedules to keep at these parties, everyone just comes and goes when they want to."

"Oh, good to know that we can just leave whenever if it sucks."

"Speaking of that," James said, getting his daughter's attention. "Call me if you're staying at Jeff's, okay? I'll come pick you up tomorrow."

"Donny can drop me off, you don’t gotta come," she waved her hand nonchalantly.

"Okay, but call me anyway so I know where you are. Take care you two, don't get too wild."

"Dad, seriously," Dottie rolled her eyes, exasperated but not without fondness. She knew he worried too much, but after all they’d been through, she couldn't blame him.

"Have a good night, Mr. Burke, it was nice to meet you," Nancy said, heading out with Dottie at her heels.

"You too, Nancy. Say hi to your parents for me, will you?"

The girls got into Nancy's car and drove away towards Loch Nora, the radio playing The Rolling Stones’ Harlem Shuffle softly in the background. They talked about random things, filling the empty space with the kind of anxious but lighthearted conversations one would have with someone they don’t know very well yet. So far their budding friendship had proved satisfactory for both girls, and they were willing to put in the effort to get to know one another better, even when that meant having to venture outside the comfort zone The Weekly Streak’s newsroom provided. During the ride Nancy complimented Dottie's outfit, and in turn, she had loudly admired hers, prompting the blue-eyed girl to admit she'd borrowed the shiny jacket with padded shoulders from her Mom’s wardrobe. After a good-natured laugh, Dottie admitted she had stolen her dress from her Mom’s closet too and Nancy told her her Mom had good taste. When they parked across the street from Jason Carver's house however, the friendly chatter ceased and both girls stared at the two-storey rising in front of them with apprehension.

"I'm so nervous," Dottie admitted, watching the colors spilling from the fairy lights inside the living room paint the veranda red, then green, then blue, and finally back to red.

"Me too," Nancy said, taking a shaky breath. "But we got this. How bad can it be?"

"Yeah. You’re right. It’ll be fun," Dottie nodded, and arm in arm they ventured inside the packed house in search of good old teenage normalcy.

Neither Nancy nor Dottie were having the slightest bit of fun. After a few shouted-over-loud-music hellos to some familiar faces, they had found themselves in Jason’s kitchen, nursing cups of a strange brown concoction that didn’t smell good and tasted even worse. Dottie wasn’t much of a drinker, and apparently Nancy wasn’t either, citing that the last time she’d gotten drunk, she’d embarrassed herself so badly she’d rather not have a repeat. The jocks and popular kids disagreed heavily with that assessment, and were having a lot of fun with two kegs in the backyard next to the pool. Dottie had suggested they venture out, sit by the water where it wasn’t as stuffy, but Nancy had quickly directed her into the kitchen where they ran into Marcie Hurley, an acquaintance from the newspaper club. Marcie was a lovely tall girl with a bold pixie cut; she was currently slightly intoxicated but full of ideas for stories to run in the last edition of The Weekly Streak before summer holidays started. Nancy pretended to listen to her with her utmost attention, but Dottie could tell by the way her eyes were glazed over that she was definitely calculating how much more she’d have to hear before she could get away without coming across as rude. Two girls Dottie didn’t know walked into the kitchen searching for something fruity to drink when they said something that caught her attention.

“What do you mean Munson said no?” one of the girls was saying.

“He said he wasn’t selling tonight! Which is honestly such bullshit, he was smoking with some other guys, he definitely had something on him,” the second girl said, pouring vodka into a cup.

“Show him your tits, maybe he’ll share with you.”

“Ew, I’m not that desperate!” the first one laughed loudly.

Dottie scowled immediately. She’d once gotten curious about him dealing and asked him a couple of questions, like how did he get into selling and if he was allowed to smoke his own product. Eddie hadn’t been particularly proud of his answers, but she told him she didn’t mind: the money helped pay for some bills around the trailer and put food onto their table. It wasn’t like he was dealing hard stuff or was some kind of mafia lord moving tons of product, for fuck’s sake. People talked about him like he had his thumb on the illegal underground in Hawkins when in reality, he was just a teen selling weed and a couple of pills here and there to a few fellow students at parties. Dottie hoped he’d never done something as gross as asking a girl to show him her body in exchange for a couple of hits of a shitty joint. She liked to believe she knew Eddie, and in her opinion he’d never do something like that, but teenagers had never been particularly known for making good choices. Nancy was already looking at her when she turned around, a knowing smile on her face. She nodded towards the door once, and after a whispered “thank you” off Dottie went in search of her friends.

The boys were enjoying the fresh air and sharing a smoke on the veranda at the front of the house, not really ready to go inside and face the music just yet. Donny had picked up Gareth and Jeff on his way to the party, but Eddie had arrived solo just a few minutes after them. They were talking about music, as they often did, when Dottie opened the front door and jumped on Jeff’s back, who flinched in surprise.

“Fucking hell, Dot, you’re gonna kill me someday if you keep doing that,” he said, rubbing his chest.

“I was worried you guys weren’t gonna show up,” she admitted, hanging onto his shoulders. He leaned his weight into her, hands wrapping around her loose wrists like they were backpack straps to keep her in place as they swayed side to side.

“Party sucks that much?” Donny asked, passing along the joint to Gareth.

“I mean, it’s not like I know a lot of people here. I’ve been hearing Nancy talk to other girls all night, and I think she’s as fed up as me.”

“Wanna ditch?” Jeff asked.

“We’re not leaving until I drink my fuckin’ weight in rich people’s beer,” Gareth declared, giving the cig to Eddie who took a long drag and put the roach out on the underside of the railing he was leaning against.

“If you want beer, there are a bunch of cans in the kitchen but you gotta fish them out of the cooler and someone spilled something green in there. It’s kinda gross,” Dottie grimaced.

“What? No keg?”

“Actually, there’s two in the backyard but the basketball team took ownership of one and I think the football team was doing handstands on top of the other one.”

“That’s so fucking lame,” Donny scoffed.

“Well then, who’s down for fishing?” Jeff looked at the guys, and Gareth shrugged, putting his hands in his jean pockets and following him inside.

“You coming?” Donny asked Eddie who didn’t move from his spot.

“Nah, gonna smoke a cig first. You go ahead,” he said, getting his Camels out of his front pocket.

Donny headed back inside and then it was just Dottie and Eddie under the moonlight, the tiny lamp above the front door doing nothing to shield them from the darkness. Eddie smiled, putting the cigarettes back in his pocket and opening his arms so Dottie could sheepishly tuck herself into him. She felt like she could finally breathe easy when feeling his chest rising up and down under her cheek, his warmth seeping into her bones.

“Too many people?” he asked knowingly, cupping the back of her head with one of his hands. Her fingers drew patterns on the soft cotton of his shirt.

“Mhm,” she nodded. “This is nice.”

“Yeah? You like my shirt?”

“Smells good,” she laughed. He smelled like Old Spice aftershave and laundry detergent.

“Why, thank you for noticing I showered, princess,” he said, grinning. “You look pretty. This your Mom’s dress?”

“Yeah,” she beamed, looking down at her shift baby blue dress. “I didn’t know what to wear so I just played it safe. The socks are new though,” she lifted her leg to show her white ankle socks with frills under her black kitten heels.

“So cute,” Eddie pouted theatrically, making her slap his chest in return. “No, really. You look nice.”

“Thanks,” she settled back against him, cheeks burning.

They enjoyed each other’s presence for a few seconds when the front door opened with a bang, an overexcited and red-eyed Chrissy Cunningham spilling out from the inside, her giggles following her as she skipped towards them in tune with the music coming from the speakers in the living room.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked, a mischievous grin gracing her fairy-like features.

“Hey, Chris,” Eddie smiled, still holding onto Dottie as she turned in his arms to take a look at the newcomer. “How was your latest purchase?

“It was so good. Valerie, Julie and I just smoked a joint each in the bathroom,” she whispered conspiratorially, making Dottie laugh.

“Oh my. What would Jason say if he knew you were hotboxing his shower?” Eddie matched her tone.

“What Jason doesn’t know won’t hurt him. D’you want to smoke with us later, Dot? Only girls allowed.”

“Sorry, I’m not really a smoker,” Dottie said, feeling a little bit dumb. “But I’ll take you up on that Queen song you promised me yesterday if you wanna dance.”

“Oh my God, yes!” Chrissy grabbed her arm and pulled her out of Eddie’s grasp. “She’s mine now, Ed!”

“I can see that. I’m gonna go get a beer,” Eddie said, following them inside. “Have fun, ladies!”

“We will!”

