#smudge and click animation

[freya-development]

Smudge and Click Animation

Our third assignment was to create a short 15-second animation using the smudge and click animation technique. This allowed for the use of sand, paint, whiteboard pens and so on. The first thing we did as part of the assignment was make a reference animation to go off of. We decided that we would use sand for this and therefore wanted to have a guide showing where to place the sand when making the animation in Dragonframe. As Tumblr only allows for one video per post, this will be shown alongside the finished result. We then used a rostrum to place a light underneath of a glass panel which the sand rested on. This meant that the sand was silhouetted and allowed for a clear view of the animation. Once this was set up with Dragonframe, we overlaid the animation and lowered the opacity, then making each frame after the reference video. Once this was done, we took the finished animation into after effects and added in the appropriate sound effects.

Were I to do this project again, I'd like to experiment more and see what the limits are with the medium, leaning more into its differences and using that to my advantage while animating.

[calypsocolada]

MISO SOUP AND SWEET POTATOES | g. tomioka

(click here for part two!)

synopsis: you're tasked with convinicing Giyu to join the Hashira Training author's note: hello. this was a days worth of writing. from 11 am to 3 am. i even wrote parts in my notepad at work. i really like how this turned out. i finished the hashira training arc last night and think that final episode might've been the best episode of anime i have actually ever seen. this is a whole ass story cw: slightly suggestive, major spoilers for rengoku and the hashira training arc, character death, gore, ANGST, fluff, happy ending, fem reader, use of y/n a lil, lover!giyu, hardheaded!reader wc: 6.4k

click here for my masterlist

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“Would you mind talking to Giyu for me? So that Giyu, who tends to put himself into a negative frame of mind can start looking ahead again. Will you be persistent in your efforts to speak with him?” 

You stared at the letter. You reread it again and again and again. Your body still aches from the previous fight in the swordsmith village and you sort of hoped this was a hallucination. That you were still unconscious at the butterfly mansion, the chatter of the nurses in the foreground. But your crow beside you squawked and startled you out of your reverie. You knew it was real. The paper crinkled in your hands. Kagaya’s handwriting, nearly flawless script, smudged slightly from a shaky hand. You followed the trail of his pen again. 

Would you mind speaking to Giyu for me?

You wondered if maybe this letter was accidentally sent to you. Even as your eyes wandered back up to the top of the paper that clearly stated ‘Dear Y/n’. Even if it didn’t say your name there were no accidents with Kagaya. You just wished that this was one. His first and only.  

But… but there had to be an accident. You… Out of everyone, all the Hashira that were certainly closer to Giyu. But you, the newest Hashira, had been chosen to speak with him? In what world did that make any sense? 

You barely knew the guy. 

Granted he had been the reason you joined the corp originally, but he’d dodged your very presence the best he could ever since that day. 

Your village had been attacked about four years ago. Same old story for a lot of people victimized by demons. There was never a happy ending with those monsters involved. Always blood. Always loss. It was no different for you. Half of your family was slaughtered before you could even rouse yourself from sleep. But when you did all you saw was the inkblots of blood on your white walls, the color shining in the cruel moonlight. You remembered sitting up and feeling numb as you heard someone screaming. That scream that never left you. Something you’d never be able to forget for as long as you lived. 

When you got to your feet your mother had busted into your room. She looked pale, blood gushing from beneath her white nightgown. She scooped you up and kissed your head as she stuffed you into the closet, her blood smudged against your pj’s. She shushed your cry’s and told you not to come out until the sun shone beneath the crack in the door. She grabbed you shakily and kissed the top of your head. You didn’t know then it was the last. You reached for her but she pushed your hands back, silently shook her head then pressed the door closed. 

You’d always been a good kid. You stayed put exactly as you’d been told. Even as you heard more screams. Even as it went quiet. 

Only until that sun shone beneath your door did you move. You busted out of that closet. Your mother’s name, the first thing on your lips but she wasn’t the first person you saw. The scene in your house was horrific, the gore the blood, it was unreal. The sight of the people you loved in multiple torn pieces scattered is something that comes back to you in flashes when you fight demons now. 

It spurs you on to do exactly what they did to your family back to them. To tear them to shreds. 

In the middle of it all was a boy. He was sitting so still that you didn’t even notice him amongst the slaughter. Your living room was still dark, dark enough that it kept this monster safe as it rose to its full height. No longer a boy but a creature from your deepest darkest nightmares. It had your family’s blood on its mouth as it smiled a wickedly devilish smile. 

“Hmm. Missed one.” It spoke in a gravelly tone as it swallowed whatever it was chewing on. You could guess what now. You stepped back into your mother’s blood… or maybe your father’s… sister’s… brother’s? The blood, slick beneath your foot as it slid out from underneath you and you crashed into their bodies, something sharp sticking into your side as you gasped in sudden pain. Your mother’s hand still gripped a knife that had now lodged itself in the back of your thigh. The demon only laughed. “Clumsy one aren’t you? Mommy wasted time hiding something so useless.” It growled, approaching with a predatory gleam in its dark eyes. 

When it pounced towards you something momentary took hold of you. You, a measly twelve year old, yanked that knife from your own flesh and thrusted it into the demons eye. The creature roared like nothing you’d heard before as it stumbled back away from you. You just blinked as you watched it, numbness contending with your fear. The creature yanked the knife out and tossed it angrily to the side. It growled, fuming as it charged back at you. You raised your hands to defend yourself, screwing your eyes shut. Mom did waste her time, you thought. You heard the whoosh of something cutting through the air itself and when you opened your eyes the creature had halted its assault. It locked eyes with you moments before its head toppled right off its shoulder, bouncing against the floor. You stared in abject horror as the creature's body started to burn a blood red color, dusting away and a figure behind it. You were as still as a statue as the figure behind it took shape. 

The shape of a boy, he couldn’t have been much older than you. Eyes an indigo blue, dark and almost unfeeling as they met yours. You watched as he gave a quick swipe of his sword to rid it of the demons burning blood as he sheathed it back at his side. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, his voice young like yours. You weren’t hurt. Somehow. You couldn’t open your mouth to answer him, not with your body still on top of your parents. You just stared at him, even as your eyesight got cloudy and stinging tears slid down your cheeks. 

The boy walked towards you and remained still, unable to move as he bent down in front of you. He reached and clumsily brushed the tears from your face. It was as if he knew you wouldn’t part your lips to speak because wordlessly he, with immaculate ease, picked you up off the corpses and carried you out of the house. You moved for the first time in minutes as your head tilted to look back towards your family. 

“Eyes on me.” He said and sure enough your eyes snapped to him. To take in his face. Eyes endlessly dark blue as they stared forwards. He had to have been your age, maybe a year or two older. He had the shape of a young face, with full cheeks and raven black hair to the nape of his neck. You couldn’t look away, it had nothing to do with his looks but everything to do with his command. 

You were a good kid. When someone told you to do something you did it. Years later you would come to thank Giyu for that, for commanding you to look at him instead of glancing back at what remained of your family. That probably would’ve been another image left haunting you.

Everything after that was just sort of a blur. You stayed some place warm, a faint fire flickering and that boy with the sword stayed with you until some men in black uniforms found you. You remember not being able to walk, the shock and grief of the night not letting you. You’d held onto your saviors shirt, your fist balled. He let you, in fact he even came along with you and the men in black and when they asked you to let go you blinked at them. You hadn’t even noticed you were still holding on. You let go in an instant. Your hand is sore from how tightly you’d been clenching. The men in blacks hands were on your shoulders guiding you away and when you looked back your voice came to you. 

“What’s your name?” You asked, everything paused for you so you could hear his answer. 

“Giyu.” He answered. You put a name to his face. You parted your lips to thank him but nothing came out again. You couldn’t say thanks. Not when you were the only breathing because you cowardly hid in the closet. You felt you didn’t deserve to be thankful. You met his eyes again and something, somehow, told you he understood. He gave you the softest nod of his head and when he turned to leave you felt your heart drop. Like something had bonded you to this boy. But you turned and let yourself be whisked away. 

Time passed slowly. You joined up with the very same people as Giyu had. You were given a sword and trained thoroughly, a fire in you that spurred you on like nothing before. A need to kill. Which is why you eagerly trudged up that mountain to crush the selection test. You spent a few years hopping from mission to mission, gaining a bit of a terrible reputation. Though just how many demon slayers could be friendly? There was one, the man, just a few years older than you. The hashira. With hair like fire and a smile that blinded you. He took interest in you like no one had. Saw something beyond your terribly sour and cold exterior.

A year or so after that you were sent on a mission to help the Water Hashira. You’d never met any other Hashira besides Rengoku so you were sort of apprehensive. You never liked meeting new people. All those years spent with Rengoku and his fiery personality you wished at least some of it had rubbed off on you but… you were still demure and quiet, quick to anger and prone to disappearing. You liked your alone time. You had all but begged Rengoku to let you go with him in his mission, apparently some demon had infested a train, that sounded far more exhilarating than helping some water Hashira you didn’t know. Rengoku did what he always did when you were disappointed. He gave you a sort of unwanted hug, though secretly you wanted and needed it, and ruffled your hair. 

“We’ll see each other in two weeks. Next mission is yours and mine.” He said and then he was gone and you were boarding a train going the opposite way. 

When you arrived, stepping off the train your eyes met the same indigo blue eyes from so many years ago. 

When you were both kids. 

Now both adults. 

You stopped where you stood, unable to walk any closer as everything fled back. Stuff you had managed to keep down deep for so many years. Memories you wanted to erase. All that time wasted and drudged back up in mere seconds. Giyu may have had those same eyes but he was grown now. His hair longer and tied back, his face had lost that boyish roundness. He looked tall and lean. Well at least taller than you. For a moment he looked just as surprised as you but he smoothed over that emotion into something practiced. 

“It is you…” He said, his voice deep and soft. You swallowed, your hand resting on your sword. 

“You’re the water Hashira?” You asked and he nodded his head as the train behind you dinged and slowly pulled out of the stop, the wind blowing your hair over your shoulders. 

“You’re Rengoku’s tsuguko?” At that you nodded your head back at him. His eyes trailed to your sword, to your haori, an old one Rengoku had gifted you. His eyes lingered on that fiery pattern.  

“I never learned your name.” He said and then his eyes flicked to yours. You swallowed dryly, you weren’t sure why he made you so nervous, why your heart was beating so fast. You wondered if he was a part of a life you wanted to die off. The scared girl in the closet was far from who you were now. Rengoku never got to meet that scared girl. No one had. Except Giyu. You told him your name and he repeated it, as if feeling how it felt on his own lips. Your heart skipped a traitorous beat at the way he spoke your name. It felt different coming from him. You grabbed ahold of yourself.

“Shall we?”

But your mission with Giyu was cut off with the sudden death of Rengoku. You and Giyu hadn’t made it back to the village, before both of your crows had delivered the news. You still remembered everything about that moment. Giyu walking beside you, your haori catching a gust of wind, cold wind, as if winter was coming. You could replay your footsteps on the dirt road. The distant flapping of wings growing closer and closer and then stopping as they landed. Your initial glance over at the water Hashira before the delivering of the news. The ripple before the crack in your soul. Giyu had been present for the worst two days of your life. Something about losing someone again that felt like family irrevocably broke something in you all over again. This pain you felt before today you wondered for years if it would last. Rengoku had healed some of it. And begrudgingly and foolishly you let him in. But now you have your answer. This pain would last forever. You couldn’t even cry, you just stared blankly ahead, just as you had in your dark house wrecked with the stench of blood. Everyone died. Everyone you loved died.  

You felt a hand on your shoulder, you didn’t want to look at him.

“Go, I’ll finish the mission.” He said, his voice different, there was a coldness before but now only warmth. You still didn’t look at him as you turned to leave.

“Be careful.” You choked out before taking off in a run back towards the train station. 

You’d seen Giyu a few times after that but only in passing, never long enough to start up a proper conversation though both of you hated talking. You never let anyone else in after that. You took up the position of Fire Hashira and the only thing fiery about you was your utter hatred for demons. The other Hashira were sort of weary of you and that kept them at a distance. You only talked when absolutely needed and was the first to leave after Hashira meetings. You liked that distance. You’d do anything to keep it. There was only so much heartbreak and loss you could take. You were at your limit. You didn’t have room for anyone in your scabbard dying heart. 

That’s why receiving that letter from Kagaya had caught you so off guard. He of all people knew who you were and still he asked you for a favor. Probably a dying wish. He had shown you kindness and since it was the only thing he’d ever asked you for, reluctantly, you found yourself at the front of Giyu’s home. 

It was cold out as your knuckles rapped against the wooden door. You waited, stepped back and looked off to the side, expecting to see Kagaya’s crow lingering around somewhere to report back to him. A minute had passed as you gave one more series of knocks. Nothing. Maybe he wasn’t home. You sighed and turned to leave just as the wooden door clicked and was pulled open. When you turned back those striking blue eyes met yours. There was skepticism on his face as you swallowed. That feeling that met you every time you saw Giyu never seemed to fade. That persistent speeding of your heart. That faltering of words. All highly inconvenient.

“Y/n?” Giyu spoke first, pulling the door open just a tad more. He was in casual clothing, he looked as though he may have just woken up.

“Giyu. I never knew you lived in this part of town.” You stupidly lied. 

“It’s quiet.”

“I can see.” The lack of noise was slightly unsettling, only the rustling of leaves in the wind could be heard. You swallowed. “May I come in?” Your voice was slightly strained and didn’t at all sound like you wanted to do that but to your detriment Giyu moved to the side. Giyu’s home was a reflection of himself. It was clean, almost sterile, with dark walnut furnishings and dark curtains. He really must’ve been sleeping because he reaches over and flicks on a few lanterns, casting an orange glow to his main room. 

“I wasn’t expecting company,” He says over his shoulder and you almost agree.

“Unwanted?” You ask and when he shakes his head ‘no’ you relax sort of. 

“I’ll make us some food. Did you travel long?” He asks as he leads you towards the kitchen. You take a seat at the kitchen island and watch him get to work. 

“Yeah. Long train ride.” You answer as Giyu nods his head. You know he’s probably dying to know why you’re here but you're sure if you told him things would turn sour. You watched Giyu gather ingredients and supplies, he was very orderly about things, kept things nice and clean as he prepared dinner for you both. You had a lot of experience cooking with Rengoku, that man could eat and eat. Just at the thought you felt a pang and forced your face not to show it.

“Do you need help?” 

“That’s alright, you rest.” Giyu intones, setting a cup in front of you as he fills it with hot black tea. You thank him, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. You stare down into the tea for a moment and realize you had no idea how to go about this little favor Kagaya had asked of you. You barely spoke with anyone, you were well out of practice. How genuine would this ask even be coming from you? 

“How’re you?” You asked, not letting yourself be embarrassed by your lack of social skills. Giyu flicks on the stove.

“Do you really want to know?” He asked over his shoulder and stupidly, because he wasn’t even looking at you, you nodded your head before clearing your throat and speaking.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” You hoped that didn’t come out as sharp as it sounded.

“I’m… well. Thank you for asking.” Giyu answered, his monotone answer at war with the words he spoke. He sounded anything but well. You remembered the last Hashira meeting. You remembered Giyu’s back turned as he said, ‘I’m not like the rest of you.’ Unlike Sanemi you didn’t feel angry at that. In fact you knew how that felt. To feel unwelcomed and wanting it to stay that way. 

“If you’re well then I’m well.” You sigh and when Giyu turned, his eyes meeting yours, you felt a flash of how you saw him that first time. You blinked it away as he turned back.

“I didn’t think… you of all the Hashira’s would be the first to visit.” Giyu said, turning back to the stove. You stared at the back of his head. 

“Me neither.” You scoffed with a soft laugh. “But here I am.”

“Here you are.” He says, his voice soft again. It did funny things to you. Funny things that only he could elicit. It was frustrating.

“Giyu…” You trailed off, unsure how to broach the subject. “Did something happen? To make you not want to help out with the Hashira training?” Giyu was quiet for a long moment. You watched him stir some stuff into the pan and for a moment you thought he hadn’t heard you. 

“Can we not… talk about that?” He asks almost kindly. But that’s all you needed to talk about. If you didn’t stay on topic you’d be doing Kagaya a disservice. Though… could you count that as a hardy try?

“Of course.” You answered, fiddling with your hands. You’d left your sword back at the inn you were staying at and wished you’d had it just so you could fiddle with something else. “Though, I apologize but, I almost wish I could sit it out too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Training a bunch of snot nosed kids sounds like hell to me.” You spoke truthfully and watched Giyu’s shoulders rise and fall quickly, almost like he was maybe laughing, but he still wasn't facing you so you wouldn’t know.

“Not a fan?”

“I had my fill with the three from the swordsmith village.” Tanjiro, his little demon sister, Nezuko and Sanemi’s little brother Genya. All a handful. But very capable in a fight. 

“How’re your wounds? I… never got to ask.” Giyu says as he reaches for some seasoning, finally turning to the side to face you.

“Scarring up.” You said and Giyu nodded his head, his eyes drifting to the scar on your cheek.

“Two upper ranks. If anyone could handle them I knew it’d be you.” He says with a sort of gleam in his eye. 

“Can’t take the credit. That red head kid killed one of ‘em while MItsuri and I held off its body. Muichiro took out the other by himself.” You recounted, the fight honestly felt like it would never end.

“You and Kanroji worked together?”

“Surprising, right?”

“Not at all.” Giyu answers. “You two are very alike.”

“In what way?” You almost laughed at that statement. 

“Strong, fierce, never quit.”

“I think we all have that in common.” You say and Giyu gets this look in his eyes as he turns back away. You feel as though you lost some ground. You chew the inside of your cheek. Clearly Giyu doesn’t feel as though he had that in common. Something ignited in you. A need to say something on your mind. “Giyu… I-- I never thanked you.”

“Thanked me?” He echoed.

“I’ve… wrestled with it for a long time. How to… go about it. Kyojuro used to tell me to practice with all the people we met. To thank them for stupid things, like holding the door open or bringing me food. Just so the words didn’t feel so foreign. But I never really felt thankful for you saving me. I lived because my whole family died. Because I hid.” You take in a shaky breath. You’d never talked about this stuff out loud, not even with Rengoku. You felt embarrassed suddenly, shaking your head, you forced out a choked laugh. “Nevermind. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m… rambling.” You felt his eyes on you but you forced yourself to keep looking down at your warm tea. As long as you stayed like this maybe he’d move the conversation along to something else. You cursed yourself for ruining the mood, if there even was one to begin with.

“You don’t have to stop. I… I would like to know more about you. I… always have.” Your eyes shot to his like a knife hitting its mark. Those dark eyes, you could swim in them. Get lost in them. 

Those eyes… could make you feel something. 

That made you shoot to your feet, your tea spilling over. Giyu didn’t startle, he just turned to grab a rag but when he turned back you were halfway to the front door. He dropped the towel on the table. 

“W-wait!” He called to you but when he rounded into the main room the front door slammed closed. 

You fumbled outside, steps clumsy as you started to run and run. You didn’t want to think about it. You had to get away, as far as those legs of yours could take you. You could run to the next town over, retrieve your sword in the morning and never speak to the water hashira again. Never again. Favor be damned. What you felt was dangerous. That kind of thing left you the hollow husk you were today. You preferred this safe loneliness. You couldn’t ever be hurt again. You stopped for a moment, the cold air tough to run in as you huffed and puffed out condensation clouds.

“You’re fast.” You hadn’t even heard his approach. You didn’t turn, just swallowed.

“I- realized I have an early train. Can’t stay out late.”

“Come back... Please.” His voice was doing that soft thing you body liked so much. You clenched your jaw, if you could stab your heart you would.

“I can’t.”

“Why? And… tell me the truth.” You heard him walk a bit closer. Please, you thought, just go back home.

“Maybe you’re right. What you said at the last meeting, that you’re not like us other Hashira. Maybe I just realized it.” You wanted to hurt him, it was a common defense you used quite often. 

“And?”

“And I’m wasting my time speaking with someone who’d rather sit on the sidelines.” You spat over your shoulder. That’ll do it, you thought, that’ll get him to leave. It was quiet, heartbreakingly quiet and you were too much of a coward to see the hurt you caused so you started to walk away towards your inn.

“You… can hate me.” You stopped walking instantly and turned, Giyu looked stricken, as if you slapped him. You regretted turning around. “You can hate me all you want. Yell at me, hit me, whatever you want to do. But I need you to know… you might regret me saving you but I’ll never regret saving you.”

“Giyu,”

“Please… let me.” He straightened slightly. “I… am amazed by you.” His words hit you like the sharpest sting. Like a knife in the gut that slowly twists. “You’re incredible, nothing ever could rival you. You… lost so many yet you fight with purpose. I could never be like you.” You tense your jaw, eyes sharp. 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You take a step towards him. “I am hateful. I don’t have a purpose to fight anymore I just do it because it needs to be done. You don’t know me at all.”

“Maybe I don’t. But… I want to.”

“Why?”

“I’m not succinct.” Giyu sighs, as if tired. “I just do.” Want to know you. You stared at him and that traitorous heart of yours, that naive heart did another flip. You shook your head. 

“You don’t. No one does.”

“Rengoku did.” Your eyes lit like fire, some heat filling your soul. You wanted to yell at him for saying his name. For bringing him into this. But you’d done it first. 

“He’s dead. They all are. My whole family. I don’t want to know you. I don’t want you to know me. I want you to go back home and let me be.” 

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Maybe for the same reason your eyes find mine every time we're in the same room.” Giyu took a step closer, you watched him move as though he was going to strike through your heart. Like he was going for a killing blow.

“I… I don’t do that.” The lie was so obvious to your ears it almost made you cringe outwardly. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you. I look for you in every room. I… I lied to you the second time we saw each other so many years ago I… I knew you were Rengoku’s tsuguko because he’d written to me. He… sensed something and told me he was sending you to me for that mission. I was so… so damn nervous to see you again after so many years. So curious about how you were faring and I couldn’t even get more than fifteen words out. And when Rengoku passed I would write Kagaya, ask him how you were because I was too much of a coward to ask you myself.” 

That’s why Kagaya wrote to you. 

Your heart beat, skipped a beat then beat again. Everything was falling into place. Why Rengoku had sent you away when you had always gone on missions with him. The scheming man was playing matchmaker. And even Kagaya was playing the same damn game. 

“Don’t say anything else, Giyu. Please.”

“I won’t speak the rest of the night if you come back. You can even leave at first light. Just please… let me feed you and give you a place to sleep.”

“My inn isn’t too far.”

“Please.” The emotion in his voice was staggering. It was a plea. It had sounded like something he needed even more than breathing. You stared at him. If you went with him now that would be the very first crack in your walls. You never gave an inch away since Rengoku died and if you started now everything would crumble.

“No. I’m going back to my inn.”

“I’ll join the hashira training.” He said and your lips parted in silent surprise. “That’s why you came tonight wasn’t it? You’d never do it alone so Kagaya must’ve written to you? Am I right?” Your face must’ve given away the answer because Giyu continued and you realized right here and now this is the most you two have ever talked. An hour together had more dialogue than almost eight years. And this was why you kept your distance all these years. Because if anyone knew you it was Giyu, he’d seen you at your lowest yet here he was… begging you to stay for just a few hours. “Come back and I’ll join. You can consider your task a success.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I’d do it for you.”

“Be serious.” You growled and Giyu took another step forward. You hadn’t noticed him getting so close but suddenly he was close enough to touch. You stepped back. 

“Come back. Please.”

“You’re annoyingly persistent.”

“I just want you safe. That’s all.”

“You already saved me once. That’s enough.” You condemned with a shake of your head. Giyu looked doubtful for a moment, unsure of how to convince you to come back. But if you made good on Kaguya's favor this could be the end of it. “I’ll come back.” His eyes shot up to yours. “But I’m gone first light.” He nodded his head at that. 

Giyu finished up dinner as you set the table. It was quiet between you two after everything. Giyu had all but confessed the real depth of his feelings but you had an idea and it wasn’t something you’d let yourself dwell on. That idea was something close to hope. Something close to a degree of happiness. That’s not something you wanted. Not something you’d let yourself have. If there was one thing you were truly good at, it was self destruction. 

You took your seat as Giyu placed down the food. Miso soup with sweet potatoes. You stared at it, stricken. Rengoku’s favorite meal. 

“Hey… you alright?” 

“Seriously? That was at least your sixth bowl.” You huffed. Rengoku smirked as he pulled the bowl to his lips, slurping down the rest of its contents. He placed it down and reached for the ladle again. You watched him in amused surprise as he dulled out a seventh bowl. “You’re overgorging yourself.”

“It’s too good. Who taught you to cook, kid?” 

“You did.” You sighed with an eyeroll as Rengoku laughed heartily.

“Ah! That’s right I did.”

You blinked a few times and suddenly your face felt wet. You pressed a hand to your cheek. You hadn’t cried since losing your parents. You thought you were incapable, that you had exhausted your tear ducts at night. You hadn’t cried when you lost Rengoku and you always felt inhuman because of it. You looked across the table and met Giyu’s wide eyed stare, he looked startled at your tears.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and you couldn’t stop the tears now. They fell so fluidly, so overwhelmingly. You tried to apologize but your words just came out in stuttered croaks in your throat. Giyu stood so fast he knocked his chair over as he crossed to the other side of the table. He dropped to his knees beside you and pulled you to him. Rengoku hugged you a lot. You’d say it was unwanted but it was something you needed. Giyu’s arms around you felt different. He hugged you close to his chest, his hand tangled in your hair as you fell prey to your emotions. But startlingly so… it felt nice. Bottling things up for so long had very nearly ended you and you might’ve been able to really shut off your humanity if it hadn't been for that damned letter. 

If it hadn't been for Rengoku’s unending kindness. 

If it hadn't been for Giyu’s persistence. 

You could’ve nearly ended up as black hearted as the demon that flipped your life upside down. That was the most startling revelation of them all.

Giyu hugged you tight as you fell to pieces. He didn’t let go, never even loosened his arms a little bit around you. He just held you and let you cry and cry. It should’ve been embarrassing but as he pulled your hair back out of your face and wiped your wet cheeks there wasn’t an ounce of that annoying sympathy in his eyes. Just utter understanding. And this was the most inopportune time, seeing as your eyes were probably bloodshot, nose probably running like crazy, but without thinking you sucked in a ragged breath and then surged forwards and pressed your mouth to his. Giyu made a sound in his throat, you felt his arms around you tighten, drawing you in, deepening the kiss. 

This wasn’t something you knew of. 

Your parent’s pecked each other’s lips and cheeks but this… no this was something for behind closed doors. For just you two. That fire that pooled in your stomach upon seeing Giyu had heightened at least tenfold when he pulled you into his lap. Your bodies pressed against one anothers, no room, not even a milimeter’s length of space. He kissed you softly, but you kissed him back hard, untrained, unknowing. That chasm of loneliness in you had reached its peak and you wanted it gone, you wanted it filled. He gently ran his hand through your hair and you balled your fist in his shirt. He gently lowered you back and kissed you against the hardwood flooring of his kitchen. 

