#so they can still work together & the x files starts to grow

[deathsbestgirl]

is there a fandom word that's about shipping people as friends, no romantic/sexual context.

[stxrshxpxd]

”thats my girl!” part 2

part 1

pairing: dr house x reader

word count: 1.5k

prompt: house and reader have both stayed late and found themselves, tired and worked up in one way or another, in his office

”You’re in my chair.”

I glanced up from my papers with several pens in my hands, one of them tiredly making notes in the patient’s file, and a last one between my teeth. I couldn’t remember I had put it there, what with it being my twelfth consecutive hour at the hospital, but I dropped it when I had to respond.

“Yes, it does the fun spinny thing,” I said in a joyless tone, staring down at the words that were beginning to not look like words anymore. House waddled up to plant his palm on his desk and blink down at me.

“Well, you can have the chair as long as I get to be in-between you and it.”

I thought House had gone home long ago. Just about everyone else had. The halls and his office were dark and the world outside was pitch black as of nearly five hours ago.

“Mhm,” I hummed nonchalantly and laid the side of my aching head in my palm. Staring at the old medical records and documented symptoms of our patient, I dotted my pen in the margin as I tried to think.

“Hey, spiraling into insanity trying to solve the case is my thing! Get your own shtick!” House snapped in a joking upset voice. I stared down still but was distracted by his hand in front of me and his index finger that mindlessly tapped on the desk, and the veins on the back of his hand and up his forearm.

He was impossible and an asshole and sociopathic on a good day, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t find him attractive. There was something about his intelligence, quick wit and superiority that secretly drew me in. But I refused to give in. I knew I could never forgive my lack of self-respect if I were to cave and sleep with him. The only way to get over it, I had always thought, would be to demystify him by getting on his level.

“When were you planning on going home?” he asked. Had I not known better I would’ve thought I detected concern in his voice. I looked up and studied the sharp shadows on his scruffy face. He himself was apparently planning on going home soon, having stuck his biker jacket on.

“Maybe when the patient dies,” I joked tiredly.

“Hm, well, then you might as well start looking at the next case instead,” House said and shrugged as he reached to the end of his desk for a stack of thin folders. I detected a snarkiness now, which I knew was part of his usual repertoire. It enraged me an unjustified amount and I stood up suddenly, nearly crashing the top of my head into his chin.

“I’m gonna save him,” I argued and pointed my finger into House’s firm chest.

“Hey, sweetheart, you’re the one who said he’s gonna die,” he chuckled and raised his one hand in surrender. “Also, haven’t you ever heard there’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’?” he added in yet another silly tone, tilting his head down at me. We seemed to end up in this position a lot, I reflected. His pale eyes stared down at me in silence and I recognised he was putting two and two together in his head.

“What’s your obsession with being better than me?” he asked bluntly even though he had the answer. “You wanna put yourself above me and knock me off my pedestal, so that you don’t have to idolise and romanticise me anymore. Oh, this must be killing you.”

“Why do you ask questions you already have the answer to?” I countered, ignoring his calling me out. His smirk had grown wide on his lips.

“So that is the answer?”

“I’m going home,” I declared and shoved past him. My brain was fried and I had no witty one-liners left to throw in his face, plus my own face was growing red at his accusations.

“You can just say you wanna sleep with me,” he teased and I saw his arms were open in a conceited manner when I turned around quickly.

“Can you for once talk to me like I’m a human being with a brain and not a piece of meat?” I asked, trying to contain my frustration. He stood in the shade of my body but I could see him narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Please, you look at me like I’m a piece of meat too. I see the way you undress me in your mind all the time. As we all know by now; I’m not stupid,” House said daringly. It drove me crazy that he still wasn’t seeing the point and he was deflecting and refusing to give me an ounce of respect.

“You’re a jerk!” I stated and closed the gap between us, impulsively shoving him by the shoulders and catching his balance off guard. He was forced to step back with his bad leg and hissed in pain, before instinctively grabbing a hold of my arm for support as his back slammed against the wall behind him. I was pulled with him and crashed into his chest and his hand still gripped my arm tightly.

Suddenly I was in his space for real. All those times of staring up at his cocky face and just barely feeling his breath on my nose there apparently had been that last shred of a border between us. I hadn’t ever been aware of it but now it was gone and it was all I could think about. His heart beat against my chest and his breath was undeniably hitting my face and there was nothing holding me back from kissing him.

I enjoyed every time I had the upper hand with him, and now I did as I pressed a frustrated yet confident and harsh kiss against his mouth. He wouldn't ever be able to pull that kiss out of his lips, it was there forever. I realised though that he could give it back. And he did. He shoved his face harsher against mine and kissed me back while tightening his fist around my upper arm and holding me in my place. And a war broke out, both of us fighting to end up on top. Get the last kiss in, leave the most memorable mark, plant the most saliva in the other’s mouth, leave the nastiest sting of one’s teeth in the other’s lip.

My body was working quicker than my brain and before I knew it I was beginning to tear his jacket off. I could only get it half way off his arms before House’s phone rang loudly and startled us both. Pulled out of our cloud of lust, I let go of his jacket and took a step back. House fished the phone out of his pocket with a sigh. I saw Wilson’s name on his screen and he didn’t hesitate to click the call away. I laughed breathily at that and shook my head.

“I think he has cameras in my office. He’s jealous.”

“Of me that is,” I teased and he laughed shortly.

“Who else?” he was quick to joke along and those were the words that stayed hanging in the air as neither of us spoke for the next few, long seconds. House let out a soft sigh as he looked at me and pulled his jacket up to hang off his shoulders again. I stepped back to lean against the desk behind me and my gaze hopped around the room.

“Why do you think you’re on my team?” House asked at last but it was rhetorical. He raised his brows at me to make a point. “Obviously you’re incredibly intelligent and a fantastic doctor.”

He kept sighing as if this was the hardest thing he had ever had to say and it made me chuckle quietly behind my serious face. I looked him in the eye and we nodded at one another silently, both barely smiling. Then his phone rang again and he rolled his eyes as he pulled it out.

“Bright and early, 8 tomorrow!” House joked and pointed at me before he began walking out towards his office door. I laughed, knowing he hadn’t ever showed up at work before 10 am.

“We stopped kissing!” he answered Wilson’s call with mock annoyance. “You know, you’re gonna have to man up and put a ring on it if you want me to stop running around with other people,” he joked and I could practically hear Wilson’s confused sigh on the other end of the line as House disappeared down the hallway and I was left alone again, absentmindedly trailing my fingertips along my bottom lip.

[ichorai]

sorry ; daryl dixon.

track three of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; daryl dixon x doctor!reader (gender neutral pronouns)

synopsis ; you were on your knees, and daryl was too. he wouldn’t look at you—he couldn’t—terrified that negan would bring that bat down on your head if he noticed.

words ; 7.9k

themes ; heavy angst, mild action, doctor au

warnings / includes ; death and violence, negan at his worst, vulgar language, guns/weapons, descriptions of injury/blood, mentions of maggie's pregnancy, negan goes on long ass monologues, poor rick is going Through it, the walking dead s6-7 spoilers (fic starts right at the season six finale), mild sexual dialogue from negan

main masterlist.

Maggie hummed with discontent when you pressed a cold, damp cloth to her forehead. There was a pallid color to her skin, and her temperature was beginning to rise, despite her violent shivers beneath the blanket. The inconsistent, rocking motions of the RV weren’t doing her any favors, either. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you to Hilltop real soon,” you said, feeling mildly guilty that you couldn’t help her more, despite being a doctor yourself. Alexandria was completely out of medical supplies and this was urgent—if Maggie didn’t get help soon… you’d never be able to forgive yourself if something bad were to happen to her or the baby. “Hang on for me, okay?”

The brunette slanted her lips in a tired smile, eyelids heavy. 

Rick knelt down beside you, speaking in a low, comforting tone. “We’re gonna get there. Once we get the medicine from Hilltop, Y/N will fix you right up.”

A small sigh fell from her pale, trembling lips. A thin film of tears warbled over her eyes. She was terrified. 

“Oh, Maggie,” you murmured, gently pulling away the short strands of hair sticking to her face. 

“How do you know?” muttered your friend, gaze trained on the ex-cop. 

“Everything we’ve done… we've done it together. We got here together and we’re still here. Things have happened, but it’s always worked out for us, ‘cause it’s always been all of us. That’s how I know. As long as it’s all of us helpin’ you, we can do it.”

A hot tear meandered down Maggie’s cheek. You nodded gratefully at Rick—he’d always had a way with words that you’d never really gotten a grasp of. 

The next hour passed by slowly. You switched between cooling her head, and helping her drink some water, sometimes just holding her hand and telling her that everything was going to be fine. To take her mind off the pain, she’d asked you to tell her about how you and Daryl met, all those years ago long before the dead began to walk. 

“I’m glad Daryl’s not here right now, because he always tells the story differently than I do. Well, how I remember it, he and his dick brother used to come to a small convenience store near their trailer park. That’s where I worked. I was around… nineteen at the time? Almost twenty. I was just working a couple jobs on the side to pay off my growing student debt. Daryl was twenty-three, almost twenty-four. Merle tried to cozy up to me—and I didn’t have any of that. I told him to fuck right off. And later that night, just as I was to close up, Daryl came by and apologized on his brother’s behalf. He was real sweet, so I—”

“What the bitch?” barked Abraham from the driver’s seat, effectively cutting your story short and rolling the RV to a grueling halt. 

“What?” asked Rick, standing up to look out the window. You followed suit, eyes widening upon the sight. 

More than half a dozen Saviors blocking the road with three of their cars—and all of them holding large guns. A lump formed in your throat, and you cast your worried gaze to Rick.

“We goin’ through?” asked Abraham, jaw set. 

Rick gnashed his jaw together in thought. “No,” he said. “We’ll talk to them. C’mon. Y/N, you stay here, watch over Maggie.”

Teeth worrying into your bottom lip, you nodded, stepping to the side to let the rest of them file out of the RV, their own loaded guns at the ready. 

From inside, you couldn’t hear what the Saviors were saying, but from the smug expression of the one in the center with a hideous pornstache, you knew it couldn’t be anything pleasant for your group. 

Three minutes later, they came back in, all looking a bit disgruntled. Rick, most of all.

“What’s going on?” you asked Carl, placing a hand on his forearm. 

The young man that you were so fond of grimaced, shaking his head and lowering his voice to a whisper so that Maggie couldn’t overhear. “They won’t let us through. Want half our stuff.”

Your breath hitched. At this rate, you didn’t know how long Maggie could last without the proper care and medicine. And Alexandria was running low on supplies as it is—taking away half of everything would put the community in a pretty dire situation.

“Alright, thanks kid,” you told him, trying your absolute best not to cry from frustration, your nose burning with the effort. 

The truck began to pull further away from the Saviors, until they were only but little dots against the horizon. 

“Logrun Road’s a straight shot,” said Eugene, repeatedly tapping his finger against the map spread out across the RV’s pull-out table. 

Next to you, Sasha shook her head. “We want visibility.”

You pursed your lips, craning your neck to scan the small, faded texts of the map. “Can we go down Shelton?”

Eugene hummed in agreement, drawling out in his thick Southern accent, “Golf course, country clubs, sloping terrain—no bum rush from the bogeymen. We’d see ‘em from a good piece. It is a longer trip by a third but we’d get the scenic safety of clear-cut dingles and glens.”

Both you and Sasha stared at him blankly. 

“You’re being serious, right?” asked Sasha.

“As coronary thrombosis,” replied the man across from you, stony-faced. Besides, Eugene was never one to joke around.

Sasha rounded her gaze to you expectantly, waiting for you to explain in normal terms. “He’s serious,” you said. “It’s a longer route, but it’ll be well-sheltered and hopefully keep us hidden from the Saviors. I’ll try to keep Maggie steady until then.”

The two nodded at you, and you pushed away from the table, heading further back into the RV where Maggie and Rick were. She was pale and clammy, but still had enough energy to talk to you, so you took that as a good sign. 

Not even ten minutes later, while you were taking measurements of her blood pressure and body temperature, the vehicle came to another rumbling halt. 

“Bitch nuts,” cursed Abraham, loudly for both you and Rick to hear. 

The Saviors were blocking the road. Again.

You could feel panic seize about your chest, constricting your lungs. The situation wasn’t looking good for Maggie, not one bit—but you couldn’t give up hope. Not now, when she needed you the most. You blew out a shaky breath, absentmindedly wishing Daryl was here with you to give you some comfort of mind.

“We making our stand?” asked Sasha, staring out of the window, where more than a dozen saviors were lined up. 

Carl, ever the fiery one, spat out, “Yeah. We end this.”

The blue of his father’s eyes flashed dangerously. “No. Not now. It’s too dangerous for Maggie. They’ve been waiting—they’re ready. We ain’t. With one of us behind the wheel, and Y/N with Maggie, that’d be five on sixteen. We’re gonna play it our way. How we want it.”

Reluctant, Carl nodded. 

Slowly, the RV started backing away. Three successive, warning gunshots were fired into the air. You could feel a sick, twisted rage curl up within your stomach. 

If Maggie died on your watch—her blood would be on the hands of the Saviors.

You fumbled for another map pinned up on the cork board, eyes roaming over the roads, desperate for another available route. Could they possibly have you surrounded? No—the woods were vast, and the roads were winding—there were so many paths left to take to Hilltop. The Saviors simply wouldn’t have the numbers to stop you.

Wouldn’t they?

The RV came to another stop. This time, there were no Saviors blocking the road, but instead, a line of chained-up walkers. Not wanting to risk damaging the RV by driving through them, the rest of the group filed out to check if the coast was clear. You told Maggie you’d be right back, before hopping out of the RV, lingering by the doorway to narrow your gaze at the restrained walkers.

“That’s Michonne’s,” breathed out Carl, his single eye widening. A lock of her hair was stapled against the center walker’s forehead. 

Horror, as black as tar itself, seeped into your chest when you glanced over to the next snarling form, just to see two of Daryl’s arrows embedded into its decaying stomach. Daryl always retrieved his arrows. Which meant… something had happened to him.

“That’s Daryl’s,” you said, loud enough for Rick to hear. “Oh, no, Rick… they did this on purpose. They knew we were coming this way—!”

Just as Rick was about to cleave his axe into the walker’s skull, ricocheting gunfire crackled into the ground, making the dried leaves flutter up with the sudden force, plumes of dust and smoke flying with each bullet. 

“Get back to the RV! Go!” yelled Rick. You scrambled up the steps and ran to a concerned Maggie, trembling as you carefully hovered over her, in case any bullets pierced through the walls and accidentally hit her. Carl and Sasha began shooting blindly into the woods, having not a clue where all the shots were coming from. Rick surged forward and thrust his axe down onto one of the walker’s rotting arms, effectively leaving a gap open for the RV to drive through. 

The rest of the group rushed inside, and Abraham practically threw himself into the driver’s seat to get the RV moving.

The shots died away after a few minutes. With shallow, inconsistent breaths, you slid off of Maggie, slumping down beside her. She croaked out a question, but it fell upon deaf ears, ringing with static and white noise. A warm tear fell from your burning eyes, and you quickly brushed it away with the back of your palm.

Something happened to Daryl. And it was killing you that you couldn’t help him. That you didn’t even know where he was. 

You looked out the window through a watery film of tears, watching the yellow-green fields pass by in a blur. A quick glance at the lowering sun told you that the group was going to lose daylight soon enough, as well. 

A strange, creaking noise was coming from below the RV. 

“What’s that sound?” said Sasha, worried. 

“Undercarriage could’ve caught a bullet,” replied Eugene. “Could be transmission. Could be nothing.”

Agitated, Rick growled out, “They were firing at our feet. They blocked the road, but they weren’t trying to stop us.”

“They want us in this direction,” you murmured, making his wild gaze swivel to you. You gestured to the map. “Rick, they know we’re coming. They know we wanna go North.”

“Meadows would take us East a piece,” said Eugene, “but we can get back on track on Mayhew.”

It would take too long, you thought. Maggie doesn’t have the strength to carry on anymore.

Shaking her head, Sasha said, “We’re down to a third of a tank—we could top off at the next stop, but it’s risky. We can’t have any refills after that.”

A low moan fell from Maggie’s pale lips as a wave of pain washed over her, moving in and out of a hazy unconsciousness. You were quick to check her temperature, blanching at the fact that she was nearly scalding to the touch. You quickly placed the damp cloth to her skin again, trying your best to keep her temperature down.

“Rick, she’s burning up,” you told him, voice thick with worry. 

It was then that the RV came to another stop. 

This time, there were more saviors—around three dozen, maybe even four.

“Go back,” said Rick, eyes wide and stress evidently painted across his strained features. 

Abraham squared his jaw. “We have nowhere to go back to.”

With a shaky breath, you stroked Maggie’s head, your heart shattering into millions of pieces. “I’m sorry, Maggie,” you said, a sob bubbling in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry—I wish I could do something, I’m sorry.”

Disoriented and not having heard a word of your apologetic babbling, Maggie croaked out, “Are we there yet?”

More tears slipped down your cheeks. Rick was by your side, placing one hand on your shoulder and the other on Maggie’s arm. You stifled your sobs with your palm, and Rick replied in your stead.

“Yeah, Maggie. We’re—we’re getting there.”

The woman’s eyelids fluttered lethargically. “Were there… I heard shots.”

Rick’s expression softened. “Yeah, the Saviors—they’re gone now. We’re gonna get you there.”

A ghost of a smile tilted the corner of Maggie’s lips up. “I know.”

“You’ll be okay,” you told her, sniffling. “The baby’s going to be okay. This isn’t the end.”

“There’s more,” agreed Rick. “There’s gonna be more, I promise.”

A beat of silence. 

“I believe in you, Rick,” she hoarsely said. Maggie’s gaze slowly moved from Rick to you. “In both of you.”

Maggie was asleep again. You made sure to give her plenty of water and what was left of the antibiotics you had saved—but that was the very last bit of supply you had. There was little else you could do for her other than getting her to Hilltop for the proper medicine and treatment she needed.

“So what’s the play?” asked Abraham. “They’ve cut us off every turn we made.”

“She needs medicine,” said Rick, desperation lacing each word. “She’ll die without it.”

“We only have two plausible routes North from here. They’ve cornered us,” Sasha whispered, gaze trained on the map.

Hopelessness laid uneasy on all of your shoulders. 

“They’re probably waiting for us right now,” said Aaron.

Eugene gritted his teeth. “So, they’re ahead of us. Heck, probably even behind us. But they’re not waiting on us, per se—they’re waitin’ on this rust bucket. They don’t know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rust bucket. And the sun sets soon.”

“We need to leave now if we want Maggie to make it to Hilltop,” you said, voice trembling with a myriad of guilt, anger, and frustration. “We carry Maggie, and we go on foot. Through the woods. They can’t block us there.”

Eugene took the RV in hopes of tricking the Saviors. Everybody else in the group set off into the woods, taking turns carrying Maggie on the makeshift stretcher, bundled under two layers of blankets. The sun had long set, and the whispering winds were cold this time of year. 

“Just let me walk it,” she rasped, voice scratchy and throat dry. 

“No,” you were quick to reply. “You’re in no condition to walk right now, Maggie. It’s only a few more miles. Just rest up a bit more, okay?”

Though she didn’t look happy, Maggie didn’t protest any further, letting her tired eyes slip shut once more. 

After a couple more minutes, Aaron stepped in to carry one end of the stretcher for you, telling you that you also needed to rest your arms for a second. With a grateful nod, you reluctantly let go, falling into stride with Carl.

“Are you okay?” the young man asked, his hand brushing yours, his nonverbal way of saying that he was here for you if you needed him. “I’m sure Daryl and Michonne are fine. They’re fighters. Maggie’s going to be fine, too.”

You sent him a fond, but tired smile. “Yeah, I hope so, kiddo,” you told him, cuffing his shoulder affectionately. The thought of Daryl out there, probably worried sick for you as well, made your stomach twist into knots. “I really hope so.”

It was at that moment, a shrill whistle sounded out from the darkness of the forest. The group halted in their tracks. One by one, more whistles were added to the ear-splitting melody. It sounded like there were dozens, if not a hundred voices surrounding you. 

“Go!” yelled Rick. “Go!” 

The rest of you broke out in a sprint, and you grabbed Carl’s hand, winding around tree trunks and hopping over overgrown roots, ignoring the stinging scrapes of twisting branches against your face. 

The whistling only continued, growing louder, louder, louder—

Until you came face to face with the source itself. 

Car lights suddenly flashed open, momentarily blinding you. You drew Carl closer to you, instinctively protecting him, but it was no use. They had your group surrounded. Saviors, hundreds of them, gathered around you with leering expressions. All of them were clutching guns.

Raw fear curled around your lungs when you saw Eugene on his knees not too far from you, tears dripping down his face. 

Rick looked destroyed. Devastated. 

You were shaking so hard that your knees began to buckle beneath you. 

Finally, the whistling began to dwindle away. 

From the crowd, stepped out a familiar face—the man with a hideous pornstache that stopped the RV on the initial route. 

“Good,” he called out. He swept his arms out in a faux inviting gesture. “You made it. Welcome to where you’re going—because you ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘til we’re done with you. We’ll take your weapons.”

When he pointed a gun straight at Maggie, you immediately did as he said, pulling out the pistol wedged in your belt. There was a knife inside your boot, but you weren’t too keen on giving that up yet. You tossed your pistol on the ground just as Abraham threw down his rifle. The rest of the group followed suit.

Trembling, Rick spat out, “We can talk about this—”

“We’re done talking,” interrupted Pornstache. “Okay. Get her down, and let’s get you all on your knees. Lots to cover.”

“She can’t,” you snarled, stepping in front of Maggie protectively. “She’s sick, she can’t—”

“Oh, she’ll be far worse than just sick if you don’t get her on her knees,” the man easily rebutted, eyes roaming over your protective form. 

Lips trembling, you turned around, and with Abraham on her other side, you helped Maggie limp off the stretcher and gently set her down on her knees. Your eyes glistened and warbled with unshed tears. Maggie could only shake her head, as if telling you that it wasn’t your fault.

Terrified, Rick glanced around at the rest of the group. He’d failed you. All of you. 

“Gonna need you on your knees, sweetheart,” said Pornstache, slowly dragging the end of his gun up your cheek with a salacious grin.

With a withering glare, you sank down beside Maggie, Rick on your left side, breathing haggard and lips quaking. Sasha and Abraham followed suit. Carl was the last, fists clenched by his sides. 

“Dwight!” whistled Pornstache. “Chop chop! Bring out the others!”

A blonde man with half of his face horribly marred by what looked to be a severe burn injury, stepped forward, yanking open the back of a truck. 

And, to your horror, he dragged out your boyfriend, covered in blood—blood that you could only pray wasn’t his, even though you knew deep down that that was only wishful thinking. Following Daryl was Michonne, Rosita, and Glenn, equally distraught. 

Daryl caught your eye for a brief second, pure terror within his irises. He looked over you to make sure that you were alright, and you did the same with him, a tear slipping down your cheek.

I love you, you mouthed to him. He dipped his head once in understanding, before forcing his gaze away, not wanting to give the Saviors anymore reason to torture either of you. 

“Maggie…?” Glenn painfully rasped once he caught sight of his wife in such a state. He tried to make his way to her, but the Saviors grabbed his arms and forced him down, guns digging harshly into his back. 

“Alright!” exclaimed Pornstache. “We got a full boat! Let’s meet the man, eh?”

He knocked twice on the door to the RV you were in not even an hour ago. 

The door slowly swung open, squeaking on its hinges. 

And out strode a tall man clad in a leather jacket, a bat covered in barbed wire hanging off his shoulder. He took his sweet time making his way towards the group, feet languidly dragging along the gravelly dirt, and a smirk accentuating his smug expression. 

“Pissing our pants yet?” he drawled, voice tapering into a light chuckle as he stepped out into the light, smiling down at your group on your knees. “Boy, do I have a feeling we’re gettin’ close. Mm, yeah—it’s gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Now which one of you pricks is the leader?”

Pornstache pointed at Rick. “It’s this one here.”

The man with the bat grinned wider, before stepping right in front of Rick, who craned his neck to glare up at him. “Hi there. You’re Rick, right? I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killin’ my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people… you killed more of my people. Not cool, man. Not cool. You have… no fuckin’ idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly. Mmh, yeah. You are so gonna regret crossin’ me in a few minutes. Yes, you are.” A dangerous, wolfish grin flashed across Negan’s face. “You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter what—you don’t mess with the new world order. And the new world order is really very simple. So, even if you’re stupid, which you may very well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here goes—pay attention.”