Weed affects different people in different ways. That was a fact Dottie knew after spending so much time with the members of Corroded Coffin, better known as her best friends. Donny was always virtually the same after a good session, just got very thirsty. Eddie would get deep and thoughtful, and once the effects were gone, he’d get so hungry he’d eat drywall if it was the only thing around. Gareth, like Chrissy, would get giggly once he hit that sweet spot. It was like drinking, Donny had told her once. Everyone had a different tolerance, and most of the time taking a few hits of a shared joint wouldn’t be enough to change anyone’s personality significantly. There were other people like Jeff, for example, who had a very low tolerance and had decided to stop smoking altogether after realizing he’d get panicky and his clothes would always start itching each time he indulged in the vice with his friends. None of them had ever questioned him or pressured him to smoke after that, the same way that they didn’t pressure Dottie to smoke or drink when they were doing it around her. They’d always smoke outside, and Dottie and Jeff were free to lounge around on the couch and talk about anything and everything until they all regrouped inside again. Watching Chrissy be so carefree and joyful made Dottie think that maybe she’d enjoy being invited to one of their movie nights some day.

Chrissy, on the other hand, was a girl on a mission. There were no movie nights being planned in her head; she was instead focused on getting information out of Dottie to relay to Eddie at his earliest convenience. Chrissy liked Dottie, she really did. She liked how kind and attentive she was despite always walking around with an anxiety cloud above her head. She liked how she dressed, with her vintage clothing and big earrings Chrissy couldn’t wear because it’d be dangerous for a cheerleader to be tossed around with hoops or fun acrylic shapes dangling from her ears. She liked how she made Eddie feel, and Chrissy liked Eddie very much, so that just cemented Dottie in her mind as a good person to have around. And so, the blonde lulled her into a sense of comradery with heartfelt compliments and wild dances, trying to get to the bottom of the question she’d had swirling around in her brain for two months now: do you like my friend or is he wasting his time to end with his heart broken? To her credit, what came out of her mouth was much more subtle than that.

“Eddie’s awesome, isn’t he?” Chrissy asked, casting her line into the sea and waiting for Dottie to bite.

“Yeah, he’s great!”

“He was so right about us being friends! I’m so happy you came!”

“Well, thank you for inviting me!” Dottie smiled at her, and Chrissy squeezed her hand in response.

The party was in full swing now. Nancy had found a couple of classmates she got along with and finally managed to escape Marcie’s insistent newspaper talk; she looked much more happy talking to them near the door to the backyard than she’d looked like back in the kitchen. Donny, Gareth and Jeff were fishing out beer cans from the cooler and passing them along to people that normally ignored them in the hallways, their bravery for sticking their hands into the horrid green liquid making them the heroes of underaged teens trying to get unbearably drunk before inevitably throwing up all over Mrs. Carver’s bushes. Eddie stood to a side, near the archway that led to the stairs where bubblegum pink eyeshadow Marianne from his Sociology class had just disappeared up to with his lovesick boyfriend trailing behind her, much to his friends’ jeers and claps. The metalhead had a barely sipped on beer in his hand and hearts in his eyes as he watched Dottie and Chrissy spin around in the middle of the living room, singing along to Top 40 hits and dodging couples making out.

Eddie had never felt happy at a house party before. He’d usually drop by, deal a little bit from the back of his van, and speed away either to Jeff’s house to hang out with his friends or back towards his trailer where he’d smoke and fuck around with his guitar until he’d fall asleep on his tummy with his jeans still on. But standing there, seeing his friends being treated like normal people instead of the dirt beneath a shoe, he felt happy at a party for once in his life. He felt like a normal teenager, like everyone else in the Hawkins High Class of ‘86 saying goodbye to a long school year and hello to the unforgettable summer ahead. Chrissy made a suggestive face at him while dancing around with Dottie and Eddie laughed.

“Hey, Munson!” a familiar voice said, coming to clap his shoulder and snapping him out of his trance.

“Hey, Foster. How are you doing?”

“Weird seeing you here,” Kyle Foster of the Yearbook Club said, looking friendly but fidgety. “You never sell inside at these things.”

“Not selling tonight, man. Just enjoying the beer,” he lifted his can above waist level to demonstrate.

“Ah, dude, that sucks. I had a twenty with your name on it,” he clicked his tongue. “But if our deal still stands, I guess in a couple of weeks you’ll have a bag with my name on it.”

“I’m a man of my word, Foster,” Eddie smirked, shoving his hand into his pocket. “But here, for your troubles.”

He produced a tightly rolled joint from inside his packet of Camels and extended it to Kyle, who looked at him like he’d grown two heads. Never in his entire time being Eddie’s customer had he sold him a pre-roll, much less one that he had intended to smoke himself at some point. He eyed him curiously, not making any moves to pluck it out of the dealer’s hand.

“You sure about that, Munson?” he asked, giving him the chance to recant his offer.

“Yeah, you can have it. I’m not gonna smoke it and I’m feeling generous tonight. Just don’t send anyone else my way, okay? It’s the only one I had.”

“Y-yeah, man, sure! Thanks,” Kyle smiled, grabbing his prize for holding a polite conversation with the town’s freak who felt like less and less of a monster as the school year came to a close. “Here, take the twenty anyways,” he pulled a single bill from his back pocket. “Sorry about, y’know, that whole thing. See you when the yearbooks come out!”

And with that, he shoved the note into Eddie’s hand and left towards the backyard, probably in search of a borrowed lighter to spark up in a corner of Jason Carver’s lush garden. Eddie looked down at his hand, snorted, and put the twenty bucks away to spend another day. Maybe he’d get Dottie a strawberry milkshake like he’d done the day before, only to watch her eyes light up at the first taste and indulge in her pleas because it’s so good, Ed, you gotta try this! They make them with real strawberries! Chrissy found his eyes again over Dottie’s shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him. He clutched his chest like he had been hurt by her, overdramatic as always, and Dottie twirled Chrissy around breaking their eye contact. The songs changed but the girls stayed dancing and he kept on watching them with a satisfied smile on his face. It was a shame, really, that Eddie often became blind whenever he saw the girl he was in love with being truly, completely happy, because if he didn’t, he would have noticed one Andy fucking Humphrey staring at him like he could make the dumb metalhead drop dead in a heartbeat just by looking at him.

Jason Carver wasn’t the typical high school bully you’d see in films. Truthfully, he wasn’t even a bully; he just kept quiet while his friends did all the fucked up things the basketball team was infamous for. He was known as someone who would fly off the handle quickly, but not without reason. He took freshmen and sophomores under his wing, taught them what being a good teammate looked like, gave them a family within the walls of Hawkins High as part of his team. Jason was, if anything else failed, extremely protective and fiercely loyal to his own, and expected the same considerations to be returned to him. So when Andy, one of his best friends since elementary, came running to tell him that The Freak of Hawkins High was trying to flirt with his girlfriend in front of everyone, Jason had no reason to doubt him. Why would he, when Andy had been nothing but reliable all this time?

“What do you think you’re doing, creep?” Jason told Eddie, his tone low, trying not to call too much attention to themselves. Chrissy didn’t need to see this, she didn’t have to know she was being ogled by a pervert under his own roof.

“Drinking your beer, Carver, what does it look like I’m doing?” Eddie said with a sour tone, and instantly knew that had been the wrong answer.

“Yeah? What makes you think you’re welcome in my house?”

“Chill, man, I got invited, same as everyone else.”

“Who would want you here?” Chance Peterson said, appearing at Jason’s shoulder. This was bad.

“Uh, his girlfriend? Just like everyone else?” Eddie deadpanned, putting his can of beer on a ledge and lifting his palms. “Look, I’m really not looking to cause any trouble tonight-”

“Why would Chrissy invite you? You aren’t friends,” Patrick asked, and Eddie held back a scoff. He was willing to bet he knew Chrissy, the real Chrissy, more than any of these meatheads did.

“She invited all the seniors, that’s all there is to it. I’m a senior too-”

“Yeah, a senior citizen, you freak,” Chance said. “Why don’t you go home early and leave us actual seniors alone, huh? What is this, your tenth time trying to graduate?”

“See Peterson, I always knew you didn’t know how to count, but didn’t think you would be so bad at it. Should have known though, it’s not like anyone expects you to do anything that isn’t playing around with your balls. Now why don’t you back off and let your captain here and I have a civil conversation, alright?” Eddie looked down at Chance who narrowed his eyes at him, but Jason threw his arm out to stop him from moving forward.

“We’re not having a conversation, Munson. Back off my girlfriend or leave.”

“I’m not interested in your fuckin’ girlfriend, Carver,” Eddie said, bewildered.

“You say that, but you sure were looking at her before we walked in,” Andy said, stepping around his friends to stand next to Jason. “Wanna explain that?”

“Is looking at someone a goddamn crime now? Can’t exactly leave my eyes at home, you dumbass,” Eddie said, getting loud.

“So you were looking at Chrissy!” Jason yelled.

“No, I wasn’t! Believe it or not, not everyone is fuckin’ in love with your girlfriend, man!”

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Donny flanked Eddie, his voice booming over the sound of the music.

“Back off, dude, what’s your deal?” Gareth threatened Chance when he shoulder-checked him.