You shoved your chair away from you both and hooked your legs around his hips. He made another sound and you found that you liked it so you tightened your hold and slid your hand in his hair. That awarded you another sound, like a whimper. When he pulled back for air you yanked him by the hair back to your lips. Fuck air. You didn’t need that. You’d rather breathe him in. He whimpered again, his hips mindlessly moving, sending a wave of heat through you and this time it was your turn to groan. He hooked an arm around your back and with strength and swiftness, he hoisted you up off the floor without even breaking the kiss. You gasped in surprise and he walked you through the hallway. Kissing you against the wall and the door and the dresser before he finally made it to his bed. 

You two fell into the softness of his covers, his body trapping you beneath him. He trailed his lips away from yours and you whimpered at the loss of contact. But he kissed both your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose and to your jaw. He paid extra attention to your neck before kissing your collar bones. He kissed his way down your body. Kissing your scars that had once been an eyesore to you. Ever so gently tracing some absentmindedly with his other hand. Whatever growing between you two was something to be earned. Sure you loved Giyu but you needed more time with him. You spent eight years barely speaking. You could tell Giyu felt that too because when his lips met yours again and pulled back you both blinked tiredly at one another. 

Astonishingly you watched the softest of smiles spread across Giyu’s face. You wanted to catalog this moment forever. To remember it till the day you died. Giyu pressed one last kiss to your forehead and then dropped beside you on the bed. He pulled you to him, your back pressed to his front. Your legs tangled as his hand reached across you and intertwined with yours. You blushed but settled against him. The dregs of sleep calling for you. You two didn’t need to speak another word.  

You watched the first light roll in through Giyu’s curtains. It shone like blades across his room. Giyu softly snored beside you, arms still around your body. You’d never kissed a single soul before but you knew what a kiss meant. You knew whenever your dad kissed your mom or the other way around that it was an unspoken way to say I love you. But it was a different kind of love your parents shared. You loved your family. You loved Rengoku. 

But you loved Giyu. 

You loved him as you clamped your fist in his shirt the night he saved you. You loved him when you stepped off that train. You loved him at every hashira meeting and every stolen glance. You loved him as you read Kagaya’s letter and loved him when he opened the door. As he chased you down in the street and begged you to come back to his home. So many problems never go away, some pain felt as though it would last forever and you never thought you could break through. You never thought you could just grow around it, because nothing was more persistent than a plant in the presence of the sun. You never told Rengoku you loved him, never told him how much he meant to you and that his kindness never fell to deaf ears. You had spent eight years loving Giyu and not letting yourself know it.

And all it took was a damn bowl of miso soup and sweet potatoes.

[xyzcan]

This shit is based off of this, like so heavily based off i'd say it's the same but... Nahh I just like the idea so creds to this guy ig: @saikowatermelons

yandere x reader

- warnings: cannibalism, noncon, blowjob, yandere, degradation too, tied up, imprisoned reader, unhealthy power dynamic (prince n slave), honestly I get too horny writing smut scenes that I lose the supposed 'emotional' shit I'm supposed to add lmao... But HEJSKSKSKSK @tnsophiaayaonly would you notice this if I add scara in the tags? :3 pretty pls.

- And I keep on writing as if I was in Google docs because my doc's automatically turns asterisks into these italics or bold thingies... BRO the asterisks won't stop!!

And my grammar sucks, sorri English just ain't my first language </3

--- xyzcan writes.

He was born adored.

From the moment he first cried in the cradle, the kingdom wept with joy. The stars were said to shimmer brighter the night he was born. Poets wrote about the gleam in his eyes like it was a divine prophecy. His smile? That became the religion of fools and worshippers.

He was their prince.

And fuck, they loved him for it.

His every word was echoed with cheers. His footsteps blessed roads. His existence—untouchable, godlike, holy.

But they never knew him.

Behind that charming grin and bright laughter was nothing but a hollow pit of disinterest. All that devotion? Boring. All that praise? Noise. Meaningless, pathetic noise.

He played the part. Of course he did. Wore the crown like it was forged for him alone, smiled like he gave a shit, patted peasants’ heads and waved from balconies like he cared.

But it was all fucking empty.

The only thing that stirred him was the idea of power. Not just rule. Not just control. But something deeper—domination of the soul. He wanted to crack someone open. Strip them bare. And not because they bowed to him. Because they resisted him.

He waited for something real.

And then you showed up.

You were a smudge. A stain. A girl born from the ashes of a family of thieves—lowborn scum, the kind the court only mentioned to make examples out of. Your parents were enslaved, publicly punished, humiliated for crimes they did commit. And you...

You were the one that slipped away.

You didn’t scream for help. You didn’t beg for mercy. You ran like an animal. You stole scraps to survive. You learned to hide in shadows, to trust no one, to look at royalty with rage in your eyes instead of reverence.

You were filth.

You were perfect.

The moment he heard your name from a guard’s lips—dirty, snarled, covered in blood and accused of murder—he didn’t give a damn. Just another rat to execute. He signed the parchment for your death without even looking at it.

And yet…

He didn’t send the order through.

Why? He didn’t fucking know. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was instinct. Or maybe it was that single glimpse he caught of you—cuffed, dragged through the halls, blood drying on your temple, snarling like a goddamn beast—and something inside him shifted.

He let you rot.

One month. Two. Six. A year.

The dungeon devoured you.

And still, you didn’t scream.

You glared.

And that’s when he knew.

He couldn't kill you. Not yet.

Because you were the first thing that made him feel anything in years.

The air in the dungeon is thick. Wet. Rank with mold, blood, and rotting bodies that no one bothered to bury. It clings to your skin like oil. Every breath is a curse.

You’ve been down here for so long you’ve forgotten what sunlight feels like. Your bones feel like glass, your skin like paper. Every chain clamped around your wrist and ankle itches like fire. But it’s the silence that eats you alive.

Until he shows up.

The prince.

Cloaked in white and gold, untouched by filth. His boots click softly against the stones, clean even in this pit. He stands in front of your cell like he’s gazing at a painting, not a person.

You lift your head slowly.

He sees the bruise on your jaw. The cuts on your lips. The way your collarbones poke out like blades. And still, somehow, your glare burns hotter than the torches behind him.

You’re not broken yet.

And that makes his pulse quicken.

“Ah,” he says, smiling with that same radiant grin he shows the masses. “Still alive. Still angry. That’s good.”

You narrow your eyes. Your throat is too dry to speak, but if you could, you’d scream every curse you know.

He kneels. Close enough to touch. “You haven’t asked why I’m here,” he murmurs, studying your face.

You say nothing. He likes the silence too much.

“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?” he teases, tilting his head. “That I’ve thought of you every night for a year?”

You shudder. The chains clink with your twitch.

“...Fuck you,” you rasp, barely audible.

His grin widens.

There it is.

“I’ve kept you down here for so long,” he says, voice like silk and acid. “Because I wanted to see what you’d become. I thought you’d break. Thought you’d beg. But no… you’re still you.”

His hand reaches into his coat. He pulls something out. Wrapped in soft, royal cloth.

You stiffen.

He unfolds it slowly.

And your stomach drops.

It’s a hand.

Small. Pale. Fingers curled in a permanent twitch of agony. Dried blood coats the wrist.

You gag, bile rising instantly. The smell hits you next—rotten, metallic, thick enough to make your eyes sting.

“Hungry?” he asks softly.

You look up at him like he’s the fucking devil.

He chuckles. “Oh, come on. Don’t look at me like that. You’ve been starving for days. I know. I hear your stomach. I see the way you tremble.”

You shake your head.

“No?” he says, blinking innocently. “But you said you were hungry…”

Then—too fast—he lunges.

Grabs your face.

Fingers crush your jaw open with brute force. You fight, kick, scream hoarsely, but he doesn’t care. He presses the bloody hand against your mouth. Flesh touches your lips.

You sob, wrenching away, but the chains bite into your skin and hold you in place.

“You don’t get to choose,” he snarls suddenly, voice cracking with something savage. “You don’t get to say no. You belong to me now.”

Tears streak down your face as he smears blood across your lips, forcing the taste into your mouth. You choke, body lurching with nausea.

You vomit.

He watches.

He smiles.

“I knew it’d be fun,” he whispers. “I knew you’d fight. Scream. Cry. I knew you’d make me feel.”

He leans in, lips brushing your temple as you sob uncontrollably.

“I’m going to make you mine,” he breathes. “Not like the others. Not like those pathetic worms out there who beg for my attention. You are different. And I’m going to ruin you piece by piece until you scream my name like a prayer.”

And somehow… that’s the most terrifying part.

Because he means it.

He’s not here to kill you.

He’s here to keep you.

To twist you into something broken and beautiful, just for him.

And the worst part?

He’s already started.

“I’m hungry,” you croak, voice shredded and trembling—but your eyes don’t waver. “But not for that… you sick fuck.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

His smile twitches—just for a second. Not the polished grin he offers the crowd. No. This one’s twitchy. Unstable. Wrong. Something flickers behind his eyes, like a fuse catching flame.

Oh?

Even now—after all the rot, all the starvation, all the fucking hell—you still dare to look at him like that? You still dare to bare your teeth at a prince like you’re some rabid animal? His cheeks burn. His breath shudders out of him.

And he laughs.

It’s a soft, breathy thing at first, almost confused. Then it grows—full-bodied and unhinged, echoing off the stone walls like mockery.

“You’re unreal,” he whispers, leaning in. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now? Filthy. Shaking. Barely breathing. And still, you throw insults like you’ve got power here. Like you matter.”

You glare harder, bloodshot eyes narrowing. “You don’t fucking scare me.”

That’s not entirely true. But you’ll be damned if you give him the pleasure of knowing just how much.

His gaze drops for a second—just a heartbeat. But it’s enough.

You follow it.

And your blood runs cold.

There, beneath the soft fall of his pristine white coat, straining against velvet trousers, is the undeniable outline of his arousal.

You freeze.

He doesn’t.

In fact, his smile grows sharper. His voice drops into something darker, lower

“…See? You noticed,” he says softly, almost sweet. “I was wondering when you’d see what you do to me.”

Your stomach twists, bile threatening again. You want to scream. To disappear. To rip your skin off just to feel clean again. But all you can do is stare at the living nightmare in front of you.

This isn’t a prince.

This isn’t a savior.

This is a monster in silk and gold, who people kneel for with tears in their eyes, who children dream of meeting, who the entire fucking kingdom worships.

But here, in the damp belly of the palace, you know the truth.

He’s just a sick fuck.

He steps closer, slowly—like you’re prey.

He watches your reaction like it’s a performance crafted just for him—each flinch, every twitch of your lip or narrowing of your eyes only fans the flames licking hungrily beneath his skin. His smirk deepens, eyes gleaming with something predatory. He lives for this—the way you still bite back, even now, even after everything. It’s like watching a candle trying to burn in a storm, defiant and stupidly beautiful.

He pulls his hand away from your mouth, slowly, like he’s savoring the moment. Blood streaks your lips, trailing down your chin in thin, red rivers. You cough, gagging as the taste of iron clings to the back of your throat. His eyes follow the path of that blood like it’s art.

Then he pressed it.

That disgusting, throbbing bulge in his pants.

And he notices you cringing.

His smirk twists. Grows darker. Hungrier.

He steps closer, the heat of him suffocating, invading your space like a fog you can’t escape. His voice drops into a gravelly whisper, thick with amusement and filth.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “I am a monster."

Before you can spit another insult, his hand shoots forward and fists in your hair.

You cry out, your scalp screaming as he yanks your head back with brutal force. The cold wall behind you offers no mercy as you’re pinned in place by his hold. Pain lances down your neck, tears springing unbidden in your eyes—but still, you glare.

He leans in, and you can see it—really see it. That perfect princely mask is gone. His expression is feral now. Lust, yes—but something else too. Something ancient and terrifying. Something that sees you not as a person, but as a possession. A toy. A fucking plaything to break and remake as he pleases.

“You’re so full of fire,” he whispers, breath hot against your cheek. “So fucking brave. It’s adorable.”

His grip tightens in your hair, drawing a hiss from your throat.

“I wonder how long it’ll take to turn that fire into begging."

You don’t answer.

So he grabs your jaw, fingers digging into the bone until it aches, until your mouth is forced open like some grotesque puppet.

“Look at you,” he breathes, almost in awe. “Fucking gorgeous, even now.”

You try to twist away, but his grip only gets tighter. It hurts. It really fucking hurts. The sting mixes with exhaustion, fear, rage—and yet your eyes burn with hatred.

“Do it,” you rasp. “Whatever you want. I won’t break for you.”

He pauses—just a heartbeat—and then lets out a low, shaky laugh.

“Oh, you will,” he says. “That’s the best part.”

He unbuckles his belt with a metallic clink, his movements deliberate and cruel, as if prolonging that humiliating tension. He pulls out his length—already hard and veined—holding it in front of your face.

"Open that smart mouth of yours," he commands softly, his voice dripping with mocking kindness.

You hesitate, your eyes filled with hatred and disgust. This was so fucking humiliating. He chuckles raspily, the sound sending a shivers down your spine.

He wraps his hand around his length, giving it a slow stroke. "Or should I just shove it down your throat?" He threatens, his thumb brushing against his tip.

Without warning, he slaps his cock against your lips, forcing them open. "Suck," he orders raspily. He grips your hair tighter, using it to guide your head down onto his shaft.

You gag as he forces himself into your mouth, filling it completely, you feel his tip burning in your mouth.

He starts fucking your mouth roughly, letting strings of groans and moans escapes his lips, groaning like it's some divine prayer. Your lips stretch wide around his thick girth as he pushes deeper, hitting the back of your throat. It burns, but the humiliation burns even further.

You try to breathe through your nose, but he doesn't give you time to adjust, when has he ever?

His hips move in a brutal pace, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth with wet, slurping sounds. He watches his cock disappear into your mouth over and over again, his pleasure building rapidly.

He never expects to feel this good with a criminal of all people.

He pulls your head forward harder each time he thrusts in, making you gag and drool around him. Your saliva coats his length, adding wetness to each stroke.

"Look at you," he rasps, watching as your lips stretch obscenely around him, "Such a pretty mouth for such nasty things." His cock glides smoothly now, thanks to your saliva. He pushes deep enough to make you gag again, holding your head there for a moment.

"Take it."

His pace becomes even more brutal, using your mouth like a prostitute, like the fucking slut of a criminal you are. He can feel his release approaching and he wants to use you for it.

He reaches down and grabs your hair harder, pulling your head back to look at him as he starts fucking your mouth even harder. "I'm gonna cum,"

"And you're gonna swallow every fucking drop." He growls with feral intensity, pushing his entire length down your throat. Your eyes water and your nose runs as you gag loudly around his thick base, fuck. He starts fucking your throat, forcing his dick down your throat over and over again, he could feel your teeth scraping against the base of his shaft, as if threatening to bite him.

He honestly just gets off to it more.

He grunts deeply, his hips moving faster and more erratically as he nears climax. The wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth become obscene and loud in the quiet dungeon. Saliva drips down onto both cheeks making them glisten obscenely under harsh light.

"You're so disgusting taking my whole fucking dick down your throat," he groans, his voice filled with disgust and arousal, he considered slapping you, treat you like the criminal you are.

Would that make you beg and submit?

"You look like a fucking mess, all choked and slobbery." He pulls out for a moment, just to slap his wet, throbbing dick against your face.

"Open up, you stupid whore," he hisses, grabbing your jaw and forcing your mouth open. "Look at this fucking mess," he says, showing you the wet, saliva-covered length of his dick. "You're gonna swallow it all, you dirty slut."

"Gods, you're like a cheap whore," He mutters, pushing back inside your mouth, making you feel every vein with your tongue. "Do all criminals suck off cock this good, or is just you? Do you even have dignity? Do whores like you have pride?" He laughs darkly, hitting the back of your throat again.

"I'm gonna cum soon, baby. I'm gonna cum down your fucking throat and you're gonna swallow every fucking drop like a good little slut." He starts fucking your mouth faster and harder, his balls slapping against your chin. "Swallow it all..."

You feel tears go down your face. This was not only humiliating, but you were just forced to feed on fucking human flesh. And still—even now? You're still getting said human flesh down your throat, it's just a different kind.

"Right there," he moans loudly, gripping your hair tighter, throwing his head back, he can feel his release coming like some high-drugged up guy. "Right fucking there!" He holds your head still as he thrusts deep into your throat one last time and explodes. His cock pulses violently inside your mouth filling it with ropes of his cum.

Your knees ache against the cold stone floor, and your throat feels raw, violated. Your body is still trembling—not from exhaustion, but from the aftershocks of him.

And then… he touches your cheek. So softly. So fucking softly.

“Good girl,” he coos, as if his voice hadn’t just torn through your soul minutes ago.

You flinch, and that only makes his smile widen—like he finds it endearing. His thumb brushes a tear from your cheek like some twisted parody of affection.

“Gods, you took that like such a good little toy,” he murmurs, his tone warm now. Worshipful, almost. Sickeningly proud.

You stare up at him, blankly at first. Numb. Dissociated. But then the heat rises—behind your eyes, in your throat, in your chest. Shame, rage, horror. Your stomach twists, like it might turn itself inside out.

“Such a pretty little whore,” he adds, stroking your face with a lover’s touch.

You can’t breathe.

It’s not just what he did.

It’s that he thinks you should be grateful for it. That he's comforting you—as if he cared. That he expects you to smile, to nod, to collapse into his arms like some ruined little doll who finally accepts her place.

And the worst part?

Your body doesn't scream. Your body doesn’t fight. It just sits there—tired, used, broken in silence.

You feel your sense of self crumbling, piece by piece. Your thoughts are screaming, but they’re trapped beneath a glass surface. He doesn’t hear them. He doesn’t want to hear them. He’s already rewritten your story in his head—and in his version, you're his.

His to use. His to break. His to “praise."

Your vision swims. You want to throw up. You want to claw your skin off. You want to scream that you are not this, you are not his, you are not some thing—

But your voice is gone. Swallowed by everything he took.

And he kneels down beside you, whispering, “See? That wasn’t so bad… You’re mine now, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”

His voice is gentle. His hand is warm.

And all you can do… is sit there, soaked in grief and fury, tasting the rot of helplessness on your tongue.

Although the hopelessness you felt, that feeling of violation itching on your skin, that salty taste of his release remains on your mouth... Even after all of that, he can still see— feel. Feel that you're still you. Human. Fiery and so so you.

And it makes him grin.

“I thought you were different,” he murmurs, the edges of his voice soft as silk—a lie wrapped in luxury—as he drags a gloved finger down the rusted chains keeping you bound.

It felt like a lie to you, but to him? It's the utmost truth. He can still see it. The thing that made you so fucking special.

Each metallic scrape feels like it’s splitting your nerves open, like it’s scoring his presence deeper into your already-battered psyche.

“And look at that…” he breathes, tilting his head with childlike awe. “I was right. You’re delicious when you’re angry. I want to bottle that rage. Smear it on my skin. Drink it. Bathe in it. Let it soak into my fucking bones.”

You recoil instinctively, your chains clinking with pathetic defiance.

“You’re disgusting,” you hiss, you finally found your voice and it cuts through the hopelessness you felt, the words tearing out of you, raw and ragged. “You’re not human.”

That stops him. Not like a wound—but like a revelation. He blinks once. Slowly.

Then he kneels again. Just like before.

But this time… he’s closer.

Close enough to smell the iron on your breath. Close enough that his warmth seeps into your cold skin like poison. His gloved fingers trail up to the shackles around your wrists, curling around the chains—not to release you, of course, but just to feel them. To remind you they’re still there.

His breath ghosts against your lips, too intimate for words like “prisoner” to make any fucking sense anymore.

“No,” he murmurs, so quiet it could be mistaken for reverence. “I’m not.”

His eyes gleam—not like jewels, but like something wet and feral crawling out of a pit.

“And neither are you. Not anymore.”

You freeze. Not from fear. Not from pain.

From the truth in his voice.

“Do you think the world up there will ever take you back after this?” he whispers, his tone almost tender. “Do you think they’ll see anything but filth when they look at you? You’ve been marked, sweetheart. Tainted. Owned.”

Your heart is hammering now. Not from the threats. But from the quiet realization that—deep, deep down—you believe him. Some cracked little voice inside you is already grieving the life you’ll never get back.

You shake your head, biting down hard on the sob rising in your throat.

“I’d rather fucking die.”

He smiles.

But not with mockery. Not with sadism. It’s softer. Like you just confessed your love instead of your refusal. His hand brushes your face like you’re precious porcelain he intends to shatter slowly.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he says, voice low and warm, like a lullaby sung in hell.

“You will. But only when I say so."

That’s when you realize the real horror.

It’s not the pain. It’s not even the loss.

It’s the waiting. The knowing. The cruel, slow corrosion of being kept alive not for salvation—but for his entertainment. For his need. For him.

And there is no escape. Only the illusion of time.

Only him…

...and the unbearable, suffocating fact that no one is coming for you.

[mullermilkshake]

A joint hallucination

Part 7 <- Part 8 -> Part 9

It's time for the six week scan.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Pregnancy scan, ultrasound, slight manipulation For this idea in particular for in this fic that I never even thought of doing, credit goes to @Daiyanomochi YOU LEGEND <3

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

EDIT - I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

“Twins?!” Your mouth remained agape at the association's doctor. “A-are you sure there’s two and it's not a glitch?”

“I’m sure.” She pointed at the screen and adjusted the internal ultrasound stick under the draped cloth. “See? One… two. It's early, but we can determine if its twins at around this time. You’re roughly six weeks along, so it was worth the wait before coming in to see me, or you might have gotten a little surprise at your next scan wondering why your baby bump is getting bigger than expected.”

Jinwoo had not said one word, nowhere near comprehending the information his brain was receiving. Twins? Was this even logical? Was that why he was sensing the amount of mana coming from you, because there were two babies in there?

Holy shit. Twins. That was insane, even for Jinwoo’s standards. And while his compulsions weren’t disappearing anytime soon, for the first time in two weeks, Jinwoo was speechless.

He listened out for your hurried breath you tried to calm, but it was just outside noise at this point. “Oh my god… Oh my god... Six weeks? That puts my…”

“Your date of conception was most likely the first week of last month.” The doctor continued looking at the ultrasound, the two little dots that could have been mistaken for a smudge on the screen. “It’s not fully accurate, but as close as we can get.”

It could have been any day that week, but it wasn’t until then, that you and Jinwoo were going at it daily. “The night of the association dinner…”

You tore your eyes from the screen towards Jinwoo, they were glassy and terrified. “Could it really have been that night- I mean, I’m pretty sure I was ovulating but… six weeks… Doctor, are you definitely sure it’s twins?”

She chuckled a little, a reassuring one, though you wouldn’t have seen it that way no doubt. “Yes, I’m certain that you are carrying twins. I mean, you’re already bloating more than normal, but it’s very common with twins. Everything looks as it should though.”

“I just…” And now you were speechless.

The doctor pulled out the ultrasound stick and printed off a copy of the scan, giving it to Jinwoo. “I’ll let you get cleaned up and we’ll talk. There’s a lot to process… congratulations you two.”

“I guess we’ll have to let the Chairman know-”

“I’ve already done that. He’s aware and will be coming to visit you sometime today.” The doctor left the room with a cheerful smile.

Jinwoo watched her carefully and couldn’t decide whether or not his gut was telling him something. When did she have time to inform the Chairman of this when she had been in the room the whole time. Jinwoo had watched her closely up until she had told them the news, and even then, part of his consciousness was aware of his surroundings even while the other half was freaking out.

The small slither that remained calm was the half with these sudden compulsions, to keep everything away from you and it wasn’t even logical. It had ingrained itself so deep like a buried tick, right in his brain that started affecting his sleep, his eating, his overall mental state. He managed to hide it from you for now, but at times, it threatened to slip.

And you were only six weeks along.

This is going to be a long pregnancy. 

“Oh my god…” Were you crying? No, but your glassy eyes were as close to it as they could be.

“It'll be fine.” Jinwoo said, reluctantly taking your hand in his in hopes to calm you.

But it didn’t. “My body is going to be- I never signed up for twins, Jinwoo- oh my god…. Oh my god.”

“Shh, shh.” He stroked your hair, you hadn’t moved from the bed. “Listen, we can get through it together, just think of when they’re here and not in there.” He pointed to your stomach. “Let’s work towards that first, and we’ll go from there.”

“I-I still can’t believe you got me pregnant... I honestly thought it was never going to happen in the time they gave us, but twins? You honestly had to knock me up with twins- Jesus christ…”

What could he say to that? If he wasn’t so blindsided, he would have relished the fact that it wasn’t just one baby, but two that he’d managed to keep you with by his side. Two babies with no way of doing it on your own, so you’d have to rely on him.

Jinwoo tried his best to quell those thoughts for now and be as supportive as he could be. “I know it’s a shock, I’m shocked. But, I know that this is a good thing. The doctor said they’re okay and growing good, and now we won’t have all that pressure. So at least for now, we can relax-”

“How can we do that?” You sat up and let your legs swing over the table, caught up in the draped cloth. “There’s two of them, Jinwoo. That’s double the morning sickness, double the pain and… I dunno, double the contractions? I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“That makes two of us, then.” Jinwoo hadn’t the foggiest, but he knew doing it with you would make the process less painful. “Because I have no idea, either. We can figure it out together.”

The way he ran his fingertips over the back of your hand seemed to calm you enough to nod and get moving. “Yeah… I think it’s just a lot to process right now. But… Oh god…”

“Why don’t you get dressed, I’ll slip outside for a moment and get the doctor to talk about our next steps and then I'll take you home.”

Jinwoo left you in the room for just a second, his need to stay near you prevented him from taking one step away from that door. He couldn’t leave you on your own, never again, not if you were carrying his children. How could you protect yourself? Protect them without him?

“Igris.”

His shadow never appeared, but Igris’s presence stood tall behind him awaiting orders. If Igris remained in your shadow, Jinwoo could sit easily knowing you had protection.

“Stay with her at all times. Keep yourself hidden. Don’t let anything, or anyone harm her or there will be consequences.” He glared up at where Igris would have been, his eyes glowing with the determination of a fretting parent, knowing he could see him. “Do I make myself clear?”

Igris moved beyond the door and vanished, concealing his presence neatly in your shadow. Jinwoo knew at some point he would have to introduce you properly, maybe another day.

“Hello Mr Sung, is there anything you need?” The doctor came back with some kind of medical paperwork on a clipboard and the same sweet smile. “I was just coming back to give you some more information and you can be on your way until your next check up in six weeks time.”

“Uh, no, not really. I was coming to get you, actually.” Jinwoo spoke your name with a softness. “I think she just wants to go home now.”

“Of course, come in and I’ll get everything you need to go home with.”

Jinwoo followed her in, you were sat up right on the table fully dressed looking down at your tapping foot, over and over again. He sat down beside you, linking his hand with your and did his best to take everything in. The terminology the doctor used was unnecessary, complicating the simplest of phrases to make your lip tremble or a lone tear slip down your cheek.

But now and then, you would slip out of that rhythm and look over your shoulder or across the room for a split second and then right back to the doctor. This occurred for the remainder of the appointment, Jinwoo decided not to comment on it just yet, at least until you were home and resting.

It was you who decided to bring it up after the appointment, and in the worst way possible. “Why is there something following me?”

Ah crap. “Uh… what do you mean?”

“Don’t pull this today, Jinwoo. I’m really not in the mood. I’ve come to learn when you either don’t want to talk about something, or you give the whole truth. So be honest with me.”

Jinwoo slowed his pace back to the car and carried on, hoping you wouldn’t notice his hesitance, but of course you would. How did he forget about your perception? It wasn’t so high that you would have seen Igris walk right into the room, but you knew there was something there.