He lowered his bat off his shoulder and slotted the barbed end right below Rick’s chin. You held in your breath, your entire body wracking with tremors. Though you knew you needed to stop, you couldn’t help but chance glances at Daryl every so often, your concern for him rapidly growing. Some of that was his blood, it had to be—his eyes were sunken with exhaust and his chest, the very chest you would fall asleep on every night, was rising and falling unevenly, making you believe he was hurt, but you just couldn’t see what was hurting him. 

“Give me your shit… or I will kill you. See? Simple as that.” Negan pulled the bat away from Rick, and began walking around the group as he spoke. “Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That’s your job. Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow. But swallow it, you most certainly will! You ruled the roost. You built something, Rick. You thought you were safe, I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close. In fact, you are pegged—more pegged if you don’t do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. If that’s too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it’ll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So, if someone knocks on your door… you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us? And we will knock it down. You understand?”

Rick swallowed heavily. Narrowing his keen eyes, Negan cupped his ear and leaned down closer to the kneeling man. 

“What? No answer? You don’t really think that you were going to get through this without being punished, now, did you? I don’t want to kill you people. I just wanna make that clear from the get go. I want you to work for me—and you can’t do that if you’re dead, now, can you? I’m not growin’ a garden. But you killed my people—a whole damn lot of ‘em! More than I’m comfortable with, honestly. And for that… for that you’re gonna pay.”

Your hands curled into fists on your knees. You knew what was coming. And you’d be damned if you were going to let it happen.

“So, now… I’m gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you.” Negan inhaled sharply, as if he enjoyed prolonging the torture. He bent down once more, showing off the barbed bat. “This right here—this is Lucille. And she is awesome. All this… all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor!”

Negan stopped in front of Abraham, who straightened and glared defiantly at the smirking man. In thought, Negan subconsciously rubbed his bearded jaw with one hand at the sight of Abraham’s own mustache. “Huh. I gotta shave this shit.”

On he strolled, before halting in front of Carl. “You had one of our guns. Hm. You got a lot of our guns.” Carl only scowled at the man. “Shit, kid. Lighten up. At least cry a little.”

Chuckling, Negan moved on. 

You could feel one of your eyes twitch when you saw his shoes stop right in front of you. His bat was beneath your chin in an instant, forcing you to look up. The sharp metal on the bat painfully scratched against your jaw, and fresh tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“My, my, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you? What’s your name, darlin’?”

Hatred simmered within your chest, but you forced your expression to remain indifferent.

You quietly told him your name, wincing when his bat dug deeper into your neck and he ordered you to say it louder. You repeated yourself, voice cracking. A single tear meandered down your cheek and slid down your chin, dripping onto Lucille.

Negan hummed, nodding in satisfaction. “Now that’s what I want to see, folks! A little emotion around here—Y/N’s got the gist of it!”

“Kill me,” you gritted out, making the rest of the group’s eyes widen. You could feel Rick’s stare burning holes straight through you, but you refused to meet his gaze, staring straight up at Negan. “You can kill me. Just don’t hurt them. Let them go. Maggie, on my right, she’s real sick and she needs medicine—if she doesn’t get the proper treatment soon, she’ll… she’ll…”

The man in front of you barked out an amused laugh. “She’ll what?”

“She’ll die,” you snarled. “So kill me. Get it over with—and let them go.”

And for a split second, you let your eyes return to Daryl, one last time. He wouldn’t look at you—he couldn’t—terrified that Negan would bring that bat down on your head if he noticed.

But it was all futile. He noticed anyway. 

He followed your gaze over to Daryl, lowering his bat to gesture between the two of you. 

“Ah… you two are a thing, ain’t ya? Damn. And here I thought you were available for takin’, sugar.” Negan tossed his head back and chuckled with mild disappointment. “God, look at you bein’ all heroic, offering yourself up for the chopping block! No, no, darlin’, this ain’t a game of who gets to be a martyr and save their friends. You don’t decide what’s happening here. I do. You think I don’t know you’re the doctor of the group? My people have been reporting to me—they know you’ve been the one taking care of Little Miss Sickly over there. No… you’re far too valuable for me to kill. We need more people like you, darlin’. Plus, I wouldn’t want to bash in your pretty little face, now, would I?”

With a hum, Negan stepped away from you, fixing his gaze upon Maggie.

“Jesus. You look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now—!”

“NO!” screamed Glenn, scrambling onto his feet and lunging at Negan. Before he could even begin to make contact, Dwight grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, threateningly shoving Daryl’s crossbow into his face. 

Maggie cried out—both from a fresh wave of pain seeping through her bones, and from the sight of her husband being dragged back to his spot like a ragdoll. 

Huffing out a sigh, Negan grunted out, “Nope. Nope, nope, get him back in line.”

Glenn screamed, choking back a sob. “No… don’t. Don’t!”

Negan could only smile. “Alright, alright, listen. Don’t any of you do that again—I will shut that shit down, no exceptions! First one’s free—it’s an emotional moment. I get it. Mmh. Sucks, don’t it? The moment you realize you don’t know shit.”

Rick trembled violently beside you. Tilting his head, Negan glanced between him and Carl, realization dawning upon him when he noticed the physical similarities between the two.

“This is your kid, right? Ohoho, that is definitely your kid!” 

“JUST STOP THIS!” yelled Rick, so sudden that it made you flinch.

Equivalent in volume, Negan bellowed back, “HEY! Do not make me kill your little future serial killer! Don’t make it easy on me! I gotta pick somebody—everybody’s at the table waitin’ for me to order, hm?” 

The man whistled out a shrill tune, one that sent a shiver dance down your spine. 

“I simply cannot decide. But I got an idea.” With that, he pointed the bat at Rick. “Eenie.”

He moved to you, before narrowing his eyes, and skipped over to Maggie. “Meenie.”

Abraham. “Minie.”

Michonne. “Mo.”

Glenn. “Catch.”

Daryl. “A tiger.”

Rosita. “By.”

Eugene. “His toe.”

Sasha. “If.”

Aaron. “He hollers.”

Carl. “Let him go.”

And so on he went. 

My mother told me to pick the very best one. And you… are… it.

Your heart dropped when the end of his bat stopped in front of Abraham. 

No. No… no… no…

“Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy’s other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we’ll start! You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you’re all gonna be doin’ that!” 

And with that, he swung the bat back and brought it clean down on Abraham’s head.

Screams erupted from around you. You could feel your vision blur over with your tears, and you closed your eyes shut, not wanting to see such a gruesome sight, curling in on yourself as you listened to the repeated, sickening squelch of Negan’s bat repeatedly hitting your dear friend. Negan gloated and laughed and jeered. You cried and sobbed and flinched with every strike.

His blood—Abraham’s blood—splattered on your face. You could feel it. 

Warm, moist, and thick. Dripping down your cheek. 

“You guys… look at my dirty girl!” proclaimed Negan, jutting out the bloody bat for all to witness. The monster of a man tilted his head at Rosita, whose eyes were horrified and bloodshot, dripping with fat tears. “Sweetheart… lay your eyes on this!”

When Rosita began to cry harder, Negan hummed. “Oh, damn. Were you… were you guys together? That sucks. If you were, you should know—there was a reason for all this. Red—and damn if that isn’t a good name for him—he just took one, or six, or seven for the team! So take… a damn… look.”

Rosita refused to move her gaze from Abraham’s mutilated corpse.

And, much to your horror, Daryl growled out as he surged forward on his feet, landing a clean punch against Negan’s jaw. You screamed out his name when three Saviors grabbed him and beat him back onto the ground, pinning him tightly against the gravel. A sob wracked through your frame and you could feel your stomach twist into itself. Daryl was still struggling against them, clutching his side as he panted out.

“No!” yelled Negan, clearly furious. “Oh, no. That—is a big no-no. The whole thing—not one fucking bit of that shit flies here!”

Terror clutched at your palpitating heart when Negan shoved Lucille right up into Daryl’s face, smearing Abraham’s blood all over him. 

Dwight strode up and pointed Daryl’s own crossbow against the back of your boyfriend’s head. A sob fell from your lips. You couldn’t watch this—you just couldn’t.

“Daryl,” you cried out, hiccupping through your words. “Negan… no. No, please, don’t! I’ll do anything, please! Not him. Please, not him!”

Amused at your pleading, Negan casted a sidelong glance to you, before grabbing at Daryl’s hair and pulling him upright. “See what you did there, Buckaroo? You got your little partner all upset! Look, they’re crying their eyes out, worried for you.” Negan got back up on his feet. “Get him back in line,” he barked, though his eyes were trained on you.

And in two quick strides, he was back in front of you, gripping your face tightly between his gloved hand. “Look at you, darlin’, all covered in blood. Would it be weird if I say it makes my dick hard as fuck?” You scowled, trying your best to pull your face away from his uncomfortably rough grip. “Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart—your boyfriend here didn’t listen to me earlier. I said the first one was free, didn’t I? And what does that mean? Second one’s got a price, hm? I said I’d shut that shit down—no exceptions. I don’t know what kind of lyin’ assholes y’all have been dealing with… but I’m a man of my word. First impressions are important! I need you all to know me. Know that I’m not joking around with this shit. Now, if you weren’t a doctor and you weren’t so fuckin’ hot—I would’ve bashed your head to pieces without battin’ an eye! But, lookie here, I’m faced with another dilemma. I need to kill another one of you to get my point across.” 

A wail bubbled up in your throat and you began to claw at Negan’s fingers now painfully squeezing your jaw. “No… please, please… don’t, please—!”

“And I want you, darlin’, to pick which one of your little friends I kill.” 

“No!” you spat, breathing shallow and panicked. “Me—just kill me, Negan—you don’t have to hurt anyone else, please, please, let them go, you—”

Getting irritated with you, Negan shook your face until you stopped blubbering. “You’re not listenin’ to me. Pick. Someone. Not you, and not your little boyfriend. I want him to live with the fact that one of his friends died because of him. Pick someone. Anyone, sweetheart. You’ll be doin’ em a favor, honestly. They get to save the rest of you from a miserable death! Now, doesn’t that sound appealing?”

A beat of silence. Negan stared you down, and you glared right back.

“Eat my shit,” you snarled out.

Narrowing his eyes, Negan finally relinquished his hold on you. You gasped for breath, chest heaving, stabilizing yourself with your hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you’re feisty! Might have to keep you around after this—holy fuckin’ shit. Mmh, alright… fine, then. Since you won’t pick—I’ll just have to kill your precious patient’s boyfriend, hm?”

Before any of you could react, Negan spun on his heel and arced his bat through the air, right onto Glenn’s head. Again, and again, and again.

A piercing scream echoed across the forest. Maggie’s scream. 

Your mouth dropped open as a silent cry scratched down the sides of your throat. 

Glenn was still alive, somehow, after all those bashes. Blood caked his entire skull and part of his head was caved in—to your nauseating horror, one of his eyes had come out of its socket.

“Buddy, you still there?” exclaimed Negan in astonishment, bending down to inspect his handiwork. “I just don’t know… seems to me like you’re tryin’ to say something! But you just took a hell of a hit! I just cracked your skull so hard, your eyeball popped right out! And it is gross as shit!”

After all that, Glenn managed to slur out, “Maggie… I’ll find you.”

Sobs rang throughout the clearing. The rest of the group cried tears for Glenn—without him, all of you would’ve been dead three times over. 

“Awh, hell. I can see this is hard on you guys,” said Negan. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But I did say… no exceptions!” 

With that, he brought down his bat again. Over, and over, and over.

Maggie cried so hard her voice started to give out. 

Daryl, your beloved Daryl, flinched with every stroke of the bat, his eyes red and puffy with tears. You could see it already—the guilt behind his gaze. He thought it was his fault Glenn was killed.

You shut your eyes again. 

“Lucille is thirsty! She’s a vampire bat!” proudly declared Negan, as he swung one final hit on Glenn’s long-dead body. “What? Was the joke that bad? Tough crowd, huh?”

“I’m gonna kill you,” whispered Rick once Negan was done. Rick had blood splattered all over his face, as well. Abraham’s blood. Glenn’s blood. 

Negan squatted down beside him, tilting his head. His bat was dangerously close to you. “What? I didn’t quite catch that, Rick. You’re gonna have to speak up.”

Squaring his jaw, Rick drew in a sharp inhale. “Not today… not tomorrow… but I’m gonna kill you.”

Negan sucked at his teeth. “Jesus,” he softly said. “Simon. What did he have? A knife?”

Pornstache raised his brows. “He had a hatchet. An axe.”

Snorting, Negan shook his head. “Simon’s my right-hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without ‘em? A whole lot of work. You have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing? Oh… or did I…”

The man waved the bloodied bat in front of Rick’s face, taunting him. 

“Sure, yeah. Give me his axe.” Pornstache handed Negan the small weapon and Negan smugly slid it into his belt. Suddenly, Negan grabbed the back of Rick’s jacket and yanked him up, practically dragging him by the scruff towards the RV. Your breath hitched, wanting to stop him, but all the guns trained on the backs of your friends made you freeze. All you could do was lower your head and stave away your raucous sobs. 

“I’ll be right back, folks! Maybe Rick will be with me! And if not… well, we can just turn these people inside out, won’t we? I mean… the ones that are left!”

They were gone for hours.

During those hours, part of you wanted to go to Maggie, comfort her, check if both she and the baby were alright. No doubt she was in a tremendous amount of both emotional and physical pain. The other part of you wanted to go to Daryl, curl up in the safety of his arms and cry into his chest. 

But you couldn’t do either. Not with the Saviors pointing the barrels of their rifles to the back of your skulls. 

The sun was already beginning to rise, tinting the sky a sweet, soft shade of blue. A stark juxtaposition to the dark red blood steadily drying on the rocky ground.

When Rick got back, Negan ruthlessly threw him down in front of the group. He looked exhausted. More than that—he looked dead inside. The light behind his eyes was gone.

“Do you know what that little trip was about?” asked Negan. 

Rick looked around wildly, as if making sure that everyone else was alright. 

“Speak when you’re spoken to,” Negan hissed.

Begrudgingly, Rick bowed his head. “Okay… okay.”

Negan wolfishly grinned, though there was a dark glimmer to his irises that you misliked. “That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand. But you’re still lookin’ at me the same damn way. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that’s not gonna work!” Once again, Negan squatted down beside Rick, that smug expression still plastered across the man’s coarse features. “So… do I give you another chance?”

After a moment’s pause, Rick hacked out, “Yeah. Yes.”

Satisfied, Negan clapped Rick on the back, before getting back up onto his feet. “Alright! Here it is, the grand-prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone’s last crap day… or just another crap day. Get some more guns to the back of their heads. Level with their noses, so if you have to fire… it’ll be a real fuckin’ mess.” 

You could feel cold metal graze the very top of your temple. 

“Kid, come here,” said Negan, making your heart plummet to your stomach. Rick’s expression shifted to one of pure dread.

Carl didn’t move. 

“Kid… now.” 

With cautious movements, Carl stood up in front of the taller man. 

“You a southpaw?” asked Negan while he unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of its loops.

“Am I a what?”

“A lefty,” clarified Negan. 

Carl scowled. “No.”

“Good,” retorted Negan, before grabbing Carl’s left arm and tying the belt around his bicep. “That hurt?”

Gritting his teeth, Carl bit out a negative. 

“It should. It’s supposed to.” Negan smirked, knocking Carl’s cowboy hat off his head. “Alright, get down on the ground next to daddy, kid. Spread them wings!”

Slowly, Carl lowered himself down beside Rick, his cheek pressed flat against the dusty gravel.

“Simon, you got a pen?” 

Pornstache nodded, brandishing a marker from his pocket and tossing it over to Negan. The man uncapped the black pen with his teeth, flashing you a wink and spitting out the cap somewhere to the side. He kneeled down by Carl to draw a straight line just below the junction of his elbow.

“Sorry, kid,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “This is gonna be as cold as a warlock’s dick, as if he were hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across your forearm! Gives you a little leverage, don’t it?” 

Stammering, Rick muttered out, “Please… please don’t. Please don’t.”

Negan tilted his head, lightly chuckling. “Me? Oh, I ain’t doin’ shit. Rick… I want you to take your axe and cut your son’s left arm off—right on that line! Now, I know you gotta process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though—I’m gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then your kid dies. Then the people back home die. Then you… eventually. I’d keep you breathing for a few years just so you could stew on it!”

“You… you don’t have to do this,” pleaded Michonne. It was the first time she’d spoken since she got out of the truck. Seeing Carl splayed out in front of her, practically her son, made something inside her snap. “We understand. We get it, we—”

“You might understand! I’m not so sure Rick here does. I’m gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it’s gonna have to be like a salami slice. You remember those, right? Nothin’ messy. I want a clean, forty-five degree cut. Give us somethin’ to fold over. You got Y/N right there to fix him up nice and good. The kid’ll be just fine. Probably.”

Rick was just about losing his mind, rocking back and forth, murmuring incoherently beneath his breath. Sweat dripped down his bloodied face, his hair, mixing with the salty tears leaking from his crazed eyes. 

“Rick. This needs to happen now. Chop, chop. Before I crush the little fella’s skull myself.” 

Swallowing down his sobs, Rick choked, “It can—it can… it can be me. It can be me. Wh… you… you could do it to me. I c-can go with—with you.”

Negan smiled at his desperation. “No. This is the only way. Pick up the axe, Rick. Not making a decision is a big decision, let me tell you that. You really wanna see all these people die? Because you will—if you don’t PICK UP THE FUCKING AXE!”

Rick began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh, my God,” said Negan, pulling at his face wearily. “You gonna make me count? Okay, Rick—you win. I’ll start counting. Three!”

“PLEASE!” screamed Rick. “IT CAN BE ME. PLEASE!”

“Two!” Negan kneeled down and slapped a sobbing Rick across the face, before grabbing his cheeks, not unlike he did with you hours before. “This is it, Rick. Make a decision. One!”

With a gut wrenching scream, Rick’s trembling fingers curled around the handle of his axe.

“Dad…” whispered Carl. A tear slipped down your cheek as the events unfolded in front of you. “Just do it.”

Rick cocked his arm back, seconds away from bringing it down to cleave Carl’s hand off. 

But Negan grabbed Rick’s wrist at the very last second, stopping him.

The man smirked, pleased with himself. “You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?”

Frantically, Rick nodded his head. 

“SPEAK WHEN YOU’RE SPOKEN TO! You answer to me. You provide for me!”

“I’ll provide for you!” cried Rick.

“You belong to me! Right?” hollered Negan.

Hiccuping a sob, Rick bobbed his head. “Right.”

“Now that… that is the look I wanted to see.” Negan grabbed Rick’s axe from him and stepped away. “We did it. All of us, together. Even the dead guys on the ground! Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure! Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope for all your sake… that you get it now. That you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you before… that is over now.”

Negan clapped his hands together, sighing out in relief. 

And strangely, you were slightly relieved, as well. Maybe he was done. He wasn’t going to kill any more of you. This was all over for now. 

Right?

“Dwight,” said Negan. “Load him up.”

To your shock, Negan pointed Lucille straight at Daryl.

“See, he’s got guts. Not a little bitch like someone I know,” Negan told Rick. “I like him. He’s mine now. You still wanna try something? Not today, not tomorrow? I will cut pieces off of… what’s his name?” 

“Daryl,” said Pornstache.

“Wow. That actually sounds just about right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep! Or, better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me.”

“No…” you croaked out, when Dwight grabbed your boyfriend and dragged him back to the truck as if he were a wild animal, crossbow pointed at his chest. Maggie sobbed from beside you. “No, Daryl… please, no, don’t—please don’t take him from me!” you cried. “Please, I need him… Daryl!”

Negan smiled down at you. “Mmh. Alrighty, then. I’ll take you, too. Come on.” 

A gasp lodged in your throat when he suddenly grabbed your arm and yanked you upwards. 

“No, wait, I’m the only doctor they have, they need—Maggie needs m—!”

“I don’t give a rat’s flying blue ass,” growled Negan, shoving you in the direction of the truck, where Daryl watched you with wide, scared eyes. You craned your neck around to look at Rick and Maggie and the rest of the group—your family—one last time, unsure of when, if ever, you’d see them again. “You’re mine now. Got a whole lot of shit you can do for me, that’s for sure, darlin’. Load ‘em up!” 

One of the Saviors pushed you into the truck just as Negan yelled out, “Welcome to a brand new beginning, you sorry shits! I’ll leave you a truck. Keep it—use it to cart all the crap you’re gonna find me. We’ll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then… ta-fuckin’-ta.”

You collapsed straight into Daryl once you were inside, thundering sobs spilling from your lungs. He wrapped his burly arms around you, smelling of dirt and blood and motor oil. No words needed to be said. No words could be said.

The both of you had lost so much today. 

And now… you’d lost your freedom, as well.

Daryl began crying into your shoulder, and you could only hold him all the tighter. 

[talaok]

Hi, I was watching your writing and I'm in love, could you do one where Pedro Pascal and the reader have a child and are very famous?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

A/n: OK. i'll be honest i panicked cause I don't know if by have a baby you meant giving birth to one or having having it, so I googled it and Google said the first one, so I went with that.

Having to sneak out of your own home while in active labor definitely wasn't on your to-do list, but the mob of paparazzi right at your front door didn't give you much of a choice.

It was midnight, why the hell they were still there was well beyond you, but then again, everything that had happened since you and Pedro were first spotted together had been just as crazy.

It was like a media tornado. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about you, and of course, a constant need to regurgitate it on the internet, magazines, and even newspapers at one point.

It was ridiculous it's what it was.

And when the vultures found out you were pregnant... oof, you can imagine what a shitshow that was.

A camera was being pointed at you every time any of you left the house, whether you saw it or not, you could be certain it was.

And Pedro had tried to do everything in his power to stop it, he wasn't someone who lost his cool very easily, but when it came to you and the child growing in your belly... he transformed completely.

He had filed lawsuits and spoken with everyone he could to let you have some godforsaken privacy and peace, but when that clearly wasn't working he started to get more practical.

You walked everywhere with him now, so that the moment the paparazzi got even a tiny bit annoying he could do his best to try and make them stop (which oftentimes required him to scream at them to "let you fucking breathe").

And now, that the media had somehow obtained your due date, of course, Pedro had planned the perfect escape route.

Which was why he was now backing up the car to rush to the hospital.

"You ok?" he breathed, although his lungs had long been uncooperating.

"yeah" you hissed through another contraction "just-hurry please"

His eyes were on the road the whole time, but you could feel him staring nonetheless.

His right hand was holding yours for dear life, telling you -I'm here, it's all gonna be fine- all the way to the delivery room.

"Just another push" the doctor said, and you obliged, pushing and squeezing Pedro's hand until all his veins were seconds from popping.

And then-just when you were ready to say fuck it, I'm done here, you heard it- you heard the cry, and you didn't know why, you didn't know how... but tears, tears a mile long started flowing from your eyes.

"It's a girl," The doctor said, handing the now blanketed child to you, into your arms.

If you could you would have told him that it wasn't a good idea, that your arms felt about as strong as noodles right now- but all you could do was watch, as the baby -your daughter- stared back at you with her dad's eyes.

"hey" you felt a voice to your left, and turned to find Pedro crouching beside you.

"hey there" he whispered to the baby, letting his finger trail her minuscule face.

"It's your daddy," he murmured "Listen, I know you're probably tired and don't wanna listen to me, but I just wanted you to know-" he paused, looking almost unbelieving, like he was waiting for the moment he would blink, and everything was gonna disappear, his daughter, you, everything he cared for the most in the world just... poof.

But you didn't.

And he still couldn't believe it.

"I just wanted you to know that I love you" he said, "I love you and your mommy more than anything, anything in the whole world" he kissed her pretty forehead "And I swear... I swear I'm gonna spend every single day of my life proving it"

You smiled through the tears, as he struggled to fight back his.

"I'm sorry, we need to take her for a moment" The doctor spoke again, 

You had forgotten he was still in the room.

"Do you?" Pedro asked, although he already knew the answer

"We do, Mr. Pascal, I'm sorry, we need to wash her and make sure she's all right"

He sighed, looking down at the tiny creature in your arms with a glint in his eyes you had never seen before.

"fine" he mumbled

You sniffled, staring down at her.

"I love you." you murmured, kissing her cheek "God, I love you so much" you chuckled, before handing her to the nurse.

Please be careful, you had to fight the urge to say.

And just like that- only you and Pedro remained in the room.

Silence, a light, stunned, happy silence fell- and only after you regained consciousness, and realized what just happened, did all the noises come back.

The beeping of the monitor, the buzzing of the tv, and- and shouts from outside, talking and murmuring of what you already knew was a crowd.

Pedro must have noticed too, because he went to peek from the window.

"I'm gonna kill them" he sighed, his forehead falling to the glass, watching as interviewers and paparazzi clogged the entrance of the hospital.