People were starting to catch on now, curious eyes looking around for the latest gossip. Jason and Eddie yelling at each other wasn’t exactly new, but both groups of friends having a screaming match at a house party? Now, that was juicy. As everyone started insulting and trying to intimidate each other, Eddie looked around trying to find Dottie in the crowd. She was still dancing with Chrissy, oblivious to the conflict, and now another cheerleader had joined them; he was pretty sure she was a junior and her name was Valerie.

“Hey! Stop looking at her, asshole!” Andy said, grabbing Eddie’s hair and turning his head back towards the imminent fight.

Andy’s voice was loud enough to startle the girls and make them look their way. Chrissy and Valerie paled instantly, hurrying forward to try to contain the scene before it turned truly ugly, leaving a path open behind them for Dottie to follow. Chrissy grabbed Jason’s arm and tried pulling him away when Eddie turned to Dottie and shook his head, his curls still in Andy’s grasp.

“It’s okay, Dot, stay over there!” he told her, not wanting to get her involved and hurt.

But it was too late, because Andy, as stupid as he was, caught on pretty quickly. He hadn’t recognized her before, all dolled up and giggly while she danced with Chrissy and Valerie. He’d simply assumed she was one of their friends, maybe even a junior he hadn’t really paid too much attention to while in school. Insistent on Eddie perving on Chrissy, he’d missed a crucial detail: that the unknown girl she was dancing with was the same girl that had threatened him in the AP Spanish classroom just a week ago. The same one that had told him to stay away from the Hellfire Club. That girl wasn’t Chrissy’s friend, she was a freak, merely blending in with the rest of the school population because she didn’t wear dark colors and leather. Andy turned on her so quickly she didn’t have time to heed Eddie’s warning before he was spewing venom towards her.

“I see now, freak,” Andy said, letting go of Eddie’s hair with a shove and stepping towards Dottie. “You weren’t looking at Chrissy, you were looking at your bitch.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?” Dottie said, angrily.

“That’s what you are, isn’t it? The freak’s little bitch. That’s why you came after me last week, huh?” Andy was seething. “Did he tell you to do that?”

“You brought that on your own by being a smug idiot,” she told him, not backing down from the fight even though she was terrified of him.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Patrick asked.

“This slut tried to tell Mr. Lorenzo that I cheated on a test if I didn’t leave her friends alone,” Andy explained, once again looking smug. Everyone was watching them now. “Said I was gonna lose my ride to college, acted all flirty and shit. What is it, honey? The freak not giving it to you good enough? Do they all share you, like the big whore you a-”

“Fuck!”

Dottie hadn’t hesitated. Instead, she’d just simply punched him right in the face with her right fist, thumb on the outside like her Grandpa Ken had taught her when they were boxing in his backyard one summer, hitting pillows and humming along to the Rocky theme song while Grandma Caroline made fresh lemonade. The crack that followed the punch was deafening. All chatter ceased and the music was turned off - if a needle were to hit the floor, it would have been so easily heard in the silence that followed her expletive. It had hurt for him, yes, something was definitely broken, but the impact on her knuckles had split the delicate skin covering them, not used to being treated so roughly by colliding against a jock’s bones. Andy pinched his nose with pain, blood starting to pour down his cupid’s bow.

“Wait, no!” Chrissy gasped, as Andy reached over to take someone’s beer can out of their hand and emptied it on Dottie’s head, throwing it away once it was empty. The metal clang on the floor until it hit someone’s shoe.

“What the fuck?” Gareth managed to say, before Eddie launched himself and pushed Andy away from Dottie who just stood there clutching at her hand and looking at the floor in shock.

Her Mom’s dress was ruined, sticky liquid dripping from her hair onto the soft fabric, staining everything as it went down, down, down onto her thighs and legs until it reached her socks. She smelled like an alcoholic and her fingers hurt. She felt empty, adrenaline leaving her body as she shivered while everything around her dissolved into utter chaos. The Hellfire Club and the basketball team were yelling and pushing each other once again, people rushing to get out of their way so they wouldn’t get hit. With the reflexes of someone used to being on alert, Nancy grabbed Dottie’s arm and yanked her aside just in time for Andy to push Eddie off himself and into a side table. Eddie hit the floor with a sickening crunch, but what made everyone stop the brawl was the sound of the lamp on top cracking into a million little pieces right next to the couch.

“Jason, stop this!” Chrissy pleaded, hanging onto his arm.

Andy, not one to be deterred, snapped his head towards Dottie, not caring that Nancy threw an arm out to cover her with her own body. He raised his hand, fully on board with hurting either of them to make a point, when Jason finally snapped into action and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into Patrick’s arms who instantly held him in place, Chance coming over to help.

“Are you crazy?” Jason yelled at his friend. “We don’t hit women!”

He turned just in time to see Chrissy helping Eddie up, the two of them muttering to each other softly, looking a lot more friendly than he liked. His eye twitched once and he looked at Hellfire as they huddled closer to each other and started inching towards the exit, Nancy and Chrissy herding them out.

“Get out of my fucking house!” Jason told them, like they weren’t already trying to leave.

“Gladly,” Donny said, closing the door behind them and shielding them from further aggressions.

“You guys, I am so sorry,” Chrissy was saying, not knowing who to direct it to first.

“It’s okay, Chris. Not your fault your boyfriend has shithead friends,” Eddie said, patting her shoulder in comfort.

“Still, I should have-,” she cut herself off because there was nothing she could have done; the basketball team and the Hellfire Club were destined to hate each other until the end of time. She turned to Dottie instead. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I think so. My hand hurts,” she sniffed. “I’m sorry we ruined your party.”

“Oh, please, that party sucked,” Chrissy snorted. “The most fun I had all night was when we were dancing with Val.”

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Donny said, guiding Dottie towards his car.

“I can drive her, I brought her here,” Nancy offered, giving him half a smile. She wasn’t friends with the guys, but she knew enough about them through Mike to have at the very least positive feelings towards them. Besides, it wasn’t like Jonathan hadn’t also been an outcast back when he was still in Hawkins. She knew what that was like.

“No, no,” Dottie hurried to say. “You should both go back to the party. Eddie can drive me, Don, I don’t want to ruin your car.”

“Are you sure?” Chrissy said, not wanting to leave her in such a vulnerable state.

“Yes, I’m sure. Go back inside, it’s your party,” she squeezed the blonde’s hand. “I had fun dancing with you, thank you for inviting me.”

“Maybe we can do it again some day? Just us girls?” Chrissy said, eyes full of hope.

“I’d love that,” Dottie said, and she really meant it.

“Okay, then… let’s go back inside, Nancy. Bye guys, drive safe,” Chrissy waved at them, pulling her cardigan closed and both girls disappeared back into the house.

“Is this a bad time to say that I stole a case of beers?” Gareth said, lifting a 12-pack and bringing some much needed humor to the situation.

“Let’s go back to mine then, we can sneak in through the basement door,” Jeff proposed, and Donny nodded.

“I’m… I’m gonna pass, guys,” Eddie said. “I’ll take her home and head back to the trailer. My ass kinda hurts.”

“Have fun without us, okay? I’m sorry I ruined it,” Dottie said, tears swimming in her eyes. Whether it was because of the shame or the pain in her hand, no one knew but no one asked her either.

“Hey now, you didn’t ruin anything. We’ve got an awesome story to tell the kids someday,” Donny laughed.

“Yeah! We’ll be like: Auntie Dot broke a jock’s nose back in high school because he called her names,” Jeff said, putting on an old man voice and Dottie chuckled wetly.

“Come on, let’s go,” Eddie said, guiding her towards his van with a hand on her lower back.

“I should sit in the back, I’m gonna get your seats dirty,” Dottie said.

“Don’t even think about it, there’s no seatbelts in the back,” he said, climbing in and rummaging around for the tarp they covered Gareth’s drumset with when they moved it for gigs.

The music from inside the house was booming again when Donny’s car pulled into the street and the boys left, saying goodbye by honking twice. Eddie covered the front seat with the tarp and helped her get in, clicking the seatbelt for her in place and jogging to get to the driver’s side. Dottie stared out the window as Eddie turned the van on and backed up into the street, waving at a defeated Chrissy who was looking out from the living room’s window. When Eddie stopped at the first intersection, Dottie turned to look at him.

“Ed?” she asked in a shaky voice. “Can you take me to yours instead?”

The trailer was empty with all the lights turned off when they arrived, which was unusual for a Saturday night. Wayne had always had weekends off, after all, he had a kid at home to take care of and nobody was an asshole enough to ask an old man to come in during his time away with his family. Still, as Eddie kneeled down next to the entrance to help Dottie undo her heel buckles, she looked around while holding onto his shoulders and found herself missing her Mr. Wayne. Eddie had asked her in the van why she didn’t want to go home, and she had simply replied she didn’t want to tell her Dad she’d gotten into a fight just yet. She’d failed to mention that she was expecting Wayne to give her the parental comfort she needed, but without the grounding she was sure she was gonna get from her own father.

“He’s at the plant,” Eddie said, guessing her silent inquiry. “He’s doing extra time this weekend so he can take a couple of days off for graduation.”