“It’s not that… I just- I want you to be safe.” He rubbed the back of his neck because he didn’t know what else to do. “So I asked one of my shadows to watch over you whenever I’m not with you-”

“Jinwoo. Jesus- that’s what I’ve been seeing the last half hour?” Your pace towards the car increased, and just when Jinwoo thought things were good right now. “You didn’t think to at least inform me first? I’ve been going out of my mind thinking I was seeing things.”

“I’m sorry, I am... I'd never want to upset you, you're not seeing things. It’s just-” He sped ahead and opened the door for you, letting you slump into the seat before he made his way round to the driver's seat.

What the hell should he even say to a frustrated pregnant person?

When he got in, the car was heavy, looming. Your brow dipped low and you were extremely pissed off, he could tell by the way your arms folded the way they were and how you fiddled around with your bottom lip to stop yourself from saying something you shouldn’t.

Now, Jinwoo wasn’t about to get into his intense thoughts ever since that mana spike, or how his sleep was constantly ridden with dreams of you and the pregnancy, and all the ways it could possibly go wrong or that you could die in some horrid accident involving a magic beast. He wouldn’t dare bring any of that up, not how he wanted no one around you unless they were a medical professional or himself, not even the Chairman.

So when Jinwoo sat there and waited to see if you would say anything, he sighed heavily and rested his arms on the steering wheel when you didn't speak one word.

“We haven’t had the best start in all of this, but I want to try.” He turned his head to face you, even though you were looking out of the window when he did. “You’re pregnant, you’re carrying this life inside of you and now we know there’s two lives in there. I won’t be around all the time to make sure you’re okay, and with all the stress you’ve been under, I didn’t want to add anymore to it, but obviously I have…"

When you remained silent, he foolishly continued despite the ramifications that might come from it. “I didn’t think about your feelings and I should have done, because you’re the most important in all of this- not the association, not the programme or anything the Chairman wants from us. I’m not important, but you are. And I care about you, I’m trying to prioritise you so that you and the babies are safe…”

Then, you huffed the sweetest little noise Jinwoo had ever heard, like you were silently forgiving him despite not actually coming out and saying it.

“So who’s this shadow, then? You’ve never really shown them at all.”

It wasn’t forgiveness, but close enough.

Jinwoo breathed a silent sigh and pulled off from the parking lot. “Igris. His name is Igris, and he’s one of the strongest shadows I have. Nothing will get past him unless it’s a highly experienced S-Rank hunter and even they’d have trouble with him.”

You looked over to Jinwoo, confused with something he could describe as concerned. “But, my perception is high. How can I sense Igris and not…” Your hand fell to your stomach, where the babies were. “I should be acutely aware of them, right? But I’m not.”

“I only noticed because one of my shadows pointed it out, or I wouldn’t have found out right away… I wouldn’t think too deeply into it.” 

There could have been a whole slew of reasons why you couldn’t sense the aura coming from you, none that Jinwoo could figure out just yet. With time to understand it or with a mage healing doctor, they could find the root of the issue.

“I guess so.” You said, silently running your fingers over your belly as though the instincts were already kicking in like they had for Jinwoo..

“Well, I thought he was the best fit to protect you should anything happen, if a dungeon broke in town, I’d fight clear minded knowing you were looked after.”

Before Jinwoo could stop himself from making you sound like you were incapable, you popped back like he expected and never let him recover.

“You think I’m not capable of looking after myself? I know I don’t have the experience you or the others do, but I can get away if I really have to. I-I can do something without being babied, I don’t need coddling.”

It came from nowhere, but that horrid idea burrowed in Jinwoo’s head and wasn’t leaving anytime soon. “Okay, so if you can fight now, when do you stop? When it takes a toll on your body, or when your belly gets in the way? You’re growing two humans inside you right now, and that won’t change until they’re born, you need all the rest you can get.”

“But I want to keep hunting, Jinwoo. That’s why I was opposed to this in the first place. Nothing changes for you, it’s all on mine and Hae-in’s shoulders. Our bodies will change and we’ll have to recover and you can just keep going to gates and collecting things and I have to stay at home just waiting?”

It won’t be like that forever, because you and I will have two beautiful babies at home to take care of. That’s what he wanted to say, he wanted to be as honest as he could with his intentions with you. But as delicate as you were, if you hadn’t bolted by now, that surely would have sent you packing.

“We’ll get some normality soon, I promise-”

“How can you promise that?”

It went like that the entire way home. You escalated things and Jinwoo attempted to calm them down, it was no doubt exacerbated by those hormones the doctor was talking about. It also didn’t help that Jinwoo could say one thing and you’d take it another way because he didn’t think before opening his mouth. 

Realistically, it was all his fault.

And to make things worse, Chairman Go had let himself into the apartment.

Could this day get any more eventful? 

“Hunter Sung.” Your name oozed from his lips. “It’s fantastic to see you both. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by, I simply couldn’t wait to congratulate you.”

Part 7 <- Part 8 -> Part 9

Again, thank you Daiyanomochi for the idea for the twins, you're amazing 🤗

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[mayasaurusss]

Okay okay listen, Jackie thought for you because my last one was about Lucy!

Maybe Jackie who’s cheating on Jeff with reader?

Because, here’s the thing, sex with Jeff is just not doing it for her. Sure, he’s trying to be sweet and is too eager to be any good but none of that is working for Jackie. She needs someone else.

And that someone happens to be you!! 🫵

Maybe she’s getting ready for date night with Jeff, mentally preparing herself to fake another orgasm, then go home and get the job done herself.

Today is different though because today, while she’s getting dressed and doing her makeup, there’s you. She invited you over after school to have a distraction from what’s yet to come (Or rather what’s not. Surely, it’s not gonna be Jackie.)

Long story short: While Jackie did want you around, she’s fed up with all your rambling and yapping while she’s just trying to get ready in peace. And what better way to shut you up than by stuffing your mouth? At least like this she won’t have to fake it. At least like this Jackie’s stamina will be appreciated, because she could go for hours with you, using your mouth first before watching you ride her OR bending you over her desk to fuck you from behind? Letting all her anger and (sexual) frustration out on you?

It’s way too late for me to think and write properly so I hope you can make some sense out of this.

-🌿

Friday night date

Contents: afab Jackie, gn reader (an instance of afab genitalia, but can be read as both), smut, strap referred as 'cock'.

A/N: Finally done! Sorry for all the delay 🌿anon, but life happened. I had to add a little romance at the end because I'm a sucker for it😅. Enjoy!!

'Another Friday night thrown in the trash'.

That's what Jackie thinks, every time, when the weekend rolls by and she has to busy herself with Jeff's less than fancy lovemaking. She doesn't usually let off the side of herself that resents Jeff's inadequacies too out in the open, but before and after she lets him touch her, she can't help herself.

It's not like she hates Jeff, or even dislikes him as a person, but it just doesn't click with him. He doesn't notice though, too shallow to hear how fakefully exaggerated her moans are, or how wet she is not.

And when she comes back home, she is cranky to say the least. Her fingers don't do the job and leave her unsatisfied, chasing the phantom of an orgasm, only to be left needy and wanting.

Regardless, tonight, she busys herself with you.

You, one of her best friends in the world, sitting next to her while she prepares herself for her date night.

They're going to the movies, or whatever. Jackie can already feel the ghost of Jeff's fingers inside of her, doing the opposite of what pleasure does.

What she expects from you is just mindless chit chatting, gossipping and things like that; you know, what friends usually do. Instead, she finds herself having to delicately apply mascara on her eyelashes while you ramble on and on about your latest interest. "Do you know that some animals-" oh my God. Now, while Jackie did want you around, your incessant rambling is only bothering her, and you're filling her head with it.

The situation is only making her more and more nervous: the date, your yapping and the prospect of another night, wasted on a man that can't even make her cum properly-.

Just as you're about to finish your incredibly detailed report on animals, or some shit, Jackie cannot take it anymore, and settles for walking over your place on her bed and kissing you, smudging her lips on yours, spreading the colours that tinted them just seconds ago around.

You are taken back by this, eyes open wide as Jackie deepens the kiss more and more by the second. Your best friend is on your lap, kissing you. That's a first. Between kisses, you manage to slip away from her grasp, your voice so small that's barely audible.

"Jackie... I-" she takes you back before you can answer, her lips already on you, her heavy sighs falling from her.

"Just shut up" she says, subtly grinding her hips back onto yours. Jackie has never felt so good in her entire life: this is how it's supposed to be. She takes your hand, making it trace her body beneath her clothes, finally settling it just above her crotch.

She's hot, no, she's boiling, you think, her laboured breath ghosting over your lips as she pulls back. "I need it, please. Just for tonight. I really need it".

And you'll give it to her.

Jackie pushes you on the bed, straddling your hips while her lips explore the skin of your neck. This time, she's the one who slips her hand beneath your clothes, but unlike Jeff, she takes her time in feeling you underneath the fabric of your panties.

And when you quiver under her, your voice breaking just as you speak her name, something in her snaps, burning her skin. She's so wet it's embarassing.

But she can let herself feel a little, right? She can be herself with you, right? So Jackie straddles your chest, the weight of her short lived as she settles to rest next to your face. She pleads "I need it" and looks at you with such adoration; how can you think of denying her another second? Your fingers ghost on the naked skin of her thigh, goosebumps following your touch, exposing her to you, finally.

Oh. She's being just like Jeff. She's so so eager: she wants to savor you, for you to taste her, to do what she pleases and to make you feel good. And it's too much.

She lowers herself onto you, finally, weak as you adjust her position and reach for her, burying yourself where she most needs you. Jackie is helpless, her fingers barely able to hold onto your locks as she rocks herself on your tongue.

You are so, so good to her, she repeats in a mantra, sweat rolling down her skin with each movement of her hips, an electric feeling spreading through her body.

Wow, this feels so good. Is this how sex is supposed to feel like? It didn't feel like this when she touched herself, and it certainly didn't feel like this with Jeff.

If that's true, she's glad her very first, true time, is with you.

Jackie doesn't last long at all, heat rising from the depths of her stomach, reaching that peak, and then cumming, staining her sheet and your lips. You feel Jackie's weight all over you, her body half sprawled on the bed with her pussy still pressed on your face.

With her body as soft as warm butter, Jackie lifts herself up from you and you watch in awe as her once perfectly combed blonde hair now falls on either side of her head, like curtains of golden silk.

Her brain is a blank space, where only her pleasure exists. Oh, this feels so good. Why has she never allowed herself to feel like this? Why hadn't she done this earlier?

Jackie is tired, incredibly so, but there's an itch she needs to scratch. Maybe she'd like to try something else tonight.

She deserves it, after all. Her legs are wobbly as she lifts herself from your face and walks to her closet, finding the strap on she uses to bring herself to orgasm when her fingers aren't enough. She wants to see you ride her, she wants to kiss you everywhere, push her hips into yours as Jeff never did with her, wants to see your face as you cum.

You're surprised when you see her adjusting a harness to her hips, instead of yours.

You always took Jackie as somebody who likes to be taken care of, despite her mean girl persona, not the other way around. She's changed now, her eyes practically devouring you as she walks towards the bed.

"You think you can get this ready for me?" she asks you, her lips tightening with that smug smirk she's so known for, and it makes your heart beat faster than ever.

Could you have ever known that Jackie Taylor, the captain of the Yellowjackets, the most popular girl at school, your best friend, could have ever had this version of her beneath the surface?

Allured by her siren voice, you inch towards the tip of the dildo, getting it ready for you. Once it's wet enough, Jackie settles on the bed, behind you, spreading her legs while her eyes bore holes in your skin.

"Come on, I won't bite" oh you wish she did. You straddle her hips, just where you need her the most, your wetness rolling down the silicone dick.

Her fingers come down to touch you, finally making you ready for her. The intrusion is hard to bear, alien, but you sink down until you're meeting Jackie's hips. You expect Jackie to be sweet to you, to kiss you and guide you through it; instead, while you rest and try to fit her better inside you, she scoffs, looking at where you two are connected and gives a small trust upwards, making you whine loudly: "So? Will you hurry up?" she asks you with an almost mean sneer on her face.

She's impatient. She just wants to see you fuck yourself on her cock. Can you do that already, or will you just stay impaled there until tomorrow comes? You seem to be too dumb to understand her, and Jackie can already feel her patience wavering. So, she takes your backside in her hands, lifts you just up enough to give her space to fuck you.

You try to follow her movements, gaining enough energy to finally ride her. Shit, how can it feel so good?

The sounds you make are embarrassing, but so so sweet to Jackie. This is what she has dreamt of this whole time: to have you in her arms, not to be held by his, to feel your weight pressing down on her, to finally take you properly, to have the real experience.

But in her mind, she comes back to Jeff, and to the terrible night she has ahead. She wishes she didn't have to go, to have you all night long, with you in her arms, bouncing on her cock while moaning her name over and over again.

A building sense of anger fuels her, his face flashing on yours in her mind.

Why are you going so fucking slow?

"Come on, can't you go faster?" you can feel Jackie's anger dripping from every word, behind her movements and in the bruising touch of her fingers. You'd love to please her, but your legs can only help you so far.

"No..." she shoves you down the bed before you can even realize that, now straddling you from behind.

"I'll just- I'll just do it myself" she spews, but the stutter in her voice tells you that she too is near her end. With her hand, she pushes your upper body down by the nape of your neck, pushing your ass more towards her.

Her voice is raspy and breathy, while yours is barely able to escape your throath; only a whine does, which promptly earns you an annoyed "Oh, don't be such a baby. Just take it" by your friend, who is currently focused on piercing through you with her cock.

All that you can think of is to cum, to have Jackie's hands on your throat as you scream for her to move faster. That last image in particular makes a spark of fire lit up in your guts.

You take her hands from their position on the bed and place them on your neck, looking at her pleadingly as you sigh a "Please...", possession filling every inch of Jackie's veins. She chokes you, putting her anger and her neediness behind her touch; she's not all that strong, but it certainly does the job.

You feel so fucking full, so hot and so loved, spark of white blooming beneath your eyelids right before you come, making a mess of the sheet below you. Jackie doesn't slow down, fucking you through your orgasm, up until the point where all that comes from you are troathy whines and hitched gasps.

Just a little bit later, she follows you, the view of you, so perfect, too much for her.

The room is silent except for your heavy breaths, muffled on the bed. The realization of what she has done is heavy on Jackie's shoulders: great, she fucked her best friend the night of her date. That's great. Amazing, even. But no matter how guilty she feels, there's freedom in what she has done tonight: she might not even care if Jeff finds out. Tonight, she has proven to herself that she can feel good too. And that hurtful beating of her heart? Well, that's just a happy accident. Maybe she discovered more than her pleasure tonight: how good it felt to have you under her, whining and moaning her name. It felt right.

"Shouldn't you go and meet your date?" she can hear your bothered, barely veiled sadness, and all she wants to do is to remain here with you until morning comes. She steals a glance to the sky outside her window, listens for any rumbling of a car engine. It's early. She nuzzles her nose in the crevice of your neck, taking in the smell of your skin, "He can wait a while".

[birdofwildness]

⋆.♡.ᐟ˚Meeting the minister

⋆.♡.ᐟ˚Tom Riddle,Minister of magic!Tom Riddle

Sumarry::Reader is a writer for the daily prophet and has to meet up with Tom Riddle.

Warnings::bad writing (guys Idk im trying to find my style lmao),18+,smut

I had never met him.

Not truly. Not in the warmth of a corridor, or the civility of conversation, or the brittle hush of shared breath. Only in images. Cold, lacquered photographs pressed into newsprint—his face sharp as a blade, eyes like twin iron nails driven into the page.

And yet he haunted me.

Tom Riddle. Minister of Magic. A name spoken like a prayer by some, a curse by others. To write about him was to write about fire—beautiful, devouring, and always beyond control.

As I waited outside his office, notebook clutched like a lifeline, I realized my hands trembled. It was not fear, not exactly. No—fear is a crude thing, animal and blunt. What I felt was finer, laced with admiration, revulsion, and that peculiar intoxication reserved for great art and great men: the thrill of proximity to power.

His voice—I had never heard it. But I imagined it was velvet stretched over steel, the kind of voice that could make a yes sound like surrender.

The brass nameplate gleamed:

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Minister of Magic

Each letter engraved as if by a wand’s whisper, or a lover's wound.

I breathed in, slow and thin, as though too much air might make me faint. I was not naïve. I knew what they said about him. Brilliant. Dangerous. Inhumanly calm. His gaze, some whispered, could still a clock or a heart.

And now, I would meet those eyes.

Not as a schoolgirl scribbling his name in margins. Not as a citizen muttering thanks or prayers to his regime.

But as a writer. A woman with questions. And ink that might spill like blood.

The door opened not with a creak, but with a hush—as though the room itself had been holding its breath.

A secretary, pale and pristine, motioned with two fingers. No words. No smile.

I stepped into the Minister’s office and was immediately swallowed by the silence.

The room was enormous, but not empty. It felt… curated. Every object seemed to watch me. Rows of books with spines like coffin lids. A dark desk carved with serpents that coiled in and out of the grain. Curtains the color of dried blood, drawn back just enough to let the grey afternoon weep through.

And him.

Tom Riddle stood beside the window, back half-turned, as though he had known I would be watching him before I even entered. His silhouette was severe—elegant in that way a guillotine is elegant. Controlled. Unmoving. Radiating a quiet gravity, like the center of a storm.

“Miss…” he turned, slowly, his voice a velvet blade, “Y/L, is it?”

He looked younger than I expected. But not young. Eternal, somehow. Like a portrait no longer obeying the laws of time. His eyes—yes, those infamous eyes—were not red, nor glowing, nor monstrous. They were worse. Intelligent. Cold. Beautiful. As if they could see the sentence forming in your skull before your tongue could shape it.

“Y-yes,” I said, cursing the slight catch in my throat. “From the Daily Prophet.”

He smiled, and I felt the air shift. Not warmer. Just… aware.

“A newspaper woman,” he said, folding his hands behind his back. “I do admire ink-stained hands. So very… permanent.”

I moved to sit across from his desk, but he hadn’t told me to. I hesitated, fingers tight on my notebook.He noticed.

“Please,” he said. “Sit. I don’t bite.”

“Unless asked.”

My pen slipped. Just slightly. Enough to smudge ink across the edge of the page. He watched it with amusement that didn’t quite touch his mouth.

“Shall we begin?” he asked, voice low and clean, like a well-cut diamond.

“I imagine you have questions, Miss Y/L Everyone always does.”

I nodded and clicked my pen open. The sound cracked through the silence like a gunshot.

He smiled.

“Let’s begin with something simple,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “The public wants to know—how would you describe your vision for the Ministry under your leadership?”

Tom Riddle leaned back in his chair, fingertips steepled like a cathedral in ruin. There was a pause—intentional. He let the quiet bloom.

“My vision,” he said slowly, “is clarity. Control. Continuity.”

He watched me with eyes that didn’t blink.

“We’ve lived through chaos, Miss Y/L. Wars. Regimes of sentiment and softness. I offer… permanence. I offer order.”

My pen moved on instinct, recording the words—but part of me was still stuck on the way he said softness, like it was filth.

“And critics,” I said, careful now, “those who say the Ministry has become too… centralized under your authority?”

He didn’t flinch. He almost looked pleased.

“Power,” he said, “concentrated, is power that can protect."

“You rose quickly—Head Boy, brilliant student, then Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and now Minister. Some say you’ve rewritten the very architecture of magical governance.”

He tilted his head, just slightly.

“Architecture must be torn down if the foundation is rotting. But you know that. You’re a writer. You’ve burned drafts before, haven’t you?”

His words slithered under mine. Was he accusing? Or flirting?

I looked up at him, daring now.

“Yes,” I said. “But I always remember the words I throw in the fire.”

Something flickered in his eyes then. Approval. Or perhaps… challenge.

...

I didn’t stand yet.

Neither did he.

The interview was over. But the game was still being played—in silence now. With breath. With stillness.

He watched me like a man watches a prophecy he doesn’t want to believe, but can’t look away from.

I slid the notebook into my bag. Slowly. Deliberately.Testing the quiet between us.

Then I stood.So did he.We stood there—too close, too composed.

“I should go,” I said.

“But you won’t,” he replied.

The words hung there, insolent. Confident.

True.He took one step forward.Until the space between us was thin enough to feel him in the air I breathed.

“You think I don’t see it?” he said softly. “The way your hands shake only after the pen is down. The way you look at me—not with fear. With hunger you haven’t named yet.”

I tilted my head. My voice was steady when I spoke. “You're projecting, Minister.”

His eyes darkened slowly,but it was beautiful.

“Am I?”

His hand lifted—slow enough for me to stop him, fast enough that I didn’t. Fingers ghosted against my jaw. Not possessive. Not yet. Just… curious. As if I were a thing he wanted to read.

“You know this isn’t wise,” I murmured.

He smiled, slow and quiet. “And yet here we are.”

There were no more questions. No more roles to play. No more defense left between us, only the weight of everything unsaid.

So I kissed him.It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t soft..His mouth met mine. His hands didn’t grope. They gripped. One at the nape of my neck, the other against the small of my back—pulling, holding, claiming nothing.

I pressed into him like defiance, like I could learn everything I needed to write just by the shape of his mouth.And for a moment—just one—he let it consume him.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless, bruised with silence, I didn’t step back.

Neither did he.

His voice was hoarse. “You’re going to destroy me.”

I smiled, lips swollen, heart racing.

“I already am.”

He kissed me again—harder this time. No hesitation. No pretense.

It was a kiss that dared me to pull away. I didn’t.

My back hit the edge of his desk.

Papers scattered to the floor like fallen wards. I gasped against his mouth, and he took that sound like a gift, like fuel. His hands—once precise, measured—were now bold. Tracing the shape of my waist, my hips, like they belonged to a language only he could read.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his voice low and ruinous:

“Say stop, and I will. But don’t lie to me.”

I looked up at him—eyes glazed, lips parted. My head was spinning and sharp all at once. Drunk on him, but not lost.

“Please, don't stop,” I breathed.

That was all he needed.

He lifted me onto the desk like I weighed nothing. His mouth found the hollow of my throat, slow and reverent—like he was memorizing pulse and breath. Every kiss a question. Every sigh, an answer.

I tangled a hand into his hair, pulling just enough to remind him: I was not the prey here.He laughed softly against my skin, and I felt it everywhere.

“You taste devine,” he said.

“You taste like a mistake I’ll make twice.”

And gods, we did.

Again. And slower.

We didn’t rush. This wasn’t desperation.

This was devotion by destruction. Every touch precise. Every breath stolen, catalogued.

And when it was over—whatever over meant in a room like that—we sat in the silence we had broken, hearts pounding like war drums under satin skin.

No words.None were needed.But as I slipped my fingers beneath his chin and turned his face back toward mine, I whispered—softly, truthfully:

“I’m still going to write about you.”

He smiled.

“I’m counting on it.”

[friendlyneighborhoodslut]

The Roommate Agreement | 3-The Agreement.

Pairing(s)/Tropes—Eventual Steve Harrington X Reader, slow burn.

Summary—Three boys and one girl under one roof proves to be more difficult than they thought. To restore peace in the land, an agreement is made.

Warnings/Extras—strong language, drinking and smoking, bugs, sexual tension, MDNI-18+! Let me know if I missed anything!

MASTERLIST | | PREVIOUS PART | | NEXT PART

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Jesse was a very messy individual when he lived in 406D. The baseboards are caked with dust, the windows have a strange film on them and the carpet is littered with mysterious stains. I spend several days deploying an arsenal of chemicals to tackle the mess, windows open and chill August air drafting through the room. After a particularly grueling day on my hands and knees scrubbing at the spots on the floor to very little prevail, I decide that a quick spray of disinfectant before covering it with a rug is my best bet. I dig through the closet in the hallway for a broom to dust the cobwebs in the corners, coming up empty-handed.

“Boys,” I breathe, entering the living room. The three of them sit in the living room, smooshed onto the couch and flipping through TV channels. They perk up to look at me. “Where’s the broom?”

“In the trash, along with the mop after Eddie and Jesse used them to joust,” Steve says casually, clicking buttons on the remote.

“I won, by the way,” Eddie grins, pointing at himself.

Steve looks to him, bewildered. “You did not.”

“Right. I’ve gotta go check on the storage unit anyways so, I’m going to run to the store and pick up some furniture and supplies that are for cleaning only,” I give Eddie a pointed look and he rolls his eyes. “Anyone care to lend a hand?”

“We’ll take my car,” Ben stands, brushing some crumbs off his shirt from the chips he was munching on.

“Your little Mazda’s not gonna fit everything…” I trail off, raising my brow at Eddie.

He scoffs. “Oh, okay. So we all hate Gloria until she’s useful,”

“You named the van? You weirdo.” Steve says, eyes never leaving the TV.

The van—Gloria—really is a disgrace to motor vehicles everywhere. It’s a death box on wheels. I’m pretty sure the engine is powered by dust and spite, and it’s got this rattle when left idling for too long. I’m not sure how a mechanic lets his own car get so out of shape—But Gloria’s got space, and we’re gonna need it.

“Alright, fine. But no one drives my babygirl but me, so… I’m coming with you,” Eddie stretches out of his seat.

Steve stands too, running his hands through his hair. I swallow hard and try not to stare at them.

“Our first adventure as a family, how exciting!” Eddie exasperates dramatically, arms outstretched at his sides.

“Shut up, man.” Steve snickers, grabbing Eddie’s keys out of a glass bowl by the front door and tossing them at him. Eddie catches the keys, blowing a kiss to Steve afterwards, earning him a cacophony of groans and eye rolls.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

The car wobbles side to side, tossing me around in my seat. Eddie swerves all over the road like a maniac, dodging pot holes and probably a few stray animals. Ben sits in the front seat, yelling at him. Steve and I occupy the back seat on opposite sides. My whole body burns and tingles, my palms sweat as I chew on my nails and stare out the window. I swear can feel his eyes on me but I’m too terrified to look, as I might just combust on sight if I’m right.

It’s been a century since I’ve had a crush on someone. I’ve forgotten how miserable it is: constantly checking that my hair looks okay, hoping my makeup hasn’t smudged, scared to even breathe wrong.

This sucks ass.

A massive cement building comes into view and we pull into the parking lot. The department store is surprisingly empty on this Sunday afternoon, and Ben tells me it’s because most people in Chicago are already out drinking this time of day.

Steve pipes in with his agreement and I make the mistake of stealing a look at him. I just can’t help myself, but I immediately regret it. He’s already looking at me, hair tussled to one side and mustard sweater bunched up at his midsection as he leans against the backrest, lips parted slightly and staring at me with those big brown eyes.

I’m doomed.

The vacant isles of the store are illuminated by an uncomfortable white light that occasionally flickers. I feel like we’re in a low-budget horror movie, an unsettling and eerie feeling sitting thick over the air. Feeling suffocated, I pick up my pace towards the Home and Kitchen section.

“Look at this fuckin’ thing,” Eddie says like a child discovering something for the first time, slapping a giant fuzzy rug hung on a rack. It wiggles under his pressure and he’s transfixed, disregarding our existence.

I shake my head. “Never shopped for rugs before. Where do I even begin?”

Ben gives me a breathy laugh, squeezing my shoulder. “I'll look for one and make him haul it to the car. Any color preferences?”