"It's a lot?" 

"Yeah"

Again, silence.

"Baby?" you called 

"yes?"

"We'll think about it later," you said, holding your hand out for him.

He immediately took it.

He crouched next to you and you looked at one another, so many things to say and yet no idea how to say them- until- until-

"We have a daughter" you smiled

And he laughed, he laughed all the happiness and anxiety right out of his body.

"We do" he grinned, his eyes teary "We have a daughter"

[untoldstar]

male!yandere hacker x fem! reader

warnings: reader being watched from their webcam without their knowledge, nsfw content, obsessive behavior and infatuation, stalking, readers privacy being breached.

hey! I'm sure someone will find this hot but this is your reminder to stay safe and be careful. It's super easy for someone to watch you at any time. This might be a silly lil post but this is a real thing that happens so stay safe loves and cover your webcams.

yandere hacker! Who simply stumbled upon your webcam one day having done this a million times before, honestly how do people still allow themselves to be so vulnerable like this? it's laughable.

He doesn't care for their files or their credit card information and he isn't selling the footage on the dark web or anything he's just..bored to put it plainly.

yandere hacker! Who watches you do mundane ordinary things, he sits there for hours watching you listen to music, watching your favorite series, type out your essay that's due for next week, he finds himself focusing on how you bite your lips when you're concentrating on the events unfolding on your screen or how you furrow your eyebrows and don't take your eyes off your screen for a second as the words flow out of you when your typing out you essays.

He hacks into your files to read what you write, sometimes sneaking in a small edit of his own on your work hoping you don't notice.

He accesses your monitor so he can feel like he's a part of your routine, bringing his own snacks as he watches your movies with you, reading your texts with your friends, listening to your playlist with you. He only took notice of his growing obsession for you when he realized he hadn't hacked into a single webcam since seeing you. He felt it was really getting bad when he'd find himself spending hours on end at his desk simply staring at you until his eyes became dry and blood shot.

When you're not doing anything particular on your computer he still keeps your webcam on his screen monitor as he goes about his day so that whenever you use your computer he knows immediately.

yandere hacker! Who never used his skills for perverted reasons, he didn't watch webcams to catch a girl changing or find some dude jacking off to porn. That didn't interest him in the least. But when he glanced at his monitor and caught a glimpse of you lifting your shirt over your head, your back facing him, he just couldn't look away, his eyes were glued to his screen. A small tiny voice in his head prayed that you'd turn around even if just for a moment.

He internally thanked god when a ding sounded from your computer, the notification showing up on the corner of his screen as well and for once he found your friend actually useful.

You turn around and walk to your screen bending down and squinting your eyes slightly to read the message and he feels his dick hardening, a visible tent forming in his pants.

It starts to become a habit. A routine even. Watching you get out of the shower, hair still dripping wet, skin glistening and flushed from the hot water. You remove the towel from around your body and chuck it at a nearby chair, starting with your routine by applying your body lotion and oil and that's when he starts getting comfortable in his desk chair and slowly unzips his pants. His favorite part is just about to start.

Wet lewd sounds and heavy breathing fill both of your rooms, he was pleasantly surprised when he discovered that you occasionally like to take care of yourself after having a shower and soon enough he joined in too.

He pants as his hands move quicker around his cock matching the pace of your fingers moving in and out of you, biting back his moans so he can hear yours clearly. With a shaky hand, he reaches over to his mouse and raises the volume. Your moans and whimpers echo loudly from his monitor.

He finds himself liking being a part of your activity here too, he edges himself waiting until you're close so you can both come together. After the first few times, he started recognizing your body's signals, your whimpers become a pitch higher, your pace becomes more sloppy and desperate than steady, too focused on chasing your high, and your hips start meeting your fingers halfway.

His head falls back and he lets out a loud moan as you both come at the same time. Both your hands slow down and your chests rise and fall as you catch your breaths and he feels a warm twisted feeling bloom inside his chest, the way you're both in sync makes him feel like he's there with you, touching you with his fingers inside you instead of your own.

The fog inside his brain clears up and he looks down at his lap to his cum leaking and covering his hand. He feels perverted like he reached the highest level of intrusion. These feelings always swirl around his chest at moments like this but they always go away as quickly as they come because he knows he can't stop.

You're just too sweet, and you seem to have fallen right into his hands and he's not letting you go.

[dotieeee]

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 3

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 3 Warnings:

Snow being charmingly manipulative, implied murder, reader being oblivious because she's trying to change

Replay Level 2

Ready? Level 3 Start:

A sigh of relief escapes you as you quickly traipse your way out of your last class for the day into the Computer Sciences College. You’re thankful you’ve packed your bag and had already run out just as soon as the bell rang because you had spotted a classmate of yours making a beeline towards you and weren’t really in the mood for small talk. Pathetic, really, what you’ve resorted to: running away like a skittish cat at the mere sound of a rustle in the bushes. It’s just the middle of the first semester, and they’re already driving their students up the wall with back-to-back quizzes, essays with almost unreasonable deadlines and group projects where you spend more effort trying to get the group to work together than working on the actual project itself. You wonder vaguely to yourself if this school ever bothered figuring out what its suicide rate is, or how many of its students get addicted to amphetamines by the end of the first semester.

Four in the afternoon. You can get plenty of code done on that program and still have enough time to grade the increasingly mounting pile of third-year mid-term test papers on your uncle’s file tray.

The private lab should be empty by now since there aren’t any of your uncle’s student assistants on shift. You’ll be in complete solitude for the rest of the night and go home by seven.

You stop in your tracks when you reach the door to the lab. It’s supposed to have been locked by the last student assistant to leave. Instead, the door is slightly ajar with the lights still blazing. It couldn’t be your Uncle Cas – he fully closes the door when he’s in and he prefers dimmer lighting. Whoever’s in here must’ve gotten in just before the student assistant left.

Great. Company. Just what you need. Mentally, you steel yourself for the incoming pointless small talk you’re about to be subject to and push the door open…

…Only for your breath to be taken away at the sight of your unexpected guest: blonde hair, slick and combed back neatly, wearing a luxurious crimson woollen coat over a silk waistcoat; sitting comfortably on your computer chair and flipping through one of your notebooks with mild interest...

Coriolanus Snow.

His cerulean eyes flick to yours as soon as you enter. They’re piercing and unnerving, and they’re starkly mismatched with that disarmingly charming smirk he flashes at you as he places the notebook back down on the table behind him. You make a mental note to lock those notes next time, watching him as he gets to his feet and adjusts his coat. You notice he’s brought lattes from the posh coffee shop nearby, and he takes both as he approaches you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“It’s been a while, Nellie,” he greets warmly with a slight tilt of his head. His eyes glint as he seems to scan your face.

He’s always towered over you, but at this moment it’s all the more evident with the way you have to crane your neck just to look at him.

“Hello, Coriolanus,” you greet, returning his smile as much as you could.

His smirk only grows as you study his face. He’s got plumper cheeks and a better colour, but there is something else in him that’s changed that you can’t quite pinpoint. It isn’t just his sleek hairstyle, his expensive clothes, or even the way he holds himself with an air of confident authority.

He isn’t the Coriolanus Snow you knew from the Academy anymore.

Who is he, now, you wonder?

“I heard you were back,” you say. “Oh, if you’re looking for the professor, he’s still in class and he won’t be out until five.

“I’m not looking for the professor. I came for you.”

You blink twice to make sure you heard him right. He hands one of the lattes to you and asks, “Walk with me?”

You fidget with the strap of your bag as you contemplate. He wants to talk, and you had an inkling what for. Right in front of you is the only person you know who was with Sejanus until his last moments. The only person who had the answers you seek. You don’t feel ready for this conversation, but you nod lightly as you accept the cup and utter a small ‘thank you.’

Placing your bag down on the long table, you let him lead the way, following him closely to a path just outside the Computer Sciences’ main building, overlooking a lake. The path is lined with trees shedding their leaves for autumn and the lakeshore is strewn with ornate stone benches for students who feel like taking in the great view and the fresh air. You’re both quiet at first, walking at a relaxed pace until Coriolanus breaks the silence and addresses you.

“I have been meaning to talk to you when I came back, but there was just so much to do, so many loose threads to tie up.” There is a slight crinkle in his eyes as he turns to you.

Fighting the urge to fidget on your shirt sleeve, you shrug with crossed arms and flash him a short smile. “It’s fine. Apprenticeships can take most of your free time. Dr. Gaul must be working you to the bone.”

“I could say the same of your uncle.” His eyes seem to search your face, then he blinks and points to the nearby bench, concealed among bushes and a large willow tree. “Come sit with me.”

You follow meekly and observe how he leans against the back of the chair and crosses his legs. You take the other side of the bench, your back straight as you mirror him sipping his coffee. You draw a bit of comfort from the warm, sweet liquid.

“How are you?”

You’re taken aback at how soft his voice has gotten. You had never heard him speak this way to anyone, ever. It takes you a few seconds to respond, perhaps enough for him to perceive your hesitance.

“I’m...doing better.” You lick your lips as you attempt to divert the topic. “You look well. How have you been?”

I hope the districts have been kind to you.

“I’ve been keeping myself busy, actually. Trying to keep myself distracted.” Coriolanus leans forward to better look into your eyes and hold your gaze in place. “I know you’ve been doing the same, Nellie, even if you deny it, or try to change to topic.”

Here it is.

You inhale sharply and steel yourself. “We all cope, one way or another. Some of us just learn to channel it better.”

He nods in approval. “That’s true. Learning to convert grief into productivity is an efficient way of coping. But then again, so is diversion.”

Unable to say anything else, you take another sip of the coffee. It had gone cold, but now, it’s the best cup you ever had.

“You know, he talked about you.”

Your grip on the paper cup visibly tightens. If he notices, he ignores it.

“A lot. He’d wonder out of the blue what you were doing then, or he’d look at the most random thing and remember something about you. It got on my nerves, at first.”

The tiniest of chuckles escapes your lips as his reaches your ears.

“Then it became comforting. To hear about anything else, about something close to home, about you.” His hand reaches to your lap and takes yours, squeezing lightly.

You freeze visibly, your back tensing even further. No one else, save one other hand, has squeezed yours like this. His hand may be cold, but his expression isn’t.

“Compared to all the uncertainty, it helped,” he continues. His voice falters imperceptibly as the other hand cups your cheek, making you focus on him. “You helped. Even if you didn’t know it.”

Eventually, he lets go of you. The softness in his expression does not change, you stare into his face to try to gauge what his intentions are. He’s never been open like this to you, but you suppose death could affect other people in so many ways.

Clearly, he’s handling it so much better than you. A little envy creeps into you, you can’t help it. How come he seems to be so well-adjusted despite the death of his friend? Here you are, desperately putting as many walls up as you can while he’s there, coming to terms with how he’s feeling.

That emotion is soon overtaken by a hollow ache. You miss Sejanus. Which is exactly why you’re avoiding any interaction with anyone he’s even mildly associated with in the first place.

“I’m sorry, Nellie. I couldn’t protect him. I want you to know that I tried, and that I wish things turned out differently.”

Unable to look at him, you lean against the bench and stare at the still waters.

“It wasn’t your fault, Coriolanus. You can’t take the blame for his actions.”

You blink away the moisture in your eyes.

“Before he left, he said you were looking for...someone in District 12,” you ask. “Did you ever get to find them?”

You turn to look at him, thinking you saw his jaw tense. You must be imagining it, but there is a hardness in his eyes before he blinks and it’s gone in a flash.

“I found what I needed to find,” he says simply.

You hum in contemplation.

“It seems like they don’t tend to stick around, do they? No matter how hard we want them to.”

“Maybe they weren’t meant to. Maybe the ones that are still ‘sticking around’ are the ones we get to keep.”

This time, his hand travels to yours on your lap.

“Sejanus isn’t around anymore, but I am. And you are, too. We were distant in the Academy, but I’d like to change that. I want us to be real friends, this time. Start over.”

Your confused eyes travel to his determined ones. There is genuineness with the way he’s being so open and vulnerable, so why is there a voice in your head telling you otherwise? Why is it adamant against giving him a chance to prove himself?

“Why are you doing this?” you ask in a hushed tone. Maybe then, he’ll reveal his true intentions and you could finally make a decision?

He takes his hand back and rests it on his knee.

“Let’s say we become friends,” you continue. “What if we do only because we’re trying to hold on to his memory? Then again, why would it matter?”

You mumble to yourself, “At this point, why bother?”

But Coriolanus’s friendly smile only baffles you even further. Is it possible for the Districts to change a man so drastically?

“Has anyone ever told you that you overthink a lot? You’ve been avoiding our former classmates at Uni. Me included.”

Muttering to yourself dryly, you scoff, “I’ve been avoiding everybody. You’re all not that special.”

He seems to have heard it and actually laughs.

“That’s going to get boring really soon, Nellie. Sejanus warned me about these tendencies of yours.”

“Tendencies? I don’t have tendencies.”

“Self-destructive tendencies,” he clarifies. “Do you think he’d want to see you like this?”

You offer no response.

“It’s not that complicated, Nellie. Let me help,” he insists. “You can’t stay like this forever, closed off in isolation. If Sejanus was here, he’d have dragged you out of your house and forced you to talk to people.”

An image of him pulling you by the arm and taking you to a park crosses your mind. This makes you crack up a bit. “Yeah, he’d totally do that. He was great at driving me and anyone else up a wall. And he always meant well.”

Maybe he’s right. None of this is complicated. Your instincts can’t always be right. You’re being unfair to him, pushing him away on the basis of a mere hunch.

Drawing in a huge breath, you make your choice.

“Friends, huh? It’s been a while since I’ve had one of those. Are they any fun?” You ask in a mock sardonic tone.

Coriolanus grins and raises an eyebrow. “Try me and we’ll see.” He then pauses before adding in a more serious tone. “He would’ve wanted this for us.”

“I think so, too. Alright, Coriolanus, I’ll bite. Friends.” You manage a warmer, more welcoming smile this time. Maybe this could work out, you and him. “Thanks for the coffee, by the way. Sorry I got all…dark on you.”

He gives a small shrug. “I knew what I was getting into, talking to you. And I’d like you to start calling me Coryo.”

“Coryo. Nice to meet you, I’m Nellie,” you say, feigning a formal tone, as you extend your hand out.

Coryo plays along, copying your tone, and shakes your hand. “Nellie, pleasure’s all mine,” He tilts his head in a small, playful bow. The atmosphere between you considerably lightens as the tension lifts off your body.

“'Coryo,’” his preferred nickname rolls on your tongue quite effortlessly. “I thought you hated that nickname.”

“It might have grown on me.”

He leans closer to your face without warning, his grin suddenly devious and smug.

“You know what this means?”

“What?” you say as your eyes narrow.

“You can never say ‘no’ to my invitations, now.”

“Oookay. I think I’m already regretting this.”

He knows you don’t mean it, so you both erupt in lilting laughter, ignoring how he got so close to your side of the bench. This could really work, you think to yourself. A lot has changed since the Games. The aftermath certainly matured you both beyond your years, reluctantly ushering you into young adulthood. Perhaps it’s time you see past Academy Coriolanus and let Coryo in this time.

You don’t notice the time until you hear more students walk the path and past your bench.

“Sorry, I should go back to the lab, my uncle’s probably going to need another set of papers sorted,” you say apologetically.

Coryo nods as he gets to his feet and extends his hand to you. “I’ll walk you back.”

You accept it, however odd. He bids farewell at the door of the lab, leaving you contemplating the entire night of the sudden turn of events and vaguely wondering why he didn’t let go of your hand the entire time he escorted you back.

With the midterms out of the way, life in Uni settles down a bit. Group projects are less scarce, and homework deadlines are a little more flexible. Professors start easing up on the workload, and students bask in this rare period of peace and quiet.

“Nellie, did you finish grading the Logic Circuits pop quiz from the other day?” Your uncle calls out from his office.

Well, most of the professors and the students.

You reread the top of the test paper you’re currently working on and respond, “Yeah, that’s what I’m currently working on.”

Your uncle rushes out of his office with his suitcase in tow and says “Great, I’m going to need that pile by four this afternoon. Thanks, plumcake!”

And he’s out of the door even before you can say anything. You glance at the clock – it’s an hour past lunchtime – and figure you could squeeze in thirty minutes to get some food before you go crazy or pass out, whichever comes first.

Grabbing your wallet, you’re just about ready to head out when you hear a knock on the lab door. You open it to find a man in a courier uniform with what looks like a box of pastries he asks you to sign for.

“Who is it from?” you ask.

“From Mr. Coriolanus Snow, miss.”

Huh. So, he’s sending you food now.

You take it to your cubicle and notice the card attached to the bow. It reads in neat, lovely cursive:

To my dear Nellie,

Sorry, I can’t visit today. Busy day at the Citadel. Pick you up for lunch tomorrow,

Your Coryo.

So thoughtful of him to have sent you something despite his schedule. You unravel the bow to peek at what’s inside. The delightful smell of brownies greets you as soon as you lift the box.

Although this is the first time he had food delivered to the lab, he had been dropping by almost every day to either give you sweets or to just say ‘hi.’ It’s a gesture you’ve grown to appreciate.

You take a brownie and begin to eat. Your friend just saved you a trip to the cafeteria, and wherever he got the brownies from, it’s absolutely divine.

You share some of it with a student assistant named Mathias Callahan, a senior, on shift from two to four while you both finish grading the tests.

“He was here again, Nellie?” he gasps as he inspects the package Coryo sent. “Jeez, just go out with him already. I wish my boyfriend was half this sweet.”

You just roll your eyes at him. You’ve learned how to dismiss his teasing comments by now. “He had that delivered, Matt. And, not my boyfriend. Just a friend.”

“Yeah, because friends refer to each other as ‘my dear Nellie’ and ‘your Coryo,’” he jests as he holds up the card to read. “What’s his full name?”

“Coriolanus Snow.”

Matt looks up dramatically from the fresh test papers he was stapling together. “Wait. Coriolanus Snow, as in the-tenth-Hunger-Games-winner-and-gamemaker-apprentice and the-Capitol’s-most-eligible-bachelor Coriolanus Snow?”

“The last time I checked, yes?”

He snaps his fingers in the air several times and says, “Okay, girl, you won. That boy is a total dreamboat. I don’t know why you don’t just jump him, because I certainly would.”

You shake your head with an exasperated laugh as you begin focusing on the task at hand: coding your uncle’s program. You both spend the entire afternoon in companionable silence and by the time Matt’s shift is finished, the entire box of brownies is decimated.

The lunch you have with Coryo the next day reveals that the eleventh Hunger Games is underway, and he’s already working tirelessly under Volumnia Gaul’s apprenticeship to help make it...well, worse than it already is.

You also thank him for the brownies.

“You’re welcome. I remember a certain someone slipping me a box of them when I was at the hospital about a year ago. I’m just trying to pay it forward.”

“I wonder who that is,” you simply respond.

Deliberately maintaining eye contact with you, he leans forward with a bright smile and says, “Me too.”

He sees you less, which he says he regrets, because of the preparations. Just like your Uncle Cas, who often has to leave in the middle of the night to go take care of something at the Citadel. Whenever you hang out with him, there is always a mention of the Games, with him leaving out the gory bits for your benefit. Normally you’d never stand for such a topic of conversation, but he proves to be rather insightful, as some of his ideas inspire you to develop your own plans to improve your uncle’s program.

You’re happy for him and somehow glad he’s pouring his energy into something he’s fond of doing, even if it is for the thing you hate the most. You can’t judge him for it, either, because then that would make you a hypocrite, seeing as you’re working for your uncle for the same reason. It’s a confounding feeling, and the more you try to make sense of it, the more complex everything becomes.

Overall, you’re just grateful for Coryo and his friendship, because it means you don’t have to live too much inside your head now. You are all too aware it’s not a good place to be in at the moment.

On one of your walks with him, while getting back from a coffee shop, he offers you a VIP seat at the Hunger Games right behind the Academy mentors.

“Tempting, and thank you, but I’d have to decline,” you say before sipping your latte.

Coryo’s expression turns rigid as he steps beside you. Is this his version of a pout? You can’t decide whether you find that cute or disturbing.

“I’m really sorry, Coryo,” you say apologetically. “I’m sure you did a great job with everything new you contributed to the Games, but I don’t think I can watch...”

You trail off, breathing deeply as you try to veer your attention away from images of decapitated body parts of dead parents and thick, warm red liquid seeping into your clothes –

A cold hand caresses your cheek, and you collide into something solid: Coryo just stepped right in front of you, his other arm placed on your shoulder and his eyes laced with worry.

“I lost you for a moment there. You don’t have to come, I understand completely.” The small smile he flashes is kind. “I remember you excusing yourself from Demigloss’s class in our first year at the Academy.”

“Yeah, that.” You both continue walking back to the lab. “You didn’t join in on the ‘wuss’ and the ‘crybaby’ and the ‘chicken’ part, I remember. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Tilting his head in acknowledgement, he says, “I know how it feels to lose both your mother and father. I wish I could’ve run after you, then.”

It was Sejanus who did.

“I’m guessing he told you.”

Coryo just nods solemnly. “I’m sorry for what happened, Nellie.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, too, Coryo.”

You put your hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, but he takes your arm and loops it around his, pulling you even closer to his side. You let it slide, however, seeing as he might take offence if you extricate yourself.

“Maybe we can both be miserable together,” he glances sideways at you with a corner of his lip upturned, making you chortle a bit.

You both finally reach the door to the lab. Ever one with perfect timing, Matt arrives just in time to see him casually planting a quick peck on your hair (it’s so easy for him because he’s so bloody tall).

“Ugh. Just get a room or something,” he says as he rolls his eyes.

Coryo nods in his direction in acknowledgement, then turns to you. “Lunch tomorrow, Nellie,” he says, that knowing smirk on his face just growing wider before he walks away, leaving you to deal with Matt and his smug look.

“Friends, my big fat ass,” he gloats as he opens the door to the lab.

He spends the entire two hours of his shift teasing you for it and you, ignore the way your cheeks grew hot after your friend bid farewell.

You sent Coryo a box of cookies, along with a good luck card, on the first day of the Eleventh Hunger Games. The Games itself lasted a total of nine days, and according to your Uncle Cas, as he’s putting on his tie, is a huge success. This only means your friend is going to be lauded for his stellar performance.

You had originally planned on going with your uncle to the victory party at the Academy the day it’s declared finished, wanting to congratulate your friend in person, but you fall ill with the flu the day before. Instead, you made a mental reminder to call him on his new number the next day.

The phone rings in your living room at around seven in the evening, just about an hour after your uncle left for the party. Your fever had been fluctuating for the past few hours, so you’re in bed when you hear it. You get up with difficulty, ignoring the way your vision spins a little and hoping whoever’s calling gives up by the time you get past your bedroom door. To your dismay, they don’t. You manage a weak ‘hello’ when you pick it up.

“Nellie. This is Coryo. I’m using Professor Click’s office phone. Your uncle mentioned you’re sick. How are you feeling?”

“Coryo?” you let out a soft sneeze that you stifle with a napkin.

“You’re not fine. I’m coming over.” Even on the phone, you can hear the concern in his tone.

“Are you calling from the party?” you ask, your voice a little rougher than usual. You lay down miserably on the sofa with the receiver in tow. “You can’t leave on my account, people expect you to be there. Congratulations, by the way, I heard everything went well.”

“Thank you, Nellie. But don’t change the subject,” he says.

“Relax, Coryo, it’s just the flu, I’ll be fine.”

He seems to hesitate based on the pause on the other line. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go back to the party, have fun, bask in all the glory and all the compliments from the sycophants who want to suck up to you, charm all the powerful people in the room even more, did I miss anything?”

He laughs audibly on the other line. “You’re even funnier when you’re sick. Did you know that?” He says fondly, before adding, “Are you sure you’re okay alone?”

“Nooo, I’m dying and this my death rattle,” you reply snarkily and let out fake a cough. He lets out another laugh. “Go back. I’m sure they’re already looking for you.”

“Alright,” he sighs. “Thank you for the cookies, by the way. Call my number when you need anything. Get well, Nellie. For me.”

You hum in agreement and say a small ‘thank you’ as you put the receiver back.

The next day, several deliveries arrive at your doorstep: a container of warm soup from a five-star restaurant, another box of the same brownies, a blend of teas, and a large bouquet of beautiful white roses with a get-well-soon card signed by him in his usual neat cursive.

You think it’s sweet, no matter how needlessly lavish. Whatever did you do to deserve a friend like him, you wonder?