“That’s really sweet,” she smiled, stepping out of her shoes now that he’d gotten them unbuckled. The beer that had dripped down her legs had stained the tops of her socks.

“Wait here, okay? I’ll get the shower running for you, the knobs are… well, they’re stupid,” he shrugged with resignation. “You can call your Dad if you want, tell him where you are.”

He started the shower for her while she dialed home, James picking up after a few long rings. He listened to her talk quietly while getting her a towel and clean clothes; she hadn’t exactly asked, but Eddie got confirmation that she wanted to spend the night when he heard her lie to her Dad about being at Jeff’s and having a movie night. Eddie wasn’t about to complain about her not mentioning she was with him if it meant he could sleep next to her for a full night. He went back into the bathroom, lowered the toilet’s lid and put the things he’d gathered for her on top before opening the mirror cabinet and pulling out a new toothbrush along with a packet of makeup wipes. She hung up and walked into the small bathroom after him, looking at the items in his hands with a quirked eyebrow.

“I wear eyeliner for our gigs sometimes,” he admitted. “It always looks like shit, but if it’s good enough for Ozzy, it’s good enough for me.”

“Maybe I can teach you how to do it right sometime,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting into half a smile.

“Maybe you should just do my makeup so I don’t poke my eye out.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll do your makeup next time.”

“Kick your clothes out the door when you take them off, I’ll throw them in the washing machine for you,” he said, and left her to her devices.

He went back into his bedroom to give her privacy and get changed into his own PJs, which consisted of an old ratty t-shirt with a couple of holes around the neck and plaid pants he was sure had belonged to Wayne at some point in their lives. While he busied himself changing his sheets into fresh ones, putting her clothes in the washer and making his bedroom look somewhat presentable, Dottie tried to hurry up in the shower, not wanting to use up all the water. Still, she couldn’t help but take her time appreciating the fact that Eddie actually owned conditioner and that the green apple smell that surrounded him in the mornings belonged to the big bottle of shampoo in the corner of the tub. She washed all the beer off her skin and hair and, feeling a lot more like herself, wrapped her body into the soft off-white towel he’d gotten for her, standing at the mirror to rid herself of her make up as best as she could. She brushed her hair quickly, scrunching her curls into the towel to remove the excessive moisture, and brushed her teeth making a note to buy him a new toothbrush to replace the one she’d used. Timidly, she also reached for his deodorant, reasoning that it was better to use it than to stink up his clothes and bed with her sweat.

She was studying herself in the small mirror, not entirely believing that she was wearing Eddie’s clothes, when she realized the light scabbing on her knuckles had probably loosened up with the water and they were all bloody again like she’d never cleaned them up in the first place. Poking her head out of the bathroom, she directed her voice towards his bedroom where she could hear him pottering about.

“Eddie?” she called.

“Yeah?”

“D’you have any bandages? My hand’s bleeding again.”

“Uh, lemme see,” he pushed the door open and rummaged around in the sink cabinet, grabbing a little bag that contained their first aid supplies. “Come, sit on the bed,” he instructed, and she did as he asked without a word.

He kneeled in front of her and inspected her right hand, closing each finger carefully and pressing on parts of her palm to see if anything hurt. Nothing seemed to be permanently broken, so reached over to his bedside table where a cup of water sat and gave her an ibuprofen to help with the swelling before moving on with his next task. She watched him as he worked diligently to clean the scrapes, long thick fingers fluttering softly on her skin.

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” Dottie asked.

“I’m getting a weird déjà vu here, princess,” he chuckled. “You need to stop getting into trouble before I get into pre-med.”

“Can’t help it. Trouble’s my middle name.”

“I thought it was Ann?” Eddie said, laughing.

Truthfully, he was joking around to hide the fact that he had been losing his mind since she’d opened the bathroom door and came out all rosy-cheeked, smelling like him and wearing his clothes. He’d given her one of his old shirts, a white one he hardly ever used anymore with a Garfield print at the front and his blue checkered boxers, not expecting them to look as big on her as they did. The hem of the shirt almost covered the shorts, and the short sleeves went past her elbows. The less was said about his gray socks that bunched up at her heel, the better, and he tried not to think about the fact that he knew she wasn’t wearing a bra because he’d had the most mortifying pleasure of throwing the cute cotton garment into his washing machine fifteen minutes earlier. Eddie was wrapping up her knuckles with a long piece of gauze when he noticed she’d gone strangely quiet. He looked up at her face to find her teary-eyed and chewing on a wobbly lip.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, holding onto her hand. “Is it too tight?”

“Is that… what everyone thinks about me?” she whispered, like she was afraid of asking out loud.

“I- I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, darling.”

“Wh-what Andy said. About me being… does everyone think I’m a slut?”

“What? No! Of course not!” he stuck the gauze in place with a piece of medical tape and lifted himself onto his knees between her legs to hug her. “Dot, he didn’t even know who you were until tonight, he was just talking out of his ass.”

“I’m not a whore,” she muttered into his shoulder. “I promise I’m not.”

“Darling, what are you on about, huh?” he grabbed her face with two hands and brought her eyes to his. “I know you’re not. You could sleep with half this town and I still wouldn’t think you’re a whore. You- you can do whatever you want with whoever you want! I know you, you’re… Dot, you’re so fucking nice to me, to all of us, and the only reason Andy said that bullshit about you is because you’re friends with the freaks.”

“I’m not,” she said, and he looked at her in question. “I’m not friends with the freaks. I am a freak.”

“Hell yeah you are,” Eddie smiled. “You are a freak, and you shouldn’t let what that piece of shit said get to you, okay? You broke his fucking nose because he talked shit about you, Dot. You’re so fucking amazing.”

It was probably the way Eddie was looking at her like she’d hung the moon and all the stars, or maybe it was the way he was holding onto her face with a gentleness no one associated with the rugged metalhead, fingers extending under her ears and into her damp hair, thumbs on her cheeks. It was most definitely the way he always took care of her, how he cleaned her wounds like she was the most fragile thing on Earth and how he never hesitated to pull her into his arms whenever she needed a hug without questioning her reasons. But honestly, it was most likely the fact that he was so close to her, his warm breath mingling with her minty one, that had her leaning forward and pecking his lips with hers in the most chaste kiss she’d ever given to anyone in her entire life.

She tried pulling away as fast as she had leaned in, she really tried to, but Eddie felt like he had been struck by a live wire and instinctively chased her mouth with his own, still cupping her face but moving one of his hands to tangle into her hair, finally taking a hold of the proverbial carrot dangling in front of him. He was kissing her - Eddie Munson was kissing Dottie Burke and he couldn’t get enough of it - he needed more, he needed to consume her and she to him until there was nothing left for anyone to see. He grabbed onto her bare thigh to pull himself up and she whimpered, the walls of the illusion suddenly crashing around him. She’d just tearfully asked him if the town thought she was a whore, and his way of reassuring her, had been to deny it and then make a move on her. Eddie jumped back so quickly he fell onto his bruised ass and hissed in pain.

“Fuck, Dot, I’m- I’m so sorry!” he pleaded, leaving her dumbfounded and glazy-eyed.

He’d fucked up. He’d ruined everything. With his eagerness, he’d jumped the gun and now his plan was ruined, and she probably, maybe, definitely thought he was a fucking pervert trying to get into her pants, and yes, he very much would like to do that but not like this. Not before she knew he would quite literally die for her, not before he’d confessed to her the profound love he felt and had finally become the kind of man she deserved to have. Dottie looked at him not understanding what had just happened, but when she moved to get off the bed and closer to him, he jumped off the floor and put even more distance between them.

“I’m so sorry, we shouldn’t- fuck, I didn’t-”

“Eddie, it’s fine-

“No, it’s not fine!” his hands tangled in his own hair while he tried to find the words to explain himself. “This is all wrong, goddamnit-”

“Eddie, calm down-”

“Fuck, Chrissy is gonna kill me, I’m such a fucking idiot-”

“Ch-Chrissy?” Dottie whispered, but he didn’t hear her in the middle of his freakout.

Oh. Oh. She was so stupid. She couldn’t even blame him, she’d been influenced by her aunts and by Gareth - and of course, who wouldn’t be in love with Chrissy Cunningham, Head Cheerleader and Queen of Hawkins High? She was so kind, and friendly, with her gorgeous eyes and warm smiles. And by his own admission, if she was going to kill him, well, that certainly meant she returned Eddie’s affections, did it not? She’d be an idiot not to love Eddie back because Eddie was so loveable. Sweet, silly, wonderful Eddie who had just kissed his best friend and regretted it deeply. She had to get out of there if there was any hope of saving their friendship.

“I’m so sorry,” Dottie said, rushing out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

“Dot, wait!” Eddie followed her. He had to fix this, he had to tell her, he was gonna tell her- “What are you doing?”

“I’m really so sorry, Eddie, I didn’t know,” she got her damp clothes out of the washing machine; the cycle had probably ended in the middle of his upset rant and neither of them had heard it.