I shrug. “Cheapest one. And uh, don’t let him pick something stupid,” I find amusement in Eddie’s antics, and he clearly does as well.

“Harrington, you're on furniture duty,” Ben puts on his best serious face, pointing at his best friend like a drill sergeant. He jogs backward, disappearing into the rug aisle. "Don't screw it up!" echos through the halls, dampened by the walls of carpet, lampshades and throw pillows.

I giggle, wrapping my arms around myself anxiously and swaying in place.

He gleams down at me, arms open at his sides. "What's first?"

I rub my eyes, needing to do something with my hands despite it smudging what little makeup I had the energy to put on today. "Pray to any God willing to listen that this doesn't permanently annihilate my bank account." Joking usually helps me feel better about situations like this, but this time it's just straight-up depressing.

But Steve, ever a ray of sunshine, breaks through my gloom with his light. "It's not all that bad. Let's see... what do we need?" He spins around, taking it all in. "Bed, nightstand, dresser, all that stuff right? You'll need a bed tonight, that's non-negotiable--but I've got a friend who owns a thrift shop on The Loop with her girlfriend. They're always getting furniture in there. Bet they'd let us snag some stuff at a good price," he's rambling now, talking with his hands as we stroll the rows of overpriced furniture.

I just listen to him talk, the sound of his voice entrancing.

God, I've got to get away from this man.

"Thank you, Steve. I really appreciate it," I smile meekly, reaching to mess with my hair but stopping myself right before.

"Anytime, Sunny." he responds quietly, and butterflies assault my stomach.

I want to ask him about the nickname, but I don’t want to spoil the moment. Honestly, I don't have the emotional capacity to handle the--probably dull--answer either. I like to think it means something, but the likely case is that it's a placeholder; An easy gateway to forgetting me when my residence in Apartment 406D comes to an end. It's not like I'll be spending the rest of my life with these guys. My brother, sure, not that I've had much of a choice. I'm stuck with that jerk until I die.

Steve and I pick out the cheapest--yet somehow still outrageously priced--bed and mattress the store offers. Steve rolls them out on a bright yellow cart provided by the cashier. The others have obviously been waiting for a while, as Eddie smokes a cigarette under a streetlamp a few feet away while Ben leans against the outside of the passenger door skimming through a packet of papers.

I squint against the encroaching darkness, making out the big University Housing Office title through the transparent page.

If your stomach can physically drop into your ass, mine definitely just did.

"Oh, shit," I use my last bit of breath to whisper to Steve.

He pauses to observe my brother's scowl. "He looks pissed."

For the second time in a week, I accept my death.

Ben hears us approach and looks up at me through his eyebrows. There he goes, looking like our dad again. I tremble.

I'm fucked.

He waves the packet in the air. "What's this?"

Steve leaves the cart next to the van and retreats to Eddie, leaving my brother and I to talk.

Traitor, don't leave me here!

"I was gonna tell you," I lie.

He glowers. "No, you weren't."

"Yeah, you're right, I weren't," I blurt out in distress. "Fuck, wasn't. No, I wasn't gonna tell you,"

"You realize I'm a lawyer, right? I can help you contest this," he offers.

"You're a baby lawyer and you've done enough for me by letting me live in your house," I counter.

His features soften and then, to my complete shock, he laughs. I'm apprehensive, waiting for him to pull out his typical disapproving glare and snide remarks that remind me I’ll never be as smart, cunning, or on top of things as he is.

"Trust me, Bug. You moving in does me a more of a favor than it does you," he tugs on my shoulder, gently directing me to look at Eddie and Steve. He points at them as we watch them visibly argue about something, only catching the tail end of their dispute.

"Goddammit Harrington! Do it or I'm gonna kiss you myself!" Eddie threatens, tensing in a wide stance. I furrow my brows and wonder what on earth they must be discussing.

Steve puts his hands out in front of him, bracing himself. "God, you're so weird! Why would you say that?!"

Eddie lurches forward and Steve takes off down the parking lot. They chase each other around light posts and parked cars.

"...is this a frequent occurrence?" I ask Ben quietly. I swear anytime I see those two in the same room they're bullying each other or…flirting? Challenging each other? I don’t even know.

He nods. "Oh yeah. They've been friends since high school. More siblings than friends, if I'm bein' honest. Guess they uh, both lost a lot of people back home. Came to Chicago together for a fresh start,"

We're both quiet for a long minute, listening to their voices echo through the desolate parking lot.

"Yeah, you're saving me from living alone with those two. We needed another adult in the house," Ben cackles, swinging the van door open. He wiggles the papers between us. "We're gonna fix this, okay?"

I purse my lips and nod, blinking rapidly to avoid spilling any tears. He frowns and pulls me into him, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. The tenseness in his body loosens a bit but not enough to break down the walls he's built, but I'll take the progress, as he creeps a little closer to feeling like the big brother I remember.

"C'mon. Let's go home." ⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Ben did an excellent job picking out a mock vintage rug with an array of colors that perfectly covered all of the mystery spots on the floor. I laid it out and put books from Steve’s room at all four corners to flatten it.

After dropping Steve and me off at home, Ben and Eddie went to the storage unit to collect my things. They've been gone for hours, a suspiciously long time for the project at hand, leaving Steve and I to get three beers deep and attempt to assemble my bedframe.

"Jesus, what're these in a different language?" he murmurs, polishing off his fourth beer and lifting the instructions in the air.

"It's upside down, Steven," I can hardly contain my laughter as I say it, giggles slipping through the fingers I cover my mouth with.

"Oh, shit. Yeah, they are," he admits, turning it in his hands. "Ah! There it is,"

"That big brain got you into UChicago?" I flirt on the defensive so I can pass it off as just being mean if I need to.

He smiles, lopsided. "Can you believe it?" he jokes.

"Let me guess. History major," I declare, scooting closer to look at the directions with him.

Though he's not looking at the pages anymore. He's staring a hole into the side of my head.

"Masters," he adds. "How'd you know?"

I shrug, leaving it ambiguous. I don't tell him I'd nosily asked Eddie when no one else was around, or that I'd spent hours on the University of Chicago's website looking at their History Department. Steve is highly distinguished by the History Department as one of their top students with several awards and accredits, but telling him I know that makes me sound like a stalker, so I keep it to myself.

"Y'know, my parents wanted me to go into Business," he slurs his words a bit. I try not to smile at him in a way that seems pitiful. "Didn't wanna end up like my hard-ass old man. It's all about money with him. Not even sure he's got a soul," he reaches behind me, inadvertently wrapping his arm around me to snatch another beer from the pack we left on the floor. Despite the several layers of fabric between us, his touch lights my skin on fire.

I swallow as he cracks open another beer. "I think you've had enough of these," I half-joke, taking it from him setting it on the opposite side of my body. He leans into me in a retrevial attempt but I move away from him. He puts all his weight on my shoulder, knocking me over. I snatch the beer and hold it over my head, barely out of his reach, but he continues his pursuit.

Maybe it’s the fact he’s so pretty, or maybe it’s the alcohol, but I allow his body to envelop mine. He encompasses me, body pressed on top of mine as we wrestle over a singular beer bottle. It’s stupid; he could just grab another one, but he doesn’t. His large hand wraps around mine, tugging the bottle closer to us. I move to use my other hand to free myself from him but he snatches it, pinning it down above my hand.

I giggle uncontrollably, both because I’m drunk and incredibly nervous.

It’s as if the sound awakens Steve from his trance, because he stills against me. Chests flush and noses a mere inch apart, his breath fans my face. He looks, dare I say, scared. That makes two of us.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, before recovering with a grin. “Always knew we’d end up in this position,” his voice is husky and he smells like a dangerous concoction of beer and cologne. He moves his other hand to my jaw, beverage long forgotten. He softly brushes some hair from my face with a finger, eyeing me intently.

“You’re such a weirdo,” I wiggle underneath him and he tenses, a labored breath escaping his throat. I open my mouth to tell him to get off of me, but the words die on my tongue as I feel something—someone—hard pressed against my thigh. I flush, coughing to have an excuse to turn my face away from him. Suddenly, it’s impossible to breathe. “Uh, Steve, you—“

I hear the front door open.

“We’re home!” Ben’s voice echos down the hall.

Steve and I can’t scramble off each other fast enough, a mess of limbs and strings of curses. He crawls away from me like I’m on fire. Flustered, I fix my hair and readjust my sweater. Steve busies himself with the instruction manual.

Suddenly sober, I watch as Ben enters the room, a ziplock bag in hand. I thank God for the distraction from Steve and lean heavily into it.

“I got it!” He cheers, wiggling the bag in his hand.

I furrow my brows. “You got…what?” I squint to get a closer look at the object in the clear bag.

“The key to solving your Dorm problem,” he moves it closer, and that’s when I see it. The tiny dead bodies of about five cockroaches. “I pulled their dead bodies out of your stuff,”

“That’s disgusting,” I gag, scurrying away from him.

“These little guys are coming with me to Campus Housing. We’re going to get you out of that lease.” He waives the bag of bugs around, and I damn near hurl as I remember the way they felt crawling on my skin. He’s so distracted by his victory, that it takes him a while to catch on to the heaviness in the room. “Hey, you two okay?”

“Yes!” I say a little too loud and fast.

Ben cocks his brow. “Steve, are you drunk?”

“What? No…” Steve squeaks.

“Uh huh…” my brother retorts, eyeing him suspiciously. As he turns to leave, he says “The manual’s upside down.”

“Oh goddammit, again?!” Steve complains drunkenly.

Eddie brushes past Ben in the doorway, leaning against its white frame on his forearm. “Oh, dude!” Eddie whines. “You guys drank all the beer!”

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Im convinced that sharing a bathroom with two men is a type of punishment in Hell. Toilet seats left up, beard trimmings in the sink, and toothpaste on the counters are just enough of an inconvenience to annoy me. I spent my first couple days cleaning when I’m not in class, seen as I’m the only unemployed one in the house. It’s a bitterly unrewarding task, though, as when the boys come home it’s like a hurricane wrecks the house. Eddie’s the biggest culprit, his motor-oil stained hands infecting everything he touches.

Everyday, I shower after the gym and before my 11AM class. Having memorized the boys’ schedules, I know they should all be at work by now. Singing my best rendition of Taylor Swift’s greatest hits, I step into the shower. I let the water cascade over my shoulders, trying to ground myself in reality. I try not to think about all the anxieties that loom over me.

Campus Housing. The start of college. My brother’s hot best friend that I now live with.

Steve’s either a forgetful idiot or he’s embarrassed about the other night, because he’s yet to mention it since it happened. I know we were drunk but— enough to completely forget? I could never. Mostly because I think I liked it.

The bathroom door creaks open, eerie and slow. I freeze in place, so scared that I wanna turn inside out.

No one’s supposed to be in the house.

I suddenly remember the movie Psycho that Daizy and I swiped from the video store and watched in secret when we were 16. Am I going to die here, naked and wet in the shower like Janet Leigh did, zero dignity to my name.

Heavy footsteps approach the shower. Boots, they’re wearing boots.

Through the sheer shower curtain, I make out the shape of the person. A man, based on their build. Skinny but broad shoulders and arms. He’ll easily be able to overpower me.

I try not to panic, scanning the shower for anything to defend myself. There’s a variety of bottles, a bar of soap and a singular razor that hangs from the mirror nailed to the wall. I snatch it, ripping the head apart to get the blade out of it. I grip the tiny razor blade in my hand, my only source of self-defense.

The man leans over the vanity, turning the sink on and washing his hands. I silently pick up each bottle until I find the heaviest three, setting them at my feet. I brace for a fight, opening the curtain just enough to toss the largest, heaviest bottle at the intruder. I hear the impact from beyond the shower curtain, a groan of pain leaving him. I quickly throw the next one and then the one after that in rapid succession.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” I scream, hopefully loud enough for a neighbor to hear and call the cops.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!” Eddie protests. “Can’t a man wash his hands without being abused by shower products?”

I peek my head out of the shower, wrapping the curtain around myself with one hand and holding the razor blade out with the other. Eddie looms over me, hands dripping with a mix of dirt, water, and oil.

“Goddammit, Eddie! I thought you were a predator!” I complain, the tension leaving my shoulders.

“And you were gonna… kill me with a blade from my razor?” He teases, pointing at the minuscule weapon I’d foraged.

I groan. “What’re you doing here anyways? Don’t you have a job or something?”

“Well, I live here. But if you must know, the shop’s closed due to a small fire,” he explains, drying his hands.

“Everything okay?” I gasp, wracking my brain through the possibilities. An engine fire, an oil fire, maybe?

“Yeah, I’m good,” he’s staring at me, eyes growing wider by the second. I—for the life of me—can’t figure out what he’s looking at, until he grins, “mind if I join you?”

“Ugh, gross,” I roll my eyes, closing the shower curtain aggressively. “Get out of here.”

“Breakin’ my heart, Sweetheart!” He sing-songs, pretending like he’s going to pull the curtain back by pinching it ever-so-slightly between two fingers.

“GET OUT, ED!” I screech.

His laughter gets further away until I can barely hear it through the thin walls of this ancient building. I huff, rinsing the soap out of my hair. Once the adrenaline has worn off and my body quits trembling, I laugh despite myself. Eddie’s blatant and unrelenting flirting is flattering, amusing, and terrifying all at once. I convince myself he’s just messing with me, because the alternative freaks me out too bad to even entertain it.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

While sipping his coffee, never looking up from his coursework, Steve asked me if I’d like to visit his friend Robin’s thrift shop. The Loop’s occupied by buildings so tall they touch the moon; coffee shops, stores, restaurants… anything you can think of, it’s there. I’d never heard of it until Steve mentioned it. The Loop.

“Sounds made up,” I said over my breakfast.

“Everything’s made up.” Ben reminded me of the technicality, typing furiously at his computer.

When I agreed to go with Steve, his eyes lit up like someone had set a fire behind them. I was largely unmoved by it—I forced myself to be—but Ben shifted uncomfortably, staring at his best friend with an icy glare. They’d talked about something in private while Steve was getting ready in his room, right before we left. I ignored them as I found myself mulling over what to wear. Stupid, for such a basic activity. You’d think I was going on a date with how much I cared.

We stop by a coffee shop right next to the thrift store. There’s a Help Wanted sign taped to the door, and as I order my drink I muster up the bravery to inquire about it. A heavy set woman with a golden name tag labeled TRACY with the title ‘Manager’ scribed at the bottom tells me to come by next week with my resume for an interview.

I’m so giddy about the opportunity that I almost forget to listen to Steve’s order, but I do and commit it to memory.

16 ounce hot Americano with cream and one sugar packet. Somehow, it suits him so well.

I laugh.

“What’re you laughing at?” Steve asks, opening the door for me.

I shake my head and step outside just in time to see a pair of Mallard ducks cross the path, webbed feet flapping against the pavement.

“Holy shit, ducks!” I squeak, enthusiasm comparable to a kid in a candy store.

Steve laughs, a hearty sound that makes my heart flutter. “Yeah, they’re all over ‘round here. They come from the river,"

I kneel down, careful not to let my skirt fly up in the breeze. The ducks--a male and a female--quack, ruffling their feathers as they step a little quicker.

"Aw. They're on a date," I joke, standing up. Our shoulders bump into each other ever-so-slightly.

"Should I go buy a croissant to feed them?" Steve asks, smiling big.

I shake my head. "Bread's bad for them. Corn or oats are better,"

"Putting that biology major to good use," he jokes. His arm stretches outward like he's going to drape it over my shoulders, but flinches last minute and pretends to scratch his head instead.

"Actually," I fumble, hiding my blush with my hands. "I learned that on the internet."

There's that damned laugh again. It's addicting, a rush of dopamine tickling my brain every time I hear it.

I'm suspended in a trance-like state as I follow him to the thrift shop. Hawkins Place Thrift, the degenerated letters on the front of the building read. Baby blue paint peels off the brick and vintage clothes sit on mannequins in the shop windows.

When we enter, a bell above the door chimes. Steve holds the door open for me, and I step inside, the faint smell of cinnamon and apple drifting through the air. The shop is lit by a series of old lamps and candles that cast a warm glow throughout.

"Is that Steve Harrington I see?" a woman's voice calls over the jazz music playing from a record player. I spot her from a mile away, mom jeans and a denim jacket with a puffy polka dot blouse. She's got mousey brown hair that barely brushes her shoulders and a general loving disposition about her, especially as she bolts across the room to embrace Steve in a hug.

He hugs her back and they spin once around. "Jeez, Rob. You act like I died and came back to life or something," Steve chortles.

She lets go of him, a look of annoyance on her features. "You practically did! We haven't seen you in, like, a month! Where have you--"

She looks at me, her jaw hitting the floor. "Holy shit, this is where you've been. You got a girlfriend?!"

My heart plummets into my stomach. It’s not that I mind being called his girlfriend. I do however, mind the look on his face.

"Actually, she--" Steve's cut off by her rambling.

"You're so pretty, oh my God. I'm Robin. I'm Steve's friend, but you knew that," she gushes, ignoring Steve to shake my hand. "Did you guys meet at that rich kid school? What's it called?"

"The University of Chicago, and it's not a rich kid school. Rob listen for a second--" he corrects, hands on his hips and obviously stressed out.

"What do you major in? Sorry, I'm asking so many questions. Steve hasn’t had a girlfriend since--"

"Robin!" the raise of his voice gets her attention. She releases my hands and turns to look at him. He's got a guilty look on his face. "This is Y/N. Ben's little sister," he gestures to me awkwardly. He turns away, but I swear I catch a hint of red flushing his cheeks as he rubs the nape of his neck.

Robin's expression falters but she swiftly recovers. "Ben-Benji! Right! We love Benji, right Steve?"

"Yeah, yeah sure..." Steve's mortified. I can't even begin to react, cemented in place and dealing with my own sick form of embarrassment. I think I’m going to throw up.

"You’re scarin’ the poor girl, Love,” a petite girl in a baby blue dress with short red hair appears from behind a bookshelf, seemingly out of thin air. She swoops in as my glorious savior to diffuse the situation.

Wrapping a soft hand around my upper arm, she tugs me ever so slightly towards her, and I allow it. She could try to kill me in the back alley and I’d let her just to get out of here. Behind us, I hear Robin and Steve arguing in angry whispers.

“I’m Vickie. You must be Y/N. Ben’s told me so much about you,” she gleams.

Seems like I’m a hot topic of conversation to literally everybody.

“It’s just because he loves you,” Vickie says sweetly, pulling me to a reading nook by a big window.

“Shit, did I say that aloud?” I blurt, immediately cringing after the words leave my mouth.

All she does is laugh, gesturing for me to sit in a floral-patterned wingback chair. I gladly take it, sighing as I lean back.

“Sorry about Robin. She can be a bit…eccentric,”

I snort. “Please, that’s nothing. Have you met Eddie? He’s like, the King of Drama,”

Vickie giggles. “Don’t I know it.”

Comfortable silence falls over us as we watch people stroll past the window. As my embarrassment settles, I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous my life’s become. It’s strange, how this is the least uniform my world has ever been, yet I’m the happier than ever. I used to loathe change; I needed a routine and an answer to everything. No unknowns, zero variables—but now that my life is nothing but variables and questions, I actually don’t mind it. It’s exciting in a way.

“What’s funny?” Vickie asks, her voice smooth.

I shake my head. “How much can change in two weeks,” I respond, before adding, “How much I can change in two weeks,”

“Strange how it all works out, huh?”

I peel my eyes from the window to look at her. “So… what’s Hawkins?”

Her eyes thin. “Hm?”

“The name of the shop. Where’s it from?” I clarify, pointing at the ceiling and imagining the sign hanging above it.

“Ah, that’s right,” she recalls. “It’s, well… it’s home. Or it was, for all of us. Besides you and Ben of course. Where’d you guys grow up, anyways?”

“Houston,” I answer.

“You’re a long way from home,” she teases.

I nod, playing with my fingers in my lap. I could get further, I want to say. I want to get as far away from home as possible. Maybe someday I really will get far. I hear Canada’s nice. “Where’s Hawkins?” I deflect the topic away from myself.

“Indiana,” she swallows, lips forming a tight line. Her expression hollows for a moment, but she quickly brings herself back to earth and recovers with her signature smile. “Not so far from home.” She says it like it's a regret.

My lips form an ‘o’ as I nod, following her gaze out the window. Across the street, a little boy drops his ice cream, and he cries.

What a silly thing to cry about, I think to myself, but then I remember that crying about anything is silly when you really think about it.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

I sit cross-legged on my bed, the evening-setting sun peeking through the curtains and casting a golden glow on the walls. I go over my chemistry notes a million times, but it still doesn’t make sense to me. Every other class was a piece of cake, save for anatomy, which I have yet to tackle.

Daizy sits at the foot of my bed, feet propped up on the wall as she doom-scrolls on her phone. She’s been staying in my room with me for the past week as she delays going back home to Houston, her bank account no longer allowing hotel stays. I don’t ask her when she’s leaving because honestly, I don’t want her to. I will admit though, that the apartment is feeling a little crowded with the five of us.

The faint sounds of pans clanking and muffled voices echo down the hall and underneath my bedroom door. Steve and Ben discuss something I can’t make out, stopping suddenly when the front door opens and shuts. Eddie’s voice joins them in conversation.

Looking down at my studies, I groan. Fuck all of this.

“I’m gonna drop out,” I threaten.

Daizy eyes me from the side, setting her phone on her chest. “Give it a rest, would you?” She twists and sits on her feet, leaning forward to grab my hands. We sit there, faces inches apart, as she grins and evil grin. “Let’s talk about the elephant in the room,”

“There is no elephant in this room,” I retort sarcastically.

She rolls her eyes. “The metaphorical elephant!”

“That’s a big word for you, Dais,” I pester with a nickname I know she hates.

“You live with three men. Three hot men, might I add,” she leaps off the bed.

“Ugh, gross. One of them’s my brother,” I remind her.

She nods, spinning in place like a ballerina. “You’re the luckiest girl in the world, y’know that?” She gushes. “I mean, I’d give anything to get to look at them all day like you—“

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to live with three men?” I deadpan. “It’s anything but a joy,”

I slide off my bed and go to my dresser, pulling out some pajamas to change into. Daizy rants about boys—my boys, specifically, the ones only a few feet away in the kitchen—while I peel my sweater off.

Just as I’ve found myself in only my bra and underwear, my bedroom door flies open. I scream and attempt to cover myself as Eddie stands in the doorway.

“You went on a date with Steve?!” he accuses, expression a mixture of excitement and confusion.

“Oh my God, Eddie! Have you ever heard of knocking?” Daizy screeches, shoving him out of the room. “She’s literally naked, you perv!”

Down the hallway, I hear my brother shout ‘WHAT?’ At an unreasonable volume.

Eddie’s face goes pale and he freezes like a deer in headlights.

“Get out!” I yell.

He shakes out of his trance. “Oh, shit. Sorry!” The door slams closed behind him. I get dressed at an inhuman speed, a flustered mess of limbs and hair in my eyes.

I turn to Daizy and she’s staring at me expectantly, eyebrows perched. “You went on a date with Steve?”

Anger boils in my stomach. “It wasn’t a date,” I grumble, storming out of the bedroom and down the hallway. I stop in the kitchen, brushing past Steve to grab the towel hanging from the oven door. “Munson!” I call.

Eddie and Ben are arguing in the living room. I rapidly approach, tunnel vision on Eddie and I smack him with the towel. He barely flinches as he laughs breathlessly.

“Calm down now, Sweetheart, I’ve seen you naked before,” he coos.

My blood runs cold and my jaw hangs slack. I hit him again.

“I’m sorry you what now?” Steve joins, rounding the kitchen counter.

“It was an accident!” Eddie holds his hands up in surrender. “I walked in on her showering, she tried to murder me with shampoo bottles—“

I roll my eyes to mask my embarrassment. “You didn’t even see anything, I was covered by shower curtain,”

“Hate to break it to you Sweetheart, but—that curtain’s see through,”

I press my hands to the side of my head and squeeze. If I’m lucky, I’ll pop my brain out and I’ll never have to think about this ever again. "Oh. My. God."

Ben’s face is red with fury. “Alright, that’s it! Everyone shut up! Emergency roommate meeting is happening. Right. Now. Sit down, all of you,” he demands with conviction, slamming his hand on the couch. I silently sit on the sofa and Eddie sits on the opposite side. Daizy meekly attempts to escape, slowly stepping backward towards my bedroom. “You too!" Ben adds, pointing to her.

Her shoulders fall and she groans, walking to me. She sits on the floor in front of me, leaning her back against my legs. Steve sits between Eddie and me, his body heat radiating off of him. Daizy glances at him, mischief glimmering in her peripherals. I poke her ribs to make her stop, and she relents, if just barely.

The atmosphere suddenly turns serious and heavy. Ben paces back and forth, hands clasped together in contemplation. He presses his fingertips to his lips, thinking. Just as I believe I’m getting close to reading his thoughts, he starts, “Do you remember when I very directly told you two that there was a line, and not to cross it?” He speaks quietly, staring at the boys.

The pair nod. Steve looks down at his feet, and Eddie looks anywhere but Ben's face.

“Not only have you crossed the line, but it’s so far behind you that you can’t even see it. Shit—you might as well have pissed on it!”

Eddie can’t hold it in any longer, and he laughs, just for a second. If looks could kill, he’d be dead where he sits. Ben glares daggers at him. “I know you’re not laughing, you sexual deviant. You can continue to flirt with everyone you see— but people in this house are off limits, especially her!”

I’ll admit to jumping a bit when my brother points a finger at me, like lightning will shoot out of it and electrocute me. Like Thor.

I laugh at my own thought and immediately I realize what I’ve done. Oh fuck.

“You’re not innocent, either,” he rambles. “Jesus, you live with three guys. Lock the goddamn door!”

My bedroom door doesn’t have a lock on it, I want to remind him, but I fear he’ll ring my neck if I do.

“The bathroom lock’s broken and her bedroom doesn’t even have one,” Steve defends me. I dare a peek at him and he’s looking at me. I smile and mouth thank you to him.

“And how would you know her bedroom doesn’t have a lock?” Ben accuses.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Because I’ve lived here for two years, Benjamin.”

“Fine,” Ben resolves, looking at me. “She’ll take my room. Private bathroom and a lock on the door,”

He says it like it’s some sort of punishment, so I have to pretend to be upset. The boys nod along, agreeing that this is the best middle ground.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” Ben wiggles his finger between Steve and me. “But quit it. If I find out you went on a date again I’m gonna wring your tentacles out like a rag,” he tells Steve, who winces at the thought and runs his hand through his fluffy hair.

Daizy giggles quietly. I kick her to try to shut her up, but it’s too late as he sets his sights on her.

“And you,” Ben calls on her. “Quit encouraging bad behavior. Do you think I couldn’t hear your little conversation earlier? These walls are paper thin,”

I bury my face in my hands. Daizy is gobsmacked and—for the first time ever—stunned to silence.

“This house clearly needs a set of clearly outlined rules,” he announces, pacing into the kitchen and snatching a notebook and pen off the counter. He scribbles furiously for an extremely long minute while the rest of us hold our breaths. Steve leans into me, nudging me with his shoulder. A warm, fuzzy feeling surrounds me as I scan his pouting face. 'I’m sorry,' he whispers, barely audible.

I shake my head. He has nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t a date—Eddie’s a drama queen and my brother’s an over-reactor.