The Eleventh Hunger Games’ monumental triumph propels Coriolanus Snow to even greater popularity in the Capitol, just as you expected. The downside with that though is that it’s all over the TV, the ads, magazines, the papers; everywhere you go, left and right, whoever you interact with, every conversation, somehow the Games are brought up, and you’d have to politely nod along, shake your head, and fake a smile every time. With Coryo, thankfully, the topic becomes much more technical in nature, which makes it just a tiny bit more tolerable since it’s part of what you signed up for as your uncle’s apprentice.

Unfortunately, there isn’t much development to the project despite your tirelessly working on it. If there is, you wouldn’t know, because your uncle wouldn’t let you test it. Every time you bring it up, he brushes it off and tells you that his team at the Citadel is constantly improving it and performing the tests. You suspect he’s stalling, but you’re not sure what for. Despite the stagnancy, your uncle claims they’re happy with his updates on the communicuffs they used in the recent Games. You take his word for it but continue improving on the project when you can.

Before you know it, your second year in college begins, as does your closest friend’s.

Unlike your freshman year, you discover that it’s easier this time to navigate the Uni’s social culture. You find yourself trying to weave out of social situations significantly less than usual, and you no longer actively avoid the people you recognize like you used to. Even your uncle has noticed this change.

“You seem...different,” he had commented once as he sipped his coffee. It was during one of the rare days you had breakfast together.

“'Different’ how, exactly?” you asked.

“Happier,” he said. “I like this version of you more.”

“Really?”

“Much better than that version of you walking with a storm cloud above your head. I don’t have to keep wearing a raincoat around you anymore,” he joked.

And every time you reflect on the reason for the shift, all you can come up with is Coriolanus Snow. Like your friendship with him opened up a gateway of sorts. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t mind the change at all.

Like he said, Sejanus would’ve preferred this compared to you sulking and shutting everyone out.

That doesn’t necessarily mean you’re going to start attending every upperclassman’s house party whenever you get invited.

“Sorry, Theo. Parties aren’t my sort of thing.”

Theophilus Braun, or Theo, a senior and one of your uncle’s new student assistants, has just told of one such party while you’re both busy sorting and labelling the hard drives at the private lab.

Coryo is sitting in your cubicle poring through an instruction manual with disinterest, quietly observing the interaction. He had free time today, he said, and he just wanted to spend it watching you work. Odd pastime, but you’re not one to judge. Sejanus had done it many times before.

“Come on, Nellie. There’d be lots of booze, lots of people...besides, it’s the finals, everybody wants to loosen up a bit,” Theo says as he seals a box of hard drives with tape.

“Oooh, posca and people. Wow, I’ve never heard of a house party like that before,” you say flippantly as you wave your lollipop in the air.

Corio brought a pack of them today, saying he recalls what you left him on the day of the tenth Reaping.

Theo pouts at your tone. “Easy for you to say, your finals are almost over. Mine’s just halfway through. I’m going to the party tonight and my goal is to get wrecked. Might help me take my mind off that test later.”

“What about you, Coriolanus? They’d be thrilled to see you, it’d be like having a celebrity for a party guest.”

“No, thank you,” he says curtly, offering no reason to decline.

You twirl the candy in your mouth as you catalogue how many of the hard drives need to be wiped of memory, ignoring the way Coryo is staring at you from behind the manual.

“Wait. Theo, your test is in three hours. Why aren’t you studying?”

“I...can’t leave with all this work,” he mumbles.

Coryo finally puts the manual down and chimes in. “You go. I’ll help her.”

You and Theo both look at him in mild surprise.

“Really? Are you sure?” Theo asks.

Corio just nods once as he rolls up his sleeves.

“Thanks, man. Appreciate it.” Theo breathes in relief as he packs his bag and makes his way to you. “Uh, Nellie? Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.” You look up from your catalogue. His expression alone is enough for you to guess what he’s about to ask.

“Have you...given a thought about...what I said?” he asks in a hushed tone as he runs his hand through his hair.

You flash him an apologetic smile. “I have, but I’m not ready for that kind of...thing. I’m sorry, Theo.”

His expectant look turns into mild disappointment, but he smiles in understanding. “Okay. If you change your mind...”

He bids farewell and you wish him luck with his test as he steps out of the lab.

Coryo was apparently watching the exchange sharply the entire time.

“What was that about?” he asks coolly, his brows stitched slightly as he lifts a disk in the air to inspect it in the light.

Licking your lips, you say, “He asked me out to the movies this weekend.”

Coryo’s posture stiffens a little. “A date?” narrows his eyes at you.

You nod to avoid talking with your mouth full of candy.

“Theophilus Braun, son of Department of Treasury Chief of Staff Rufus Rex Braun,” he says matter-of-factly. “The Braun senior is poised to replace the current and indisposed Deputy Secretary.”

“Indisposed?”

“Bed-ridden. Old age.”

“No wonder Theo’s under a lot of stress, what with his dad being on the verge of promotion and all. Imagine what kind of pressure he must be in to perform well,” you observe.

Coryo grins mockingly and raises an eyebrow. “And he’s relieving himself of said pressure by inebriation?”

“I guess he’s picked his poison,” you respond nonchalantly. You hand him an empty drive, and his fingers brush against yours for a fraction of a second.

You spend the next hour with him helping lighten your load, until the bell rings, signalling your next class. You thank your friend profusely for his help and promise you’ll treat him to coffee tomorrow.

Unfortunately, the work is just as you left it the next day, with Theo being absent from his shift. You chalk it up to a hangover.

He’s also absent the day after that. Instead, what you find on your desk is an evidently pricey arrangement of flowers, with a note that explains why he can’t make it today: he failed his last exam and this date is his scheduled remedial.

Coryo’s gaze hardens as soon as it lands on the bouquet. “Pink carnations?” he scoffs in obvious distaste. “Vile coping mechanism, horrendous choice of flowers.”

An unusually mean insult, but he might just be in a mood today.

“You and your family favour roses, I noticed,” you say. “Looks like Theo is skipping today.”

You expected him to be there on Monday, but he’s nowhere to be found, just when you need the most help from him in checking final papers. Having no choice, you assigned the papers to the other student assistants in the morning shift.

“Theo’s absent again today, Uncle Cas,” you complain.

It’s a rare night you get to sit down with him for dinner. At the moment, he’s taking out a dish from the oven, giving it a strange look before placing it on the table. You spy with a suspicious eye on the red-brownish lumpy...thing in the dish. Your uncle’s cooking, without a doubt, isn’t a mirror of his mathematical genius.

At least he’s a decent baker.

The decent-baker-terrible-chef in question sits down on the table with you and scoops up some of what he calls ‘lasagna’ on your plate and then his. You stare blankly at the tomato sauce, beef, noodle, and cheese amalgamation, half-expecting it to gain sentience and spout prophecies in tongues at any minute.

He draws in a knackered breath and says, “I’m afraid Theophilus will no longer be fulfilling his shifts, Nellie. He’s dead.”

You set your fork down slowly in disbelief.

“Apparent overdose,” your uncle continues. “They found performance-enhancing drugs in his possession.”

That explains a lot, in your opinion. “Maybe that’s how he’s been pulling those all-nighters. He talks about staying up late all the time during his shift just so he could study. Does his family know he had a drug problem?”

Your uncle takes a forkful of his cooking and chews slowly before swallowing with an unreadable look. “It would seem like it. In any case, they declined to have an autopsy performed. Probably for publicity reasons, too.”

“Wait. They were offered an autopsy? Are the authorities suspecting foul play?”

“They suspect poisoning,” he says as he wipes his mouth with his table napkin. “But it could just be tainted drugs. Makers of these drugs don’t necessarily have to conform to quality control. Besides, autopsies are a standard for cases like this, I think.”

The sombre pause that follows is one of deep thought.

“I feel bad, Uncle Cas,” you confess.

“Why?”

“He asked me out last week. On a date.”

“He’s lucky he’s dead, then. I would’ve broken his legs.”

His joke has less snark than usual, so you let it go. Acacius Innis only gets to use this humour around you, after all.

Instead, you give him an eye roll and say, “I said no. He took it well. He was nice.” You sigh, ignoring your plate entirely. A sudden thought crosses your mind. “Did they ever get to perform an autopsy on Highbottom?”

“I’ve no idea,” he says with a non-committal shrug. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” you say slowly. “I mean, they could’ve gotten the drugs from the same source. You know how drug labs manufacture multiple drugs at the same time? Maybe they used the same equipment or something...”

Uncle Cas raises an eyebrow at you, a look he normally reserves for when you’re being too inquisitive for your own good.

“Nellie, best you keep out of this, yes? And the drugs, too.”

You nod.

“This is fucking horrible,” your uncle mutters to himself in defeat, pushing away his plate with a grimace and neatly setting down his cutlery. “I’m going to order take-out. How do you feel about calzones and gelato?”

Thank goodness your uncle knows when to give up.

“As long as the gelato’s pistachio-flavoured.”

“That is why you’re my blood.”

You laugh as you clear the table of his failed science experiment and wash the dishes. Your housemaid, Brilla, would appreciate washing less of them tomorrow.

Shortly, you get to sit down in front of the TV with your uncle and the take-out dinner. You try to focus more on the food and the drama and less on that nagging voice in your head telling you the deaths of Casca Highbottom and Theophilus Braun could somehow be related.

A few days go by, and not a word of the Braun heir’s demise reaches the Capitol media. Rumours have been circulating so far on the campus about what happened to Theophilus, but so far, they don’t go beyond that: just faint whispers of him dropping out of college due to failing grades, of him possibly being drafted to peacekeeping as a consequence…

His family seems to have gone to great lengths to bury the truth and save face. They couldn’t even see the Theo you saw: studious, fun-loving, good-natured.

Then again, he must’ve been wearing a mask, just like you, just like everyone else trying to conceal an unsightly side of themselves that other people would be appalled to behold.

Your friend is a welcome distraction to your increasingly darkening thought process. He enters after a knock on the private lab door and makes his way to you with a warm smile.

“For you,” he says as he hands you a fancy, rectangular box wrapped in a crimson bow.

Wide-eyed, you meekly accept, grinning ear-to-ear as you unravel the ribbon and peek into the box.

Chocolates.

You pick up the note that reads, ‘Don’t let your uncle see this, or he’ll eat all of it.’ You cover your mouth to stifle your laughter.

“You remember?”

“How could I not?” His eyes twinkle. “Happy twentieth birthday, my dear Nellie.”

Before you can even utter your thanks, he pulls you close and plants a gentle kiss on your head.

You fight the heat threatening to surface on your cheeks and concentrate on calming down your racing pulse.

The latter proves easier said than done.

He releases you after what seems like forever, with a smirk that makes it seem like he knows the effect he has just induced on you.

“I should go. Dr. Gaul is expecting me.”

You whisper your thanks, and he tilts his head in acknowledgement before heading towards the door.

One call of his name on impulse, and he turns to face you at once.

“Yes?”

Too late to go back. Besides, you want him there, right?

“Would you like to have dinner tonight with me and my uncle, at seven? It’s just a small celebration, nothing fancy.”

The smile on his face widens by a fraction. “I would love to, Nellie. Tell your uncle I’m bringing the cake.”

You follow his tall form as he exits the lab.

You want him there. He’s earned your friendship, it’s the least you could do.

Enter Level 4

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!!!

Whatchutink happened to Theo?? Hmm...🤔🤔🤔 also, what could Snowball's motives be here I wonder???

[kentocidal]

FILE NAME: SUMMER CAMP BLUES.TXT

USERS FOUND: stalker!yan!izuku midoriya x fem!afab!reader

WARNING! THIS FILE HAS BEEN CORRUPTED! DO NOT OPEN! noncon, dubcon, piv, fingering (f!receiving), blood, violence, stalking, yandere, biting and drawing blood, ask to tag

NOTES ABOUT THE VIRUS: you could’ve sworn you saw eyes in the woods. deep pits of blackness and a lust you couldn’t fathom… until it was right in front of you, that is.

INTERNAL MESSAGE: heed the tags. i’m being so serious. and please, ask me to tag anything that i may have missed. visit the masterlist here!

NEW NOTIFICATIONS! @kaedescara @yaekiss @pvbbyb0y @voidshoutsback @4izawas (want to be added? send me an ask off anon!)

you took a step back and away from the boy in front of you. he was… was he crying? this didn’t make any sense. he looked so meek, so… scared, almost. 

“what do you mean, no?” he sniffled, barely holding it together as he peered at you with emerald eyes that glinted in the moonlight. “you said you liked me, that you really loved being my friend… i thought we would be together forever.”green curls fell into his face as he sniffled and wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands. he really looked younger than you, even though he was a year your senior. you winced at the sight, looking around to see if any of your friends were there to save you. no one came.

“i’m sorry, izuku. i just don’t like you like that. i hope you can forgive me.”

he didn’t reply, only sniffling a little harder, so you got to your feet from the picnic blanket beneath you. “i’m just going to go back to my cabin. we can pretend this didn’t happen in the morning, okay?”

you were met with silence from the boy as his image started to waver in front of you. you turned, seeing the lights of your cabin in the distance through the trees, and you took two steps through the grass before a vice grip was suddenly attached to your wrist.

you were yanked back down to the floor, and izuku was over you, tear-stained face close to yours, a sick look in his eyes. “don’t leave me. you can’t fucking leave me-”

you shot up straight in your bed, almost smacking your head on the rafters thanks to being on the top bunk. you looked around, feeling like the grip of that kid was still on you. you took a few deep breaths and flopped right back down onto your pillow. just that dream again, you muttered inwardly, closing your eyes again in the morning light of the dawn peeking through the messy blinds of the staff cabin you shared with your friend.

every summer since that day, you’d had dreams of that teen from your past. you hadn’t seen or heard from him since that day, and frankly, a majority of it wasn’t even what had happened. izuku midoriya was the shy kid at camp, and you had befriended him to be nice. you really had ended up enjoying his company, however, until he turned around and asked you out. you had said no, and he accepted that and walked away, never to be seen again. your friends at the time assumed he had simply begged his mom to come pick him up, too embarrassed to face you, but you didn’t know for sure.

it had been a long, long time since that day. you were a kid, barely a teenager, and yet the memory kept coming back as if it was a horrible trauma you had faced. you rubbed the heels of your palms into your eyes and considered trying to go back to sleep, but you instead were met with the blaring of your friend’s alarm from the bunk below. it was time to get up and get ready for work.

you had ended up with the seasonal gig as soon as you turned eighteen, graduating from summer camp goer to summer camp counselor. you enjoyed giving kids of the younger generations the experiences that you had gotten growing up, whether it be making boats out of different materials to float out onto the lake, friendship bracelets, or even just telling ghost stories by the fire. the camp had become your passion, and you had figured that dealing with nightmares every summer was worth it to see the kids be happy year after year.

you rolled your way out of bed and clambered lazily down the ladder, smacking your friend in the face with a pillow to get her ass up and moving. it was going to be another long day of hiking followed by a bonfire, and you were in charge of both.

you spent the early morning hours getting yourself ready, taking full advantage of the private staff bathrooms to shower in peace (without shower shoes! because your friends were clean!) and attempted, yet again, to make sense of your nightmare.

ever since you returned to the camp as a counselor, you felt watched. you felt as though someone was always just beyond the tree line, just out of eyesight. you had almost started convincing yourself you were crazy, what with how your friends made fun of you for feeling that way. they consistently reminded you that you were always safe within the fencing of the summer camp, with cameras and people everywhere, and you had half a mind to believe them.

sometimes, though, you convinced yourself that you could see someone in the woods. a mna, large and wide, a mop of hair over his face, as though he had been living in the wilderness for years. you saw him late at night or early in the morning, far off in the distance. if you caught him, he would disappear just as quickly as he arrived.

you were starting to believe it when your friends told you you were crazy.

a bump against the bathroom window roused you from your introspection, and you turned your head towards it. upon seeing nothing, you simply assumed that it was a bird dropping something against the window pane. 

you shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. nothing to be afraid of.

—

you smiled widely as you led your group of young teens up the side of the mountain, walking stick in hand, heavy pack adding to your load as you trekked through the rocky terrain. you heard some kids chit chatting with each other, others whining about having to do physical movement while on a summer retreat. you just laughed at their antics, shaking your head and shouting that you were almost at the top. 

you took a look around to locate the next white marker on a tree up ahead. thank the gods for the people that had first mapped the trail and made your life so much easier. you tossed a look over your shoulder to remind the kids to grab onto the sturdy looking trees you were grabbing to help them tug themselves up over higher rocks, and they listened to you.

you got your group to the top first with no cuts or bruises. it was almost like a miracle.

two by two your campers stepped up into the clearing, ooh’s and ahh’s being shared amongst them as they took in the beautiful view of nature.

you allowed yourself a moment of reprieve, knowing your kids weren’t stupid and wouldn’t get closer to the ledge. you hummed a tune as you took your backpack off and dropped it near the very edge, taking a seat at the rock cliff and swinging your legs over the edge. kicking them back and forth, you fumbled in your pack for one of your large water jugs, unscrewing it and taking a few long sips. 

you felt serene, up there on that ledge. you kept an ear out for your kids, but you allowed them to explore the beautiful clearing for a minute or two as you cooled down from your workout. you even allowed yourself to pour a little of the water over the back of your neck. sighing as the cool liquid soaked into your shirt and cooled you off immediately.

it was then that you saw it. the slightest of flashes, something that you shouldn’t have been able to see with your sunglasses on.

your brows furrowed. you were high up on a mountain in the middle of the woods, and you know you saw something flash. 

you lifted your sunglasses up to perch them on your head as you looked out towards that general direction, and that’s when you saw it again. a flash, followed by movement in the trees.

a… a camera? maybe? but there shouldn’t be anyone in the woods.

“miss yn! miss yn! come here! we found a cool bug!”

“i’m coming!” you shouted back to your camper who was begging for your attention, slowly rising to your feet as you continued to stare out into the woods, directly at where the flash came from.

you packed your bag and hurried from the ledge. maybe you needed to take some melatonin to really get a good night’s sleep tonight. you were seeing things,

—

the bonfire was a success. only two of the younger girls got marshmallow in their hair! that much was considered an absolute win.

you and your other counselors got your respective cabins to bed a little later that night, having allowed them to stay up by the fire until the temperature really started to dip. you and your friend were on the hook for putting the blaze out, as any good camp counselors should when practicing fire safety in the middle of the woods. 

you, however, had come prepared with a hoodie over your tshirt and shorts. your friend, not so much. you sighed as you watched her shaking hands fumble with another water bottle, and you walked over to take it from her and shoo her off. “i can put it out. it’s small now,” “but we’re not supposed to leave each other alone,” she whined right back to you, making you actually laugh. 

“you know i can handle myself in the dark, babes. i’ll be fine. go, before you give yourself hypothermia.” “i think i should stay-” “go. i got this.” you chuckled and turned her by her shoulders, pushing her in the direction of the private staff bathrooms to go take a hot shower and warm back up.

she begrudgingly left you alone with the final tasks of putting out the fire, making sure the camp was clean, and then finally going off to bed. you used the rest of the water bottles on hand to put out the burning embers, kicking them with your beat up sneaker to make sure they would stop smoking. you wiped your hands on the front of your sweatshirt, and turned away from the fire to sit on one of the logs that was used as a bench to look up at the night sky.

you let out a sigh. it was pleasantly dark, the moon full overhead, stars glittering among the black ink of the night. these nights were what you loved as a kid coming to camp. you could never see the stars from home, but out here, they shone down on you almost as brightly as the sun.

you remembered izuku, from back then, how those wet green eyes glittered in the same light. you worried for him. you hoped he was okay.

a tree branch snapped off to your left, towards the woods where the camp ended and the tree line began.

you sat up straight before fumbling around in your hoodie pocket for your flashlight, getting to your feet. if it was a deer or a small critter, it would be better to shoo it off than have a young camper try to interact with it without knowing.

you took slow, methodical steps towards the tree line, listening for any other sounds from the woods other than the crunching of leaves and gravel under your own feet. you held your breath as you shined your flashlight through the leaves.

“hello?” you called into the trees, taking a few more steps forward, past the tree line and into the gaping maw of the woods. “if you’re a deer or a fox or something, just get away.”

you crunched the twigs and leaves a little harder under your feet to further scare the animal away, and then stood still. there was nothing, not even the sound of the breeze in the treetops could be heard. it was as if a blanket fell over the world and trapped you in it.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you had even been holding. the critter must have scampered away. you had barely even needed to walk into the woods for it to get scared off.

you turned and saw the light of your cabin between the trees and the leaves, but only for a split second before there was suddenly someone there.

you barely realized what your body was doing, but you thanked a god you weren’t sure you even believed in that your fight or flight kicked in. you were running as hard as your legs could pump, deeper into the forest which was frankly the wrong way but you had no choice. it felt like your ears were ringing as you felt bushes and bramble and twigs kick up around your legs and claw at your clothes.

you heard it – the looming figure, the stranger, the mystery man –  you heard him trampling towards you, heavy footfalls in the dark of night as your lungs ached for breath. he was after you and you felt like you were going to pass out from the sudden spike of fear and adrenaline.

you almost pissed yourself when you tried to hop a fallen tree only to have it grab you by the ankle and send you crashing to the forest floor, face first, your nose bashing in against the hard dirt as you screamed.

you struggled, legs flailing and body heaving as you tried to get up, but then there was a hand on the back of your neck, large and rough and gloved, pressing your face to the floor.

you were trapped.

you screamed again, and the thing’s – no, the man’s – hand tightened around the back of your neck, his fingertips pressing against your windpipe, and you froze underneath him.

“finally…” you heard a voice murmur, and it felt like fire ants had started crawling down your spinal cord.

you knew that voice. you recognized it from your nightmares. 

you said nothing as the man’s heavy hand stayed on your neck, and he shifted to press a knee into your back, permanently disabling you from moving. “finally…” he repeated himself, and your blood went cold when you heard the smile in his muffled voice, “i’ve got you. i’ve finally got you. it’s been such a long time since i’ve seen your pretty face in person, yn.”

“let me go, izuku,” you murmured right back to him, trying to lift and turn your head from the forest floor, not wanting to aggravate him more, “just let me go. this is a mistake, i can’t-”

“you denied me,” he spoke over you, gripping your neck tighter and making you wheeze and your eyes roll back, “all those years ago. do you remember? remember how i held your hand and confessed to you? i was just a loser back then. i didn’t think you thought that of me, but i was wrong.”

you opened your mouth to reply, but he leaned more of his weight into the knee shoving you down into the ground, and instead you wheezed. 

“you told me no. that you just wanted to be friends… girls who only want friends don’t go kissing other guys behind the cabins. they don’t do that. why did you do that to me? i loved you, it wasn’t fair.”

“izuku…” you wheezed out, and finally he seemed to let up, letting go of your neck and shifting off of your back to forcibly grip your shoulders and spin you so that your back was in the mud instead. it was at this moment that you tasted the familiar tang of blood; your nose had started bleeding from the impact.

you were finally met with the green eyes of your attacker, familiar and dark and crazed, barely visible in the bright moonlight and from underneath the dirty hockey mask he wore to make an attempt at concealing his identity. clearly, he knew that you recognized him, so he straightened where he was straddling your midsection to push the mask up onto his head.

he was older, and he was bigger. the scrawny kid you knew at camp as kids turned into a massive giant of a man, rippling muscle under a tattered t-shirt and faded ripped jeans that barely held together around his thighs. his freckles seemed more abundant, as did some scars on his face that you couldn’t explain. 

he studied your bleeding face in the pale moonlight, and, ever the crier, teared up at your pain and at seeing you up close for the first time in years.

he reached a hand down to swipe at the blood dripping onto your lips with a gloved thumb. “why did you say no? why didn’t you love me back? why did you make me do this to you? you’re bleeding, i didn’t mean to make you trip…”

“how did you find me?” you jerked your head away from his grip, trying to get a hold on the situation you found yourself in. “i don’t understand, why are- what did-”

“it was easy to find you.” he muttered, shaking his head and gripping your chin to keep you still. “you kept coming back to camp. your pictures are all over the camp website. every year you’d come back for sleepaway, and then you kept coming back as a counselor. it was simple. you should have expected me, i loved this camp as a kid before you broke my heart.”

he was rambling, his fingers curling into the soft, stained apples of your cheeks as he held your face up towards the night sky to make sure you were listening to him.

your chest heaved. you felt like your body was caving in on itself. he had always been there, always in the shadows. those eyes, those camera flickers… you weren’t delusional. but you were too late with that realization.