“Where are you going? It’s midnight!” he watched her shove her feet into her heels, not bothering with fastening the buckles before she opened his front door. He had to act fast or he was going to lose her forever.

“Eddie, please,” she asked, tears pooling in her eyes again, voice broken. “I just want to go home. Everything’s fine, I’ll see you on Monday-”

“No!” he threw himself onto the door, closing it again effectively locking her in. “Y-you can’t leave like this! What are you gonna do, walk home in your heels? Are you insane?”

“Please, I’m sorry,” she sobbed, breaking his heart into a million tiny pieces. “We can forget this all happened, please, just let me go!”

“No!”

“Eddie!”

“No! We need to talk about this!”

“There’s nothing to talk about! I didn’t know you were dating her, just let me-”

“Wait, what?” It was Eddie’s turn to be confused. “I’m not dating anyone, what are you talking about?”

“I’m not fucking deaf, Ed! You just said Chrissy was gonna kill you!”

“Yes, but that’s not- Fuck! That’s not what I meant! She’s dating Jason Carver, for fuck’s sake!”

“It’s okay if you like her, she’s fucking perfect-” she babbled, fat tears leaving tracks on her cheeks.

“You’re fucking perfect! God, fuck, this is not what I-” Eddie took the clothes out of her arms and threw them into the living room, pulling her into his arms again.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” she shrieked, trying to get away from him but he held on tight, throwing her onto his shoulder and sitting her down onto the kitchen counter.

“I made Kool-Aid!”

“What? I don’t want fucking Kool-Aid-”

“Just stop arguing!” he yelled, effectively shutting her up. “I made apple Kool-Aid.”

“...I love apple Kool-Aid,” she said, for lack of a better response.

“I know,” he said, leaning back and looking at her sitting between his arms, palms on the cold surface of his kitchen countertop. “That’s why I keep buying it. For you.”

An ugly sob bubbled up out of her throat and she hid her face in her hands. She wasn’t strong enough to keep fighting with him, and when he hugged her again, fingers tangling back under her ears, she simply bowed her head and cried harder. Eddie kissed her hair and held her, letting her release all the pent up emotions that were swirling in her mind. When she breathed a little bit easier, he looked at her, drying her tears with his thumbs.

“Can I trust you to stay here while I get the Kool-Aid?” he asked, softly.

Dottie nodded, so he moved away from her to get the pitcher out of the fridge. He filled a mug first, watching her legs swinging lightly back and forth while she sniffled and picked at her nails, and stopped before filling the next one. She saw him frown and look around the kitchen before finding what he was looking for: a yellow ceramic mug with a gnome playing the accordion on the front. A couple of weeks ago, the teens had been studying in the trailer on the small table in the kitchen, and Dottie had mentioned to Wayne she was gonna get him a hat with her college logo when she was in Michigan so he could add it to his collection. He’d glowed at that, joking that he was gonna tell everyone his niece was a genius and that he’d leave her her favorite mug in his will in return. The two of them had spent around 30 minutes going through every mug until she decided on one, all while Eddie worked on his homework with a dumb smile on his face. She’d picked a yellow mug with gnome playing the accordion on the front, the very same mug Eddie was now gently putting into her hands filled with apple Kool-Aid he allegedly kept buying because he knew it was her fave flavor.

They sipped their juice in silence until Dottie calmed down, holding onto the mug with both hands for comfort. Eddie stood there, waiting for her to say anything and when it became clear she was not gonna be the first one to talk, he put his mug down and turned to her, pulling on the hem of her borrowed boxers.

“Hey,” he said, ducking his head down to look her into the eyes. She made a small sound of acknowledgment but kept staring at the liquid between her hands. “I’m not dating anyone.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t like Chrissy,” he kept going.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“Yes, I do. I really fucking do,” he took her mug out of her hands and ducked a bit more. “Dot, look at me. Please.”

“Eddie, it’s fine-”

“I’m kind of insanely in love with you.”

“What?” Dottie breathed out, eyes widening.

“Darling, I haven’t been able to even look at anyone else since the day I met you. I’m so fucking obsessed with you it’s actually embarrassing,” he smiled at her, finally hitting her with the full force of his confession.

“You… you like me?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, lifting her hand and kissing her gauze covered knuckles. “Chrissy has been helping me plan how to ask you out. We’re not secretly dating, she knows I’m crazy about you.”

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know,” Dottie murmured, ashamed that she’d jumped the gun with her conclusions.

“You couldn’t know, that was the whole point,” he chuckled. “I was gonna ask you out after graduation, I wanted to have our diplomas and everything but then you kissed me and… you’re awfully impatient, has anyone ever told you that?”

“God, I’m an idiot,” she laughed, hitting her forehead with her palm. “How long had you been planning that?”

“Since around your birthday,” he admitted, and she groaned. “I would have asked you earlier but I wanted to set things straight before, y’know? I wanted to graduate first, maybe get a job, I dunno… Give you what you deserve. Instead you get… this,” he waved his hand around. “Sorry.”

“Eddie, I’m so in love with you, it’s not even funny. What are you talking about?”

“What?”

“Oh my god, we’re both idiots!” Dottie groaned again, and he laughed in disbelief.

“You’re in love with me?”

“Yes! Why did you think I kissed you?!”

“I mean, I kinda figured out you liked me, but love, darling, that’s… That’s a lot.”

“You just said you are “kinda insanely in love” with me, what do you mean it’s a lot?” she looked at him like he had just told her the sky was green.

“Well, yeah, but- that’s different! I’m me!”

“Okay, what the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know, I just- fuck, I love you and I really, really want to kiss you right now. Would that be okay, darling? Can I kiss you?”

She shook her head at him like he had just said the stupidest thing on Earth and wrapped her arms around him, bringing him forward and pressing their lips together again. Eddie laughed against her mouth, hands coming up to cup the sides of her jaw, thumbs rubbing circles into her skin. They kissed with no hurry and no other motives than to just kiss, savoring the moment like a cold sip of water after a long race. There were no more places to hide, no more shadows lurking in the background. It was just them under the mismatched light bulbs in the Munson kitchen, two mugs and a pitcher filled with Kool-Aid, and limbs tangling with one another, scratching an itch that had once seemed impossible to relieve.

Eddie moved his lips from hers to her cheek, up her nose and eyelids until he reached her forehead and stayed there, just breathing in and basking in the knowledge that they’d jumped off a cliff together and had landed on the other side unscathed. There were so many conversations to be had, so many things to be said, but this was more than okay for him now. This was enough, and for the first time in his whole life, he was enough. Dottie’s hands moved under his shirt, lightly running her short nails over his skin, the motion calming and grounding him. He was hers, and she was his, and there was nothing else that mattered anymore. The waters were calm. The locked padlocks remained in place, but the keys weren’t forgotten or hidden anymore. She felt at peace in a way she had never once felt before, knowing that no matter what came next, they would face it together. She yawned once, burrowing further into his skin, and he chuckled.

“Wanna go to bed now?” he asked, softly.

“Yes, please,” she replied.

Eddie helped her off the counter and let her get comfy in his room while he finished getting ready for bed, turning all the lights off and brushing his teeth with a dazed expression on his face. He found her tucked in on the left side of his bed, the one closest to the wall and realized that he could get used to this so easily. He was sure that once she went home the next day, he’d have trouble falling asleep until she was back next to him, nuzzling into his chest and wearing his clothes. They cuddled in silence, soft touches in the darkness, just exploring skin and calming rapid heartbeats with innocent caresses that revealed just how much they’d longed for this. There would be time for bolder actions, but tonight they just wanted to hold each other tight and never let go. Eddie, however, had one more question to ask before sleep could whisk them away to Dreamland.

“Darling?”

“Mhm?”

“I don’t want to, like, ruin the moment, but… what happens now?”

“Dunno. What do you want to happen?” she asked, moving her leg on top of his so he could shuffle closer to her.

“Can we maybe not tell people this happened so I can ask you out like I planned?” he said, shyly. “I just… I want to do things right with you. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You’re not fucking anything up, Ed. But sure, we can pretend this didn’t happen and I’ll act surprised when you ask me out,” she rolled her eyes playfully.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” he squeezed her closer. “I meant it more like… not telling the guys? You can tell your Dad if you want, though.”

“How about this?” she said, reaching up and kissing his jaw sweetly. “We don’t tell anyone anything, and my Dad doesn’t get an aneurysm every time he sees you. Sound good?”

“You want to lie to your Dad?”

“Not forever. We can tell him before I leave for college. You’re gonna come see me, right?” Dottie asked, hopeful.

“Baby, Michigan is only three hours away. They’re gonna think I’m your roommate with how often I’m gonna be there,” he pecked her hairline.

“Baby?”

“Just trying it on. D’you like it?”

“I love it. And I love you.”

“Fuck, I’ll never get tired of that. I love you,” he chuckled, leaning in to kiss her. “Okay, we won’t tell anyone so your Dad doesn’t murder me.”

“I have one condition though.”

“Okay?”

“I still get to kiss you when we’re alone.”