“I behold to you,” Ben breathes, ripping the page out of the notebook and displaying it like a child with an art project. “The Roommate Agreement.”

The hand writing is doctorate at best, kindergarten-esque at worst. “Please read this agreement and sign it. Failure to do so will result in banishment; sleeping on the fire escape.” Ben points out the sliding glass window above the communal desk in the far corner of the living room, the only entry point to the fire escape.

It starts with Eddie. He reads it quietly before handing it to Steve, who makes a face and then hands it to me. The chicken scratch handwriting reads as follows:

The Roommate Agreement, Apartment 406D.

1. No pets, lest we suffer the wrath of Larry the Evil Landlord.

2. No roommate-on-roommate romance, punishable by: beating, public humiliation, or exile from the apartment.

3. Any and all decisions that directly affect all parties must be taken to a vote before finalized.

“Public humiliation or beating, really?” I snipe.

“Why are you so concerned? Plan on breaking the rules?” Ben teases.

I roll my eyes.

“Hey, can we add ‘pizza on Friday nights’ to the list of rules?” Eddie wonders aloud, ignorant to the tension in the room.

Ben sighs tiredly. “Yeah, sure, Ed. We can add pizza on Fridays,” he resolves.

“If we’re adding rules, we should add ‘knock before entering’ to the list. Since some people didn’t learn that in grade school,” I glare at Eddie.

He shrugs. “I’ve already seen you naked twice. Does it really matter anymore?”

I feel like I’m going to vomit from the thought of my naked body being burned into Eddie’s subconscious forever. Ben scowls and Steve elbows him.

“Do you ever think before you speak?” Daizy complains.

“Huh. Not really, no,” Eddie admits.

“I can tell.” she says.

“Alright, alright. Amendment to the Agreement: Pizza on Fridays, always knock before entering, and never speak about my sister naked ever again,” Ben says, looking pale.

Steve nods, suddenly feeling brave. “We should be allowed to make changes,”

“Once a year?” Daizy suggests, handing the paper back to Ben after she’s read it. "If you change it too often, it's not really an agreement, is it?"

“You don’t even live here,” Ben simmers, snatching the page.

“You’re the one who got me involved!” Daizy contests.

They lock eyes, an unhealthy mix of angst and electricity ricocheting off each other.

“Good fuck. Just make out already,” for once I'm thankful for Eddie's big mouth, as he says what we're all thinking. Daizy reaches for one of the throw pillows discarded on the floor and heaves it with all of her might. The plush hits his chest and he winces just to appease her, snickering.

Ben leans on the coffee table, stained with rings from beer cans and coffee mugs, furiously writing on the page. We pass it around the room again, reading the Amendment and signing our names at the bottom.

The Roommate Agreement, Apartment 406D.

1. No pets, lest we suffer the wrath of Larry the Evil Landlord.

2. No roommate-on-roommate romance, punishable by: beating, public humiliation, or exile from the apartment.

3. Any and all decisions that directly affect all parties must be taken to a vote before finalized.

4. We will have pizza on Friday night, every week, until the end of time.

5. The Agreement may receive 1 (one) Amendment within a calendar year.

6. We are to never speak of The Incidents again. Signing this agreement is a promise to take The Incidents to the grave."

'The Incidents' is an odd way to word 'Eddie's the only one that's seen my naked', but I suppose it's easier to digest this way.

I titter at the way it’s written, all professional and lawyer-like. That’s my brother, for you—he’s always been so serious. Steve hands me the pen and I grab it. He purposely holds onto it tight so I struggle to take it from him. I shake my head at him and he chuckles, relenting his grip to release the pen with a pop.

In wiggly cursive, just under Steve Harrington’s name, I squiggle my name and draw a little heart next to it, cementing my place in Apartment 406D and my commitment to the Roommate Agreement.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

**Holy crap, this took way too long to write, sorry! I gave up editing and half-assed it tbh so lmk if I missed something!**

Wanna be tagged? Just ask!

Tag list—

@G3n3zshack  @Rawrxbexjealous @Melalsworld @Anjxjahz @adaydreamaway30 @tiptoebabe @micheledawn1975 @crispystarfishhottub @spookysace24 

[dadyscumslutprincess20]

Helloo! I was wondering if you could do a hysun su smut (I love him so much😔) one where we are eun hyuk’s sister and we are secretly with hysun su and the others don’t know cause eun hyuk is and eun yoo are very protective of us since we are the little sister? Very specific sorry LMAOO😭

Cha Hyun Su x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warning ⚠️: Vaginal sex , Fingering , rough sex, Sneaky sex , name calling

Small summary : You met Hyun su when you were heading up to the roof , not paying much attention as you were to busy texting your big sister Eun yu , she told you to come up to hang with her since she didn’t hang with Eun Hyuk , as you were walking you ended up bumping into a tall male figure , catching your phone before it could hit to ground , as you quickly give the guy a quick sorry , your body soon becoming stiff as your eyes become mesmerized , soon after you and Hyun su started to hang out which lead to you soon dating , during the apocalypse you would seek off to see Hyun su when everyone was asleep

It was around midnight or so , you didn’t really know but you knew that everyone would be asleep , slowly getting out of your sleeping mat as you quickly but quietly stand to your feet , turning your head left and right as your eyes scan around the quiet room

Everyone was asleep, letting out a small sigh of relief as you slowly crept past both your brother and sister sleeping figures , your body coming to a complete stop as you see Eun Hyuk turn over to his side back now facing you as you let a small shaky breath , slowly reaching under his pillow as you grab a hold of the keys from beneath it as you quickly head towards the door

Taking the last few steps towards the rooms door as you quickly open the door closing it silently behind you , turning down the hall as you quickly head towards the room your brother kept Hyun su in

You hated to see him locked up , you didn’t like how your brother , Eun Hyuk would treat him as if he were a animal, always keeping him caged up unless him wanted to use him for something

Then there was your sister , Eun Yu , since no one knew about your relationship, she had her moments where she would stare at him without him noticing , how she would become nervous when ever he had a mission, Hyun su may have never noticed but you .. YOU DID , and it pissed you off at times

Shaking the thought out of your head as you let out a small sigh turning down the hall as you walk towards the end of the hall coming to a complete stop as you turn to your left as you come face to face with a caged door

Using the key that you held in your hand as you make sure to check your surroundings before putting the key in the lock turning it slightly to the right as you hear a slight clicking noise , making sure the coast was clear once more before slowly pushing open the door as you head inside the room closing the door behind you

Once you closed the door as you face inside the dark room , the moon light peeking through the dirty window as it had small smudges that allowed the moon light through

Stepping further into the dark room as your eyes start to slowly adjust to the darkness , coming to a stop once you were in the middle of the room , looking around the large room as you didn’t notice Hyun Su’s figure

Opening your mouth to call out for Hyun su but before you could say anything you feel a presence behind you causing your breathe to be caught in your throat as you feel a slight shiver run down your spine

In seconds you feel strong arms wrap around your waist as you soon become relaxed realizing the familiar scent as Hyun Su’s as you slowly turn to face Hyun su as you stare in his brown eyes, becoming confused as you see his eyes filled with lust

Letting out a small gasp as you feel his strong arms pick up your small figure within seconds, slowly walking for his small make shift bed as his places you down eyes never leaving yours , slowly leaning in as his lips slowly connect with yours

Lips slowly moving in sync as he removes a hand from your legs slowly running it up your bare legs as his hand moves up your school skirt , stoping at your slight soaked panties as Hyun su lets out a soft groan in the kiss

Using one of his fingers to move your soaked panties to the side causing you to let out a muffled moan as you feel the cold air come in contact with your soaked and bare cunt , using his same finger as he starts to play with your wet fluids for a few seconds before pushing his finger past your wet fluid’s slowly entering your needing hole , pulling away from the kiss as you let out a loud gasp eyes locked on Hyun su

“So wet for us” Hyun su says as he looks down at your soaked pussy

Watching as Hyun su slowly looks up at you causing your body to shiver as you feel your cunt tighten around Hyun Su’s fingers .. his eyes were pitch black as he looked at you with a crazied look

Without giving you enough time to process what was going on as Hyun su’s finger starts to move in and out of your soaked pussy at a fast pace causing you to let out a moan as you keep your eyes locked on his only causing him at add another finger as he picks up his pace

“H-Hyun su” you moan out loud quickly covering your mouth with one of your hands as the other grips at Hyun su’s small blanket , eyes never leaving Hyun Su’s

Watching Hyun Su’s head slowly moves to your thigh licking a long trail up your bare thigh stoping once he was at your inner thigh as he slowly moves to your cunt , as he smiles with amusement

Slowly moving his head towards your dripping pussy as he start to give your clit slow and soft kitty licks as you let out a gasp hand never moving your mouth as your back arch’s off the bed

After a few licks he violently starts to suck at your clit as you let out a moan , your free hand moving towards Hyun su’s hair as you grip tightened slightly pulling him closer as you feel the vibrations of his laugh against your clit causing your mind to go a bit fuzzy

As you tried your hardest not to make much noise to afraid your brother and sister would hear , as Hyu su continues to suck at your clit as his finger violently attack your soaked pussy as you soon start to feel a knot form in the pit of your stomach, using all your strength as you try to push Hyun su away only causing him to hold on your hip tightly with his free hand

After a few seconds you feel your self cum over Hyun Su’s fingers as he slowly pulls away from your soaked cunt , his lower face now covered in your juices as he shows off a insane smile , as you try to come down from your high not noticing as Hyun su quickly pulls down his sweat pants along with his boxers

His cock standing tall as he grabs your thighs pulling your body closer as he climbs on top of you , looking deep in your eyes as you let put a gasp

Letting out a soft moan as you feel Hyun su push his harden cock in side your soaked pussy , once Hyun su was inside your soles cunt he quickly starts to go at a fast past causing you to let out a loud moan

Completely forgetting that your brother or sister may hear you since Hyun su room wasn’t far from the sleeping are for the others , as you feel Hyun su thrust become deeper causing your mind to become fuzzy as your eyes starts to roll to the back of your head

“Shh, you don’t want to wake your brother or sister right..” Hyun su says in a taunting voice as he lets out a low groan as he feels you tighten around his cock

“Oh you like that idea you dirty whore” Hyun su says as he starts to pick up his pace going at a inhuman speed as you feel a knot forming in your stomach for the second time

“C-c-cummin” you managed to moan out as your arms wrap around Hyun su pulling his body closer to yours as his thrust became deeper than before

After a few more deep strokes your felt the knot in your stomach snap as feel your self cream over Hyun Su’s hardened cock but Hyun su didn’t stop causing you to let out a loud moan

As Hyun su unwraps your arms from his neck putting them over your head as he holds them in place with one hand causing your eyes to widen a bit as you try to get your arms loose , letting out a deep chuckle as Hyun su starts to pick up his pace as you start to scratch at his hand as your eyes start to water hot tears running down your cheeks

“N-no m-more H-Hyun su” You moan out as your back arch’s off the bed

“Just take it , yah” Hyun su groans out as his pitch black eyes stare down at your crying face letting out a soft chuckle

After a few more violent strokes you felt the familiar feeling in your stomach as you feel Hyun su cock twitch inside your soaked cunt causing you to tighten around his cock , after a few more thrust your both came as you let out a loud moan

“Seriously, my baby sister”

As hYun su quickly gets off you, you quickly grabbing the blanket to hold up to shield both you and Hyun su half naked forms , as your both look towards the door

…It was a angry Eun Hyuk

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

What do you think nights with Jason would look like? I just know my man has a bed time routine with his partner

Jason walked through the house and checked the security system, the door locks and the lights. Making one last round as he listened to you finishing up washing your face and brushing your teeth.

And before he turned back up the hall he stopped and checked the thermostat, turning it down. Not too much. Just a degree or two. Enough to keep him from getting too hot and to keep you snuggling with him most of the night.

In the morning, he'd bump it back up when he started the coffee- enough to shake off the chill. But. He slept better when you were close to him. And if the room was a little chilly it was easier to keep you in grabbing distance. Where he could feel you if he woke up in the middle of the night.

He made his way down the hall and double-checked the bed. Making sure you had the pillow to throw your leg over when you slept on your other side. And made a mental note to get you booked for a massage. A long one. Done by someone that knew what they were doing. You worked long hours on your feet. He worried constantly about what that was doing to your back. And your knees and hips. Those rubbed mats that were supposed to help didn't seem like they did fuck all.

"Bed time?" you ask yawning.

"I get a night off so I figured we'd get a good night's sleep," he said, pulling back the covers on your side of the bed.

"I don't know why I'm so sleepy, I'm sorry."

"Weather's changing," he said shrugging, kissing you on the forehead before you crawled under the blankets. "Less sun, holiday grind- you'll feel better once things die down a little after New Year's."

"It's bull shit."

"Absolutely," he said, tucking covers around you. It started as a joke. Tucking you in before he left for the night. Giving you kisses and putting a stuffed animal in your arms to hold til he got home. But now? He tucked you in even if he was at home. Even if he knew you were gonna wiggle loose to lay on his chest.

It felt right. Making sure that you were safe in bed. Making sure you were gonna be warm enough and comfortable until he got home.

He stroked your hair for a moment when you lay down and then moved to his side of the bed. His arms tightened around you instantly when you reached for him. "I love you, Jay," you murmur, smudging a kiss against his bare chest.

"I love you too, baby girl," he hummed, stretching one arm up just long enough to click out the lights.

[aviiarie]

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ GOOD LUCK BABE! — furina & fem!reader !

synopsis. it isn't love, furina tells herself. warnings. internalized homophobia, minor alcohol use. notes. based on 'good luck babe!' by chappell roan. fem!reader. furina is a closeted lesbian. angst, no comfort. 2k words of sapphic yearning. im reposting because it didn't post in the tags last time :/

‘Love’ is not the word Furina would use.

There was no doubt in her mind that there was something there—something delicate, precious as a shining pearl plucked from the ocean. She would hold it in her hands if she could; string it on a necklace and tuck it under her shirt so it pressed against the bare skin of her chest, close to her heart.

A spark, is how she would describe it if she was feeling cliché. It certainly shared the same fieriness, in the way her chest grew warm when she saw you, heart fluttering like a newly emerged butterfly. It was elation, pure ecstasy flowing through her gaze when she met your eye, setting her senses alight.

Being with you was just right, in every definition of the word. You fitted into her life perfectly, like a puzzle piece she never knew she was missing, the last brushstroke to finish a masterpiece. Without you, she would be an unfinished portrait painted in shades of blue and purple, with no warm hues to complete her.

She adored you, but it wasn’t love.

A thousand excuses for the blush on her cheeks and pounding of her hearts lingered on the edge of her tongue, ready to spill over. You were her closest friend, an innocent girl-crush at most. She didn’t have to love you to daydream about the feeling of your lips pressed in the crook of her neck, leaving a cherry-red imprint of your lipstick on her skin. It was admiration, adoration, never love.

And if some nights you ended up tangled together in her bed, sheets caught up around your legs as she pulled you against her chest, then she would simply have to ignore the way you idly kissed her shoulder before drifting off. If your lipstick stains on her cheeks were no longer restricted to her daydreams, but tangible and smudged across her skin, then she just have to wipe away the marks before anyone could glimpse them.

You both could feel there was something there, fragile and tethering you together. Still, she knew it wasn’t love.

Love was simple—a gentleman and a lady. It started with chance meeting, followed by several years of courting, and a shiny ring. She had watched people fall in and out of relationships more times than she could count, observing every shade of love there was. She’d seen people like you, and people like her, but they were never together. That kind of bond was the one hidden behind closed doors, never spoken about but in hushed, judgemental whispers.

If it was as simple as love, she wouldn’t be sitting at her balcony, swirling her wine glass without taking a single sip. The wine was a gift from Neuvillette, a crisp and rich flavour that he knew she had a liking for, but it tasted like ash in her mouth.

And you—you, in all your soft lips and glinting eyes—emerged through the door, calling out her name.

“Furina? What’s wrong?” You asked her. And a few hours later, she would blame the wine for what she said next, cursing her past self for letting the alcohol loosen her tongue. But in the moment, all she did was set her glass on the table and glance your way with a bittersweet smile.

“I wish you were a boy, sometimes…” Furina murmured lowly, voice cracking halfway through her words. “It would be so easy to fall for you if you weren’t a girl.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, hurt flickering across your expression. She shut her mouth with a click and looked away, already wishing she had swallowed the words down. “Furina—”

“Don’t talk.” Furina said, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t want to talk. I just—I want…”

“What do you want, Furina?” You asked gently, like you were coaxing a small animal to draw closer. Your voice was as soft as cotton, a soothing melody to her ears. If the wine hadn’t already made her tipsy, she might have gotten drunk on the sound of it.

“You.” She blurted out. The admission surprised her, but what was more of a shock was that the words were genuine. It was more than longing—she craved you, your touch, your eyes on her, your breath against her skin. You weren’t a want; you were a need.

“What does that mean, Furina?” The uncertainty in your voice pulled her sharply into the present. You were staring at her, doe eyes searching her expression for an answer.

“I—I mean… I mean—ha! I don’t know what I’m saying! You must excuse me, the—the wine is making me… irrational, and I—” Furina stuttered out, trying to form a coherent excuse for her words.

She didn’t get a chance.

You surged forward, capturing her lips in your own. Furina let out a squeak, gasping against your mouth before she melted into the kiss. Her head tilted so your faces were slotted neatly into each other—puzzle pieces, fitting perfectly together like you were meant to be one. One of her hands found their way into your hair, while both of your arms circled her waist, pulling her body flush against yours.

“I love you, baby.” You sighed against her lips. She hummed, kissing you again, and again. “You know that, right?”

Furina knew it wasn’t love, no matter what you said. Even so—

“Let’s go inside.” She said softly, in lieu of an answer.

—She could never seem to argue with you.

-----

Days pass, then weeks. If the whole affair is as innocent as she claims, there should be no reason her heart pounds when there is a knock at the door. She wouldn’t shy from your casual touches in public, she wouldn’t hesitate to mention your name. The thought of you wouldn’t be accompanied with a bittersweet sting, as if your affection was laced with poison.

There was a shift in your demeanour, as the lingering kisses grew few and far-between and your whispered ‘I love you’s grew more hesitant. Furina could feel the change in the air, but she ignored it, melting into your embrace and pretending it wasn’t stiffer than she remembered. She could play make-believe, for a little while longer, pretending that you still called her ‘baby’, and your eyes were still warm when they fell on her.

All until—

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” you said quietly, and her heart stopped beating. “I’m leaving Fontaine, for good this time.”

“W-What?” Furina’s eyes were wide, already shining over with tears. “You’re… leaving?”

“Yeah,” You grasped her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckle. “I’m sorry, baby. I have to. Every day I stay here… I’m suffocating. I don’t—I don’t want to end this, end us. But I can’t live like this anymore.”

Furina’s hands were shaking, only steadied by your grip. “Please don’t go. I need you.”

It was the wrong thing to say, she knew it as soon as you coughed out a bitter laugh.

“I can’t keep doing this, Furina.” You shook your head. “You can’t keep doing this to me. Telling me you want me, you need me, telling me I’m everything, and yet refusing to call us what we are.”

“We don’t need to,” Furina cried, gripping your hand. “We don’t need to say anything. I just need you.”

“You love me, don’t you?” Furina opened her mouth, but you cut her off. “No, no. Don’t tell me I’m special, don’t tell me you need me to say. You know what I want to hear.”

There was no sound that came out of her mouth. She swallowed dryly, reaching for the right words, the ones that would make you stay. You had murmured them against her lips more times than she could count, but even so… she couldn’t. She couldn’t.

“Tell me you love me.” You whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Tell me you love me, and I’ll stay.”

“I…” Furina’s breath stuttered. The words were right there, sticking to the back of her throat. But still, she couldn’t bring herself to voice them. “...Please don’t leave.”

Your face crumbled, and you stepped back, letting go of her. A cold breeze settled over her shoulders, sending a chill where your body had warmed her moments prior. She shivered, reaching out a hand. “Please, stay.”

“Goodbye, Furina.” You leaned forward and kissed her cheek softly, lingering there for a moment. “Good luck.”

Months passed, then years. The world kept spinning, even as Furina’s world was swept away. In time the pain dulls, fading to a distant ache in the back of her head; an injury that never quite healed, even after the skin mended itself back together.

It was years later that Furina found herself on the balcony again, with another gifted bottle of wine. There was no one left to slide open the door and join her, so she drank alone, staring across the sprawling city of Fontaine. Despite the bustling streets and swarms of people, your face was missing from the crowd. Her hand clenched around the bottle until her knuckles went white.

It was almost humorous, how she realized how much she loved you only the day after you left. Lying in bed alone, tracing the slight indent where your body had made its mark on her mattress from the number of nights spent sleeping side by side. All she could see was you, tears dripping across your cheeks as you turned away. She longed to reach out, grab your arm and pull you into her chest and kissing you until you were both breathless.

Why couldn’t she have called it love when she had the chance?

She took a sip of the wine, forgoing the glass and drinking straight from the bottle. The taste was rich, but it fell flat against the memory of your lips.

-----

Your hands brushed the back of her head, with impossibly soft caresses. Each touch sent a spark of electricity down her spine, making her head spin. She kissed with fervour, terrified for the moment she breaks away and you slip through her fingers again.

Your lips pressed harder against hers, melting together until she could taste her own strawberry-flavoured lip balm in her mouth. Eventually the two of you break away, gasping for air.

“I missed you,” You murmured against her skin, touching her cheek. “I love you, so much.”

When Furina woke, her lips were as cold as ever.

There was a ring glinting on her nightstand, a slumbering body resting beside her. The shape was indistinct, androgynous enough that for a moment she could pretend it was your figure buried under the blankets. Furina choked away a sob, turning her head so she didn’t have to face him.

He was a sweet man, but the sight of his smile didn’t warm her chest the way it should. She could throw back her head and laugh at his dry jokes, but there was no humour to be found in her voice. In the end, he was nothing more than her husband, and she was nothing more than his wife.

Fractured, pained breaths tore from her throat. Her head fell heavily into her hands, muffling the pitiful sounds of her cries. She had thrown it all away. The girl who loved her, the only one she’d ever loved. And what had she to show for the years of heartbreak? A loveless marriage, a husband in name only.

She thought about you, leaning against the railing of her balcony, glowing under the moonlight. In her memory you stared back at her, with a bittersweet smile tracing your lips. And when your mouth opened, it isn’t an “I love you” that came out, it’s—

“I told you so.”

Furina squeezed her eyes shut. She flopped down onto the mattress, burying her face in the pillow, and picturing you in her husband's place. All she could do was think about the sight of your face, your smile, everything she had let fall away.

And when she whispers, “I love you, baby.” there isn’t anyone to say it back to her.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai.

[kathlare]

name of the game

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando faces an uncomfortable truth—one that Carlos is all too eager to point out.

Wordcount: 3.0 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

December 13th, 2020 - Yas Island, Abu Dhabi

The room was dimly lit, tucked between hospitality units and half-forgotten by the rest of the paddock. A storage space, technically. But right now, it might as well have been a five-star suite, because Lando had Amelie pinned against the table like the world was ending tomorrow.

She was sitting on it, legs wrapped loosely around his hips, hands tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck, and lips firmly locked on his.

—God, I missed you,— he murmured breathlessly against her mouth, voice rough with want.

—You saw me twenty minutes ago,— Amelie whispered, but her legs tightened around him anyway.

Lando grinned against her jaw. —Yeah, and I’ve been going insane since.—

Her head tilted back as his lips trailed down her neck, fingers dragging up the outside of her thighs beneath the slit of her green dress. Her mask lay discarded on the corner of the table, next to Lando’s cap and both of their phones, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

—We’re gonna be late,— Amelie muttered, but her hands didn’t stop roaming.

—Worth it,— Lando breathed, kissing her again, deeper this time, until the sound of their lips and rushed breathing filled the whole room.

And then...

BANG BANG BANG.

—YOU TWO DISGUSTING ANIMALS HAVE FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I START YELLING IN DUTCH!—

Lando groaned, forehead dropping to Amelie’s shoulder as she dissolved into a fit of laughter.

—Max,— she giggled, fingers curling around the back of Lando’s neck. —He sounds traumatized.—

—He is traumatized,— Lando mumbled into her collarbone. —We broke him.—

—FIVE SECONDS!— Max’s voice came again, muffled but furious. —I SWEAR TO GOD, I HAVE A RACE!—

—Alright, alright!— Amelie called back, still laughing as Lando reluctantly pulled away.

She sighed dramatically, arms falling from around his shoulders. —Fun while it lasted.—

Lando stepped back, steadying her with his hands as she slid off the table. Her heels clicked softly on the concrete floor as she stood. Her hair was a wild halo, her lipstick slightly smudged, and the slit of her dress had hiked far too high.

Lando grinned, brushing his fingers down her arm. —You look like you just got thoroughly ruined.—

Amelie smacked his chest. —Fix me. Now. Before Max commits a crime.—

He chuckled and immediately set to work. One hand smoothed down the fabric of her dress, carefully tugging it into place, while the other helped rearrange her hair with gentle touches.

—You should wear this color more often,— he murmured, pushing a curl behind her ear. —Brings out the “I’m making out with a driver in a broom closet” glow.—

—You’re unbelievable.—

—You were moaning. Don’t act like I was the only one enjoying myself.—

She shoved him playfully and grabbed her mask, pressing it to her face with a roll of her eyes.

Lando followed suit, grabbing his own from the table, slipping it on and tucking his cap over his curls. With one last quick swipe of his thumb over the corner of her mouth, he nodded.

—Alright. You’re back to looking like a perfectly innocent guest.—

—And you look like a man who just ruined someone’s dress.—

—Teamwork.—

Another bang on the door.

—GO!— Max howled. —I’M SWEATING OUTSIDE THIS CLOSET LIKE A PIMP IN CHURCH!—

Amelie opened the door with a calm grace that didn’t match the chaos inside the room. Max stood there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed behind his own mask, looking every bit like a man who regretted everything.

—About time,— he grumbled, stepping back so she could exit.

—Thank you for your patience, Maxie,— Amelie said sweetly, sliding her arm through his. —You’re a treasure.—

—Don’t touch me. I don’t know where those hands have been.—

—Oh, you do. That’s the problem.—

Lando emerged behind them, casual as ever, humming under his breath as he slipped his phone back in his pocket.

—You know, Max, if you didn’t scream at us every time, we’d probably be faster.—

—If I didn’t scream, you’d still be in there when next season starts,— Max snapped. —This was not part of the deal. I agreed to cover for you. Not to become your personal makeout scheduler.—

Amelie patted his arm. —You’re so brave. So selfless. So underappreciated.—

Max shot her a look that said he was this close to throwing himself into the nearest wall.

They stepped out into the corridor, the late-afternoon Abu Dhabi sun filtering through the gaps in the barriers, warmth clinging to the air even in the shadows.

Max and Amelie made it about ten steps down the paddock before...

—There you are!—

A familiar voice rang out, and then suddenly Charles Leclerc was there, grinning like the human version of a golden retriever, arms out like he was claiming a prize.