“izuku,” you coughed a little, starting to really feel suffocated by the post nasal drip of your blood in your throat from the fall, “please, i’m sorry. let me go, please don’t-“

“i’m not gonna hurt you,” he cut you off, shaking his head once again as he let go of your chin to slide his bloodied hand down your front.

your blood ran cold. “izuku, no-“

“please,” he begged you, pathetically, shifting back off of your midsection and down lower, lower, straddling your upper thighs. his hands, dirty and bloody, hovered over your chest, ghosting down your form with a wet, lovesick smile on his face. “just once, please, i-… i just need to…”

you didn’t get a chance to protest, or even think about it, because izuku was making the decision for you.

he leaned down and mashed his lips to yours. you couldn’t breathe. your hands scrambled to shove at his shoulders, your lips squeezed shut, but his own dry, cracked ones worked you open. his thick, corded biceps didn’t budge from where they caged you in, one hand on either side of your head now.

you kicked and squirmed and izuku didn’t move. he kissed you and you didn’t kiss back. he laved his tongue over your bloodied lips, slurping up the tainted re liquid as if it were wine instead.

“you taste divine…” he purred against you, a hand moving along your side before starting to tug at your waistband.

you gave one last attempt at trying to struggle, at trying to punch at his face or shove him away, but he was massive, looming over you and grabbing your flailing hands in one of his own to pin them above your head. 

“stop resisting, you’ve left me no choice!” he practically whined at you as he pinned you to the muddy floor, and you felt the involuntary reaction of your body heating up spread through your cheeks like wildfire. “i have to have you…” he murmured, licking his lips clean of your blood, and you felt your head start to swim.

“no, please…” you shook your head, the throbbing in your face from the fall finally registering, “please don’t, izuku…” “shh, you’ll like it. i can already tell.” he smiled at you, wet and soggy, before leaning back down to start kissing along your neck and jaw. his hand slid underneath your shirt, a warm, broad palm pressing into your side before sliding up to cup your breast. “no bra… amazing…” he muttered into your collarbone, toying with your nipple as you whimpered and squirmed underneath him.

you didn’t want this, you wanted to run – you had no choice but to allow him to sit up again and remove your pants and underwear in one rough go, yelping out when you heard the thin fabric of your panties tear in his grip despite your pants. he pushed your knees apart and groaned, staring at your glistening folds in the moonlight. “you’re so wet. see? i knew you loved me, depe down.”

you knew better than to argue with a brick wall.

you felt one hand ghost over your folds, making you twitch and jerk; his other hand moved to shove your shirt up to reveal your tits to the cold night air, making you shiver.

izuku was practically purring, sliding two fingers between your sopping folds as he groped your breast. “look at you. so much more pliant. i didn’t want to hurt you, see? i just wanted to show you how much i loved you, i promise.”

you opened your mouth to rebut, but all that poured out were a string of curses and whimpers as he pushed one thick digit into your twitching hole, the rough pad of his thumb drawing tight circles over your puffy clit.

you shouldn’t be feeling so good. you shouldn’t be whimpering in the dirt under him, squirming and digging your nails into the mud while you tasted your own blood on your lips. and yet, you were, keening under his touch as he pumped one, no, two fingers in and out of you, wet squelching starting to echo through the trees.

his lips were on your neck again, sucking bruise after bruise into your skin as he guided a third finger in, making you cry out from the stretch. he laughed against your ear, “enjoying yourself now? i could’ve given this to you so long ago, but you kept running. not anymore.”

a chill ran up your spine, but the fear ebbed away into pleasure as he found that spongy spot inside of your tight walls that had your eyes rolling back into your head and your arms flying to wrap around him.

he groaned, his teeth sinking into your neck as you started to crumble. you felt the coil in your stomach burn red hot, faster than you yourself could do, and your body jerked in his grasp as your high came crashing down onto you. you felt your fluids gush into the palm of his hand and splash onto the dirt floor underneath you, and you swore you could hear izuku moaning in tandem with you against your skin, as if he was getting just as much pleasure from it as you were.

he fingered you through your high before pulling his fingers out and licking them clean with a moan. you shook, eyes wide and teary, thinking he would be done – unwise of you, you came to realize, as he sat back on his heels and shoved his dirty jeans down just enough to let his heavy cock flop out, dripping with pre, so hefty it couldn’t stand on its own. you started to shake your head through the fog of your orgasm, heels digging into the dirt. “no, no, it won’t-”

“stop,” he growled, grabbing your ankle and yanking you back towards him, making you cry out in fear, “stay still. it’s gonna fit. you just need to relax, okay? can you relax?”

you were panicking again, shaking under him as he looped your twitching legs around his waist and tapped his cock against your wet pussy. you throbbed and shifted underneath him, whimpering at how the head of his cock bumped against your clit with each swipe. he was smiling again, lovesick and puppylike as he watched his cock get soaked in your juices. 

“finally…” he hummed, revering the way the fear in your eyes turned to straight panic as the tip of his cock dipped into your hole, “finally i can fill you up.”

izuku sunk himself home, and you screamed. the sting was harsh, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as the feeling of being filled in just the right way.

izuku groaned and immediately flopped over you, sinking himself as deep as he could go, lifting your legs up onto the crooks of his arms, bending you in half as he nuzzled against your shoulder. “you feel just like i imagined, so tight… i know you’re not a virgin, but you feel like one.”

you bit down on your lip, feeling yourself involuntarily clench at his words. he gasped a little, and then you felt his smile against your skin. “i’ll move now, okay? you’re gonna feel so good.”

you barely had a breath in your lungs before he was drawing his hips back and slamming himself home. you screamed into the forest, unheard by the camp, as izuku ruthlessly fucked into you. jackrabbiting and needy, he fucked you like an animal in heat, and you were getting off on it. 

the angle he had you contorted in was perfect, hitting the right spots and feeling the drag of his cockhead against your walls had your head spinning. you latched onto him, unable to find purchase in the forest floor, and he welcomed your embrace by caging you under him further.

his balls smacked heavily against your ass as he pounded you, your eyes rolling back hard into the sockets as you felt the coil in your stomach start to heat up. you were babbling, clawing at his back, digging your nails in and twitching so violently. 

izuku was moaning into your shoulder, drooling against your skin, laving his tongue along your collar bone. “fuck, fuck, please, cum for me, cum on my cock, gonna fill you up so good, please-”

listening to his moans against your ear rattled your brain and make you see white. you cried out loudly into the night air, your body pulling taut as a bowstring before you let go, feeling yourself cum all over his cock, that creamy ring of white forming almost immediately.

you felt like you were floating, but only for mere seconds. you felt his cock jump in your sopping hole, and then you were being filled to the brim with his seed, and you felt his teeth sink into your flesh.

this time, you screamed in true pain. 

he gnashed his teeth into your shoulder as he came inside you, breaking the skin and letting his mouth fill. you panted, feeling hazy and too warm, dizzy and flighty…

he lifted his head from your shoulder and swallowed the fresh blood, smiling as it dripped down his chin and landed on your lips. “that was… everything. let’s get you home.”

you felt your body be lifted soon enough, and you saw the lights of your cabin in the far distance flicker out.

[voidcat]

— what the cat dragged in

characters: papa emeritus iii/you, cardinal copia, nameless ghouls, sister imperator

wc & genre/notes: 8.1k – strangers to friends/lovers, fluff, suggestive content (minor discussion of kinks and terzo being terzo during mummy dust. That part starts with “I’d say you’re deflecting,” and ends with the divider.) neighbors au, reader has a cat… I’ll b honest idk what else to say

a/n: this is My blog and I get to choose how cringe I want to be. Yes I said I’d not write for ghost and did it anyways after one (1) bad day. Yes this file is titled “hatehatehatemyself” on Google drive. The part after the burgundy divider is an optional ending. You can read the entire thing as platonic or slowly growing into something romantic. have fun x

Head turned left and right, looking around, no sign around.

The neighborhood is rather quiet today, the sun up and everyone out, at work or else. Rustling of grass with each breeze reaches your ears, and each time you whip your head toward the direction with hope.

In a breath, you cross the road and walk and walk and walk. It’s a long one, not unbearably so but still a little unnerving. You don’t recall many people going this way after all.

Now standing before the grand door, the little mailbox a few meters away awfully standing out, you raise your fist and knock.

And wait.

And waiting you do for almost a minute, if it weren’t for the noises you hear, a clutter of something, a shatter there and finally footsteps.

The door swings open– though it looks too heavy to be opened just like that and the man stands tall before you, forearm resting against the frame, leaning his entire weight to it, eyes barely open and you don’t need to see the barely filled bottle he holds to tell he is drunk.

The scent of alcohol reeks off him just enough.

Your nose scrunches up at the smell.

Squinting his eyes at the sudden intrusion of light coming from the sun, he doesn’t acknowledge you right away.

You doubt he has noticed you.

Isn’t it a bit too early to be drinking like this already? He looks trashed, to say the least.

Then he seems to notice you, though he makes so little movement to fix his posture, the belt tied around his waist barely doing its job to hold the robe together.

Decent on the eyes, you’d have thought for the guy, if it wasn’t for the weird face paint.

Getting too far and a little too early on the halloween spirit?

“Ah…” you clear your throat and try again. “So you see, my cat was lost and–”

“Oh perfect! That’s just lovely now.” he cuts you off, quite loud too. Head thrown back, he holds a sneer. “And what, little one ? Decided to come here and accuse us?” bottle dropped on the floor, rolls off to the side, hitting to an end by the door frame. 

With both hands free, he throws them up in mockery, mimicking what you can only think to be a kid’s voice: “‘ Oh no the big bad mean satanists stole my cat and used it for their sick rituals. ’” hands dropped to his sides immediately as he is done with his imitation, he glares down at you: “Well guess what? Buzz off! As if I don’t have enough bullshit to deal with right now. Go find a more creative way to get in sherlock.” 

So they were satanists after all…

Good to know you suppose, not that you care in all honesty. The whole church-like air of the building only gets more confusing for you though.

Before he can close the door to your face, you place your palm against it to stop him. “Hey!” 

The force behind the door comes to a pause, probably didn’t expect you to fight back.

“Listen, Mr. Halloween or whatever poor Jack Skellington look you were going for.” you begin speaking, ignoring the way his face morphs into pure confusion. “How about you listen to people before barking assumptions at them?”

A moment of breath, the resistance behind the door ends completely and he opens it full again, waiting for you to continue but doesn’t seem all too happy.

“My cat likes to go outdoors and one of my neighbors said to me once that he often visits this place. So can I please come in?”

Seeing it written clear that you won’t be leaving any time soon, the guy sighs and steps aside. “Don’t touch anything and don’t leave my sight.”

Footsteps echoing in the hallways, you ‘pspsps’ here and there in hopes of your cat turning around but to no avail.

It’s only when passing a door that the guy pauses and curses to himself, you can hear the hints of an accent.

Turning to face him, he takes in your raised brow as a question.

“Copia has rats– pet rats. Your cat better be a vegan because I will not deal with his whole…” he gestures with his hand at nothing, “mourning or Sister Imperator’s reprimanding if a single one of them is missing.”

“Mr. Whiskers is a well behaving, domesticated cat with manners, thank you very much.” you say and turn your head with a huff.

Copia? Imperator? You have no idea who these guys are but you’re sure you can handle a couple of …dorky satanists, if the rest of them are just like this man baby at least.

You can always leave town before night too, if it comes down to it.

Only few steps away and the man watches as you disappear, yelling after you about ‘what did he say’ and all that bullshit but you couldn’t care any less because there he is, your precious baby!

All pulled up into a cozy little furry ball by the corner under a window, in what appears to be someone’s bedroom.

Pretty messy too.

The man seems to catch sight of you and say something he thinks is amusing, or sleek, from the tone he uses, though you pay no attention to his words or how they suddenly run dry. (‘ well if your eye on me the whole time, you didn’t need to make up an excuse about a lost c –’)

Picking up your cat despite his protests, you turn and thank him with a nod. His words register in your mind with a small delay. 

“Maybe consider tidying up your room, what are you, twelve?” and with that, you exit his warzone of a room and walk back the path you took, with Mr. Whiskers purring in your arms the entire walk home.

The second time your cat goes missing while you’re home, you know better.

Instead of wasting hours searching around, you hike up all the way to that dreaded place and knock on the door with force and impatience.

It is a woman who answers instead.

A woman who does not seem to be the slightest bit impressed.

Staring at her bored face, you take notice of her clothes you can deem as formal for the place, the sound of fabric brushing as she crosses her arms, you snap out of it, trying to formulate the words regarding your cat and and all.

Whatever thought seems to pass her mind, you conclude that she doesnt care and watch as she leaves the door open, walking back inside. So you hurriedly follow.

“Sleek, black hair you said?” she asks, still walking ahead as you nod– shit, satanist or not, she can’t have an eye at the back of her head now; letting out a hum of affirmation you fasten your steps and try to walk by her side.

Steps come to a halt before a closed door, she knocks firmly, once.

Upon receiving no answer whatsoever, she rolls her eyes and opens the door.

They must have quite the savings you think, to have a place with soundproof walls and doors. The unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin, breathy moans and all, you wonder to yourself, couldn’t your cat have picked somewhere …normal to take his afternoon naps.

Paying the scene before her eyes no mind, the woman steps in– is that who the man referred to as Sister Imperator?, and you catch her words about grabbing the darn cat now and continuing his pity party later.

The sounds of sex stop and you can hear someone walking around all the while mumbling something.

Before you can thank the woman however, she turns and walks away.

Less than a minute later the same man from before peeks out his head through the door.

Wearing a different robe this time and doing a poor job of holding your cat, though Mr. Whiskers doesn’t seem to mind, the traitor, he watches as you take the cat from his arms.

As you turn to leave and call it a day, maybe open a bottle of wine and see where the night takes you, a ‘hey!’ catches up to you from behind.

Leaning against the door frame like he did the first time, he waits for you to face him.

“Just let me know next time your cat comes over. I doubt neither you nor Sister would like to become frequent acquaintances.” 

You eye him with a suspicious look. Sure the woman does seem like if she sees you 3 times a week or more for your cat, she might sacrifice you and Mr. Whiskers to Lucifer with her bare hands but hey, you cannot control who answers the door now.

As if sensing your train of thought, or, a part of it, he lets out a sigh, “My windows are pretty wide. Pretend they’re doors or something.”

“...right.” Sounds more and more reassuring with each word for sure, great , thank you Mr. Whiskers.

Then an after thought seems to follow as a whine can be heard from inside his room, “ Just – maybe let me know ahead before you come through the window, yeah ?”

“And I should do that, how?” you ask, wishing the whole encounter to be over “I don’t want you charging me if a stone happens to find its way in.”

From how he mumbles the words ‘charging’ and ‘stone’ confused, it seems to be taking him a while to register your words.

The implication of your words seem to dawn in as his face goes down “Last I checked, cellphones exist.” he states, not sounding too happy about the possible danger his precious windows may face. 

“And how should I know this isn’t some weird excuse to get my number?” you sound skeptical, on the edge, probably finger hovering over that dial button to the police if it wasn’t for the cat in your arms.

At your words though, he chuckles. “I do have a girl in my bed right now, you know?”

“And my question remains unchanged.” staring at him with a dead serious expression, you watch as his amused face falls, his eyes rolling and he shoves a hand down one of his pockets, taking out a pen.

Expectant eyes on you– wait, what is up with his eyes? , he pushes off the cap, shaking his left arm so the robe’s arm can slide off, revealing his skin, waiting. Waiting for you.

“You better not send me any weird crap or call-” you state then say out your phone number.

Well, worst comes to worst, you know a good lawyer.

Third time's the charm is how the saying goes. You have your doubts but perhaps there is truth to it as the man’s ridiculous window idea works.

It takes no time to figure out Mr. Whiskers spends his afternoons there because the rays of sunlight hit just right, and right next to where he sleeps is a comfortable armchair with black and white hair decorating its surface a little.

Few steps ahead of his windows, the view of a wonderful garden has attracted your attention but you know better than to ask, or enter without permission. The amount of times you’ve dropped by increases at record speed, yet the air between you both is still tight.

He lets out a warm laugh when he gets a good look at him once, but when you ask, you get no reply. Surely this cannot be the first tuxedo cat he has ever seen in his life.

One silence after another, he must've sensed how tense and awkward it feels too, as a little after he tries to make conversation and apologize.

So they are a satanic organization, that’s fine.

You’ve always wondered as a kid about the gatherings you’d see within a distance but never bothered to check for yourself.

A rock band to spread their word and message however, now that is odd. You’re starting to think their anti church might be the most normal thing to them.

Yet you remain your silence and let him speak, listen, and try to make as much sense of them as you can because god knows you won’t be leaving this place any time soon.

He says he is– was the frontman of the band, and their beloved antipope , but was dethroned , or so he claims, few days prior to your arrival.

You can understand frustration over something you have dedicated your time and effort into, and for you to be pulled off it without a logical explanation. That explains drinking until the brain shuts down despite that scent of alcohol still stings your senses.

Nodding to his words, you take his apology and leave with Mr. Whiskers that day. He asks if you’d like to see the garden the next time your legs are dangling off the windowsill.

You accept in a heartbeat.

With the weather warming up and all, your cat seems to enjoy the garden as much as you do.

Trees and flowers of all kinds tended to with care and love, you can tell. Each arranged with care, the entire place paints a beautiful picture before your eyes, and endless too.

Same as the window, this becomes a habit too. To stroll in the garden and sit on one of the stone benches, talking or staying like this in silence.

He seems fond of Mr Whiskers for reasons unknown to you, until he pulls out a photograph of someone in what you make out to be a tuxedo of sorts, on a stage no less.

The photograph is of small scale, you cannot make out much of the details, so he takes it upon himself to explain that it is indeed him in the photo and the looks of your cat caught him by surprise because of his looks.

Without waiting for a reaction, he offers to show you the outfit he wore back then, though he sounds a little melancholic about the whole thing still.

Sure , you agree, but keep it to yourself that the regency shirt and black pants look just fine on him.

It blurs at one point you begin visiting even without Mr. Whisker’s presence in his room.

Bursting out into laughter, he looks almost offended at your reaction. “I’m sorry-” your giggles break through as you wipe off a tear, “what did you say it was again?” 

“Emeritus.” he says flatly.

“Emeritus.” you repeat, this time doing a better job at containing the giggling.

“Yes, Emeritus,” he says again and adds, “The third.” 

If your laughter before was loud, this is something beyond, enough to make him go deaf in comparison.

“Okay no, I’m not calling you-”  you bring your hands up to finger quote, “Emeritus The Third.” you say in a serious tone. “And I’m certainly not calling you ‘papa’ or some bullshit title.” you cut in before he can get a word out.

“We’re going to need a nickname, what about ‘em’?”

“Em.” his tone asking ‘are you for real?’, his turn to repeat now.

“Okay no, that’s just as bad, give me some time to th-” hand covering his face, he just shakes his head with a sigh. 

“Just call me Terzo , caro mio.”

Seeing as to no reply from you comes, he removes his hand and looks up. “It means ‘ the third ’ in Italian.”

“Oh,” you manage to say, though you do sound a little different now, perhaps you thought from his reactions you hurt him and now feel sorry about that? 

“Yeah, I can do that, Terzo.” speaking with more confidence now, testing the name on your tongue, you talk more to yourself and nod your head than to him– he finds watching you act like this, how you operate and think as you talk endearing.

You find yourself liking spending time with Terzo more than you’ve realized.

Work is work, adulting is the same and sometimes relationships with friends feel dull or far away.

To say the least, he is interesting. Usually something to catch you off guard or wondering, it is guaranteed your time with him is never one to fall victim to boredom.

So he speaks of his life, of things he has done on the road and whatnot, even going as far to recreate when he tried to kick off a beach ball only to fall, basking in the waves of your laughter, even complaining to him by nighttime that your face hurts from laughing so much.

In return you feel you don’t have as exciting stories but he listens as if they’re the most wonderful things he has ever heard.

You deem them mundane and every time without a beat, he says only to you.

It comes down to, more like remembering, those scenes from when you were a kid.

He is awfully quiet that day, when you speak of seeing figures in black walking in tow, a kid or two that seemed to be your peers but how their estate in the eyes of some were off limits, and it was always at an odd time for you to be walking up there and talk with the kids.

A shame, the two of you could’ve met much earlier, yet he doesn’t voice it and you do not realize it.

Of all the things he has experienced recently, entering his room, to a bed unmade, finding you wrapped in the covers and sound asleep, would score high on Terzo’s list of things he wouldn’t expect– that is, if his brain could even muster up such a scene.

He doesn't need to, though, as it becomes real before his eyes and he makes way for the loveseat that night.

He doesn’t pry about it and all you say under your breath is that you felt lonely.

‘What about Wh-’ before he can ask, you open the covers partly to reveal that Mr. Whiskers is indeed with you, in his bed.

He just hopes the cat won’t switch his usual spot for his bed when he comes next time.

The nightly visits from you start to occur more, by the third time he knows it’ll become another constant, though not as frequent.

You do appear upset that he has to sleep on the couch, yet he waves his hand dismissively, that he doesn’t mind– he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or cross any unnamed boundaries. Which is a little outside the usual for him, he is known for being bold, for holding and kissing hands and doing much more when he can even smell from a kilometer away the slightest of interest the other party has in him.

The next time it repeats, he is startled by a sudden noise as he makes for the couch as always. Turning on his heel only to see you patting the spot next to you in his bed.

Sure, it is a spacious bed, more than enough space for the both of you, and Mr. Whiskers, yet he still feels tense about the whole situation.

What if he wraps an arm around you or something in his sleep and you wake up angry, that he jumped into conclusions, that this wasn’t what you wanted at all and that you’ll never visit again and file a restra–

“You think too much.” 

You draw him out of his pocket sized crisis with few words and a flock on his forehead. “Keep doing that and you’ll end up with wrinkles in no time.”

What else can he do but chuckle at that and sink into sleep, safe and sound?

Wine is a skillful loosener, as the two of you rediscover together.

On days you stick around for longer, he makes his offer– though you refuse it as much as you can.

Despite dropping by unannounced after a while, you haven't walked into any intimate moments. And against your initial claim, your phone does get bombarded, usually photos of Mr. Whiskers when Terzo catches a glimpse of him, or when he thinks he is being adorable.

The latter is worse, because Terzo always finds him adorable once he warms up to the cat. The way he acts through text makes you picture him lying on the floor, hands supporting his chin, legs behind him dangling in the air, watching the unknowing cat as he sleeps or does the most mundane cat thing anyone can think of.

Neither of you are aware just how fascinating mundane is to him.

You can sense his pout from meters away.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” you put down the stacked papers. “What is it?”

Crossing his arms, he turns away partially, grumbling under his breath, “I don’t know what youre talking about.”

Getting closer to Terzo means many things, witnessing the absolute manchild that resides in him included.

Picking up your phone to turn the volume down, your eyes find his figure again– either he resembles Mr. Whiskers more than you gave them credit for or your time spent with him making you delusional. “Out with it already,” his form shrinks only further, “or no more visits from me or Mr. Whiskers.”

Now that , gets his attention.

Eyes focused somewhere near your face intentionally, he almost appears reluctant to say the words.

“How come you never listen to any of my songs?”

It takes you few seconds longer to register his words.

Before you can answer, he begins rambling, so rushed and in a whisper, all you can hear is few words in italian, which you’re sure are curses slipping his tongue and terms of endearment.

“I just… forgot?” you offer with a shrug.

Okay, maybe not the best response as this gets him to throw his arms into air, “ mio satana , you are unbelievable.” a finger pokes into your side, you haven't even realized he already crossed the distance between you both.

So he gets jealous when you listen to other musicians, huh , you save the information for future use.

As you begin laughing, he chuckles, muttering under his breath. “I guess, I’ll  have to bring a ritual to your feet.”

It goes unknown to you that Terzo semi-regularly orders cat food for Mr. Whiskers, not that the cat ever seemed to be hungry when he was there, but hey, cannot hurt to try. If the cat only decides to visit him, with you in cue, more often, now there is no harm in that.

Another thing unbeknownst to you, is that, despite the distance between their estate and your house, Terzo can spot your lights without much effort.

If he were to dramatize the entire thing between you both and more, he’d refer to it as a beacon of light. But he doesn’t need to, because there is nothing more to what it is between the two of you, even if unnamed, even when he cannot help wondering “ what if …”, wondering if he is misinterpreting things.

So when he doesn’t see the lights turn on by the night time one evening, he doesn’t care, maybe the power went out, maybe you just want to try something different for a change. He certainly doesn’t care in the morning when he sees a second figure come out of the door, or when you drop by later that evening, a throbbing headache and ‘ long day at work’ you just murmur as you fall asleep on his shoulder.

You accept the wine when you're taking another stroll in the gardens.

With the weather beginning to cool down, you welcome its warmth to your very bones.

Booze loosens your tongue first, and soon your senses, your train of thought. Whether it’s a good thing or not that you’re not the only victim… you don't know.