“You just want me to be your dirty little secret, don’t you?” Eddie joked, poking her side.

“I’ll be yours too if that helps,” she said, cheekily.

“Oh, don’t tempt me with a good time, princess,” he said with a mischievous tone. “Who knows? Might be fun to sneak around all summer.”

Half an hour later, when they were finally falling asleep between soft kisses and whispered sweet nothings, they both agreed that a little bit of teenage disobedience might just be the missing piece they didn’t know they were looking for to complete their perfect summer before officially being adults. After all, it always looked so much fun in movies, right?

taglist (comment below or send me an ask if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean @every1lovesanunderdog @eg-dr3amer3

[jowrites]

Accidents can Happen- 5. Accidents happen(written)

Main Masterlist Here.

Prev. Next.

Disclaimer: Jake and Sunghoon are aged up, both 25. Reader is 24. Heeseung is 26.

TW: Cursing, sexual themes, sex in general? more to be added...

Her mind was blank. She sat there on the floor in Jake’s bathroom nipping at her nails from her nerves. She was staring straight ahead and Jake couldn’t point out what was on her mind. To ease her anxiety a little, he moved and sat next to her, gently grabbing the hand she was biting at, and caressing her hand to reassure her. She looked over at him and he gave her a gentle smile.

Y/N had to mentally slap herself. Over the past month her and Jake were having more and more secret meetups, she started to get to know him on a more personal level. All thoughts of her ex boyfriend were long gone and they were now filled with her hot boss. The boss who always appreciated her and always managed to make her stomach flip. She loved her job and she had to remind herself to put up the walls so he couldn’t come in fully. She could not fall in love with her boss, and so she reminded herself it was all just harmless fun. Until now.

The alarm on Jake’s phone rang out and she jumped at the sound. She was too scared to get up, she already had it in her gut that they messed up. She can’t have a baby with her boss? What will she tell her sister? How will her friends react? What about Heeseung? Tears started welling up in her eyes as Jake stood up, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in as he looked at the remaining tests on the counter. Positive. Pregnant. 

“Do you want me to-”

“I’m pregnant. I know.”

He sighed and nodded. 

She began to sob. She didn’t know why she was sobbing, deep down this was wonderful and she knew it was. Something in the back of her mind was just filled with dread, dread and sadness. She’s only known this man for less than a year and now they’re going to be parents together. What if he doesn’t actually like her? What if he doesn’t want the baby? What if he wants nothing to do with her and fires her leaving her jobless with their baby? A lot of what if’s were going through her mind and she wanted to bury herself alive. How stupid could she have been? She was on the pill but even she knew it wasn’t always effective. She should have been more careful.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure something out, okay? Accidents happen, it’s okay.” Jake tried to reassure her as she cried into his arms on the floor. She hated this, she hated the fact he was so calm and hated the smell of his cologne on her tongue. Nausea hit her once again and she crawled to the toilet and puked again. Jake came up and held her hair back, she didn’t even feel the soft circles he was rubbing on her back, or the calming whispers of sweet nothings. She could only feel sick as her mind raged with anxiety.

[jvngkook97]

Happy Y/N Day!

synopsis; in which it’s your birthday and you can cry if you want too. OR you have a shit day and want to wallow in your self misery but the boys have other plans and — oh, this is awkward — we already invited everyone over for a surprise party and you definitely don’t seem like you’re in the mood for one but….surprise?

pairing; OT7 x birthday girl!reader

genre; angst, fluff, humor, suggestive themes, birthday au

warnings; cursing, angst in the form of tears and terrible bosses, fluffy fluff from all the boys in their own respective ways cause they hate seeing you so sad and miserable, inappropriate birthday cakes cause that’s your type of humor (or rather it’s mine lmao), implied sexy time that y’all dirty minded people will come up with on your own I’m sure ~

rating; 18+

w/c; 2,926

a/n; it’s my birthday today was my birthday on the 15th and you best believe I’m going to self indulge and base a fic around all seven of these lovely souls and me (and you if you squint and imagine hard enough 😉) lmao but yeah like + reblog if you enjoyed. feedback (and birthday wishes hint hint 🥳) is always appreciated and helps to keep this writer motivated to put out more content – like this! all the love, always.

networks; @thebtswritersclub, @btshoneyhive, @kflixnet

Today is your birthday.

And it was shaping up to be a terrible, horrible, no good day. Your hair is a rats nest from the biting wind and relentless rain, your clothes are soaked through to the point of your off white shirt being see through, and your makeup is beyond being able to be fixed so now you look like you’re back in your high school scene years of looking like a trash panda(no h8, m8).

Good thing you have seven soulmates in your life to lift your spirits, cause you were going to need it in all aspects of the word — moreso around the liquor portion though and not so much ghosts and ghouls, no matter how much you love horror movies.

Your only wish this year? Your only request for the boys? No surprise party.

So, imagine to your not so surprise when you open your shared apartment door to a decent cluster of people shouting—

“SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Y/N!”

Your lip is trembling, and you bite your lip to the point of nearly breaking skin. Your eyes begin watering, pooling at your inner creases and making their way to blur out what little vision you had left that wasn’t already obscured from your wet clumps of hair framing your face. You wrap your arms around your chest in hopes of covering up the majority of your black, lacy, bra from the multiple sets of eyes of family members and friends alike.

You just want to scream, to cry.

So, you do.

It’s your fucking birthday and you’ll cry if you want too.

Your mom’s face is worried, and she immediately goes to embrace your shivering form in a hug only mother’s can give. It just makes you sob harder.

Your step father awkwardly chuckles and tells everyone to just go along with what they were doing prior to your arrival, and at the same time waves at the boys to make their way over. Your mom directs you all out of prying eyes and into the kitchen connected to the living room, thankfully there’s a door to provide some privacy.

As soon as your mom lets you go with murmurs of entertaining the guests for a bit, another pair of arms scoops you up into a tight hug, rocking you two back and forth as they continually kiss the top of your hair. Voices around you are asking if you’re okay or if you need anything. You’re too distraught to reply, choosing to just delve deeper into the chest of your current solace instead.

They smell like strawberries, like your shampoo, and you’re able to conclude whose arms you’re in. There’s only one person who always indulges themselves in your shower products, claiming that women’s products are far more superior than mens – Taehyung.

His deep, baritone voice can be felt and heard within the depths of his chest as he speaks, your ear pressed firmly against it. His hand, along with others you notice, are either touching you, caressing you, or rubbing you in solidarity.

“What happened, y/n?”

You let out a broken whimper. You then hear the cork of a wine bottle being pulled out and someone pouring a glass. A mug that has a picture of Bam on it is thrust in front of your face as soon as you pull away from Taehyung’s hug. Following the hand to the face of your liquor fairy, you find Min Yoongi.

He’s scratching the side of his face as he waits for you to take it, there’s a worry line forming between his brows as he frowns at your distressed state. He hates seeing you this way.

“Sorry, it’s the first cup I could find. Figured it wouldn’t matter anyways.”

“I think it’s better than a boring wine glass.”

Jungkook chimes in from close by, and you see him leaning against the counter next to you. Just like Yoongi, even though he’s cracking jokes, his expression is also one of worry. When you lock eyes with Jungkook, he’s able to give you his signature bunny toothed smile, albeit small, and it’s enough to make you crack a small smile of your own.

Taking the mug into your hands, you shift so your back is now leaning against Taehyung’s, his hands wrap themselves loosely around your waist, as he rests his chin lightly on your shoulder. Each breath he takes, you can feel the warmth from his nose tickle your neck. The sensation brings goosebumps to your skin.

Namjoon notices you shiver and thinks you’re cold from being wet. He shrugs off his cardigan and steps around Jungkook to maneuver it around your shoulders, securing it around your front that he does his best to not look at, considering the situation.

“Was your boss being a grade A asshole again?”

Jimin’s head pokes itself from behind Namjoon’s broad shoulders, as he uses the kitchen island to gain enough leverage to heave himself over the tall giant to see you. Jin waves a hand in the air with anger, brows furrowing.

“Aiiiiish! You should quit that job, y/n! They don’t deserve you from the way they constantly treat you over there!”

“Seriously. You know we’ll help support you until you can find another job. We hate seeing you come home so exhausted and defeated all the time.”

Hoseok’s normal cheery voice is long gone, he leans sideways against the kitchen island next to Jimin and nods at you with a grimace.

“Maybe you’re right.”

They collectively let out a sigh of relief that has you giving them a ‘really?’ look as you chug the wine down, leaving the mug empty. This time, Jungkook takes over for Yoongi to refill your mug. His tattooed covered hand is back within your sight in seconds. When you take it, he gently pushes the hair that’s been partially shielding your face this entire time behind your ear. You unconsciously lean into his hand – it’s warm, it’s soothing. He gives a genuine smile at your reaction to his touch.

Taehyung’s grip on your waist tightens considerably. You look at him, but his eyes are surveying those around you with a look of regret.

“We’re sorry we didn’t listen to you when you said you didn’t want a surprise party, y/n.”