—Amouuur,— Charles cooed, dramatically swinging an arm over Amelie’s shoulders and the other around Max’s. —Where have you two been? I’ve been looking everywhere! The Ferrari hospitality is out of coffee and I had to drink an espresso shot from Daniel like a savage.—

Max blinked. —I’m so sorry for your trauma.—

Charles turned to Amelie. —You didn’t answer my text! Are you ignoring me because I said that thing about Lando’s ears?—

—No,— Amelie grinned, slipping easily into the chaos. —I was just… helping Lando with something backstage.—

Charles narrowed his eyes. —Backstage? Like… music backstage or… kissy-kissy backstage?—

Max, to his credit, didn’t even flinch. —She was helping me figure out what color suit I should wear to the FIA dinner. Apparently, I’m “too beige”.—

Amelie gave him a grateful smile, heart clenching slightly at how quick he was to lie for them. Again.

—He’s very brave,— she added seriously. —Tried on six suits. One was burgundy.—

—Oh, gross,— Charles muttered. —You deserve better, Max.—

—Tell me about it,— Max mumbled.

Lando caught up a few paces behind, mask back in place and still adjusting the sleeves of his fireproofs as he joined the group.

Charles squinted at him. —You too. Where were you?—

Lando paused.

Amelie jumped in. —We all met for a quick espresso and Max had a little… fashion crisis.—

—Ah. Yes. That makes more sense,— Charles nodded solemnly. —The man wears khaki like a threat.—

—HEY!— Max finally protested, face crumpling in offense.

But Amelie was already grinning again as they all began walking toward the paddock, Max grumbling, Charles humming, and Lando glancing at her from behind his mask like he was already plotting their next escape.

And Amelie? She couldn’t stop smiling.

Even behind the masks, even beneath the chaos—this, right here, was her favorite kind of disaster.

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

liked by lanelieshippers, landonation, and others

ameliedaymanupdates: More of Amelie at the Yas Marina Circuit for the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix today! 🏁✨ As always, she’s here supporting her family and friends for the season finale. Looking effortlessly stunning in the paddock—our queen never misses! 👑💙

View all 32,992 comments

f1tea: She’s hereeee!! Our paddock princess never misses a race! 👑

f1drama: Ugh, why is she always here? She has nothing to do with F1. → lanmelie: @f1drama babe, she’s literally been part of this paddock since she was a kid, sit down.

f1tea: At this point, Amelie in the paddock is basically a tradition 😌✨ → speedyboi44: @f1tea She’s been coming for YEARS, and people still act surprised lmao.

mclarensimp44: I swear she spends more time at races than some actual drivers 💀 → formulanerds: @mclarensimp44 she’s literally been here since she was a kid 💀 she’s basically honorary grid royalty.

landolover4: Why do I feel like we’re gonna get another blurry-ass pic of her and Lando standing suspiciously close?? 👀

daymanstan: Amelie looking GORGEOUS as usual. I need the outfit details ASAP! 🔥 → ameliedaymanupdates: @daymanstan Prada confirmed for the bag, still waiting on the full fit deets 👀

lanmelieforever: Y’all I’m getting tired… HOW are they still “just friends” when Lando gets all stupid and smiley around her?? 😭 → formulafeels: @lanmelieforever fr, the way he looks at her like she hung the stars… this is pain.

ameliehater99: She’s so desperate to be relevant in F1, like girl go back to acting 💀

daymanfanclub: She looks so good wtf?? Who let her be this effortlessly pretty?? → formulalan: @daymanfanclub genetics, money, and main character energy ✨

mclarenobsessed: Sooo she’s in the paddock again… you know who else is in the paddock? Lando. You know who’s not in the paddock? Me. Life is unfair.

formulashade: Y’all are so embarrassing, she’s literally just here for her family. Let her breathe. → grandprixgossip: @formulashade okay but if she’s in the McLaren hospitality, don’t say I didn’t warn you 😏

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

The floodlights of the Yas Marina Circuit cast a soft glow over the paddock, illuminating the scene in a way that made everything feel almost surreal. The race had been over for a while, but neither Carlos nor Lando were in a rush to leave. They stood outside, helmets in hand, the heat of the desert night wrapping around them. Their helmets had just been swapped—a tradition, a mark of the end of their time as teammates.

Carlos sighed, rolling his shoulders as he looked over at Lando, who was standing beside him. They had spent two seasons together at McLaren, pushing each other, celebrating together, and occasionally wanting to kill each other. But tonight wasn’t about any of that. It was about the end of something good.

—You good, tío?—Carlos asked, nudging Lando’s arm lightly with his elbow.

Lando blinked, looking up as if Carlos had just snapped him out of a trance.

—Huh? Yeah, yeah, just...—

Carlos followed Lando’s gaze, his own eyes landing a few meters away where Amelie stood with Charles, talking in low voices. She had one arm crossed over her waist, the other holding onto her phone, and Charles was gesturing as he spoke, a smirk playing on his lips. Whatever he had said must’ve been funny because Amelie tilted her head back and laughed, a sound that carried through the cool night air.

Carlos glanced back at Lando. The younger driver had barely looked at him since the conversation started. His eyes kept flicking back to her, like a goddamn magnet.

Carlos chuckled.

—You’re staring, hermano.—

Lando snapped his head back towards him, eyes wide with something dangerously close to panic.

—No, I’m not.—

Carlos smirked, shaking his head.

—Sí, sí, you are.— He crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Lando shifted uncomfortably.

Lando let out a breath, running a hand through his damp curls. His race suit was still half-zipped, the adrenaline from the race not entirely gone yet.

—Shut up, mate.—

Carlos raised an eyebrow. —Why? Because I’m right?—

Lando groaned, tilting his head back. —It’s not like that.—

Carlos snorted. —Bullshit. It’s always been like that with you and her.— He leaned against the metal barrier, watching Amelie as she continued talking with Charles, completely unaware of the effect she was having on the Brit.

Lando scoffed but didn’t argue. He didn’t have it in him to lie—not to Carlos, who had seen it all before.

Carlos sighed, his tone shifting to something quieter, more serious. —Lando, listen to me, amigo. Just tell her what you feel.—

Lando stiffened slightly, looking away.

—It’s not that simple.— Lando’s voice was quieter now, his fingers tightening around the edge of his helmet.

Carlos tilted his head, watching him for a moment before shaking his head with a small laugh.

—It is that simple. You’re just making it complicated.—

Lando’s jaw clenched. He wanted to tell Carlos that it wasn’t that easy. That Amelie was the one who always pulled away when things got too real, that every time he got too close, she reminded him that they were just friends. That she was the one who had kept this whole thing undefined for so long, and yet, he was the one feeling like an idiot, hopelessly caught in whatever this was between them.

Carlos watched him, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion of the day.

—Lando, tío, I’ve known you for two years. And I’ve known you’ve been in love with her for almost as long.—

Lando flinched.

—You think I didn’t notice? You look at her like she’s the fucking sun, hermano.— Carlos let out a dry chuckle. —And the thing is, she looks at you the same way.—

That made Lando pause.

—No, she doesn’t.— He shook his head, the words bitter in his mouth.

Carlos let out a sigh, his expression softening.

—Yes, she does. You’re just too blind to see it.—

Lando exhaled sharply, shaking his head again.

—It’s complicated, man. It’s always been complicated with her.—

Carlos hummed.

—You’re making it complicated. If you love her, tell her. If you want her, fight for her. Stop standing in the fucking shadows waiting for her to figure it out.—

Lando swallowed, looking down at the ground. His grip on his helmet was white-knuckled.

Carlos clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

—Just think about it, okay? Don’t waste time. You never know when it’ll run out.—

Lando exhaled through his nose, nodding slightly.

Carlos patted his shoulder before pushing off the barrier.

—Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find some beer before I have to leave this team forever.—

Lando let out a small laugh despite himself.

—Yeah, go do that.—

Carlos smirked.

—And you... stop being a pendejo and tell her.—

Lando rolled his eyes, but Carlos didn’t miss the way his gaze immediately flickered back to Amelie as soon as he turned away.

—Just friends don’t look at each other like that, mate.— Carlos muttered under his breath as he walked off.

Lando stood there, staring at Carlos as he walked off, his words echoing in his mind. Just friends don’t look at each other like that. He couldn’t shake the thought, couldn’t shake the way his heart had started pounding as Carlos had talked, as if everything about his feelings for Amelie had been laid bare. But was it really that simple? Was it really as clear-cut as Carlos was making it out to be?

His eyes found Amelie again, her laughter still ringing in the air, and something inside him twisted painfully. She was everything to him—always had been, even before things had gotten complicated between them. She was his friend, the one person who understood him without needing words, who had been there for him when he felt like no one else was. But somewhere along the line, somewhere in all the late-night talks, in all the stolen moments, things had shifted.

Now, she was more than a friend.

But even now, as they spent time together, as they navigated this unspoken, undefined thing between them, there was always that underlying tension. The uncertainty. The fear of saying too much and pushing her away.

He clenched his fist around his helmet, the cool metal comforting against his palm.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

Lando’s gaze flickered back to Amelie. She was talking to Charles again, the two of them laughing about something. The look on her face, the way her eyes lit up when Charles spoke, it hurt. It hurt more than it should have. Because in that moment, Lando knew that no matter how much he liked to pretend they were fine, no matter how much they acted like they were just friends to the world, he knew she wasn’t just some girl. She wasn’t just another person in his life.

She was the one. And the longer he waited, the more it seemed like he might lose her. And that terrified him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a soft voice, pulling him out of his head.

—Lando?—

He turned and saw Amelie standing a few feet away, a curious smile on her face, her eyes sparkling under the lights of the paddock. She was looking at him like she always did—half amused, half knowing, as if there was some inside joke between them that no one else understood.

—Hey, Ames.— He gave her a small, forced smile, his stomach flipping as she walked closer.

She tilted her head, her expression softening as she stopped in front of him.

—You okay? You look...— She paused, searching for the word. —Like you’re thinking too hard.—

Lando let out a dry chuckle, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

—That’s dangerous, huh? Me thinking too much?—

Amelie smirked, nudging his arm lightly.

—A little. You might hurt yourself.—

He exhaled, glancing down at the helmet in his hands before looking back at her. She was standing so close, close enough that he could smell the lingering traces of her perfume—something light, familiar, something that reminded him of late nights and whispered conversations.

This was it. This was his moment.

Carlos’s words echoed in his mind. Tell her what you feel.

Lando swallowed, his heart thudding against his ribs.

—Ames, I...— He hesitated, shifting under the weight of his own emotions.

Her gaze softened, her brows pulling together slightly.

—What?— She tilted her head, watching him closely.

Lando inhaled sharply.

—There’s something I need to tell you.—

The way her expression changed—just for a fraction of a second—made his chest tighten. She knew. She had to know.

And then, before he could say another word, she let out a soft sigh, her voice quieter now.

—You know... I'm really glad we're such good friends, Lan.—

Lando felt the air leave his lungs.

Just friends.

His stomach twisted violently, his heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. The words hit him like a gut punch, like she had unknowingly reached into his chest and squeezed.

He let out a strained laugh, masking the way his hands tightened around his helmet.

—Yeah. Me too.—

Amelie smiled at him, completely oblivious to the war raging inside his head. She rocked on her heels slightly, her hands slipping into the pockets of her team-issued jacket.

—Anyway, I should probably go find Stella before she starts sending search parties. You coming?—

Lando hesitated for half a second before nodding, forcing a smirk.

—Yeah, let’s go.—

But as they started walking, side by side, Lando couldn’t shake the suffocating weight pressing against his chest.

Carlos had been wrong.

She didn’t look at him the way he looked at her.

And he was too much of a coward to tell her the truth.

[angelofsmalldeaath]

'cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me — a.h.b.

cw: fem!reader, mentions of food, mentions of diets, kinda suggestive, fluff (literally at this point what else do i write other than sickly sweet, domestic fluff)

for two weeks now he’s been on a diet so strict it’ll put a hollywood starlet to shame. 

it’s necessary, he’s aware—he needs to be fit to perform on stage every night for hours, keep up his energy. he needs to entertain. he’s indulged enough in the last few months anyway. 

which is why when the smell of chocolate and vanilla wafts out of the kitchen, his head turns. his eyes flutter shut of their own accord, his mouth floods with saliva. 

fuck. 

it really is a divine smell. 

he imagines the silly little animals in cartoons, imagines their anthropomorphic feet lifting off the ground, the noses trailing the translucent vapours, leading them to the source of it. a giant batch of warm, homemade biscuits in this case. 

he won’t fall for it though, he knows it’s not for him—it’s for the neighbour’s boy of all people, for his 10th birthday, apparently. still he can’t resist taking a peak. 

when he stops at the threshold of their kitchen, he finds exactly what he predicted. 

the kitchen is bathed in rainbows, sunlight filtering through all the sunlight stickers on the windows. the music isn’t deafeningly loud, but it’s loud enough that she barely hears him when he walks in. she’s too engrossed to even hear him snickering at her off-key singing. 

“hello, you,” he smiles, hugging her from behind. she jumps a little at first but melts the moment his arms wrap around her. “this smells delicious.”

“so have one,” she shrugs. the tiny movement intensifies the sweet smell clinging to her—sugar and vanilla and chocolate. something that matches her so perfectly that he can’t resist sliding her hair aside to place a little kiss on her shoulder.

“you know i can’t, you cruel woman.” another kiss, longer than the last one. “i’ll have one, and one more, and one more, and, well…there might not be any left for the birthday party.”

she sighs deeply, pretending to be engrossed in thought, giggling when his kisses turn more frequent, lips moving from her shoulder to her back, to the nape of her neck. 

“on second thought,” he breathes onto her skin, enjoying the way she shivers in response, “i could eat you, you're the sweetest thing in the world.”

“you called me cruel two seconds ago!”

“mmm yes, it is cruel how perfect you are now that you say it.”

“what’s gotten into you, huh?” she laughs, a touch too breathy to be teasing. he could decipher her laughs in his sleep—this one particularly. she’s enjoying it, she just won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it. 

“pretty baby,” he nips at her earlobe, “i like watching you bake. you have this look on your face of utter concentration…tongue poking out and all.”

“do i? didn’t know you had such domestic fantasies about me.”

“oh i have a variety of fantasies about you.”

he knows she’s biting her lip without even looking at her. it’s in vain though—she’s never been able to stifle a smile, not around him. he prides himself on it too much. 

“keep a few biscuits for us, will you?”

she turns partially, furrowing her brows. “thought you didn’t want any.”

he takes the opportunity, turns her around by the waist until she’s pressed flush against his chest, trapped between him and the kitchen island. he sees the small smudge of flour on her cheek then, even the smudge of chocolate on the corner of her lip from when she no doubt snuck a piece. or two. 

“‘s not for me,” he clicks his tongue, bends till his nose is pressed to her cheek. “‘s so you could eat them, and kiss me after. it’ll make them sweeter that way.” 

even with his eyes closed he feels her cheeks flushing, feels the thud of her heart when he kisses the chocolate smudge away, flicking his tongue over her lip in the process—something he simply can’t resist. then he brushes the flour away with his knuckles and tilts her chin up until she has no choice but to look at him. 

“stop flirting with me,” she frowns deeply, trying to look all serious and jabs a finger in his chest. “i have a kitchen to clean.” and even that lacks any conviction. she’s enjoying far too much to put up any facade. 

“unless—” he’s not even surprised by the perfect puppy eyes at this point “—you wanna clean it for me? you do love me, don’t you?”

and that’s definitely a trap he’s walked right in. 

he laughs, rests his forehead on hers for a moment. “go sit down, i’ll take care of this.”

she pumps her fist in the air, not even trying to be the least bit subtle. and just like always, he’s fallen for it (for her really) hook, line and sinker.

[keikikait]

ᴡᴀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ (ʙɪᴋᴇʀ!ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

for my other megumi fic, click here (warning - smut!)

pairing: biker!megumi x f!reader (au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 2k

summary: you love your new apartment, as small as it is. it's in the perfect place, right next to the train station, and is cheap as hell. the only downside? your neighbour, who revs his bike outside your window every morning.

warnings: NO SMUT!, no angst!, multi part series, kind of enemies to lovers, slowburn?, megumi is kinda rude lmaoooo, the girls are fighting!, he says sweetheart twice, reader is kinda down bad lmao

a note: sorry for the delay, i've been busy with work! also, 8 square metres is about 86 square feet :).

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

The rent was cheap. Suspiciously cheap. 

You should’ve been wary, but you didn’t have many options. After a bitter fallout with your roommate, you needed to move out quickly. You should’ve paid more attention to the listing, you realise, as you stop in front of the building and it sinks in that your new digs weren’t 18 square metres.

It was eight square metres. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have much furniture with you, needing to sell it all to afford the move. Your apartment was essentially one long, two-story hallway, just enough for your desk chair and TV. 

You get settled in quickly, trying to liven up the place by replanting your herb garden outside on your small porch. The apartment doors faced an alley, and on the other side of the alley was another apartment building. You didn’t know how much sunlight your basil would get, but that’s a problem for future you.

A problem for the current you, however, was your neighbour's motorcycle. The bike is an exact replica of the legendary Honda Super Cub that was used in the original anime Akira, and as pretty as it is, that shit is loud. His apartment is right on the edge by the sidewalk, meaning the only place he can park it is right in front of your window.

You’ve tried everything. Earplugs. Noise-cancelling headphones. Ear plugs under your noise-cancelling headphones. Sleeping with a white noise machine. Nothing works. You only moved in a month ago but you’re already sick of this mysterious man and his bike. You don’t run into each other often, catching glimpses of him as he drives off in the morning and comes home at night. You didn’t want to be that neighbour, the one that complains about every single little thing, but it was driving you mad. He revs his bike so loudly and for so long, that you’re starting to think he’s doing it on purpose.

You wake up that fateful morning and decide you’ve had enough. You wait for him to return home, hyping yourself up in the mirror before heading outside to confront him. You idle nervously in front of his front door for a few seconds before knocking. 

He answers, looking exhausted, his hair a mess from his helmet. “Yeah?” You have to admit, he’s pretty cute. Tall and lean, with bicep muscles that strain against the fabric of his black t-shirt. And you swear you can see some eyeliner smudged on his water line.

You smile, trying to come across as calm and casual, slightly flustered by how attractive he is. “Hey. I’m your new next-door neighbour,” You gesture with your thumb. “I don’t wanna be that person, but would it be possible for you to not rev your engine so loud in the morning? It’s just…it’s right by my window, and it’s really loud.”

He lets out a sigh of frustration, not exactly in the mood for what you're throwing at him. It was already 9 pm on the third day in a row that he had worked the late shift, and this was not something he needed right now. He looks at you, his expression a mixture of irritation and confusion. “Look, I'm not doing it on purpose. I park where I park, nothing is going to change that. You just moved in, this is how it's been and how it's always going to be.”

You blink, a little taken aback by how rude he was being. “I understand that, but surely I'm not the only person in the building who gets inconvenienced by your bike.”

He crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing. The last thing he wants to do after a long shift is argue with someone about something as insignificant as noise. “Look, if you don't like it, then move out. I don't see anybody else complaining. You're the only one.”

You clench your jaw. You had some experience with bikes, your ex-boyfriend being a mechanic. You knew it was possible to make the revving quieter, it just seems like he didn’t care. “Can’t you just buy a muffler silencer?”

He lets out a short, sharp laugh, one that doesn't hold a single trace of humor.  “A muffler silencer? For a Super Cub? Are you serious? That would be like asking a Ferrari to be quiet.”

“You can’t expect everyone to just be okay with how loud your bike is, man.” You say. “I’m sure it inconveniences everyone in the building, but no one wants to be the person that confronts you.”

He seems to be holding back from saying what he wants to say, taking a shallow breath. “Look. It's my bike. I can do whatever I want with it. No one else is bothered, so why should you be any different? Why do you care so much?”

“You’re not the only person who works early mornings.” You say. “You aren’t the only person in the world, you know.”

That strikes a nerve, clearly, but he still doesn't seem interested in hearing what you're saying. He just rolls his eyes, looking away at his bike for a moment before looking back at you. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but in case you haven't realised, you're not that important.”

“Neither are you.” You say impulsively. It was mean, and you didn’t like being mean, but he wasn’t giving you any other option.

He glares at you, his expression darkening. It's only for a moment, but you can see there is actual vitriol in his eyes. “Look, I'm going to make this simple for you. If you don't like the noise, then move out. That bike is not going anywhere. It has more meaning to me than you'll ever understand.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Akira meant so much to you as a kid,” You say sarcastically. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t keep doing this, man. Buy a muffler silencer.” 

He laughs, but there's a slight tinge of bitterness to it. “Oh, so it's just a cartoon to you? It’s not an influential masterpiece that changed motorcycle and animation culture forever? Okay, great. Good to know.” He is starting to get worked up, but then he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. “Look, like I said, I am not doing anything to this bike. Not the mufflers, nothing.”

“Then park it somewhere else.” You snap. “Keep it away from my window. I don’t want to hear that shit.”

There's a flash of annoyance on his face. “There's no place to park it away from your window unless I block the sidewalk, which I guarantee you would cause more inconvenience. You're just going to have to deal with it.”

“Are you always this rude and stuck up?” The question stumbles out of your mouth before your mind can process it.

His temper flares up. He takes a step towards you, putting his hands on his hips as he glares at you. “Are you always this entitled and self-absorbed?”

You take a step back. You hate to admit it, but the way he towers over you is arousing. His cologne fills your nostrils and you find yourself getting lightheaded. It was slightly spicy, with a hint of vanilla and coffee. 

You ground yourself, swallowing hard. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. I just want us to come to a reasonable compromise.”

He glares at you, his eyes boring into you as you step back. You can feel the heat on your skin as if every drop of sweat in his body has been activated by the situation. His cologne is overwhelming you, filling your whole body. “There is no compromise to make here. You don't like the noise, tough. You're just going to have to get used to it or move out. That's it.”

Your eye twitches. “You’re such an asshole.” At this point, you didn’t feel bad being mean to him. He kind of deserved it.

He laughs, seeming almost amused by your temper. “You're one to talk. You come barging up to my apartment, demanding I make changes to my bike, and then you get mad at me when I tell you not to waste your time. Look in the mirror, sweetheart, and then come back with the right to tell me I'm an asshole.”

Fuck. You shouldn’t like the way he says sweetheart, but it causes your throat to dry up. “I tried to be nice to you,” You say. “You’re the one that got defensive and rude.”

“Nice? Maybe in your little dreamland that's what you think you were doing. Maybe you even believe that you were just being friendly and reasonable, I don't know. But in reality, all you were doing was pissing me off and acting like some sort of entitled princess.” He takes a step closer to you, his finger pointed in your face. “But one thing is certain. I’m not changing anything about my bike just to make you happy.”

He’s so close to you that it makes your head spin. You step back again, leaning against the railing surrounding his small porch. “Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t blame me for being upset.”

He doesn't seem interested in letting you off the hook yet, not when he looks so close to snapping. “It doesn't matter if you're upset or not. You don't get what you want by coming here and giving me an attitude like a fucking brat.”

You swallow hard. Fuck. You shouldn’t be attracted to this man, he was rude as hell and didn’t seem to care that he was inconveniencing not only you but everyone in the building. But you couldn’t help yourself. He was so pretty, and he smelled so good, and his voice was so nice. You were going to have to change your panties when you got back home. 

You stand up straight, trying to stay headstrong. “You’re being incredibly rude about this.”

“And you're being incredibly entitled. There's only one of us that needs to change here, and it's not me.” He narrows his eyes, his gaze still burning into you.

You lick your lips. “Look, we’re not going to get anywhere by arguing.”

He gives another one of those short, sharp laughs. He smiles, and it makes your stomach flip. “You finally said something smart. I didn’t know it was so difficult for you. Now, are you ready to accept that you're not going to get what you want, or do you want to keep wasting my time?”

Your eyes narrow. What the fuck? “Excuse me? Did you just call me dumb?”

A smirk spreads across his lips. “You heard me. Or did you need me to repeat it for you?”

You let out a sharp laugh, moving off of his porch. “You know what? Fuck you.”

He raises his eyebrow, a faint smile on his lips. “Oh, so you've switched from demanding to insults? Real mature, aren't you?”

You head over to your apartment, laughing again. “I should’ve known trying to reason with you would be impossible.” 

He calls after you. “You're damn right it's impossible. You come here, make some demands, and then get mad when I tell you no. You're a spoiled brat who always gets her way, aren't you? Well, today's a bad day for you, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck you.” You say, holding the door to your apartment open. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I’m not sure I want to.” He says, smirking slightly. “I’m not into brats like you. I think you need to be taken down a few pegs. You need someone to put you in your place.”

You scoff and flip him off before slamming the door behind you, and just like that, you have given up. 

He leans against his door, crossing his arms and smiling as he watches you leave, his eyes on your ass. He’s just a tiny bit disappointed that you gave up so quickly. He's got to admit, it was pretty fun messing with you, watching how angry you get. He thought you looked cute like that, your cheeks all red and flustered.

Maybe next time…

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here

dedicated to the lovely @whereflowerswenttodie

[intotheficsofit]

MDNI💀 +18 Only

-✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨-

My Roommates Brother

Alright everyone be nice it’s my first fic.

We gotta classic trope today, the MC & Todo have an apartment together. Todo-Choso-Yuji all brothers vibe modern au style. Todo & MC were classmates/sparing buddies when they both ended up needing a place around the same time, they are platonic and goofy/very bro/sis vibe but the MC finally meets Choso and is smittttten.

Use of she/her pronouns as well as more feminine styled pet names, obvi this is a Reader X Choso smutty mess of a fic! Advanced apologies for any typos, I hope you find some enjoyment out of this piece💗

Oh and minors GTFO!! This ain’t for y’all 👏🏼

-✨-✨-✨-✨-✨-✨-✨-✨-✨-

The hot water soothed my aching muscles after an intense training sesh with Todo. I bopped around slightly to the beat of the ‘This is CORPSE’ spotify mix as I sudsed my sweat away. I thought I heard Todo’s voice from outside the door, I pulled back the shower curtain to pop my head out and keep my body shielded by the dark colored material.

“DO YOU NEED SOMETHING?”

More mumbles, the running shower and my loud music muffling whatever he was trying to tell me. I’m not particularly worried about Todo seeing me like this, he’s very open with his own body and we usually didn’t mind walking around in our undies around one another. It wasn’t a sexual thing, he’s not my type and I’m not his - to which looks suspicious to some people considering we live together but that’s not any of our concern.

“OPEN THE DOOR I CANT HEAR YOU DUMMY.”

A click and turn and Todo swung the door wide open, someone was behind him that I only recognized from photos.

“JESUS NOT ALL THE WAY?! WHAT DO YOU WANT??”

His eyes widened as he closed it only enough to have his head in the room. I saw his brother behind him hide his face before the door cut off his sight of me in the shower.

“My brother came to visit! We’re going to pick up dinner what would you like!”

I laughed and shook my head.

“That’s what you were trying to scream through the door about? God Todo, just get me whatever you get. Thanks bud.”

“OF COURSE! Enjoy your shower!”

He closed the door and I couldn’t help but laugh to myself, he was a big sweet dummy. I did love him like family, even if he wasn’t the brightest at times. My mind wandered to the blushing and hidden face that stood behind him…Todo had shown me many photos of both his brothers and Choso was super cute…he told me about how he’s kinda kept to himself and that they really only see one another when Yuji insists on it. Both of them were wrapped around the sweet pink haired boys finger, and I can’t blame them. Yuji was a good boy and always smiling, if anyone disliked him I’d be surprised.