“Was it worth it at least?” he muses as you’re seated on the same bench, glasses sat on the ground.

You twist your face, trying to recall, “Once I tuned his voice out, yeah I guess?” he snorts at your words, “Isn’t this the usual case?” 

“Nah,” you drag the word as you reach for your glass, “He could also suck in bed. So the entire night wasn’t a waste I suppose. Never going back to that place though, I’m picky for a reason.”

You say the words more to yourself as a mantra than anything, Terzo watching you with a giggle hanging on his lips. 

“Bad drinks as well?”

“It’d be charity to call them as such, ugh,” with a sigh, you drink down the remaining half of your wine, tipping the empty glass to his direction.

Taking your glass, he switches it with his and you take no time to bring it back to your lips.

“But this?” you raise the glass, “now that is a quality product.”

With another chuckle, he reaches for the bottle and fills the empty glass in his hand.

The topic of your recent and unfortunate endeavors morph into complaining about work, people in the streets, weird posts on the internet and whatnot.

“Okay, okay,” you try to speak inbetween laughter, “so what about weird preferences when it comes to sex?”

He just gives you a teasing smirk as you place your finger on his lips as a means to shush him “we already know weird shit and food combinations the other likes, consider this a slight change of topic.”

“I’d say you’re deflecting, but alright, I’ll buy.” he shrugs, throwing his head back to drink from the bottle– the glasses cast aside an hour or so ago.

“Any kink you can think of, I’m most likely into already, so just ask me yourself.”

You bring a finger to your chin, contemplating what to say for a moment, “Socks stay on or?..” you let your voice trail off, gazing at him from the side with a smile.

Bringing a hand over his heart and another against his forehead, he faces you fully and lets out a loud gasp. “Caro mio! You wound me. I might be the antipope but I am not a lunatic!”

He opens one eye to seize your reaction, and when your gazes meet, both of you burst into laughter.

“But the face paint stays on, no?” you gesture to your face once you stop clutching your stomach.

“Everyone has a preference, tesero.” he shrugs.

Considering his position and the closest people he can find to fuck, it does add up, you suppose.

“Now enough about me, what about you ?” He leans in to you, flashing his teeth. Not letting him get to him, you snatch the bottle from his hand. 

“What about me, indeed huh? Just your basic, vanilla bullshit.” you close your eyes as you gulp down the wine.

Your comment only ignites him further, with another chuckle, he scoots closer, “You? Vanilla? I’d beg to differ,” and again, with the poking to your sides, he pleads “Don’t keep your papa waiting now.” “Okay first of all–” 

You snap your head to him, only to be nose to nose, “ Not the ‘p’ word, we went over that ages ago, not calling you that.”

“Only because you’re being such a tease,” he sing-songs, his head thrown back.

 “You are such a child,” you mumble as you place the bottle between your legs, hands gripping its neck.

“Biting, I suppose.” You can hear him open an eye and look your way, “Nothing extreme as I said, but people aren’t exactly dying to be covered in red and purple, you know?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” he answers, “their loss.”

You can sense he wants to pry further but keeps himself, and hell , the wine is good, there is another bottle waiting by his foot, and compared to the amount of black mail-level footage of him you've got, this feels like nothing.

“Taking risks.” you say in a whisper, partially hoping he doesn’t hear.

“Now, this falls vague, bella.” he says. “Risks of conceiving, catching STDS–” he begins counting with a finger,

“ No ! I said risks , not being an idiot.” You cut in, a hand covering your face.

You know he is waiting with that smug smirk, “risks of getting caught, like, dunno , semi public spaces and the likes?” you ask more than speak, meeting his gaze as you finish speaking.

“So that’s where the biting comes,” he speaks in a knowing tone, “leaving telltale marks blooming everywhere?” he muses as his hand begins to move, finger grazing against your skin.

“Like this?” he asks, hand going up and drawing patterns on your thigh, slowly going up, his eyes gauging your expression. 

“...yeah” you say in a breath, letting his hand reach the inner side of your thigh. A finger flicks against the bottle, drawing out a trembling note, making your eyes flash though all your times here, you never saw anyone else in the gardens.

The bottle has long gone warm but his hand feels cold against your leg, you’re aware of his eyes locked on your face yet make no haste to draw yours away from the plants up ahead.

His hand begins to travel upwards, making way to fiddle with the hem, going under and his skin meeting yours.

Before he can do anything further however, you both jolt with the sudden noise coming from behind, between the windows.

“Cazzo!” he mutters and gets up, making way to enter his room through the windows.

While waiting for him, you go for the other bottle, pouring yourself some more wine, at least with a glass, you can keep count.

Pausing to listen around, you hear the commotion has died down.

Picking up the other glass and hoisting the empty bottle under your arm, you make way for the stained glass windows you’ve grown familiar with over the course of time.

Terzo doesn't seem to pay much mind to the interruption though, the conversation picks up from where it left, now talking in a more general sense.

“You give off vibes of someone who’d make a sex playlist,” you begin as he listens with a nod, “ and add your songs to it.”

“As I said gioia, everyone has their preferences.” he reaches to take the bottle from you, not expecting your arm to draw back, “yet I cannot help but be upset,” he sheds a nonexistent tear, “that you think my thrust game is so weak.”

Seeing as you freeze at his words, he takes a step to you, grabbing the bottle from your hand with a smile and places it down, not stepping back afterwards. “If you want a demonstration though, I am always happy to help.” 

As if your silence was anything to go by, now it is deafening, the warmth and flush of your skin; you’re unsure if the cause is alcohol or him .

“And I did promise a demonstration of my songs to you before, didn’t I?” he says as he takes another step your way.

“So you see, we got this fan favorite song, Mummy Dust,” he speaks while pretending to be interested in the ceiling, gesturing with a hand in the air, “but not because of the lyrics.” he remarks with a smug expression, redirecting his gaze to you as he takes another step, barely any space left separating the two of you.

You’re unsure what to say or do, when left alone in a room with a bunch of people wearing identical masks.

You think, Terzo must’ve pulled a rope here and there, or acted in secrecy considering his sudden drop of position in the band, to have gotten into this studio– and bringing you no less.

The people he referred to as Nameless Ghouls stare at you, and you back at them. You can imagine the confusion they must be going through.

Then the man of the hour reappears with a clap of hands, dressed up in an outfit resembling a suit, and his previous remark at Mr. Whiskers suddenly comes back to you, finally making sense.

A concert– or a ritual, as he put it, he promised and one he delivers.

A ghoul begins playing his guitar in sync with the drums, as two of them walk to stand at their both sides and with a sudden stomp of foot, they all play in, in a fashion you can describe as ‘ knocking the wind out of your lungs .’

Only when Terzo’s singing, and soon the instruments coming to a stop that you realize you've been holding your breath the whole time. And quickly find out you may as well die due to lack of oxygen by the time the day comes to an end if they only keep up this momentum.

One song after another, they captivate you gradually. Be it the way the ghouls play or the way Terzo moves as he sings, radiating with energy. Walking around and messing up with one another, bothering each other at times– it all creates the illusion of a found family.

Briefly moving his hand, the ghouls pick acoustic guitars once another song comes to an end.

After each song he tells its name and some information– or funny memories he finds important you know.

With a signal of his hand, the ghouls switch to acoustic guitars and Terzo begins humming: “a one, a two, three, and four.“ 

With a move of his hand, they all enter the song.

One hand in a fist, resting against his hip and the other in front of him, he sways his hips softly as he sings.

It doesn’t miss your attention how some of his moves arent as innocent or random as they seem– when he brings his other hand to join the stray one, hoisting them up in the air as if holding something, or how after he holds the microphone with one hand and violates the poor stand with his fingers. Hands thrown into the air and shaking in the air as a ta-da once in a while, he takes a step back to point at one of the ghouls’ playing.

The song comes to an end and you think you’ve done good so far– then he decides to announce that the song is called Jigolo Har Meggido and you burst into laughter, leaving the men in the room utterly confused.

It takes several minutes for you to gather yourself, wipe away the tears all the while ignoring Terzo hovering over you with concern, unsure whether to approach you or leave you be in your violent laughter.

“I’m sorry-” your words die in your throat as another wave of laughter takes over again, “it’s just-” hand clutching over your stomach, you do your best to look up, “you do re-”, meeting his face only makes you laugh again.

A tap on your shoulder distracts you a little. Taking the water bottle one of the ghouls have brought to you, in your frenzy you didn’t even realize him leaving, you take a few sips to calm your nerves.

“I know you’re flirty and all, but witnessing you calling yourself a manwhore caught me off guard.” 

Definitely not something worth laughing to that extent over, Terzo doesn’t say a word and instead flashes you a toothy grin.

“You’d be surprised to hear it was his brother who wrote this song.” you hear someone say, the same ghoul from before.

“Ah!” Terzo waves a hand dismissively in the air, “enough talk of that geezer. Now , what do you say to a grammy winning original?” 

The ghouls slowly begin as Terzo walks back, their eyes on him and his hands, watching every move and tilt, following his guidance. Compared to the other songs they’ve played so far, this one comes off much softer, gentler, making you wonder what will come next.

Raising both hands in the air as if in praise, the ghouls all stop and silence takes over, waiting, and with his signal, they enter the song, picking up stronger than where they left off.

The melody matches the lyrics somewhat, the impression of a thunder, it builds up and carries smoothly.

He begins singing what you assume to be the second verse, drawing closer to you at a steady pace. His voice becomes the only thing you hear as the instruments falter and die out, quietening one by one. The microphone now held in his left, his right hand reaches out to hold yours, bringing it up near his face as he keeps singing: “ Can't you see that you're lost without me?”

And with it, they all reenter the song with a bang, your hand still in his, Terzo kisses the back of it in between lyrics and steps back to his initial position.

Drumming his fingers in the air, swaying them at the direction of either of the ghouls, they all circle around the keyboard playing ghoul as the song shifts into an instrumental part.

Eyes never leaving theirs, especially not his, not when he makes sure to lock his with you, you watch the entire performance almost in a trance, mind going blank.

When the song ends, you can see his expectant looks on you, already beaming with whatever compliment he’s positive you’ll be giving him.

So you decide to pick the teasing route. 

“It was nice.” he stares at you, his face clearly showing he wasn’t waiting to hear that. “Nice?..”

Humming in affirmation, you nod your head. “Yeah, nice.” tilting your head to the side, you speak up, “ Say , this helps you get some?” 

The man stands there, blinking at you for what feels like eternity.

The ghouls in a similar stance, though you’re sure you’ve heard one of them snort, and another snicker.

The eternity ends with a shake of his head and a faint smile on his face. “Yes, sorella , it helps me …get plenty actually.” he uses your phrase.

“Well,” he clicks his tongue as he places the microphone back to its place, “if it’s a …meretricious song you desire, how about I give you,” his pace of speaking slows down, as if holding his breath, waiting for imaginary drum rolls: “Mummy Dust!” He drags the words in a low grumble, shaking his hands in the air once again.

From how he starts swaying and moving his hips, you immediately recognize the song.

As Terzo begins singing, the sound of a door opening and clicking close reach your ears and when you twist halfway in your seat, you see a man with pencil stache dressed up in black, his hat partially resembling a bat, same painted eyes and upper lip like Terzo yet lacking the rest of the face paint.

The man stills in place when he sees you, only gets his feet to move again when you pat the vacant spot near you.

Whispering greetings back and forth, you immediately remember his name.

“Ah you’re the Cardinal!” Your voice comes out a tad more excited than expected. The man on the other hand seems confused as to how you know him already.

“How are your rats? Happy, I hope. I am so sorry, I never got the chance to apologize to you or to them because of Mr. Whiskers.” The words leave your lips in a breath, leaving the man dumbfounded, repeating your cat’s name in confusion and unaware, 

“ah, I-, my most sincere apologies, who?..”

“Mr. Whiskers, my cat, didn't Terzo t- oh.” Unfortunately the mention of a cat before you can stop makes his eyes go wide, and you try your best to assure him that your cat didnt even set foot into his room, somewhat calming the anxious man down.

The music on the other hand, as well as the singing, gets louder and a tad more aggressive. 

Probably unhappy with how your attention was led somewhere other than him. So needy and grumpy, spoiled like a cat.

“Uh, we can save our discussing for after the song?” Cardinal suggests, to which you nod. “I'd hate to impose on this- uh, special performance his excellency was displaying for you.” He says, coughing on his words at the way Terzo moves.

“Its alright Cardinal. I was given a demonstration of this song already, I am not missing out on anything.”

Again, you must’ve said something wrong, because instead of relaxing, the Cardinal’s face tenses up and goes bright red.

“ Oh !” You wince, “poor choice of words on my behalf. That's not what I meant.” You try to offer an explanation with a sheepish smile, but to no avail. 

At least Terzo looks quite pleased with the interaction, as clear from the smug expression taking over his face.

The previous incident– goes unaddressed between the two of you but the air between doesnt waver.

Still, it must have triggered some sort of change, you conclude, as Terzo’s texting habits only evolve into a different stage.

Sure, it went for quite a while that the initial purpose of exchanging numbers was abandoned yet he still possessed control, a sense of self restraint, when texting you.

Definitely the absolute opposite of whatever it is going on as of now.

Maybe you’ve spoiled him too much, your brain reaches another conclusion as the lips on your skin snap that thought in the middle, pulling you back into reality.

You still don’t visit him as regular as to say daily, or even biweekly– so you hold onto the benefit of doubt that he has absolutely no way of knowing youre busy trying to have a nice night, focused on pleasure and the feeling of euphoria–

Another vibrating sound against your nightstand cuts into the air, your sceeen lightning up right after.

You ignore it only so far until you find yourself scrolling and typing up a reply, the light coming from the screen reflecting against you and the man you’ve forgotten about already.

As you smile at his newest text, hearing that stupid whining of his voice and the pout, someone next to you clears his throat, snapping you back.

“Anything I should know about?” He only asks and in all honesty , you cannot blame the guy. You’d have reaches into equally ugly assumptions, were this to happen to you.

But it didnt, and it isn’t right now, so its only a little too late that you put yourself in his shoes.

“Nope.” You say, walking up to your bookshelf and placing the phone screen down, “just a friend.”

The guy hums, sounding skeptical but doesn't pry.

You give him the benefit of the doubt but few too many repeats and you know it's intentional.

You did spoil him too much it seems.

Another afternoon by his side, you're sitting on the window sill, one leg tucked under yourself, he is busy on the other side of the room, who knows what he is preparing this time.

“Wine?” he turns on his heel, holding a glass and the bottle’s neck tilted slightly already. 

“None for me, thank you.” 

Eyebrows raised in curiosity, a scheming expression takes over. “Ooh? Any plans for tonight?” He inquires. You don’t need to know that he is dreading the confirmation that'll leave your lips. 

“I guess,” you shrug, turning to look outside the window, “promised Steve we’d spend the night together.”

Heavy silence spreads from your words and takes over the room. 

The teasing remarks signature to his natural charm never comes and you turn your head to see if he even heard you in the first place… or left the room before you spoke… or somehow passed out in silence as you spoke.

Your worries ease upon seeing him standing there, still, not even a muscle moved from his last position, unreadable eyes staring at you.

Only when you tilt your head towards, asking ‘what’s wrong?’ and only then he snaps out of whatever trance he was in, coughs and tried to laugh it off with a ‘ have fun’ , pouring himself a glass.

Unbelievable.

Discreetly taking a sip from his wine to distract himself doesn't do much to ease him and the now unimpressed look you're giving him makes even the wine taste bitter on his tongue. 

“Wh-“ “you are unbelievable.”

Okay, you don't just seem pissed, disappointed?, something definitely negative; you sound like it too.

“For wishing my friend a fun night?” And with a guy he has never heard you mention before– the word friend stings to say. “I’m sure Steve is a good gu-“ “ Again,” you dont let him finish, “you are unbelievable, absolutely childish and overall a great idiot.”

Okay now you're just being mean. A scowl makes its way to his face before he can even notice, making you shake your head in disbelief like a mother scolding her kids with a smile.

“If youre done with the insults cara,” he says and raises his glass, appearing pissed and upset as he downs the glass.

“Terzo, you met Steve.” His head snaps up at your words. “Steve?“ you repeat in question, “Steve Whiskers?” ‘ ring any bells? ’ He can hear you say in following–

The faint smile of yours slowly evolve in a giggle as you watch the gears turn in his head and finally connect the two and two together.

“The cat?!” His voice comes out louder than he meant to, suddenly straightening up and wiping invisible dust off his clothes, he clears his throat. 

“Excuse me for my sudden input of volume.” You reply with a smile, “Send my best regards to Mr. Whiskers.”

You see the ghouls around few more times you're in the perimeter, as well as the scary woman from before.

Sitting in the gardens with Terzo again one warm afternoon and she passes in the distance, her eye catching sight of you no doubt.

Jumping in your stead, you rush to where she is. Terzo watches as you speak with more animatic gestures, Sister remaining stoic as always. You bring a hand up to scratch your head in unease, then holding out a box of sorts. As you are about to turn, he sees your body beam , most likely at something Sister has said as she walks away.

You pattle back to where he waits, trying to contain a big smile and pulling out few cookies from behind in surprise. Just as he does with anything else you offer, he devours the cookies, making sure to express his gratitude and worship before and after.

You settle back next to him, laughing at the way he acts as he ignores the crumbs on his thighs, resting your head against his shoulder and relaxing.

Yet you never tell him what it was Sister Imperator has said to you that got you in high spirits; not then, not later.

When you wake up with the sunlight grazing your face from the wrong direction, your first instinct is to return to sleep.

Having falling asleep by Terzo's side a reasonable amount of times now, it feels just as comfortable as your room. Despite his chest not being as soft as your pillow, the comfort of his mattress easily beating yours makes up for the loss.

Just as a content smile makes its way to your lips and you, more than eager to return to sleep, the situation of now sinks in and you can feel the warmth drain from your entire body.

Sure, this is not the first time you've found yourself falling asleep here, even in his arms, limbs tangled up no less; but all those instances contain one huge difference from the predicament you find yourself in now and it is last night.

Maybe you should pretend to stay asleep until he is summoned for anything, but the chances of this are dangerously slim. The light coming from between the curtains doesn't burn into your eyes just yet so it must still be fairly early, maybe you can sneak out before he can return from the land of dreaming. But that'd would leave bigger problems for future you and frankly? future you has gotten sick of your 'dancing around with nothing acknowledged' bullshit.

You take a deep breath, and shut your eyes further– hey perhaps they'll glue themselves together from how tight your muscles are contracting and with your sudden admittance to the hospital and the emergencu of the entire situation, it'll all get forgo–

A sudden noise stops your entire thought process crashing. A trainwreck, yes that's what this is.

Sucking a sharp breathe in, you think 'now or never', suck it up once and face on with courage.

Creaking one eye open and meeting Terzo's eyes on yours, every single muscle in his face loosened and his expression what you can only describe as to be 'at peace', all your anxiety from bare seconds ago gets washed down the drain. 

And for the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to relax, fully, and bask in whatever the future– and he, along with it, will offer you.

[heeeepot]

Toys.

oneshot 💫

pairing: bf!heeseung x female!reader

includes: smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), angry sex?, overstimulation, dirty talk, unprotected sex (alwaysss use protection!) assertive heeseung — lmk if I missed anything!

story begins under the cut ! minors, dni:)

After a long day of yelling at people who work for you, all you needed was your girlfriend.

Heeseung was tired, setting down the last file in the cabinet before locking it. Getting ready to go home, he thought about you. About how less the time you guys spend together is getting each day, and it was Heeseung's fault.

He found it difficult to make time for you with all the work coming in unexpectedly, and he understood why you would be so upset about it.

Letting out a sigh, he walked to his car, driving back to his home, it wasn't a house. It was a special girl, Y/n.

Heeseung and Y/n have been dating for 3 years now, but they've been friends for 9.

They went through everything together. Since they were in middle school, everyone knew they were going to end up together, they were too oblivious to even see how much chemistry they had growing up.

That was until they were 18 when they realized they were inlove, one was just braver to admit it. And it was not Heeseung.

That's where it all started, everything was perfect, literally perfect. Until they both started working.

They felt like an old married couple who hasn't had as much intimacy anymore. But, that didn't stop them from going on a couple dates and surprising eachother with gifts time to time.

And that was unfortunately not going to happen tonight. Heeseung had come home late, not being able to buy her a gift.

All these thoughts in his head came to an end when he parked the car. Using the keys to unlock the house, surprised to see you still awake.

"Babe? It's nearly 1 am, what's keeping you up?" Heeseung asked, with obvious exhaustion in his voice.

"That's the problem, Heeseung. It's nearly 1. Do you even know how late that is? What can happen to you out there at this time? Did you even know that I texted and called you numerous times? Heeseung we went over this, I'm getting tired." Voice nearly breaking, Y/n almost didn't hold herself together at the few last words that left her lips.

"Y/n, I'm sorry, please. I know you're tired baby and I'm sorry, I probably don't know how you feel but I know that I'm hurting you, I don't want that."

"Ok, Heeseung. 4th time you said that this week." Y/n said bitterly. She was tired with all the excuses that he had.

Walking off to their room, Heeseung follows her, handing out to her wrist.

"Babe let's talk about thi—" Heeseung was cut off, on the bed was a bunch of toys, Y/n's toys.

Y/n's instincts were to run to them and try to hide it. She knew it wouldn't help but what else was she supposed to do anyway?

"Y/n?" Heeseung's voice was suddenly stern.

"What is it now?"

"Were you— possibly using those while I was at work, baby?"

"Me? Those?" Y/n scoffed, she knew he was onto her but she just wanted to see how far she can go with this.

"Who else would use a vibrator and a dildo, baby?" Heeseung's voice is suddenly low, as if he liked it.

"Don't know, maybe your other bitch left it here." Y/n shrugged. This pissed Heeseung off, he was sensitive when it came to mentioning other girls, he only focused on you.

"Oh, yeah?"

"What do you want, Heeseung? Whatever it is, I won't do it for you." Y/n rolled her eyes, this wasn't attitude, she just wants more attention. (y/n just like me fr)

Y/n turned to enter their bathroom. She suddenly felt a force behind her, pushing her into the bathroom, and suddenly placed on the counter.

"What the fuck, Hee?" Y/n was surprised.

"Don't act like you don't want this, Y/n." Eyes dark, his hair falling in front them.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Hee." Y/n's abdomen was suddenly warm, it turned her on.

"Then I'll show you what I'm talking about." He says, unbuttoning his black polo shirt while his eyes are still locked to yours.

"H-Hee, what are you doing?" You were suddenly nervous, even though this is what you were always asking for.

"Strip." He commanded, Y/n was frozen, just looking down at his body.

"I said strip or I'll do it for you." Voice deep and low, his adam’s apple going up and down with each word that left his lips.

When Heeseung said that, you felt a little bratty. Like how you always were when it came to situations like these.

"Do it for me, baby." You leaned in, you left a kiss on his weak spot. Right under his ear, just above the collarbone. His groans were audible, hips coming closer to yours.

His hands flew to your waist which he starves for everyday. Grip getting tighter with each kiss that left him wanting more and more. Your kisses alone would make him cum, that’s how weak he is when it comes to you.

"You do me so well, Y/n." He whispered, biting his lip careful to not let out moans.

His hands traveling to your smooth thighs, squeezing them. This made you whimper into his neck.

"I love hearing you, baby." He says, squeezing your thighs more.

Your breasts were now against his bare chest, you wanted to lick every muscle he had.

"Tell me, baby. Who were those toys for?" He asked, now reaching for your ass.

"None of your business, Hee." You backed away from his neck, which now had small redish purple patches from your mouth.

"What's the attitude for?" He was getting irritated, he always found your attitude unnecessary.

"I don't see any attitude." You shrugged, getting off the counter then walking back to the room.

He then carried you over his shoulder, dropping you onto the bed, keeping both of your hands in one of his, holding it above your head.

"Heeseung!" You shrieked, struggling to get out from his grip. He was towering over you, crotch to crotch.

He ties your hands to the bed frame, leaving you helpless, and you liked it. You always liked when he was assertive.

He removes your shorts and underwear in one motion, spreading your legs open. He was met with your pussy, full of slick that he was ready to eat off you.

"Your pussy will always be my favorite late night dinner, baby." He says, his face coming closer to your core.

He licks from your hole to your clit, collecting your slick on the tip of his tongue.

"I missed your taste, I’ll call in sick for work anytime for this." He says going in for another lick.

"Fuck, Hee please be gentle." Your voice came out shaky.

"Can’t promise you that, baby." He starts eating you out full on. Sucking on your clit and fucking your hole with his tongue.

This left your legs shaking, your moans couldn't be held back from the immense pleasure you felt. You then feel him enter two long digits in you, he starts curling his fingers and it made you want his long and thick dick inside you.