Namjoon clears his throat and gains your attention next. He seems just as guilty, as do the rest of the boys you realize. As much as you didn’t want one, it was true, you would endure a thousand more surprise parties if it meant that they still genuinely enjoyed throwing them for you. You — the horror loving, short, should be wearing glasses all the time but you only wear them half the time, hard working, dirty and dark sense of humor spewing, and even when you have your sourpuss moments still somehow radiate the sun out of your ass cause you have a mama bear instinct for those around you — you.

The one they cherish, adore, pretend to hate but actually love when you steal and wear their clothes even when all they do is drown you, and most importantly who they love.

You go to open your mouth and reassure them that it’s okay, they don’t need to feel bad for just wanting to make you feel more special than you already do on a daily basis by them, but a knock on the door that connects the two rooms quiets the room.

Your adorable mom pokes her head in with a hesitant smile.

“Just wanted to let you know that you have the house to yourselves, your father and I told them you weren’t feeling well and that we would postpone for another day. They all were very polite and wished you well. You have a good group of people in your life, dear.”

An authentic smile appears on your face for the first time that day, and you can’t help but agree.

“I do. Friends and family.”

You pat Taehyung’s hands that have moved to lay on your stomach and he unfurls himself from you so you can stand on your own. You give him a peck on the cheek that has his boxy grin on full display, a light hue to his cheeks accompanies it. You do the same for each of the male’s in front of you that share the same reaction.

“Your father and I are going to head out as well and let you young folk enjoy the rest of the night to the fullest.” You don’t miss the wink she sends your way before promptly closing the door and leaving.

You’re mortified at your mother’s words, more than well aware that you’ve yet to take that next step with them, and she knows it. You groan in embarrassment, until a multitude of hands gently push against your back to lead you out of the kitchen and back into the living room that’s still fully decked out in ribbons, frills, balloons, confetti, and much more. A long table houses a wide variety of your favorite foods and desserts, along with a separate table that’s meant for all your gifts both big and small.

Once again, your lip trembles, and eyes pool with water that streams down your cheeks like rivers. When the boys hear a sniffle, they go into full out panic mode. Jungkook is closest, his hands are on your shoulders in seconds as he hunches over to be face to face with yours. His expression that was once one of concern, changes to confusion when he sees a wide smile adorning your face instead.

The other male’s around the room are busy attempting to take down the decor, believing it’s what’s causing you to be upset. Your smile turns into a frown. Jungkook speaks his mind.

“Y/N? Baby? You okay? Is this all too much? Do you want to just watch movies or go lay down in bed? I just did laundry, so I can get you a new set of clothes real quick?”

He’s talking a mile a minute, and it’s hard for your clouded mind to register all he’s said at first. Once you do, does your smile he loves return in full force. You curl a hand around his neck to give him a quick, yet meaningful kiss on his parted lips that were about to word vomit even more. You linger enough to feel the pressure of his own lips return the kiss, then you pull away.

“I’m good, koo. Great, actually. And a fresh set of clothes sounds really good right now.”

He smacks his lips, subconsciously poking his lip ring with his tongue before he’s nodding at your reply, giving you another chaste forehead kiss before he’s letting you go to more than likely go and fetch said clothes for your drenched figure.

While he’s gone, you cup your hands around your mouth before giving a mildly loud shout in order to gain the attention of the rest of your lovers.

“Guys! It’s okay! You can leave the decor up!”

They all pause in their movements. Jimin is holding a long string of streamers in his arms that he’s continuously trying to keep in his arms, the material piling up easily in minutes due to Namjoon’s natural towering height and fast hands. Jin is both nibbling on the food and packing it up at the same time, one morsel of food is hovering in front of his lips that are wide open to inhale it. Taehyung and Hobi are piling up presents in their arms that they were going to transport into your shared room so you could open them up within the comfort of your bed. Yoongi is—

The lights are dimmed, casting the room into a blanket of near darkness. You turn your head towards the direction of the faint glow of light that casts a multitude of shadows around the room as he walks towards you slowly. The candles all look like they’ve been haphazardly thrown on as if it was a last minute decision to go through with the birthday tradition. Along with the glow of the candles, your heart matches it in light and warmth. Jungkook trails behind the cake holding rapper with a stack of warm clothes, his voice is soft and melodic as he sings ‘happy birthday’. The boys surround you from behind, their voices harmonizing perfectly together.

Placing both of your hands over your heart, you curse inwardly at the tears that are once again threatening to pool over as you quietly suck in a breath and release it. When they get closer, and you’re able to see the cake more clearly, do you let out a full and bellowing laugh. One that has you bent over and now holding your sides at the lewd picture that’s placed on top.

The picture is of all seven of them, their faces are on the bodies of men that are definitely not them – and once you regain your bearings long enough to close your eyes and make a wish (to be with them forever ofc), you proceed to attempt to blow the candles out in one gust. However, you fail to do so and through little fits of remaining laughter do you eventually extinguish them all.

The lights return to their normal, bright setting and now you can see the picture very clearly. The faces are theirs, yes. But the bodies are those of what you believe to be male bdsm strippers set up in various seductive and suggestive poses. You told them you never saw the appeal of receiving strippers for celebrations last week, so they must’ve ordered the cake design shortly after that conversation.

“You guys didn’t.”

Your hands are on either side of your head as you ruffle your soggy hair in disbelief.

“Oh, we did.” Yoongi smirks evilly at you.

“It’s so ridiculous, I love it. I fucking love it.”

“More than us?”

Hobi’s pouty face springs into your line of sight, you pat his face lovingly.

“Nothing could ever beat the love I have for you guys. Nothing.”

His pout turns into his usual, full grin. Jimin’s head once again peeks out from behind. He scoffs. You narrow your eyes at his challengingly. He does the same with you, uttering one word.

“Dogs.”

You roll your eyes, and this time you scoff.

“Well, obviously I love my little fur babies.”

“Our, Y/N. As in they’re not just yours. It’s a combined group effort.”

You give a dismissive wave of your hand. You rival that your fur babies shared the same loving sentiment with you as you do towards them. Knowing for a fact that if they all had to choose, they would run straight to you out of all seven men surrounding you. But – you won’t hurt his poor little heart, or theirs. Though, all this talk about your babies has you wishing they were here instead of with your close family members who opted to watch them for the night, you bet.

“Jimin? Love? Darling?”

He cautiously steps out from behind Hobi as you gesture for him to come closer to you. He does, but now you want him to bend down so you can whisper something in his ear. He obliges. His eyes widen, as he nods his head furiously and literally bolts out of the room and down the hallway. The boys give each other wary looks as they watch him disappear around the corner and suspiciously in the direction of your shared bedroom.

In sync, they all advert there eyes back to you, confusion littering their poor, naive, sexy, faces. Namjoon voices all of their collective thoughts into a question.

“What was that about? What did you tell him?”

You run a finger along each of their chests as you pass them in a line, making a point to sashay your hips in the process as you cast a smirk over your shoulder at them with a sultry smile.

“Let’s just say, I won’t be needing those clothes after all, koo.”

Jungkook glances down at the still semi warm pile of clothes that he just fished out of the dryer and back up to your face in time to watch you bite your lip innocently. He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing at the action. Your smirk turns into one of surprise when said male drops the clothes and scoops you up into a bridal style pose, rushing you both down the hall and out of sight as you throw your head back in laughter and elation, arms tightly secured around his neck as you attempt to hang on for dear life.

It takes only a millisecond for the rest of the boys to sprint after you two, bumping into each other in order to gain the front position and make it to the bedroom first.

Well, all except Yoongi.

“Right. Yeah, no. I’ll just be here, you horndogs!” Yoongi’s monotone voice trails off with no response in return.

He’s still in the same spot holding the cake in his hands with a huff. Setting it gently on the table that still houses a lot of food, he shuffles towards the hallway, a small skip in his step as he goes, but not before giving one last full look at the decor. With a rare, gummy smile, he dutifully turns the lights off and turns to follow the excessive giggling that filters down the hallway. They don’t need a fat electrical bill, you know?

[oworiio]

sleeping beauty

summary: he just couldn't take looking at you from a distance anymore, finally stealing you all for himself to enjoy.

warnings: 18+ MDNI! extreme dark themes. stalking, yandere, kidnapping, non-con, drugging, groping, virginty loss, vaginal sex, creampie.

characters: haruchiyo sanzu x reader

a/n: i ... i can't stop wanting to destroy this little pink haired freak and corrupt him to a disgusting scum that does all tons of dark things and gets away with it because he's so. pretty. ;_;

He loved you. Or that's what he thinks love is.

Haruchiyo Sanzu, Haru for short, was in love with you. Watching your every move without you even batting an eye. How he got all of your passwords to all of your social media is a secret he doesn't like to tell, 'It's to keep you safe—promise!' He says, wrong.

It's a complete facade.

You're so goddamn adorable.