I might have searched up Choso’s socials a bit after Todo and I moved in together…he was hanging up photos in his room and needed my help…I made sure to ask all the important questions. Choso was a drummer who smoked a fuck ton of weed and liked to watch anime, so in other words my perfect match. He wore dark red or purple eyeshadow a lot and liked to paint his nails…the Gerard Way type as I like to call it. I wasn’t too embarrassed about him seeing me after taking note of his reaction…it’d be nice to finally get to know him over dinner…test the waters a bit.

———

After getting out of the shower I half blow dried my curls so they looked somewhat neater than usual. Donning a little bit of mascara and smudging out my leftover liner, I threw on a white cropped tank top (that slightly showed my nipples and their piercings) and a pair of black leggings. I made my way down the hall towards Todo’s booming voice and the shuffling of bags.

“So what’s for dinner boys?”

I said as I toked on a blunt and approached them, a trail of smoke lining my previous path. I smiled sweetly at the two, Choso’s eyes widened and he grinned slightly as his cheeks turned pink. Todo of course gave me an ear to ear grin before explaining what he had ordered for us. I hovered over the counter and inhaled the delicious smells, humming in satisfaction. I took another hit from the blunt then held it out to Choso.

“Appetizer?”

He chuckled and took it from my fingers, after inhaling sexily through his mouth then nose he passed it back to me.

“Thanks..{Y/N} right?”

“That’s me.”

I winked at him as I inhaled deeply then passed it to Todo.

“You’re Choso right? It’s about time I met your other brother Todo.”

I playfully slapped at Todo’s arm, that was easily bigger than my head. He chuckled and passed the blunt across the counter to Choso before shoving me jokingly and making me stumble.

“You already kicked my ass earlier was that not enough you big oaf?”

A roar of a laughter erupted from Todo’s chest, he hooked his massive arm around my neck and pulled me to him lovingly like he would’ve Yuji. I clawed at his forearm, he was slightly choking me out.

“You’ve come so far in our spares, but you’ll never beat me little sis!”

I gagged slightly as I laughed.

“Out of everyone here I don’t want you to be the one choking me, let go!”

I jabbed my elbow into his toned gut as I struggled for freedom, not noticing how Choso reacted to my comment. He continued to laugh heartily and tussle my hair roughly before releasing me from his grasp. It wasn’t til then that we realized Choso choking on the weed smoke and poorly attempting to hide it.

“Are you okay baby brother?”

“D-Don’t…*cough cough*…don’t call me..*cough*..that I’m older…*cough cough*”

I grabbed a bottle of water from our fridge and came to Choso’s side to swap it out with the blunt. As he raised his head to drink the water he glanced at my concerned expression, his face was bright red from coughing so hard and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“You gonna make it?”

I chuckled and rubbed his shoulder gently. He choked on the water…

“Goodness brother!”

Todo ran up behind him, I saw the fear ignite in Choso’s eyes as he knew what was coming next.

“Todo maybe don’t-“

My concerns were voiced too late, Todo smacked him on the back a couple times trying to help. Choso coughed a few more times but surprisingly, it did help him stop choking.

“God you brute..”

Choso mumbled as he regained his breath. I couldn’t help but giggle, covering my face in the process as he glared at Todo. The blunt was out and our food was getting cold at this point so we all convened in the living room to chow down. I snagged the remote before Todo could, we always argued on what to watch so the rule was whoever touched the remote first got dibs. Naturally, I turned on one of my comfort shows -One Punch Man- to which Todo groaned once I hit play on the first episode of season one.

“You told me you liked this one why are you moaning and groaning?”

“It’s always a different cartoon.”

“It’s anime.”

Choso and I barked at him in unison, to which we looked to one another and grinned as we found a common interest. (That I definitely didn’t already know about psssh)

“What’s this one about again?”

I proceeded to stuff my face and overdump the lore of the series, complaining about how more isn’t animated because the manga is so wonderfully complex. Todo then compared himself to that of Saitama with godlike strength, I didn’t deny him only to get him to continue to the next episode to see what would happen next. Choso ate quietly and watched us converse, I would glance to him now and then with a ‘you know what I’m trying to say’ or ‘you understand this more I’m sure’. He would smile and nod as he took careful bites, slowly clearing his plate. After a handful of episodes our bellies were full, Todo collected our trash and took it out, leaving Choso and I alone.

“Wanna smoke? I don’t know what he’s told you, but I smoke a lot so if it bothers you I can go to my room.”

“Oh no it’s fine, I do too..”

His voice was deep, slightly raspy. It made me feel the butterflies fighting in my stomach as he spoke. I smiled, standing from the couch I watched the way his eyes trailed down my body.

“Cool, I’ll go roll up real quick then. Obviously make yourself at home, you know where the bathroom is already.”

I giggled as I spoke to him, turning on my heels to head to my room and retrieve the smokeables. I heard Todo reenter our home and have a much more quiet conversation with his brother. I tried to peer down the hall to hear them but was unsuccessful. I threw on a cropped sweatshirt jacket and lit the blunt between my lips. As I tip toed down the hall, still trying to listen to their hushed conversation, the floorboards played against me as I neared the entrance of the room. The creaking made the two men dart their attention backwards towards me, I strolled in casually and tossed a blunt in front of Choso and a joint in front of Todo.

“Talking shit about me while I’m rolling up for you two?”

Choso nervously shook his head no while Todo laughed.

“Yes little sis, I was telling him how much you stink after training.”

“Oh I won’t deny that, but it’s still not as bad as when you get back from sparing with Yuji.”

I chuckled back at him as I tossed him a lighter. I nodded to the back door, that lead to our small balcony patio, while toking heavily. Todo nodded and rose from his seat, motioning his brother to follow us. The back door would stick shut now and then from one time when Todo ran into it and fucked up the frame, so I always had to have him open it, I was not strong enough.

Upon Todo yanking the door open, his arm swung backwards aggressively and caused me to stumble…directly into Choso. His arms wrapped around my waist and torso as I fell, his fingers accidentally brushing over my chest. For a split second I felt a tinge of fire inside me.

“Shit..are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry for almost taking you out with me.”

“It wasn’t your fault, dumbass doesn’t know his own strength.”

We chuckled as I stumbled to my feet, Choso grabbed the dropped blunt and held it out to me with a smile. Todo hadn’t even realized what he’d done, proceeding to walk out onto our balcony and take a seat in his chair.

“You have got to be more aware of your surroundings dude.”

I spoke as I walked out and leaned against the railing to face him. He was puffing away on his tiny joint and already had some J-pop video pulled up on his phone. I scoffed and shook my head, turning to face the city and toke. Shit it went out. I went to turn around but Choso’s shoulder met mine as I spoke.

“Who has the-“

He was already holding the lighter out and wearing a beautiful smile.

“Oh, thanks ChoCho.”

“ChoCho?”

He giggled as he inhaled on his blunt, leaning over the railing beside me.

“I don’t know it just came out, that okay?”

“Yeah, thats fine. Sounds like something Yuji would say.”

He shook his head as his grin widened, I tried not to stare too long but he was very…pretty up close like this.

“He’s a sweetie, I love that kid.”

“You’ve met him?”

“He comes over a couple times a week, I school him in smash bros every time.”

He covered that gorgeous smile, laughing and turning over his shoulder to Todo before looking at me. His big brown eyes were shining with flecks of gold in the sunsets glow.

“Thanks for taking care of them..it’s not an easy task.”

“I think they’re good for me,”

I sighed, feeling the haziness settling in my eyes from the weed…maybe also from staring at the pretty emo boy.

“They remind me to not take shit so seriously all the time.”

We stared for a little too long in a sweet silence, I couldn’t help but take in all his features…I found my gaze darting to his lips and back to his eyes. He grinned, doing the same in response. Should I be doing this? That definitely ran through my head for a moment, but once he bit down on his bottom lip and looked out over the city again I felt myself pooling.

I reconnected my gaze to the horizon and puffed some more, my mind wandered to darker places..

“So what’s your favorite anime?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

I giggled, nodding in agreement.

“I’ve got time if you do.”

Spoken softly with a high smile, I peered to him from the corner of my eye. The blunt hung from his lips as he grinned, flashing me a similar look. We ended up getting into deep conversation about all our favorites and why they’re good in their own ways, all of which Todo was annoyed at. Mainly because he wanted us to play video games but we simply weren’t done discussing.

The sun had set, the chill of the night air began to nip at my skin sharply. I wasn’t sure when Todo had gone inside, but apparently we had been talking for a while. Thank god he left the door cracked at least, we trailed inside to escape the cold and to no surprise at all, Todo was passed out on the couch with some girly music mix playing semi-loudly on the tv. He could never hold his smoke, which is why I would usually give him a joint or a bowl instead of blunt or a dab. He must’ve been extra exhausted today.

We giggled at the sight, I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick picture, motioning a finger to my lips and a ‘shhh’ to Choso. He covered his mouth to muffle his laughter, I nodded my head for him to follow me down the hall. I led him to my room and closed the door behind us, finally letting out an audible laugh as I tossed my jacket onto my desk chair.

“I didn’t think he even smoked, I was surprised to see him with his own.”

“That is why he doesn’t often, he always passes out. I give him small stuff or a hit or two now and then when he’s in the mood for it.”

“Funny, that’s the first time I’ve ever smoked with him.”

“Have you not smoked with Yuji?”

“Yuji smokes?!”

“Oops.”

I covered my mouth as I stood with wide eyes.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that I guess.”

“I don’t care that he smokes, but I thought he’d at least come to me for it.”

“He brings his own over here and asks me to roll for him.”

“That little shit is stealing my weed.”

I erupted in laughter upon his realization, he shook his head and chuckled. I plopped down on my bed, the plush purple comforter poofing up slightly around me. I pat the spot next to be before reaching for the rolling tray and mason jar of weed on my nightstand. He gently took the seat beside me, our thighs a few inches apart, I got a whiff of his cologne when the blanket poofed around him. He smelled so fucking good…

He watched me quickly roll four more blunts and pass him one, dusting off my hands and putting the supplies back in their spot. He looked to me with a shocked expression.

“What?”

“You’re really good at that.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a man’s told me that.”

I chuckled as I lit my blunt and passed him the lighter, once the smoke cleared I noticed the pink staining his cheeks.

“Should I be worried about your boyfriend walking in or something?”

He held the flame up, the warm glow illuminating his chiseled features.

“If I had one maybe. Kinda impossible when they find out I live with that muscle head.”

“Why’s that?”

“No one believes we aren’t fucking. Been that way since school.”

“And…you two haven’t?..ever?”

“God no, did he say otherwise?”

He shook his head profusely, worried he’d made an accusation that could get Todo in trouble.

“No, no. He told me you were pretty kept to yourself aside from training with him.”

“He say anything else?”

I leaned closer, peering into his doe eyes to question him further. He sucked in the smoke sharply as his eyes bounced from my chest to my face.

“Um, not that comes to my head..nothing bad..”

He stuttered as I studied him, my lashes fluttering at him innocently.

“What did you ask him about me?”

I grinned, reading him like an open book. His face turned red as he inhaled, coughing slightly as he released the smoke cloud.

“Just, who you are..stuff you like..”

“But you did ask him about me?”

I giggled, he looked nervous.

“Yeah..that okay?”

“Only if it’s okay that I asked about you too, a long time ago though.”

His anxiety eased and expression softened back into a half smile. He nodded his yes as he toked.

“How long ago?”

“When we moved in, I saw a few pictures of the three of you and I don’t know…you piqued my interest.”

“Any reason why?”

Fuck, alright. If living with Todo has given me anything it was confidence so let’s see where this goes, be smooth. I inhaled slowly before putting out the blunt. Leaning back against my headboard, I stretched my legs over Choso’s lap. As I exhaled I grinned and tapped my chin in thought.

“Hmmmm….dark hair, bedroom eyes, nice chains..I’m a sucker for a musician. Really if you just looked in the mirror it explains my type pretty well.”

He was looking down as his hand on my knee and smiling, smoke trailing from his lips. I swayed my knee side to side to pull his attention to my gaze.

“What about you?…What’s your type?”

His eyes connected with mine, he smiled and leaned over my body to put his blunt in the ashtray on the nightstand. His body hovering over mine he brought his face an inch away from my lips.

“Seems like you already know..”

His voice was low and hushed, my heart was racing.

“Can I be honest?”

I barely spoke above a whisper, his eyes trailed slowly along my features as he nodded.

“I want you.”

“Good.”

He cut off his own hushed tone by pressing his lips to mine sensually. He bit at my bottom lip lightly as his tongue found its way to my own, the fire inside me building rapidly. I pulled at his shirt, trying to bring him closer. He took the hint and placed himself between my legs, pushing them to the side with his knee as he leaned into me. He was muscular, but not overdone like his brother. A strong arm hooked under my waist brought my hips to his, his other hand quickly latched onto my throat as we feverishly nipped and kissed at one another. As he squeezed his fingers around my throat and the cold metal of his rings stung my flesh, a small moan escaped my lips.

He released my lips and chuckled, the pieces of his hair not tied back framing his face seductively.

“So you weren’t kidding about that?”

He squeezed tighter and watched my eyes roll back and my mouth fall open, he hooked a finger in my mouth and pulled my gaze to his, still tightly gripping my jaw and chin; his hands were massive. I whimpered at his dominant motions, his eyes piercing into my darkest desires.

“You think we’ll get in trouble for this?”

His husky tone paced with heavy breaths make me desperate for everything he was willing to give me.

“S’worth it if we do.”

He smiled devilishly and plunged his finger further into my mouth, I obediently sucked and swirled my tongue around it as he pulled it out slowly. He groaned at my actions, I felt him begin to rut against me as he kissed and nipped along my neck and down my chest. He made heavenly sounds in between light licks that trailed to my breasts. He lightly tugged at the already low neckline of my shirt, he watched my plush chest spring from the tight top, admiring the jewelry that adorned pretty pink buds. His tongue teased at them as his fingers pinched lightly at my flesh, I tangled my fingers into his hair and pulled him closer, attempting to hush my moans.

“..so pretty baby…”

His low and seductive voice hummed against my skin, sending cold chills through my body. His hands and lips continued to travel further down, he reached the waistband of my leggings and bit down on my hip, sucking and licking in a feverish attempt to leave a mark. He leaned back to review his work, satisfied and smirking at the purple mark he’d left behind. He chuckled and kissed it once more, mumbling under his breath.

“..mine now..”

He peered up to me as he hooked his fingers into my waistband, I lifted my hips for him to shimmy them down, leaving me in a pair of purple silk panties. I leaned up to grab at his shirt and yank it over his broad shoulders, feeling a little too exposed and alone. I took my top off the rest of the way after and pulled his face to mine once more, kissing him in a heated need. I pushed him backwards and fumbled with his belt, our hands both rushed to remove his pants as I realized he wasn’t wearing any underwear. His thick cock slapped up against his toned abdomen, the noise caught my attention as I pulled away from his lips. My eyes grew wide, I felt my face run hot and the pool between my legs increase. He chuckled and flipped his hair away from his face.

“Fuck…”

“You still want to?..I can eat you out if it’s too much…”

I connected my gaze with his, concern lacing his expression. I couldn’t help but smile bashfully and crawl into his lap, attacking his neck with sloppy kisses and bites.

“I need you Choso..”

I whispered as I nipped at his earlobe and rolled my hips against him. He groaned as his hands met my ass, squeezing and pushing me into him more, feeling the wetness that had already soaked my silk panties. His head rested in the crook of my neck as his voice vibrated against my skin.

“..fuck baby…mmm..need you so fucking bad…been teasing me since I got here..”

I giggled as his words, leaning back to peer down at him in all his glory.

“I knew you liked it..”

I rolled my hips against his pulsating member, precum soaking into the fabric of my panties. He groaned and bit his lip, eyeing me up and down as his hands roamed my body.

“Course I did..you’re fucking hot..can’t believe he gets to be the one to see you all the time…”

“Come visit more..”

Oh god, was I even sure what I meant by that? I definitely just confirmed that this wouldn’t be a one time thing..

“Yeah?..might have to..”

His lips attached to my chest again, fingers trailing down between us to my sopping core. I whimpered as he dipped below the thin fabric and plunged two fingers inside me, twirling them around my fluttering walls. I bit down on my lip and furrowed my brows, trying not to make much noise but he worked small moans and whines out of me rapidly.

“..so wet for me already…fuck…such a good girl f’me..”

“..Choso-O-o…ahh…please…”

“..please what baby?..”

I could hear the smirk in his voice as he fueled the fire in my core.

“..please fuck me..god I need you inside me…please…”

“..cum for me first pretty..wanna see you come undone…”

His thumb rubbed against my clit, shooting waves of pleasure through my veins. I rutted into his hand and whimpered as he bit down on my chest, his other hand attached to my throat and squeezed tightly. I clenched around his fingers as he pumped in and out of me, I couldn’t keep ahold of the knot inside me any longer. My eyes rolled back as my hips shook, I squirted into his lap and hand as his motions kept pace to ride me through my high.

“..god yes baby…that’s it keep going..fuck that’s hot..”

I began to whimper and whine at the overstimulation, he milked my juices from me aggressively causing another orgasm to take over my senses.

“..shit I need to be inside you..”

He tossed me backwards onto the mattress, propping one of my legs up on his shoulder and aligning himself at my entrance. He held my other thigh out, displaying my soaking cunt for his view. He licked his lips and rubbed his long, thick cock up and down my dripping folds collecting my wetness. He slapped my clit with the tip of his member, I squirmed and squeaked in pleasure to his delight.

“You ready pretty baby?”

God he sounded so fucking sexy, his voice raspy and lust drunk.

“Yes..please Choso..”

He smirked and began pushing himself into me, steadying himself with a hand gripping my thigh. I felt him stretching me, the pain mixing with pleasure made my eyes gloss over. I gasped and tried to grip at the sheets at the overwhelming sensation. He pressed a hand to my lower stomach, feeling himself bottom out inside of me as I panted and whimpered. He held himself there, throwing his head back and letting me engulf his throbbing member.

“..fuck you’re so tight…”

He slowly began moving, pushing in and out slowly as I clenched around him. Moans spilled from my mouth as his pace increased. He rhythmically thrusted into me, hair falling into his face as his mouth hung agape panting for air. Whimpers and low moans began to drip from his kiss swollen lips as he mumbled dirty praises.

“..oh my god baby…feels so fucking good..mmm…taking me so well..nnggh..”

“..cho-ooss-ssoo…mmmmm…”

I stuttered through his thrusts, his pace increasing rapidly as he chased his high.

“..you’re so fucking pretty…letting me stretch you out like this…mmmm…such a perfect little pussy..”

I have never been fucked like this..he was so vocal and showering me in filthy praise..all while pounding into my sweet spot so perfectly…everything about him was making me writhe in pleasure.

A hand attached to my throat while the other bruised perfect fingertips into my thigh, he was filling me up relentlessly. His grip was much rougher this time, the metal of his rings scraping against my skin as he choked me harder, I felt myself clenching around him tightly; my end nearing.

“..you love that don’t you baby?…I can feel how close you’re getting for me..”

“…s-so b-big..unngg…ch-chos…yes…yes…”

“..awe you’re taking me s’good pretty baby..c’mon you can handle a little more..we’re just getting started..”

He pumped into me furiously, my senses were fucked as my eyes rolled into the back of my head and I screamed in pleasure. His large hand quickly covered my mouth, he leaned down, my thigh now squished against my chest giving him a deeper angle as his pace slowed.

“..shhh..don’t wanna get us caught do you baby?…want me to fill you up right?”

I nodded profusely, he removed his hand and gripped my jaw tightly, an evil smile plastered across his face. Holy fuck he’s so hot…

“..I’ll make you scream my name next time I promise…bite..”

He placed his thumb in my mouth as he spoke, I gazed at him with a fucked out expression and did as he said. He had me in the palm of his hand, melted and ready to bend to his will. His paced steadily increased at the new angle, I wasn’t able to form words as my body quaked beneath him, another orgasm gushing from me. His darkness took over as he relentlessly pounded into me, my legs shook as I bit down harshly on his thumb, we were being drenched and I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. His own whimpers and moans became louder and strained as he spoke.

“…oh fuck…yeah baby just like that…ugnnh…fuck fuck…s’fucking wet…all f’me…hmmm…”

His arms wrapped around me, his chains dragging and bouncing across my chest as he rutted into me, face buried in my neck peppering sloppy kisses and rough bites.

“..pretty girl…mmm….gonna make you mine baby…”

I clenched around him, my legs going numb at the overstimulation.

“…fuck that feels so good…cum on my cock again baby girl…mmmm…make a mess for me…”

He pulled my hands up, pinning them to the pillows with one hand while the other trailed between us and rubbed skilled circles on my clit. I gasped and whimpered at his touch, my body shaking again. I could feel him throbbing inside of me as his thrusts became rushed and sloppy, I clenched around his pulsating cock, cumming for the fourth time.

“..mmmmm that’s my girl…”

He moaned as his brows furrowed and his breaths became sharp, soft whimpers escaping his lips.

“..Ch-chosoo…feels s’good..ah!..”

“..oh god baby I’m..fuck fuck….ohhhh!”

His steady pace became staggered as he pumped thick hot ropes along my walls, he whined and moaned as his hips twitched against me riding out his high. He slowed and collapsed on top of me, both of us sweaty and covered in cum. His strong arms wrapped around my petite form and held me tight as his placed gentle kisses along my chest trying to catch his breath.

“So…can I visit again soon..”

I giggled at his innocent mumblings, sounding much softer and bashful compared to a few moments ago. He peered up to meet my gaze questioningly.

“I wouldn’t mind, how long you give it before he finds out?”

“Surely a while, he’s not that smart. Long as you stay quiet.”

I pulled his grin to mine, tangling our lips together once more softly. He hummed into the kiss, his hand coming to cup my cheek and deepen the sensual moment.

“You make it hard to stay quiet.”

He chuckled and thrusted into me once more, causing me to moan, before pulling out of me completely. We both gasped and whined at the lack of sensation, taking careful breaths to regain our senses.

He rose to his knees, placing my thighs on either side of him as he began massaging my tender muscles and taking full view of the mess he’d made of me. He smirked and bit at his bottom lip.

“You’re so beautiful baby…”

I blushed at his sweet actions and gentle tone, he had flipped a switch quickly and the butterflies swarmed once more within me.

Once we were cleaned up, (as much as we could without a shower) we clothed ourselves and ripped the soaked comforter off my bed to toss in the wash later. He leaned back on the bed, I lit a blunt and crawled on top of him, placing it between his lips. He lifted the bottom of my baggy t shirt and toyed lazily with the waistband of my fresh panties as he inhaled and stared back at me.

“What are you thinking about?”

He slightly furrowed his brows at my love struck expression as he passed the blunt back to me.

“How pretty you are..how big your cock is…”

I giggled and toked away, thick clouds rising from my lips. He smiled and lightly smacked my ass.

“S’all yours babygirl, whenever you want me.”

“Whenever I want?”

“Anything for my pretty girl, whenever she wants.”

I put the blunt between his lips and peppered kisses down his neck, we both would have some marks to cover up this week..

“I like the way that sounds…”

“Good.”

———

We smoked the other two blunts and talked before realizing how late it had gotten…I offered for him to stay and sneak out to the couch, forgetting that Todo had fallen asleep there. Around 5am when our eyes got heavy, we exchanged a few last kisses and sweet words before tiptoeing out to the living room. As we came out the hallway entrance, the goddamned floorboards creaked again. A dim light was on in the kitchen, barely illuminating the towering form we both knew well. *flick* The overhead light came on, our heads snapped to the side in unison…caught. Todo was in his workout gear stirring a cup of tea and staring at us, an eyebrow raised and smirk growing. I sighed and dropped my shoulders, covering my face in embarrassment and bracing myself. Todo chuckled lightly before sipping his tea, letting us be tortured by this awkward silence for a few more moments..

“Go to bed. We have training in a few hours.”

I looked to Choso, sad I couldn’t kiss him one last time. He peered back to me with a similar expression, he lightly touched my hand as he turned towards the front door and took a step.

“Both of you.”

“What?”

Choso stopped and looked to me then his brother, confused.

“You should stay brother, it’s dangerous to drive after staying up so late.”

Todo sipped his tea casually, peering into us innocently. I couldn’t help but let a smile creep in, I extended my hand out to Choso. He looked a bit scared to take it, but did it anyways, cautiously eyeing down his brother.

“Thanks Todo..”

I mumbled as I began to pull Choso back down the hall.

“Keep it down…and use protection!”

Choso and I giggled and scoffed as Todo’s voice echoed down the hall.

-✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨—✨-

Okie dokie, hope y’all enjoyed😉❤️‍🔥

[whimsywhomp]

The New Guy

Chapter 1 - Mini Blurb

This really got away from me. It was only supposed to be like 2000 words max. ;-; Also Let Down + Choir by Radiohead played the entire time I wrote this so that's the headspace I was in while writing this XD

I do recommend clicking the AO3 link for this one when you finish reading. I put some end notes over there that will explain something that happens.

Summary: Wow! You bought something forever ago and never expected it to come in. It's here now though!

You only hope everyone gets along. What could go wrong introducing a new object to the chaos that is your house?

Read it on AO3 if you’d rather! :D

Ding Dong

You look up from the draft you and Lyric had been reading over, eyes wide in surprise. You didn’t have any visitors planned after all. Shooting Lyric an apologetic grin, you promise to finish this up tomorrow before taking the Dateviators off and pocketing them. 

At the door, the mailman greets you with a quick smile before handing you a clipboard to sign. By his feet is a large box covered in FRAGILE stickers. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion as you sign. You don’t recall ordering anything recently. The mailman bids you a good day though and you drag the large, but surprisingly light, box inside. It’s tall and thin and only serves to confuse you further until you take a look at the shipping label.

Reading ‘coolswords4u.com’ the memory suddenly rushes into your mind. You’d made an impulse buy about a year ago. A kickass katana had seemed reasonably priced on the website and you had jumped at the opportunity to own a sword. When it hadn’t come in the next 6 months, you figured you had been scammed and promptly forgot about it.

Here it was though! Nearly a year later! Weird.

Excited now, you quickly drag the box to the living room and start opening it. When you get the box open, you’re greeted with a wooden case with a glass window on the door. Inside the case lies the katana you’d bought. At the sight of it, the question pops into your mind. Will the Dateviators transform this?

It shines in the afternoon light. There’s not a fingerprint or smudge on it. You open the case and carefully lift the sword. It's heavy enough to feel like real metal but you're no sword expert. The longer you look at it and handle it though, the more you realize why it was so reasonably priced. The blade is completely straight and the handle is wrapped in cheap satin rather than leather. When you carefully touch the edge, it feels quite dull against your skin. Another look in the box shows no certificate either.

You shrug. It’s not like you expected to get a real sword at such a cheap price. 

Better than a real one though, you have a new friend in hand. Grinning ear to ear, you set it down in the case and bring your Dateviators back out. Your heart beats fast as you kneel on the carpet and shoot those oh so cool laser beams at the katana.

Where the case sits a figure pops forth in a cloud of sparkly pink smoke. You cough as you breathe it in, waving it away and out of your face. Standing there, to your surprise, is a large masculine figure. Thick black frames sit on their face while the beginnings of a beard grow along their round jaw. A red bandana is tied around their head. They’re wearing what seems to be a costume from an anime that had aired when you were younger. Something related to martial arts? You don’t quite recall. On their feet are a pair of thick white socks and pink slippers.