"My God, baby. More please, give it to me." You moaned, tears swelling up from the overstimulation.

His tongue hitting your clit repeatedly, his fingers pumping deep inside you. Sucking on your clit, he groaned. The vibration was enough to make you cum all over his fingers.

He brought it up to his lips and licked them clean. You were catching your breath, looking at him as he cleaned his fingers with his tongue.

"I’m not done with you." He says, removing his pants and boxers, his dick springs up and hits his abs, you could never forget how big this man is.

He sticks his dick inside you, groaning and gripping on your legs, he puts it on his shoulders, putting you in his favorite position.

He thrusts without a word, your lewd sounds became louder with each thrust.

His eyes locked with your bouncing boobs which were still clothed. Oh how he missed seeing that sight.

"Fuck H-Heeseung! Feels so good baby." You managed to say.

"You wanna use your stupid little toys while I’m at work, huh baby?" He asks still thrusting his dick inside you with a pace.

“N-No. I’m sorry, please." Your eyes rolled back from the mix of pain and pleasure. You clenched on his dick.

It got a loud moan out of him.

"Your tight little cunt is gonna make me cum soon baby, so fucking good for me." He breathes out, his words adding more lube to his dick.

Within a few more thrusts, you knew you were close.

"Baby, gonna cum soon." You moaned, voice all messy from the motions.

"Cum for me, baby." Those words were enough to make you release, your body shook from the scene.

"That's a good girl, I'm cumming soon baby, keep it tight for me." Hips pounding into your abused cunt, you loved letting him own you.

"Fuck baby, am I not fucking you often anymore? How are you taking my dick in better each time?" His head throws back, showing the marks on his neck, hands on your hips.

He cums inside you, filling you till it was dripping out of your pussy. You moaned at his action, he fucks his cum into you.

"Heeseung! Enough, please!" You pleaded, you could only take so much.

Heeseung let out a small laugh, he loved when you suffered, and it was all because of him. He had you under his control.

He eventually stops, dick pulling out still glazed in your combined liquids.

[onmyyan]

Okay so there's this specific genre of fics about the Yandere batfamily x neglected!Reader that I'm obsessing over and basically, reader joins the family unexpectedly, usually a long lost kid from an old fling of Bruce's, and it's wonderfully angsty as the batfamily is so caught up in their own shit they inadvertently ignore/neglect the reader, the isolation is bad because they don't show her their vigilante life, so she's just sees it as some secret family club she isn't good enough to be in, they're always together and talking in hushed whispers about their patrol's, it's hard not to feel like an outsider, the tension is high throughout the years as she sees them act so lovingly towards each other but so indifferent towards her, and then something happens, (reader gets hurt, tries to run away, is kidnapped ECT) and then the batfam's yandere tendencies kick into high gear and they try to fix their severely damaged relationship, lawd I love this concept so much if I write it I'll be tagging the works that inspired me bec everyone should read them omg, anyway I love how jarring it must be once that switch happens, how all of a sudden reader is getting the attention and love she wanted for years, only now she doesn't need it, she's a grown independent woman who's only ever had herself to rely on, after all when you grow up in the shade of such a tight knit family, always on the outside looking in, it tends to make you self sufficient.

I have a few ideas for this concept, one where reader is incredibly smart and after years of fighting for an ounce of affection, gives up on the Batfamily, gets an internship at Lexcorp because Lex recognized her brilliance, he becomes a Yandere for her shortly after reading over her file, because the thought of Yandere!batfam begging for readers attention and affection after years of indifference towards her only to have her seek comfort in a villainous man like Lex Luthor is tew tasty.

My other idea for this concept is the same set up only Reader notices what the family is up to, quickly putting together that her father is Batman and that everyone in the house is a vigilante, she's 17/18 at this point and still desperate to belong to this family so she starts training, going to local gyms and picking fights so she can get used to getting the shit kicked out of her, no one notices her absences, no one but Alfred, he catches her limping in at some ungodly hour, blood seeping through her shirt, a needle and thread in one hand as she clumsily tries to stitch herself up, he asks her what happened, not expecting the most demure and quiet member of the family in this state, she tells him in an empty voice, "Doesn't matter." And Alfred is taken aback by the coldness in her eyes. He of course reports this to Bruce after patching her up, and he shrugs it off, "If she was in some kind of trouble she'd say something." Bruce is certain, sure he hadn't yet truly bonded with his daughter but he was sure he had time to, after all he was a man with the world on his shoulders and a plethora of other people who he felt needed his attention more, (y/n) never gave him problems, she kept to herself and was so self sufficient he felt comfortable putting her on the back burner, years go by and now 23, reader has shaped herself into a proper vigilante, her fighting style is raw, pure anger in her punches, she takes care of Gotham, sure she's not fighting world ending threats, but she's saving people, helping, it's helped to fill the void in her chest where her family's love was supposed to go, the batfamily knows about this new vigilante but know nothing about them, the suit reader wears is tactical that hides everything about her identity, not sure how but she gets unmasked/ hurt and unmasked and they find out, cue Yandere Batfamily.

[junekissed]

finals season

day one of junkissed's svt seasons greetings event

member — tutor!seungcheol x student!reader genre — fluff, mild angst, hurt/comfort ?, college au  word count — 2k synopsis — getting a degree isn't easy. fortunately, your tutor that you maybe have a crush on is here to help. warnings — frat president!cheol, mentions of math (yes this is a warning), mutual crushes but they’re both kinda idiots, friends (?) to lovers, really awkward confession scene oops, there's 2 screenshots at the beginning bc i wanted to! notes — lowercase intended; honestly idk how this happened i promise the rest won’t be angsty like this sjdgkfs it was supposed to be cute but then my brain just kept chugging so. um enjoy !

one reblog = one snowy frat party

you sigh and stand up off the couch, wrapping your scarf around your neck. as much as you hated doing math, you always seemed to jump at the chance to study with seungcheol. the weather had made you reluctant to leave the comfort of your home, but the promise of coffee (and your unfairly attractive tutor) was more than enough to lure you out of the house for a couple hours.

even though your major had almost nothing to do with math, you’re still required to take so many credits of the subject to meet your requirements.

you shrug on your coat and grab your backpack in the dark, shoving your laptop and charger in with notebooks and folders. turning to take one last look around to make sure you aren’t forgetting anything, you shut the door quietly and lock it.

the lady working the shift at the front desk smiles and waves as you walk through the lobby of your apartment complex. “where are you headed?” she asks, setting down her nail file.

“tutoring,” you say, pulling the strap of your backpack higher up your shoulder.

“ooh, that hot guy that comes through here every thursday?”

you giggle. “yeah.”

“well, good luck, baby,” she grins, giving you a very indiscreet wink. “have fun with you man!”

“no– we’re not together,” you explain, feeling your cheeks start to heat in embarrassment. not that you don’t want to be together. you don’t even know if he’s single or not.

“not yet! you never know!”

“i’ll see you later,” you laugh, walking out the front door with a wave behind you.

seungcheol’s house is on the other end of campus where the fraternity houses are. it’s not a far walk, but with the snow still coming down heavily you decide not to risk showing up at his door looking like a total mess. so instead of walking like you usually do, you wait at the bus stop outside your apartment, rushing to find a place under the overhang with a crowd of other students waiting to get to class.

fifteen minutes later, you step off the bus, trudging through the quickly growing piles of snow on the ground up to the door of cheol’s apartment.

it’s only friday afternoon, but lambda phi epsilon is already gearing up for whatever party they’re hosting this weekend. you can hear faint music playing from one of the houses across the street. you wonder why cheol, the current president of the frat, isn’t over there with them, but you don’t dwell on the thought.

you smooth down your jacket and check your hair in the reflection of your phone screen, then take a deep breath and knock twice.

the door swings open immediately, revealing your tutor dressed in his… pajamas. you almost choke, your eyes falling to his flannel pants and collared pajama shirt, the top buttons undone revealing an expanse of smooth skin. the material looks soft, so soft, and you have to physically restrain yourself from reaching out to touch him.

“hey! come on in, it’s cold out there,” he smiles warmly. you snap back to attention, drawing your gaze back up to his face.

“thanks,” you manage, stepping inside. “you look, um. comfortable.”

“i love the snow,” he explains. “perfect weather to stay inside and get cozy for the weekend.”

you raise your eyebrows. “you’re not going to the party later?”

“no?” he questions. “why, are you going?”

your cheeks flare. “no, i’m– work,” you laugh awkwardly as the entirety of the english language disappears from your brain.

he smiles. “cool. you can stay as long as you want, then, i don’t have plans. we can work until you have to leave.”

“sounds great,” you squeak out.

oh, it’s gonna be a long night.

but the night isn’t as long as you thought it would be. it actually goes by pretty quickly, once you sit down and start working. as distracting as seungcheol is, you’ve really gotta learn these concepts before your final.

after many tutoring sessions you’d already figured out that cheol is insanely smart, but it never occurred to you before just how smart he is. not only does he understand the material, he understands it enough to explain everything in a way that makes sense to you— something your teachers could never do. everything just seems to click in your brain when he tells you things like why the angle of elevation is below the shape and not above it. hell, he’s even made his own practice problems for you that aren’t in your book, and after hours of teaching you get them all right, all on your own.

“try using this equation,” he says, gently nudging your elbow.

“huh?” you realize you’ve been staring at him and you whip your eyes back down to the workbook in front of you, embarrassed to be focusing on him and not the actual reason you’re here.

what is the reason you’re here? you wonder, your mind wandering. you went to the math department and signed up for a tutor, and a week later you met him in a private corner of the library to get help before your exam. and after a while, you started meeting him at your apartment, because your sessions ran long after the library had closed for the night. and now you’re sitting in his living room, contemplating every life decision you’ve made up until this point and wondering how the hell you ended up studying triangles with him in his pajamas.

he calls your name again, and you turn your head to look at him. but when you make eye contact, you suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to cry.

“do you wanna stop for now? we’ve been on this for a while, we can switch to something else if you want,” he asks. his eyes are full of concern at the sudden way you’ve stopped responding.

how did you end up falling in love with him?

“i… i think i should go home now,” you choke out. your throat feels like it’s closing up from the effort it takes not to burst into tears in the middle of his house.

“oh,” he says quietly. “are you sure? i have more practice problems for you, here, you can take–”

“why are you so nice to me?” you say abruptly.

he pauses. “i– what?”

“our study sessions go way past the hour set by the university, you make practice problems for me, you invite me to your house in your pajamas. you don’t have to do any of that. you get paid no matter what. why?”

his gaze shifts around the room, from the workbook still lying open on the table to the posters on his wall behind you. “i’m sorry about… this,” he says finally. “we can meet in the library again if you don’t like meeting here. and i would’ve changed, if i knew the pajamas made you uncomfortable.”

“it’s not the pajamas,” you whisper.

“sorry?” he says, not hearing you.

“it’s not the pajamas,” you repeat, louder this time. “it’s you. i… i don’t think i need a tutor anymore,” you say.

your vision begins to blur with tears when you hear him say softly, “okay.”

you grab your things and pack your backpack in record time. cheol holds the door open for you as you shrug your bag onto your shoulder.

“i’ll, uh, talk to the tutoring advisor and tell her you don’t need help anymore,” he says awkwardly as you rush out the door.

“goodbye, cheol,” you say, and turn down the steps to leave.

the sound of the door closing quietly behind you is what finally breaks you. tears stream down your face, burning your skin in contrast to the freezing air.

the snow had stopped while you’d been in his house, slowly turning into slush. you plop down on the sidewalk, not even caring that you’re sitting in a puddle of dirt and ice. not only had you just lost your free homework help, you’ve lost a friend who might’ve maybe been something more, if you hadn’t panicked and run off at the first thought of him.

your nose starts to run and you cry harder, wiping your nose against your sleeve, but it does nothing. you sit on the curb outside in the cold for so long you start shivering, but you don’t have the motivation to get up. a part of you doesn’t want to leave, and you don’t know why.

without the extra practice from cheol, you’ll probably bomb your final, which means having to take even more classes for even more credits next semester.

you hear a squeak behind you, but you don’t look back. whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.

“are you okay?”

a familiar voice calls out, and you force yourself to turn around.

“i mean, you don’t look okay,” he adds. “you’re sitting in front of my house, in the snow.”

you hadn’t even noticed it had started to snow again. “oh.”

“do you want to come inside?” he asks gently.

“no,” you answer immediately, but the cold is starting to get to you. “yes.”

he smiles, and just that makes you feel better. he moves out of the middle of the doorway, leaving room for you to come inside.

you stand up, trying to wipe the snow from your backside, and walk back into his house.

a pot of coffee is already steaming on the countertop, and he pours a mug and hands it to you. “why were you sitting in front of my house, in the snow?” he asks after a moment, giving you a minute to warm up.

“i don’t know,” you admit, sniffling. he hands you a tissue. where did he get that?

as you start to calm down and take in your surroundings, you notice he’s changed into jeans and a sweater.

“you didn’t have to change,” you say quietly.

“i know,” he says. “i, uh… i decided i’m going to the party later.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

the tension in the room is almost unbearable, but you purposely ignore it, bringing his mug to your lips to drink with shaky hands.

“what did you mean, ‘it’s me’?” he says finally. “what you said earlier.”

you swallow. no running away this time.

“well. um. because you’re too good. at everything.” you close your eyes and sigh. “you’re good at math and you’re good at tutoring and you’re a good person.”

“oh?” he asks cautiously. “is that… a bad thing?”

“i don’t know,” you say,. “i don’t know. you’re too nice to me. i can’t figure it out.”

he smiles, and his hand moves at his side, as if he wants to reach out and touch you, but he stays put. “i–” he swallows. “i think you’re really great. and nice. and i wanted to, i guess, get to know you better. that’s why i suggested meeting outside the library. and why i help you so much. because i do want to help you, but, uh…” he trails off, staring at his feet. “i also want more than that.”

“you do?”

he looks up at you nervously, waiting to see if your reaction is good or bad.

“i also want more than that, i think,” you say quietly.

"do– do you wanna stay for a little while?" he asks, glancing out the window. "it's started snowing again."

you smile. "yeah."

his face brightens. "we can order food or watch tv, or– we could keep studying, whatever you want," he says shyly.

"i thought you were going to the party?"

"nah," he grins. "i’d rather stay right here.”

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thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this, reblog or leave an ask or a comment, it shows me you enjoyed this so i know to write more like this in the future!

[ccrites]

Signal Lost

I've had something happen to me that's so incredible and that I could have never hoped, something so touching and so unbelievable that it made me rethink a whole lot of stuff: a wonderful reader on Ao3 started reading my long-form fic (101k words!!!) and commented basically every chapter after a certain point. And wow, I would have never thought something like this might happen.

And yeah, it is my first fic with plot in it, yeah I will never believe it to be perfect, but it's good enough. And receiving all those emails from Ao3 really was the highlight of my days over the course of which I saw said reader slowly go through all my favorite parts!

And so I wish to give it some spotlight here, while I'm finishing up my school year and work and whatever! I will post this here for now, but I will drop chapters every few days and make a Masterlist for it this weekend. (nvm I don't have the energy to do this any time soon lmao) I have too many loose ideas in my head so this is just to pass the time till the brain worms wiggle all in the same direction

So without further ado:

Link to AO3 here : Signal Lost - a John Price x reader fic

----- here's a blurb to pique your interest!

“I don’t think I’ve ever received a document as classified as this one. What am I supposed to do with it, Kate?” he says, dragging his thumb across the pile of papers, each file filled with more ink than the last.

“You asked for proof, there’s your proof,” Laswell says.

“You said you’ll bring someone competent, and who can help us, this doesn’t tell me shit.” He stares blankly at the screen, tired. She stares back.

“The Captain specifically asked to keep this under wraps.”

He rubs at his face, scratching at his beard. It’s getting long again.

“Who is he, anyway?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

He groans again, picking up the file on top. No photo, no name, no age, no height, weight, no nothing . And he thought Simon was secretive.

“What can you tell me?”

“It’s the closest we’ve ever gotten to him. Did things a particular way.”

He shifts through the papers. “And the discharge?”

“Left after the entire team got wiped out. Messy stuff.”

“That why he doesn’t show his face?” He bends forward, grabbing the cigar from the ashtray and bringing it to his lips.

“John.” Her voice carries a heavy warning.

“Just sayin’,” he says, biting around the cigar with one side of the mouth. “What kinda captain doesn’t go down with his men?”

“Got enough guilt as is. You’re lucky I convinced them.”

They both remain silent. They know the missions would be a slippery slope. One wrong move and a war is started. He puffs a cloud of smoke.

“Anything else?” John asks.

Kate looks to the side, her face illuminated by another screen. He can see her hesitate, her lips are pursed in a thin line as if she’s debating her options.

“You’ve worked together before.”

His face lights up. “Finally! Who?”

Her face immediately hardens back up. “Can’t tell, John, my hands are tied.” She sighs. “You were still a Lieutenant.”

Years ago then. He mentally catalogs everyone he’s ever worked with, but he knows that at that age, he was throwing himself at every available mission, wanting to make a name for himself. “So an old fart then? How’s that gonna help us?” If the guy was a Captain when he was still a Lieutenant, and he felt himself grow old, he can’t imagine who Laswell is bringing back from the dead.

Laswell’s face distorts, he knows he’s pushing her buttons, but he has to know.

“Not older than you John.”

His eyebrows raise. “Oh?”

---

or

returning to the military to hunt Makarov is hard enough, to do it with your past lover is even harder. a "friends to lovers to enemies to friends and back to lovers" story

---

Tags and other CW: will be posted for each chapter containing warnings for more hardcore stuff (i.e., torture and angst namely), but this is a fanfic, with smut, so if you want all the tags feel free to check the ao3 link bc there are a LOT and I am lazy to retype them all here

[farfromstrange]

Can I suggest something with angst (because angst with no comfort is my forte) like a daredevil x vigilante teen reader (?)  They are like siblings by blood. (The reader is treated by Matt like family, and he is so overprotective of them.) They have been together for a long time. Then something came up: the reader got caught by their enemies, and the daredevil was on the run to save the reader, or something like that. (I'm bad at explaining things, but I hope you get it.) Thank you in advance. I hope you're having a great day! love u

I am so sorry for the long wait, nonnie! I feel like I owe you for making you wait so long. Since you said angst with no comfort, I decided to completely shatter you with the angst, and I hope you're okay with that! I felt a shorter piece for this request would do better to convey the emotions. I'm nervous to post this, but I hope you like what I did with this!

Slipping Through My Fingers | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x teen!vigilante!Reader

Summary: You get hurt and Matt fails to save you.

Warnings: ANGST, TW: Death, hurt/no comfort

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: Not tagging for this fic because the topic isn't for everyone.

He’s running. The city sounds, the noise, the sirens and the blood-curdling screams follow him everywhere. The stench in the alleyways seems to cruelly try to distract him from what he’s focused on, but he can’t give up now. He is close, so close. 

Matt Murdock lost the only family he had when he was just a boy and he believed he was alone, truly alone, for a very long time. And then, one day, you stepped into his life. He was at the police station when he ran into you. Well, you weren’t running, you were stuck in a holding cell. When he found out why – you were caught punching a guy to a puddle for attempting to hurt an elderly woman – and when he asked Brett for your file and confirmed that you were, in fact, only a teenager, he chose to help you out. It could have been him, after all. In his mask, getting caught by authorities, and he would have wished for someone to bail him out, too. Besides, your sassy nature when he told you he was your lawyer drew him in. You tried pushing him away at first, but then you went out again the next night, and there he was, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, and he taught you a lesson or two about being smart when it comes to being a vigilante. That was the day you started working together, and you have become his family. You’re like his little sibling, and he’s never had one, so it feels right. He can mentor you, protect you and make sure you don’t get yourself in too much trouble, and in return, you breathe some fresh air into his life. It works, and he doesn’t feel as alone now anymore. You even moved in with him. 

Last night, everything seemed normal. You went out on parol together, busting up a drug ring you had been investigating long before that, and you seemingly succeeded. Though when Matt came home after work a few hours ago, he found the apartment empty, your suit still at home, and he couldn’t make out your heartbeat. When he called, you didn’t answer your phone. You didn’t text back. And you made a deal at the beginning of this that you would always call back. If you don’t, you told him, not even after five tries, and he can’t hear your heartbeat across the city, something isn’t right. But Matt doesn’t need to remember your deal to know that something happened; he can feel it in his bones. 

His chest contracts as his heart grows heavier. The fear is etched deep into his bones. He has gotten so used to the sound of your breathing, not being able to hear it is torture. Like minuscule needles drilling into his brain, the agony wraps its claws around his soul and drags him down into a dark hole. 

He’s running, and he won’t stop until he finds you. 

Something must have gone wrong last night. Someone must have remembered he isn’t working alone anymore and grabbed you to get to him. He has an inkling, but he can’t say for sure. He’s simply following the clues that are smaller than a grain of salt, and he’s struggling to keep up. For hours, he has been running, and you are no closer to being back home than he was before. 

At this point, you could be dead. You could be bleeding out in a ditch. These men could have shipped you off to Russia, enslaved you, used you– He can’t think about that now or he will stop and smash someone’s head into the nearest wall, maybe even his own. He swore to protect you and he failed, he always fails. If anything happened to you, he once told himself, it would be his fault, and it is. He should have been more careful the night before. He should have paid more attention to his surroundings. Things always end badly when he’s involved, and he believes he has doomed you. Yes, he must have doomed you and now you’re gone because of him, possibly even dead, and he is going to have to live with that for the rest of his miserable life. 

Then, he smells it. The wind comes in from the right direction and he catches the slightest whiff of your shampoo, your clothes, and your blood. The latter is what causes all fuses to blow in his mind. His already burning vision turns redder, his senses blaring with the alarms in his brain and he runs even faster. He jumps rooftops, chasing after your scent – and then he hears it. The faintest hint of your heartbeat is in the distance, but it is weak, and you’re losing blood at a pace that is weakening your body. 

He’s not sure for how long he runs, but eventually, his feet are sore and his muscles ache, and he can finally hear your voice calling out for him, “Matty!”

He finds you on a rooftop. Your body lies limp between two blocks of cement. The gash in your side is large, and the pool of blood that surrounds you keeps growing by the minute. Your breathing sounds labored. You reach out when you see his silhouette, barely conscious, but you have gotten used to his presence. 

“No,” he chokes out and gets on his knees beside you. He pulls off his mask, pulling your head into his lap. His hand flies to your wound, but it’s not the only spot you’re bleeding from. 

Bare fingers glide over your face, checking for more injuries. He finds a cut on your lip, your eyebrow has been cracked, as has your skull, and you look completely destroyed. Your life is in his hands, and you’re slipping through his fingers. 

“Who did this to you?” Matt growls. 

“They’re gone,” you whisper. Even though you are injured, you don’t sound scared, you’re not in pain – you have accepted your fate. A fate Matt refuses to see.

“I’ll get you out of here. You just have to hold on a little longer, and then we’ll end them together. I promise. We’ll come home tonight and we’ll have Tacos and–”

“Matthew,” you reach for his face, “It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay, he thinks. You’re bleeding out, you’re dying, and you’re too far from the nearest hospital for him to even try to make a run for it. Even an ambulance won’t make it here in time. It’s not okay, no matter how badly you want to convince him of that, and just like that another wave of blood gushes out of you and into his hand. It feels heavy, like your life’s essence is trying to escape but he doesn’t want it to. You can’t die, he promised he wouldn’t let you. 

“No,” he says again, more sternly this time. “Don’t even talk like that, okay? You’re gonna be fine, you hear me?” He calls your name.

You feel yourself getting dizzier by the minute, but you’re oddly content. “I– I won’t make it–” You’re cut off by a cough, and you taste the copper on your tongue now, too. 

“Shh, yes you are. Stay with me, sweetie, stay with me!”

He can say it all he wants, it won’t change the brutal reality of the situation. 

You’re dying, and he can’t save you. 

You pull him down by his sleeve. “Promise me,” you breathe into his ear, “That you’ll– you’ll take that trip to Eu-Europe. Promise me, Matthew. Promise me you’ll l-live.”

“Stop talking like you’re dying, I–”

“I am.”

“No. We’ll get you an ambulance and then you’ll be fine.” 

A tear slips from his cheek and onto your face. 

“Matthew, please, just…”

“No…”

“Thank you,” you whisper, “for everything. For- for being my brother.”

He calls your name, but the noise fades into the background. 

“I love you,” and these are your last words before the dark void grabs you and hands you over into the hands of the Grim Reaper. 

You look over your shoulders on your way to the light, the last thing you remember being the tears on Matt’s cheeks and the scream he lets out as you leave, your life slipping through his finger like the sand in an hourglass. 