He can't help himself when he stays up watching your unconscious body sleep, palming his thick cock to your soft snoring. He feels an unbeatable pit of shame and guilty in his stomach from pleasuring himself to a rested girl, but it's you.

He can't help himself when he stays up watching your unconscious body sleep, palming his thick cock to your soft snoring. He feels an unbeatable pit of shame and guilty in his stomach from pleasuring himself to a rested girl, but it's you.

He can't help himself when it's you.

Haru doesn't quite remember when you've become everything he's consumed, but he remembers that it's been quite a bit.

1 year, 7 months, 2 weeks and 5 days to be exact. But who's truly counting?

You're such a kind soul, always taunting him with that endearing smile of yours, always offering a hand to him when he's feeling troubled. 'You don't have to wear a mask around me, Haru! Personally, I love your scars.'

How amiable, no one has ever complimented his scars. You make him want to cry, the repeating memory torments his mind— you never seem to give him a break.

He needs to make you his.

——

Fuck. He fucked up big time.

It was only supposed to be a small hangout, another little leap to get close to you. But Haru has grown far too impatient to wait for you to realize how much he loved you. His body tensing up as soon as you're inches radius to him, how can someone so beautiful be so close to someone like him?

The way your body makes him stiffen, blood immediately rushing to his desperate sex.

It all happened so fast, a moment you were conscious and lively, rambling on about your god awful boyfriend. Another second, you were unconscious, stifling a faint moan as you fell under the drugs he so kindly slipped inside of your drink.

You know, you're most beautiful when you're in this comatose state. Eyes shut, mouth faintly breathing in and out, so pretty, so vulnerable.

Just like sleeping beauty.

He couldn't possibly do this job by himself. He couldn't, he'd falter as soon as he attempted to pick you up. That's where his boss, Manjiro, comes in.

Otherwise known as Mikey, Mikey knew everything about you. Learning every little thing as Haru's digressive chats consist of only you.

"So that's the girl?"

"Mhm."

"Hm, 'prettier in real life. That's something." The blonde's comment got him a death glare from his subordinate, "Just- help me take her to the place."

——

It's funny how things like this work, you finally gripped a bit of consciousness— breath hitching almost immediately as your eyes focused on the man in front of you.

You looked around, observing your surroundings, your screams only coming out as a muffle as you find yourself naked in coarse rope restraints with tape wrapped against your mouth.

"Ah, you're finally awake, my love." Sanzu squatted down to your height, "You, 'kay? The ropes ain't too tight?"

You huff as your sobs mix with your smudged mascara, distressed face fills Haruchiyo's with glee, "So, lovely." seeing your newborn state rushes to his head, cock tenting inside of his pants.

He slouches as he brings a hand to remove his mask, "You told me, you loved my scars."

"Do you still think the same?" He asks, grinning with his infamous smile, scars wrinkling with it, abruptly ripping away the tape off your mouth, leaving an awful sting on your lips.

You sob and shout, pleading for help. Your emotional appeals only make him more manic, laughing hysterically— mocking your begs as he screams, "HELP HER! SOMEONE, PLEASE!"

His stomach churning laugh soars, "CRY ALL YOU WANT." He shouts, "No one will hear a goddamn thing."

In the end, you give up, heart dropping to your stomach. No one is here to save you, no one will be here to save you.

“Please, Haru.”

“Shut up.” He crudely cut you off, “I don’t wanna hear your pleas after you’ve been talking non-stop about your boyfriend.”

He sighs, “Look, I don’t wanna hurt you either but, I just- need to do this.” He ends his cryptic way of showing pity towards you, shoving his lanky form on top of you, jagged lips meeting your soft mouth, sucking in every little taste you present— taking in the lasting flavor of your drugged drink.

You taste as angelic as he imagined, but 10 times intense— saliva mixed with faulty drink and your tears taste just like heaven. Savoring the flavor as he moans in between your teeth, tongue sliding in your mouth

It was so clear Haru was a virgin, his eager mouth viciously making a mess. He finally leaves your lips, panting “You’re- you’re my first kiss.” his satisfied smirk curls the edge of his lips. First kiss?

Hearing such words bring you to tears, only broken sobs could be heard— former screams fracturing your vocal cords. How could you have not seen this sooner?

You thought, you really thought he was just being an overly protective, caring friend. Always wondering where you were, gifting you things you had no idea how he knew you wanted, checking up on you, texting and talking to you everyday.

That unshakable feeling of being watched was not your imagination, it was him. Haruchiyo Sanzu, he’s your stalker. You weren’t being paranoid, your gut wasn’t lying, it was true.

It was all true.

“Oh come on, I just stopped your tears and you’re crying for me again?” His sappy tone was so clearly fake, he was loving this. “I’ve only kissed you, I haven’t even gone to your..” his breath hitches as he gulps in dry saliva, “Your beautiful body.”

Your face feels light headed as it fills with disgust. His hands move down to your nude body, palms meeting your waists as he slowly runs it up to cup your perked breasts, spine flattening down to the cold pavement.

“This can’t be real,” you mumbled weakly, voice nearly inaudible. “This has to be some kind of night mare.”

His cold slender fingers find your nipples, pinching the hardening mounds in between digits, “You must be enjoying this aren’t ya’?” He asks with a choked up groan. “No wonder why they’re so hard, don’t tell me you have a crush on me too, [Y/N].”

His words slip right through you, consciousness no longer swallowing anything he throws at you. Your stiffness angers him, one hand removing itself to strike your flushed face, the feeling bringing you back to your sick truth.

“Answer me when I’m talking to you.”

You shake your head, facing away from him, you couldn’t look at him. Fuck him.

But your lack of cooperation only made Sanzu more infuriated, grabbing your chin, swaying your head to face him, forcing you to finally meet eyes with your stalker.

“Finally, pretty girl.” he exhales, sharply thrusting his hips to your bare crotch. “Look at the problem you’ve caused.” Your eyes darted downwards to his bottoms, quickly moving to the bare wall of the building. Disgust.

He chuckled softly, lifting himself off to frantically unzip and shimmy himself off of his restraining pants. “I’m gonna fuck you now, 'kay?” His words come out in a purr, returning back in between your legs, cock twitching as it meets the skin of your pussy.

Fuck, it was happening. It was the end, he was gonna fuck you.

Your eyes filled with emptiness as you awaited your doom, what did you ever do to deserve such a punishment?

Haru eyed your cunt, “Such a pretty pussy.” He cooed, “It’ll look much better with my cock inside of it.”

He gripped his shaft, positioning his dick to what he thought was your entrance, eagerly thrusting just to miss and slick in between your folds, you both hissed in unison. His second attempt ended with the same resolution, this time his tip teasing your clit a bit too much, unwillingly you moaned.

“Oh? Are you enjoying this?”

“No.” You reply to him stoically, that’s the only thing you’ve responded to.

He scoffs, “Keep saying that.”

Finally, the tip of his cock found your entrance due to your body going against your feelings. ‘Wet cunts seem to take cock much easier.’ he thought. You cried as he slowly shoved himself farther into you, fat tears threatening to trickle down your cheek. Christ, he was so big.

“Fuck- you’re tight.” He remarks with a chuckle, “You’re my first.”

His eyes sparkled, filled with pure joy, gazing down to see your cunt, you were bleeding.

“Am I your first too?”

His words make you whimper into a quiet sob, taking that as a yes, he slowly bottoms the rest of his length stilling as he allows your hole to get moderately used to being stretched. Cock twitching to the knowledge of being your first. It threatens to make Haru ejaculate on the spot.

He rests his face into your neck, burying himself further as he finally moves, stroking his cock inside of you. “I’m sorry.” He weeps, “I have to move.”

Was he seriously crying? Things just couldn’t get more bizarre— well more bizarre than it already was anyway.

He kisses the tender spot of your nape, eagerly bucking his hips inside of you. It still burns, but this moment isn’t about you. It’s about him. "It feels so good, so hot-" His words bounce back to you, you exhale with a sigh, sniffling as you held onto your attackers back for some kind of composure.

But he took it completely wrong. To him, it was confirmation.

Confirmation that you wanted this too.

His breathing is erratic, huffing and puffing with each thrust “God, I-” he stumbles upon words, “I love you too.” His arms wrap around your form, teeth gritting into your supple flesh, you mewl.

The lasting pain turned into pleasure, you felt pathetic for feeling any ounce of pleasure from him.

His movements became more rapid, more desperate, he was close. You cried, sobs unintentionally making you clench around his cock, he grunts. “Fuck- bout to cum.”

He sobs as he ruts into your used cunt, groaning “Can I cum inside?” he moans, thinking about it brings him ecstasy. His last thrusts are deep and rough, his grip on you grows tighter and tighter.

“Cumming!”

His warnings bring you deeper into lightheadedness, slipping in and out of consciousness. The last thing you remembered was the feeling of your unsuspecting womb being unwelcomely filled by Haru. Disgust.

He pants as he slips his flaccid cock out of your now unconscious body— webbing of his seed follows his tip.

“Goodnight, sleeping beauty.”