The figure’s glasses block their eyes as the light shines on them. They sniff and make an unpleasant face at you. Quickly you stand as they look around, crossing their arms.

Before you can say anything, they chuckle and shove their glasses further up their nose. “So this is where highly trained swordsmen are sent nowadays. Pathetic.” His voice is a bit nasally and you feel compelled to offer him a tissue.

Your eyebrows rise as his gaze returns to you. “You,” he says, “while my presence can leave one frozen in awe, keep your mouth closed.”

Your jaw snaps shut. You hadn’t even realized it had fallen open. You shake your head, clearing your surprise, and offer a hand out to him. “Uh, hi! Nice to meet you. Welcome to my home.”

He scoffs, slapping your hand away. “My true name is too powerful to be heard by mortal ears but I shall give you a less overwhelming stand in as a customary acknowledgement.” He steps back, unsheathing a real sword you hadn’t noticed until now. With it, he strikes a pose similar to one a ship captain would make in a moment of victory, sword raised high in the air until it touched the ceiling. Oh, Celia was not going to like that. Have you mentioned how large this guy is? He might be as tall as Dorian or Freddy. “You may call me… Bladen.”

Your phone beeps as the data on Bladen enters your catalog app.

You open your mouth to say something but he stops you again. 

“Begone now! I must familiarize myself with this new terrain. Good day!” Aaaaand, he’s gone. In a cloud of smoke, no less.

You blink, stunned at the interaction. Bladen was certainly… spirited. You can’t help but laugh a bit at the thought of the others meeting him. You do hope everyone gets along though. You start cleaning up the cardboard mess and set the sword on the couch for now. You’re not really sure where you’re going to set it up yet. Might as well display it since it's here now though. Maybe you could ask Bladen tomorrow and see if he had a preference.

The Dateviators are out of charge for now and the sun is setting, so you whip up some dinner and head to bed, wondering about the newbie.

When you wake up, there’s an anxious energy in the air. You don’t know how to explain it but it feels like being in a room full of people about to be given bad news. The comparison makes your eyes widen as you recall Bladen. 

You pluck the Dateviators off the bedside table and put them on. Before you can even try to awaken someone, Skylar is there, looking anxious and poorly hiding it behind a too wide smile.

“Hiiii! Good morning,” she says, side eyeing the bedroom door the entire time.

“G-Good morning, Skylar,” you stutter, caught off guard at her sudden presence. “Is… Is everything okay?”

She makes a face that worries you. “Welllll, it's… it’s about our new friend, Bladen. It seems he isn’t meshing with everyone very well. He’s a bit… uh…?”

“Much!” Phoenicia shouts, appearing next to Skylar, hands on her hips and a disgruntled look on her face. “In fact, he’s too much! I’ve been getting nonstop texts about him all night from everyone!”

“Everyone?” You ask nervously. You never expected one object to cause so much negativity in the house.

“Well, mostly everyone. At least a majority of the house,” she corrects, a bit more calm as she stands up straight instead of looming over you.

You rub the back of your head, frowning at the revelation. “I knew he was a bit eccentric but I didn’t think he’d have this kind of reaction. What’s he doing? He’s not… He’s not hurting anyone is he?”

Skylar quickly shook her head. “No, no. Everyone’s okay. He’s just… ruffling a lot of feathers. He’s a bit rude is all.”

“Rude in the not cute way,” Phoenicia put in. “See, us objects have an understanding. We know we all live in the house together and try to keep some peace. He,” She pointed towards the door, teeth grit as she enunciated the word, “doesn’t care about keeping any peace. We have our fights sure, but we try to keep it contained to as few others as possible. That toy sword has gone stomping through every room and declaring ownership of it. I’d swear he was trying to start a fight.”

“Can you guys… hurt each other?” You ask hesitantly. 

Skylar’s face grows uncomfortable at the question. Eventually, she nods. “Yes, we can. It isn’t usually a problem though. Like Phoenicia said, we try to keep the peace. Things don’t get violent typically.”

Something like guilt is starting to grow in your chest. You hadn’t considered that you’d need to be careful of who you brought into the house. After seeing things like Nightmare and Shadowl0rd, caution had kind of been thrown to the wind.

You swallow thickly, looking up at Skylar and Phoenicia. “I’m so sorry guys. Do I need to take him out of the house?”

The question made Skylar’s eyebrows practically jump off her face.

“No!”

“Yes!”

They spoke at the same time, looking at each other in surprise.

“Girl, what-”

“Maybe he’s just having a tough time settling in,” Skylar interrupted. She fixed a smile on her face though her eyebrows seemed stuck in that pinched look. “It's a bit drastic to kick him to the curb already, isn’t it? Nothing’s actually happened yet.”

After a moment, you nod along in agreement. If it was just arguing, that did seem drastic. And… well you didn’t really know what to do with a katana if you weren’t keeping it. Throwing it away seemed like a waste and a bit… cruel? You weren’t sure how that worked.

“Let’s just give it another few days. He might just be nervous.”

Phoenicia doesn’t look convinced but Skylar’s smile is a little more real now.

“You’re the human, so we’ll do it your way, but I recommend you keep an eye on that one.” Phoenicia said before disappearing.

“Sorry to wake you up with this. I just wanted you to be aware of it in case anyone seemed… off kilter today. Go have some breakfast, I’m sure everything’s gonna be okay,” she said, seeming more sure now. She was gone then too.

You sigh when you’re alone. Gosh, you hope this doesn’t go poorly. You’d hate to judge Bladen too fast. He did have a real sword though… You shake your head. Nope! You’re going to wake up a little more before you dwell too much on this.

Jumping out of bed, you rush to put your clothes on and head downstairs, Dateviators, notably, off. Yet that tension in the air remains no matter what room you’re in. You even pop into the laundry closet just to check. You can almost hear Hoove huffing in unhappiness. You fear this is something you’re going to have to step in and handle. Maybe you should talk to Celia?

You know someone you’d like to get some input from. If Bladen is causing issues, you suspect Dorian would be the one handling them. He’s so level headed, you feel like his judgement of the situation would be best. And, well, you are friends. You feel more comfortable talking to him over the mayor of your house.

You put your plate in the sink and head over to the living room to pinpoint which Dorian would be best to speak to. Front Dorian may be the closest but he’s usually more focused on what’s going on outside. Office Dorian might be better for-

The katana is not on the couch anymore.

Okayyyy… That’s not… completely unusual. Bobby could move around. Surely the others could as well to some extent.

Still you can’t help but feel like you're in a ghost movie now. You’ve got a rouge, possibly hostile katana around here somewhere. Now you definitely want to talk to Dorian, for at least the added protection of having eyes on you.

You put the Dateviators on and rush over to office Dorian, awakening him and feeling a bit like Skylar earlier. After all, there might not be anything wrong and you don’t want Dorian to think you’re overreacting.

“You!” he shouts as soon as he pops up.

Oh great. You’ve really done it now.

“How am I supposed to do my job if you’re gonna go round letting everyone off the street in here? There’s not been this much trouble since the Breaker Box opened.”

You raise your hands in defense, though your eyes are pulled to Dorian’s unkempt hair. This must be serious if he isn’t as immaculate as usual. “Hey, I didn’t know there was going to be any problems!”

Dorian sputters and it's so completely out of character you almost let a laugh escape. “Anyone new should be vetted by me first. That sword of yours has been through every room in the house causing trouble.”

“So I’ve heard,” you grumble. Dorian quirks an eyebrow at you, making you let out a clearly fake chuckle. “Eheh, uh, I actually wanted to ask you about Bladen. Where is he? I left him on the couch but he’s gone.”

Dorian’s jaw clenches at the words. “He’s been all over. Right now…” He trails off, shutting his eyes for a moment. “...he’s in the gymnasium starting another argument.” His eyes snap open. “Aw hell, he’s starting a fight. A real one.”

“What?!” Your eyes snap up to the top of the stairs. 

You start to run up there but Dorian shouts, “Wait!”

You pause, looking at him in alarm. You’ve never heard him raise his voice before.

He looks flustered as well, eyes wide and a slight flush on his cheeks. “I don’t think you should go up there. With those on, he could hurt you. Let the Dorians up there handle it.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment. You’re honestly touched that he cares, though maybe you shouldn’t be since he is in charge of everyone’s safety.

“I brought him here,” you say. “The least I could do is go make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone.”

Before Dorian can try to convince you, you race up the stairs. The sounds of a dispute are heard more clearly as you get closer even without activating anything. You push the door open and see the room has changed. It’s expanded, like when you went into the Breaker Box but the corners of the room are still distantly defined. The room almost looks like its turning into a dusty sparring pit. You swear you can make out the impression of trees and the sky in the furthest corner from the door. In the corner closest to the closet, one Dorian lies crumpled in a heap on the floor. If you had to guess, you’d say it was Closet Dorian. Bathroom Dorian is shuffling the other dateables out of the room though Kristof is protesting. 

As soon as you find Gym Dorian in the center of the room, you watch him bring his arm up to block a hit aimed at his head from the flat of Bladen’s own katana. The hit is strong enough that Dorian grunts with the force of it, stumbling slightly to the side.

“Bladen!” you shout. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”

Gym Dorian jolts at your voice, looking back at you with shock on his face. “What are you doing up here? Get out! Or take those damned glasses off!”

They’re out of charge. If you take them off now, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see what happened. You can’t do that.

You open your mouth to speak but instead a yelp comes out as Bladen strikes again, this time with the blade’s edge aimed right at Dorian’s side. It's so fast, Dorian puts his arm down to block it again, having no time to dodge out of the way. The force of the swing pushes Dorian and as he’s shoved to the side, you see a red stain on the blade. 

Your eyes go wide.

How can it cut? The blade is dull!

Dorian, gripping his bleeding arm, moves to get up, face dark with anger. Bladen’s leg swipes out in a sweeping motion, catching the back of Dorian’s knee and sending him right back down in a cloud of dust. It stuns Dorian long enough for Bladen to raise the katana over his head to bring down on him.

“I am the chosen one!” He shouts, voice twisted with rage.

“No!” You shout, rushing forward and slamming your shoulder as hard into Bladen’s sternum as you can. You hear an oof from him as you manage to somewhat wind him. He’s large though and absorbs your hit even when you’d given it your all. A meaty hand grabs the back of your shirt and practically throws you across the room until you hit the far wall with a heavy thunk. What you’d tried to do, Bladen does much better. You gasp for breath, falling to your knees as your shoulder aches and the reality of the situation truly hits you. You never expected Bladen to be so strong. You never expected him to hurt you.

The thunk makes Dorian whirl around to the noise. His eyes widen as he sees you fall. 

Bladen raises his katana again but Dorian is ready this time. As it comes down, Dorian rolls out of the way, hopping up to his feet quickly. He brings a fist back and decks Bladen as hard as he can in the face. Bladen cries out and stumbles back, hitting one of the large log pillars that have appeared in the dust circle. He brings a hand up to his throbbing, bleeding nose then looks up at Dorian with a furious glare. Dorian hisses in pain clutching his arm tighter since he’d had to use his cut arm for the punch. Blood is seeping from between his fingers and soaking into his sleeve. 

Just as you’re getting ready to get back up and try to at least be a distraction, Bathroom Dorian returns, teeth grit and eyes burning with fury. He rushes up to Gym Dorian’s side and grabs his shoulder. His entire body glows bright for a second then disappears. 

For a moment, you wonder what happened but as Gym Dorian takes his hand off his arm, you see the cut has closed some, bleeding significantly less now. Had they fused? When Bladen screams in rage, you decide it's not the time to dwell on it.

“You dare to lay a hand on me? Blademaster of the Nine Realms?” He snarls. What is he talking about? You don’t know if that’s a real thing or part of his character. In Bladen’s anger, he’s become faster. There’s no grandeur in his attacks now as he swipes his katana at Dorian again. Dorian dodges away, backing up until he’s stopping right in front of you. 

“Get out of here,” he growls. “This room is unstable now.” You nod weakly though he isn’t looking at you.

Bladen pushes himself off the wall towards the two of you. Dorian reaches back and grabs your arm, shoving you out of the way as he brings the other up to brace. The impact is loud as their combined weight makes the wall groan. You’re shocked Wallace hasn’t appeared with all the damage to his coveted walls. Though maybe he isn’t aware considering how far the room has warped. 

You grunt as you land in the doorway out to the hall but you can’t bring yourself to leave. Your vision focuses on the two of them. Dorian had managed to keep Bladen from crushing him entirely though his braced arms are nearly touching his face as Bladen continues to press down. 

Dorian snarls, tenses up, and gives one big shove, bracing against the wall to get Bladen off him. Bladen stumbles back but recovers quickly. The katana is raised again and suddenly there’s a flurry of movement as Bladen swipes wildly. Dorian ducks and dodges as best he can but this room isn’t very big. It’s only a matter of time before Bladen gets another hit in. 

Movement in the corner catches your attention though. Closet Dorian groans, shakily beginning to sit up as he clutches his head. His palm comes away red with blood. His face is pained and ever so slightly dazed. He coughs as the dust gets into his mouth. Gym Dorian is pushed into the closet door. His feet nearly trample the Dorian on the floor but he quickly ducks to the side, trying to get behind Bladen.

“Oi! Quit your fancy dancing!” He snaps, drawing Bladen’s attention away from this side of the room.

At Gym Dorian’s words, Closet Dorian manages to lift his head and sees the fighting. His efforts to get up are doubled, teeth grit as he tries to focus. 

“No,” you hiss at him. He jumps, head snapping up to look at you. Pieces of his hair are falling out of their neat styling and into his eyes. Down the right side of his face is a huge smear of blood, making him squint his eye on that side. “You’ll get hurt. You’re… You’re head-”

“You… shouldn’t be… here.” Closet Dorian coughs out. He clutches his head again. “S’not… It’s not safe. Go.” His other hand braces against the wall as he stands fully. 

Both of you look when Gym Dorian shouts again. He’s back on the ground. You can’t see if he’s been cut again before he brings his foot up and slams it into Bladen’s knee. As Bladen cries out, Dorian rolls to the side and gets back on his feet. His right leg gives for a second and that’s how you spot the slash just above his knee. 

Bladen has his back to the two of you as he approaches Gym Dorian. He’s breathing hard now and has a noticeable limp, yet his stance looks steady. How strong is this guy? He’s a knock off sword! How can he hold his own so well against Dorian?

Closet Dorian sees the opportunity but as soon as he lets go of the wall, he nearly falls again. He growls and quickly shoves himself back to his feet, each step a little more confident than the last. You can only watch as anxiety creeps up your back. If this went poorly, would the other Dorians come? What was Bladen’s goal here?

Your breath feels caught in your throat as Bladen lunges at Gym Dorian, katana aimed at the bouncer’s weak leg. Closet Dorian had found his footing though and started to sprint. Seeing Dorian move so quickly is jarring. For a door, he’s fast. Closet Dorian closes the distance in seconds and jumps on Bladen’s back, hooking one arm around his throat and squeezing as he leans back. Gym Dorian shoots forward and reels back an arm before punching as hard as he can into Bladen’s temple. 

Bladen thrashes in Dorian’s grip screeching curses and tanking the punch like a sandbag. For a moment, you fear Bladen is somehow invincible. But no, three punches from Gym Dorian and the lack of air thanks to Closet Dorian is what it takes for the katana to fall from his hand. His eyes roll up and he goes limp, putting all his weight on the still unsteady Closet Dorian. 

Closet Dorian grunts as he loosens his grip, nearly going down with Bladen. Gym Dorian is there though, putting the concussed Dorian’s arm over his shoulders. Both are breathing hard and are covered in dust. With Bladen unconscious though, the room begins to shrink back down to its original state. Even the dust starts to disappear. 

As it does and the three of them get closer again, you realize they need medical attention. You stand, ready to get Farya before remembering you can’t even call for her. You’re afraid even straying a foot from the room will make the Dateviators disconnect. 

You stare at Bladen’s body lying on the now mostly wooden floor and feel your eyes sting. This was all your fault. And now, you can’t even get help for the two Dorian’s that look like they’re about to fall over themselves. Now isn’t the time to cry or throw your pity party though. Surely there’s something you can do to help and sobbing your eyes out isn’t going to be it.

Gym Dorian helps Closet Dorian sit down against the wall by the door. You can see much better now that Closet Dorian is barely keeping his eyes open. He blinks heavy and slow. His body keeps tilting forward yet before he falls he jerks back upright. Gym Dorian is doing his best to hide the limp he’s got. The gash on his leg is deep. You’re shocked he can walk at all but he does. He doesn’t go far though, just to the doorframe you’re still standing in. 

“Hey, do us… a favor and… call Farya,” he says between heavy breaths. As he speaks, you see bedroom Dorian appear. The Dateviators are so weak though he looks more like a ghost. He nods and hurries downstairs. 

There’s a bruise forming on Gym Dorian’s cheekbone, you notice as he turns to look at you. 

He gently grabs your shoulder. When he speaks again his voice is soft and steady. “We’re alright, love. Take those off. You don’t need to see this anymore.”

His calm only makes you feel worse. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. You give Bladen one more look and take the Dateviators off. 

Immediately a headache is pounding behind your eyes. You think you recall Skylar mentioning something about the Dateviators using alternative fuel sources if the battery was strained. You wonder if that’s what this is. You push the pain aside though and turn to look at the katana laying in the middle of the room. It's sitting innocently in its case, no blood, no dust, not even a fingerprint.

Quickly you rush over and pick it up, storming down the stairs. You just barely remember to leave the Dateviators inside before walking to the sidewalk and placing the katana on the curb. You’re not sure if there’s a property line rule that keeps Bladen from returning but just in case, you make sure the case is sitting in the gutter. A car wouldn’t run it over but maybe someone else could take it. You certainly don’t want it anymore.

You manage to walk back inside, pick up the Dateviators, and climb up the stairs before one glance at the open door to the gym makes you sob. Your face crumples and your chest aches as you run into your room and collapse on your bed.  

You’re so sorry. You never wanted anyone to get hurt. You’d never imagined this kind of thing would happen.

And Dorian. He hadn’t even been angry with you. You wish he had been. Maybe if he had yelled or cursed at you, some of his pain could be taken away. You’d do anything to take his pain away.

Your bones feel as if they’ve disappeared as you remain curled up in your bed, sobbing until the sun finally sets. Your eyes ache and your shoulder has finally begun to throb from hitting the wall. 

You’re so tired, you don’t even notice when you fall asleep. 

The next week, you avoid the Dateviators. They stay safely tucked in your bedside table with Ben-Hwa. The very thought of facing any of them, especially Dorian or Phoenicia, fills you with so much shame. Even leaving your room, knowing the eyes of everything in your home could be staring at you, feels impossible. You manage it when you need to eat though. Today you stood in front of the door to the gym. It still hangs open. You’ve been unable to bring yourself to touch it at all, much less close it. You managed to face it though and you finally apologized. Then you apologized again, raising your voice so Closet Dorian knows you’re talking to him. And you apologize to everyone else in the room who might have been scared or hurt.

And then you return to your bed. You cry again.

Another week goes by. Slowly, you eat more. You shower, comb your hair, and get dressed. Your shoulder doesn’t ache anymore. The guilt feels manageable now. You think you’re ready to face them. To face the consequences of your actions. Yet, as you open that bedside drawer, your hand shakes. 

You miss them. You’ve known them for such a short time but you’ve grown attached fast. If they hate you now for your recklessness, you don’t know what you’ll do. This is your home. Your sanctuary. What will you do knowing everything in it hates you?

You take a breath. You’ve hidden away for long enough. Time to face the music.

You pick up the Dateviators and slowly put them on your face. You blink as you adjust to the hue change through the lenses. You can’t help but brace, waiting for an angry face to appear and yell at you but all is quiet.

Who should you talk to first? 

You already know the answer.

Standing, you make the trek to the door across from your room. You take a trembling breath and awaken Dorian. You're staring at the floor, you realize when you see his ornate leather shoes appear.

Slowly, you look up and-

There he is. No bruises, no blood. His hair is neat and tidy. His expression, though, is just as guarded as usual.

“Dorian, I-I’m so sor-”

You’re cut off as a pair of arms pull you into a solid chest. Gently, they embrace you. You stare wide eyed into the white fabric of Dorian’s shirt.

“None of that now, love.”

The soft timbre of his voice makes your throat tight. All of a sudden, your arms are hugging him back as you hiccup while trying to choke down a sob.

“I-I’m so glad you’re okay. I never- I didn’t know-”

“Hush now, everything’s alright.”

And you believe him.

[jadewolf22]

Last Dance of the Night

Modern!AU Vi x Caitlyn

Warnings: Suggestive themes, pole dancing, strong language, jealous Vi, possessive Vi, lap dancing, etc.

Summary: Vi loves watching her girlfriend work. The problem is, she doesn’t like other people watching her girl.

A/n: Ngl, when I saw that Caitvi had won the poll, I was a little nervous. It’s not that I don’t love the ship, it’s just not something that I, in particular, am super invested in. I hope I didn't disappoint those who’d voted for Caitvi with this fic. I promise, I tried my best.

Word Count: 1,162 words

Vi had seen a lot of shit working club security. Fights. Drunken confessions. Patrons trying to sneak in flasks or fake IDs or sometimes a whole ass animal (the snake incident still haunted her).

But none of it made her blood boil quite like watching Caitlyn strut onstage in six-inch heels and a midnight blue velvet set, hair swept up, eyes sharp, every line of her body fluid and controlled — and knowing every bastard in the room was drinking it in like water in a drought.

It wasn’t that Vi didn’t trust her. She did. With everything.

But it was hard to sit still when half the room was staring at Caitlyn like they could buy a piece of her.

She kept her hands folded behind her back near the bar, eyes locked on the stage. Technically, she was watching the crowd — that’s what she told herself. Watching for hands that strayed too close to the stage’s edge, for camera phones lifted too high, for anyone who forgot the rules.

But really, she was watching Caitlyn.

The set was sultry tonight. Slow, teasing, deliberate. Vi could read her like sheet music — the twist of her lips meant she was feeling it, the deliberate pacing said she was in control. The song, some dark, throbbing remix Vi barely heard over her heartbeat, dragged on as Caitlyn wrapped a long leg around the pole and arched back, hair falling like ink over pale shoulders.

Some asshole in the front row groaned audibly. Another one reached for his drink and missed the table entirely.

Vi clenched her jaw so hard she felt it click.

The set ended with a slow, graceful dismount and a smirk thrown over Caitlyn’s shoulder as she walked backstage, hips swaying with just enough exaggeration to make Vi twitch. The lights dimmed. Applause swelled. Money rained.

Vi didn’t move. Not until the next dancer came out.

Only then did she exhale and shift her stance, dragging a hand down her face.

“You good?” another bouncer asked as he passed.

Vi grunted. “Peachy.”

Caitlyn was waiting for her at the exit after closing. Hair now down, makeup smudged just enough to be human again, and one of Vi’s old hoodies thrown over her barely-there stagewear.

She always looked best like this — raw, real, hers.

“Hey, tough girl,” Caitlyn greeted, pressing a kiss to her cheek as they stepped out into the cool night air.

Vi slid an arm around her waist. “Hey.”

They didn’t say much on the ride home. They rarely did. The routine was familiar. Long shifts, late nights, streetlights blurring against the windows.

But Vi’s grip on the steering wheel was tight. Her jaw still hadn’t unclenched. She could feel Caitlyn glance at her a few times, but she didn’t say anything until they were inside the apartment.

“You’re still tense,” Caitlyn said quietly, setting her bag down and stretching her arms over her head. “You okay?”

Vi hesitated at the door before locking it. “Just tired.”

Caitlyn raised a brow. “Mm.”

Vi turned away, heading to the kitchen for water. “Long shift.”

Another pause. Then the sound of bare feet on hardwood.

“I saw you watching me tonight.”

Vi froze with the fridge door open.

“Didn’t know you were paying that much attention to the stage,” Caitlyn continued, voice teasing now. “You’re usually better at pretending.”

Vi shut the fridge and turned.

“I wasn’t pretending,” she muttered.

Caitlyn crossed the room slowly. Purposefully. Like she did onstage — like every step was calculated.

Vi hated that she noticed. Hated that her heartbeat kicked up like it had no damn self-control.

Caitlyn leaned on the counter beside her, head tilted. “Something bothering you, babe?”

Vi stared down at the water in her hands like it held answers. It didn’t.

“You know I hate watching them look at you like that,” she said finally. “Like they’ve got a shot.”

Caitlyn’s smile curled at the corners. Not mocking — fond. Dangerous.

“They don’t,” she said simply.

“Yeah, I know,” Vi snapped. “But that doesn’t stop them from fucking trying.”

Caitlyn stepped closer.

“They don’t know the things I let you do to me when we get home.”

Vi’s breath caught.

Caitlyn reached up and tugged gently at the hoodie string near Vi’s throat. “You’re mine. I’m yours. The rest is theater.”

Vi couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Still doesn’t make it easy,” she muttered.

Caitlyn let the silence stretch.

Then, softly: “Do you want a private show?”

Vi looked up. “What?”

Caitlyn was already walking backward toward the living room, stripping off the hoodie as she went, revealing the midnight blue velvet underneath — still immaculate.

“I said,” Caitlyn repeated, “do you want a private show?”

Vi’s throat went dry.

Caitlyn flicked on the speaker in the corner and scrolled through her phone. The opening chords of something slow and filthy started to bleed through the room.

Then Caitlyn turned — and started to move.

There was no stage, no crowd, no pole.

Just Caitlyn — and Vi.

She danced with less flourish now, more intent. The kind of control that came from knowing exactly where every inch of her body could drive you insane. Her hips rolled with the beat, arms stretching above her head, and Vi swore her knees nearly buckled when Caitlyn bent low, ass toward her, arching up again like she was offering a goddamn prayer.

It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t theatrical. It was hers.

When Caitlyn finally stepped close enough to straddle Vi’s lap where she sat stunned on the couch, Vi didn’t even remember sitting down.

“This close enough?” Caitlyn asked, voice husky.

Vi looked up at her like she was carved from sin. “You trying to kill me?”

“Maybe.”

Caitlyn ground down slow, dragging her hands down Vi’s shoulders, the curve of her neck, her chest — never quite touching, always just out of reach.

Vi’s hands hovered. “Can I—?”

“Not yet,” Caitlyn murmured. “Just watch.”

Vi groaned, but didn’t disobey. She sat there, rigid, and watched.

Watched as Caitlyn undid the front clasp of her top, letting the fabric fall away just enough to tease. Watched her lean in, breath ghosting Vi’s ear.

“You’re the only one who gets this,” she whispered. “The only one who gets me.”

Vi’s restraint snapped.

She grabbed Caitlyn by the hips and pulled her flush against her, kissing her like her lungs depended on it. Caitlyn melted into her, laughing against her mouth, hands threading through Vi’s hair.

“Feeling better?” she asked between kisses.

Vi laughed — breathless, drunk on her. “Ask me again in five minutes.”

Vi didn’t care about the guys at the club anymore. Not when she had *this.* Not when Caitlyn was tangled up in her arms, smug and sweet and sin incarnate.

She was hers. Always had been.

And if she had to endure another night of watching strangers drool over her girl to get this at the end of it, well—

She supposed it was worth it.

Just maybe.