You’re gone, and he couldn’t save you. The one thing he promised to do, he failed at. He failed, and you paid the ultimate price for it. 

He stands alone at your funeral. Just like him, you didn’t have anyone. He made the men that did this to you pay for what they did, and the bruises on his knuckles still burn as the sun shines down on him. It doesn’t rain, which he sees as a sign from you, a silent encouragement that it is okay for him to move on and find the light as you did, but he can’t accept it. He can’t accept that you’re gone. 

You were too young to get dragged into this, and now you’re gone. It’s his fault, and beating the ones responsible to the point they fell into a coma still didn’t feel enough.

He sends a silent prayer up into the sky, but God doesn’t listen, and he doubts he ever will. Mercy is something he doesn’t deserve, and he will carry the guilt with him until the day he dies. 

[mintsv]

Fall in love, again - S.hanbin (ch 2)

read chapter 1 here!

campus crush!hanbin x fem!reader

synopsis : you and hanbin had been best friends ever since elementary but as time went by, both of you started to grow apart. You were striving academically while he was focused on chasing his dreams. By the end of high school, you eventually lost contact. Months went by and you got a scholarship to a famous college, you swore you were gonna move on until a familiar face showed up in your campus, your first love, sung hanbin.

genre : romance ; college au ; angst ; fluff ; hurt/comfort

wc : 3k

warnings : slight injury ; mention of blood ; cursing / swearing

Days passed by, nor you or hanbin has made an effort to talk again. you missed him, and he missed you too. the more time passed by, the more you realize that you couldn't stop thinking about him. you lost your focus in lectures, forget to submit assignments, spend all night studying but forget it the next day. the straight A's you managed to obtain started to decrease day by day, so you had no other choice but to overwork yourself, pushing your limits further in order to not disappoint your peers. and it seemed to have worked, the more you pushed yourself, the less you thought about hanbin.

Little did you know, hanbin noticed your change in demeanor. even though he was surrounded by his friends, he couldn't help but think of you the same way you've been thinking of him. on times where the two of you were in the same lecture, he'd often glance at you typing away at your computer or rubbing your eyelids. he noticed the particular black underlines beneath your eyes. he noticed how clumsy you were nowadays, tripping over or dropping your books. he noticed how you bite on your nails and furrow your eyebrows when you can't solve an equation. he noticed them all.

he wanted nothing but to explain everything to you, to clear up the misunderstanding that's been going on for years, but something inside of him tells him it wasn't the right time. so he stuck to the one thing he was good at, admiring you from afar.

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

"y/n can you take these documents to professor lee? thank you!" one of your peers spoke from behind you, dropping a stack of heavy files on your arms and before you could retort back, he had already walked past you, slinging his arm on some random girl and walking away as you struggled to balance your books and the files you now had to deliver.

from the corner of your eye you could spot hanbin talking to his friends, you thought he didn't notice you but he felt your stare and unconsciously looked towards you. In a panic, you quickly averted your gaze but something had slipped in front of your feet making you trip on said object. the files you were once holding were now scattered on the floor, thankfully there weren't too many people around but still, your face flushed beet red out of embarrassment.

"oh god i'm so sorry!" a voice rang through your ears and suddenly there was a brunette kneeling in front of you, helping you pick up the files you dropped and standing up to offer you a hand.

you took his hand and stood up groaning from the pain. a sting was felt on your right knee and you sigh when you see a newly formed bruise, similar to the ones you used to get as a kid. the man in front of you also seemed to notice as he mumbled more apologies.

you finally looked up to the said man to see that it was one of the guys in hanbin's huge friend group, seok matthew.

"I'm so sorry, it's completely my fault i didn't see where the ball was going, please forgive me i'll do anything!" he bowed 90 degrees to you and put his hands together. you assumed he was a freshman like you from the way his overly polite attitude and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"it's okay, i was also at fault for not paying attention, just be more careful next time.. both of us that is." he looked back up, his eyes visibly relieved as he gave you a wide smile. he offered to help you carry the immensely heavy documents and gave you a band aid for the bruise on your knee.

you weren't sure, but from the corner of your eye you could see hanbin clenching his fists and his eyes held an emotion between sadness and anger, but you brushed it off as nothing as you continued your way to the professor lee's office with matthew.

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

you and matthew started hanging out more, he would accompany you when you were studying in the library, share you his lunch when you forget yours, and constantly follows you around. you didn't exactly mind his presence but everytime you looked at him you could only think of his friend, the thought of that made you feel guilty for matthew. he had done nothing wrong but you just can't seem to reciprocate his efforts to befriend you.

you were currently eating lunch and studying with your dorm mate in the dining hall. your head felt dizzier than usual, your eyes couldn't focus on the words written on your textbook, and to top it off there was still a stinging bruise on your right knee that you covered with some baggy jeans. suddenly, the chair in front of you creaked and you looked up to see matthew.

"hey, can i sit here?" he pointed at the seat across from you, smiling to you and your friend.

"umm, sure?" your friend responded as she continued to eat her food, paying him no attention as she was busy taking notes from your text book.

"y/n what's your next lecture?" matthew spoke as he put down his eating utensils, now gazing at you with a thin lipped smile.

"i think it's humanities and social science, why? are you also gonna be there?" you ask curiously as you put a spoonful of food in your mouth.

"oh what a shame.. mines art and culture, but i think my friend hanbin is also going to your lecture after this." you almost choked on your food only from mention of his name, gulping down your water to cover it up.

"that's great.. sorry matt but i think i should go now i have a lot of studying to do" you were lying, you were almost done revising the whole semester's lessons and the truth was you were planning to go to the bathroom or get some fresh air in hopes of easing up your head ache.

"wait, i'll walk you there since your hall is near mine." before you could take more steps, matthew appeared beside you with his usual bright smile.

you would feel even more guilty if you rejected him so you just nodded at him in response. While the both of you were walking, matthew constantly initiated small talk with you.

"how was your day?" you'd respond with a fine and ask him back.

"what were you studying before?" you showed him your textbook and he replied with an 'oh' while nodding.

you felt extremely bad for not reciprocating his bright energy like you usually could, but your feet were aching and the head ache got worse. you could barely think straight and you didn't want to hurt matthew's feelings so you used the last of your consciousness to look like you were enjoying his conversations.

but that was short-lived as he took notice of your obvious struggling.

"y/n are you okay? you're really pale and sweaty." he had stopped walking, going in front of you and holding onto your shoulders while one hand tried to check your temperature.

"no matt, i don't have a fever it's just a minor head ache it'll go away." before you could assure him with a smile, your body went limp and your eyes blacked out.

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

matthew who was standing in front of you thankfully caught you before you fell to the ground. he stood in panic, holding both of your shoulders and keeping you upright.

"y/n? hey are you okay? y/n!" he shook you a few times and seeing that you weren't responding he did the most logical thing he could think of, calling sung hanbin.

matthew sat you down on the floor with your back touching the wall, a few minutes passed after the 10 second phone call with him and hanbin and for a moment matthew thought his friend wouldn't even show up. but he was wrong, hanbin rushed out of his lecture room, the one you were also supposed to be in as he ran to the location matthew told him.

when he arrived, the first thing he saw was your limp body leaning on the wall. hanbin wasted no time and picked you up bridal style, he even forgot about the existence of his friend that called him there.

"hyung! I'll take her to the infirmary, just lead me there." matthew stopped his tracks, holding his wrist as his voice was stern.

"no it's fine i'll take her, just go to your next class matt." even though hanbin was slightly annoyed, he still smiled warmly to his friend.

"but i.. okay fine." matthew couldn't do much, he just accepted it and walked back to his class even though he was still worried about you.

the moment matthew started walking away, hanbin was already speeding across the campus heading to the infirmary. on his way there, he couldn't help the way his heart was beating abnormally fast. he was almost mad at himself for not taking action beforehand, why didn't he notice your symptoms earlier? could he have prevented this from happening? thoughts ran through his head as he was running hastily, his footsteps echoing the halls. People stared, but he simply didn't care.

upon arriving at the infirmary, hanbin gently laid you down on the beds and called a nurse to inspect you. a few moments later you fluttered your eyes, the light above you hitting your eyes making you squint. on your right you saw a figure of a man who seemed to be deep in thought, remembering the previous events, you called out to him.

"matthew?" you spoke in a low voice, squinting more to focus your eyes on the silhouette.

it was when you realized who it really was, you quickly averted your gaze. the boy seemingly sighed, bending down to be eye level with you before speaking.

"please look at me y/n." his voice was soft and gentle, as he was trying his best not to frighten you. you took notice and it made your heart almost melt.

but every muscle in you was rejecting the man's plea, his eyes were the reason you fell for him, his eyes were the reason why you were hurt when you realized you could never stare into them again. you feared that if you oblige, you might experience the same longing again, the same infatuation again, and of all the same hurt again.

carefully, hanbin placed the palm of his hand on top of yours, radiating a certain warmth that you missed so badly. the more he waited, the more his confidence faltered. you took notice of this from the way he gradually hung his head down more and more, now the both of you were staring at the floor in a tense atmosphere.

hanbin was about to retract his hand, but you've had enough of beating around the bush. you held him by the wrist before he could move one more inch, mustering up all the courage you never thought you had in you.

"explain." one simple word.

you didn't know where the confidence came from, maybe it was from seeing hanbin so defeated that it awoke something in you. you eyes finally met his, hoping the anxiety behind yours wasn't evident enough for him to see through.

the moment your eyes meet, the spark that was once lost in hanbin's eyes came back almost instantly. to you, his stare was deathly. accompanied by his endearing smile and whisker dimples, you were right, you definitely fell in love again.

his free hand reached yours as he put both of your hands inside his in a protecting manner. he caressed the back of your palm sweetly with his thumb before beginning to speak.

"first of all, i'm sorry. i'm sorry for everything." never once did he break eye contact with you, mumbling these words sincerely and you know he's going to mean everything he says.

"I'm going to be honest with you, 100%. during high school i messed up and i know that. i never meant to hurt you but i did and you don't know how many nights i spent thinking about it. no excuse could cover up my mistake but i'm going to tell you what really happened because you deserve to know."

"you know how my sister often has sport tournaments, one day fell when she was rock climbing so i had to check up on her. mom was too busy taking care of the cafe and dad was also severely ill at that time. one day, i received a call from mom telling me to go back home. at first, i thought i would just be staying for a few days but those days became weeks and those weeks became 3 years. areum fractured her right leg and someone had to take care of dad, i'm sorry if this feels too sudden for you, you don't have to forgive me but please just talk to me." you were stunned, but you had one last question.

"why didn't you reach out to me?" the question that kept you up at night, you hoped he'd continue to answer truthfully.

"because i was scared."

for the first time, he looked down at his lap. tears were starting to well up in your eyes, you were angry at his excuse but you held yourself back from lashing out and let him explain himself.

"i can't hold it anymore y/n, the truth is i like you, shit no i love you so so much. you don't know how nervous i was to tell you about my sudden leave, hell i could barely sleep at night. i was an asshole, the biggest jerk and i didn't deserve you. i thought it was impossible for you to like me back, so i left." a single tear slid down your cheeks, you were mad at him, so so mad but you couldn't do anything but let more tears fall down.

"fuck you." your fist hit his shoulder, he had his own pool of tears welling up but he continued let you hit his shoulder, chest, and arm as if he was accepting his punishment.

but you weren't that angry, you knew deep down that was what you would've done if you were in his position too. run away from your feelings, because that's what you also did.

you get off the bed and kneet down in front of him, the tears staining your cheeks with your nose becoming beet red. you were going to land another fist to his chest when his hand stopped you, pulling your wrist as you crashed into hanbin's chest and now sitting on his lap. he wasted no time but to embrace you, cradling your head with one of his palms as the other lays on the small of your back. you shut your eyes, breathing in his cologne as you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. hanbin had his head on top of yours, caressing your soft locks as he breathed in your scent.

you both stayed like that for a while, enjoying each other's embrace as the peaceful silence took over. slowly, you retracted your head from hanbin's neck and gazed into him before speaking.

"i hate you for the times you made me cry in my bed for nights on end, i hate you for leaving me behind so suddenly, i hate you for only explaining everything to me now. but i can't help but fall for you each and every time." you just finished crying but you feared if you continued further then you'd start crying into hanbin's chest again.

with your words, hanbin leaned closer until your noses were touching. his right hand coming up to cup your cheeks almost feather-like.

"may i?" you didn't verbally respond as you wasted no time to connect your lips with his.

the kiss was tender, soft, and compassionate as if your lips were molded together. those years of build up led to this, feeling a warmth erupt in your chest as you savored your first kiss. hanbin put his free hand on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

when you finally let go to catch some air, you stared into his eyes withholding all types of emotions but there was one particular emotion that stood out the most, love.

your eyes flicker to his face, seeing how he somehow became even more handsome. suddenly you understood all the hype about him, you smiled shyly feeling your face turn crimson red as you realize the position you were both in.

"oh uhm, sorry." hanbin muttered, his own face turning bright red as you got out of his lap.

"soo.. does that mean i'm your boyfriend now?" hanbin asked, biting his lip in anticipation while you were holding in a giggle.

"yeah.. i think." you answer timidly, as you were facing each other with a bigger distance this time.

you couldn't help the smile that crawled onto your face in response, hanbin's face copying yours. sitting on the ground of the infirmary, you two looked like a high school couple who just confessed their love to each other.

"oh, i have one more favor to ask!" hanbin chirped, looking a bit more serious this time.

"if you overwork yourself one more time, i'm breaking up with you." you knew he meant that in a playful way from the way he was holding in a smile.

"Yes sir, understood." you both erupt into a pit of giggles, enjoying each others company as minutes pass by.

you couldn't believe it, the campus heart throb was betrothed to you out of all people! it all felt unreal to you and hanbin felt the same way. the childhood best friend he'd been crushing on badly for years on end was finally his, suddenly he didn't care as much to become an idol because now his life revolved around you, the love of his life who made him fall in love over and over again.

chapter 2 - end

(yeouwch that took long to write im very sorry iv'e been really busy nowadays, i dont think this needs a chapter 3? tell me what you guys think tho!! AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT!! it was insane i woke up to so many likes i jumped out of joy. also i'm going to start accepting requests you can just ask me what to write but im still new to tumblr so i might be a lil bad. i think that's all, once again thank u so much the support means EVERYTHING to me ilyy byee)

people who wanted to be tagged :

@wtfhyuck @ilovechanhee i hope you guys like it :))

[geesegooseblog]

The Flower Dance - Harvey x Farmer

Chapter 1 : A Thoughtful Gift

Tags: n/a

A/N: hello my loves! It’s been a long time between stories, but in typical me-fashion I have two assignments due and haven’t touched either of them, so have a Stardew Valley fluff fic! This is also my first foray into first person perspective, so any notes are much appreciated and, as always, if you would like a tag for the next chapter let me know!

CW: n/a

Word count: 1.8k

🌸🌸🌸

The quiet hum of the waiting room in Doctor Harvey's clinic was a sound I never thought I'd grow to like. I was often in the clinic for more severe injuries - a laceration from my sword or a broken bone from a dangerous encounter in the mines - but today it was sheer clumsiness that landed me here, holding a ziploc bag full of ice cubes against the back of my head. That's the last time I swing a pickaxe in the quarry without wearing a helmet.

"I'm starting to think you're doing it on purpose," Maru mused, chuckling softly to herself as she sorted the paperwork she was filing behind the front desk. "What is it, like, the third time this week you're in here? If you wanted to see Harvey, you could just come in to say 'hi'. No need to injure yourself."

"Very funny." I responded sarcastically, my eyes fixated on the wall opposite me. Even though she was my closest friend in this town, Maru sure knew how to get on my nerves. "If it wasn't for my mishaps, where would Harvey get all of his work from? Annual checkups? I think not."

"Ooh, someone's getting flustered over there..." Maru chuckled again as she glanced over at me, fixing her glasses flush against her face a push against the bridge. She quickly changed the subject. "You gonna go to the Flower Dance tonight?"

I shifted slightly in my seat at the mention of the Flower Dance, an indicator that I had, in fact, been thinking about it. I had missed the last Flower Dance the year prior by staying back at the farm - large events like that had never been my strong suit. As the months approached to tonight's dance, however, I grew more and more fond of the idea of attending. With the renovation of the community centre, I knew for a fact that Mayor Lewis had planned a big celebration for this year's dance, shifting it from its normal morning start time to an evening event. I cleared my throat once and shifted my glance to Maru.

"... Maybe." I muttered, trying to play off my nerves coolly. That reaction only garnered a smirk from Maru, who spoke again.

"I know Harvey's gonna be there... maybe you can stop playing around and ask him. I know he'd like that."

"Maru, will you please keep your voice down?" I begged in a sharp whisper, shifting in my seat to face her. "I don't want Harvey to hear this."

Maru shrugged her shoulders, her smirk still plastered on her face. "Fine. Keep kidding yourself. Did you at least get my text?"

“Yes, I got the text.” I answered back quickly, my voice raising slightly from a whisper. “It’s in my bag, but it won’t be much of a surprise if he overhears us!”

As if on cue, the double doors beside Maru's desk opened, and an all too familiar voice spoke calmly to his patient.

"Now, like I said, George: if you have any concerns you'd like me to take a look at, I'm more than welcome to make a house visit next time."

The doctor came out through the doors pushing George in his wheelchair, Evelyn close behind the two of them.

"You're a good man, Harvey," Evelyn said kindly as she took over the handles of George's wheelchair. "We'll see you tonight."

I shared a quick smile with Evelyn as she took George through the clinic's front doors- George grumbled something to himself as they disappeared out the doors together. My gaze shifted to rest on the doctor, and I felt my cheeks grow warm as I saw him turn his attention to me. The way he looked in his white coat was nothing short of handsome, and the way his ginger hair was neatly groomed made it more so. Harvey looked over at me and sighed, taking the makeshift ice pack against my head into account as he put his hands into his pockets.

"Another accident?" He asked softly, although a hint of amusement could be heard in his voice. I gave a sheepish smile in return, feeling a little embarrassed at him seeing me like this.

"Come on back, I'll take a look at you." He said with a polite smile as he turned on his heel and headed back through the double doors. I grabbed my backpack from my feet and followed quickly behind him, catching a glance at Maru as I passed by. I watched her mouth the words 'ask him' as she gestured towards the doors, which was met with me gesturing a hand under my neck for her to cut it out. I followed quickly behind the doctor, the double doors closing behind us with a soft 'click'.

We made our way into his office. I set my bag down at the base of the small bed in the room and took my usual place right in the middle of the bed, my legs hanging off the side as I looked over at Harvey.

"What happened this time?" Harvey asked calmly with his back turned to me, grabbing some equipment from a drawer in his desk to check my vitals.

I lowered the bag of ice from my head and placed it gingerly next to me on the bed. "I was down in the quarry today. I guess I wasn't paying attention. I swung back a little too hard... hit the back of my head with the side of the pickaxe."

I heard Harvey chuckle softly to himself as he shook his head, the sound of his laugh made my cheeks grow warm.

"What am I going to do with you?" He asked as he sat down in his swivel chair, wheeling it over to me as he took out a small torchlight from his breast pocket. He shone the light in my eyes and made me look over the room in different directions, asking typical questions to ensure I wasn't too badly hurt; my name, the date, where I was, that sort of thing. After a few seconds, he smiled as he turned off the torchlight.

"Well, it's not a concussion," he started, his voice methodical yet kind. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: You need to be careful when you're working."

"I'm fine, Harvey," I replied softly. "I guess I've been... distracted."

Harvey smiled warmly. "I can understand that. It happens to the best of us. If you need any help with it though, you're more than welcome to talk to me about it."

The comment made me smile up at him. "Really? You’d do that?"

"Sure! You can always book an appointment for a consultation regarding your mental health, it's what I'm here for."

"... ah."

I sighed softly to myself, remembering where we were. I felt a nervous feeling growing in the pit of my chest, and I remembered what Maru had said earlier. My window to ask about tonight was here, and I knew I’d be kicking myself if I didn’t at least try. As Harvey turned back to his desk to scribble down some notes, I spoke up softly as I grabbed my backpack.

"I, uhm," I began nervously. "I hope you don't mind, but... I've brought you something."

Harvey's ears perked up, and he swivelled his chair around to look back at me, a surprised expression on his face.

"Oh? What is it?"

I rummaged around in my backpack, my fingers taking a few seconds to finally grab at a small bottle. I got my words out quickly, my nerves getting the better of me as I pulled out a small bottle of wine.

"Well, a little birdie may have told me that you like your wine. I had some grapes left over last summer from the harvest and I didn't know what to do with the excess so I..."

I presented the bottle to Harvey with a nervous smile. It had a small sticker on it with my handwriting, reading 'For the best doctor in Stardew Valley'.

"... I made you some."

Harvey's eyes widened in surprise as he saw the small bottle of wine in my hand, his smile widening in both delight and astonishment as he reached out and carefully took the bottle. He was touched, not having expected me to make such an effort.

"I'm... this is...." He trailed off as his voice caught in his throat, clearly at a loss for words. After a moment, he cleared his throat and smiled warmly. "You've made my day..."

I chuckled sheepishly as my gaze drifted to the floor, shuffling in my seat at his compliment.

"Nah... it's the least I can do," I insisted. "I'm in here almost weekly, I'm probably taking your attention away from your other patients when I come in."

"Nonsense," Harvey insisted. "This is wonderful. Thank you."

There was a comfortable silence between the two of us, and it took me a moment to snap back into my thoughts as I cleared my throat.

"Right, well... I best be off. Those crops won't water themselves."

I made my way off the bed, pacing quickly to the door. At that moment I remembered what Maru had said again. If I didn't take my chances and ask Harvey about tonight, my window would be closing. I stopped in my tracks and turned around to face him, leaning against the doorway as I tried to be casual.

"So... I heard Mayor Lewis talking about the Flower Dance happening tonight? The one that's happening down near Marnie's Ranch? Are you, uhm... are you gonna go?"

Harvey nodded once, a small knowing smile crossing his lips as I mentioned the dance. 

"Yes, I do believe I will be attending. The dance has been a tradition here in town for years. Have you picked out a dance partner?"

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the doctor. "Dance partner?"

Harvey nodded once more. "It's customary for the bachelorettes of the town to have a partner in mind when attending the dance. There's a 'singles only' dance after dinner where you have to pick someone out to dance with. It's meant to symbolise true admiration to be chosen..." Harvey cleared his throat once before continuing on softly. "Not that... I've ever really participated in it."

"You're kidding," I said, leaning against the doorway with my arms folded. "You've never been asked to the dance?"

He shook his head once. "Never. But, y'know..."

His glance drifted to the bottle of wine in his hand, a soft smile growing on his lips as he looked back up at me.

"I still hold out hope."

The implications of his words were not lost on me, and I felt my cheeks start to blush as I smiled down at him.

"I'll... keep that in mind when choosing my partner. See you tonight, Harvey."

"See you then."

With that, I turned on my heels and headed quickly out of his office, flinging my backpack over my shoulder as I raced down the hallway. I had a newfound confidence for the night that couldn't be matched, and I made sure to high-five Maru on my way out the front door for the tidbit on the wine.

[hardstraykidshours]

the view

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut smut smut, 18+ (minors dni)

summary: hyunjin sends you a text while he's away that keeps your mind racing for days, so you show him what's been keeping you up when he's back

length: 3.8k

warnings: profanity, sexual/suggestive content, dom!reader, sub!hyunjin, brat tamer/brat dynamics, mirror sex, handjob, orgasm denial (mentioned but never actually acted upon), slight degration, praise, name calling ("slut," "brat" all m. receiving), pet names ("good boy"), afab reader, nsfw 18+ (minors dni)

you take a sip of your coffee just as your phone pings with an incoming notification. glancing down you see that it's from hyunjin, and you quickly unlock your phone to view the message. he's been traveling for work for the last week and was supposed to come back today, but he called you last night to tell you they had to stay for an extra two to three days. you understand that it's for work and that he doesn't get to choose when he goes somewhere or for how long, but that doesn’t stop you from missing him like crazy.

you click on his message and find a photo file with a text beneath it. 

h: i can't stop thinking of you........

you quickly lower your phone and glance around the small cafe to see if anyone is around. it's a little later so the usual morning rush crowd has already come and gone, and there are only a few people still lingering. but no one is sitting even remotely close to the small corner you tucked yourself into to read. 

knowing hyunjin, you have a sneaking suspicion of what kind of photo he sent you. the two of you love to send filthy messages and risky pictures back and forth while he's away. 

what's surprising today is the time. you both typically will text like that late at night, when you're in bed and all you can think about is how horny and desperate you are for each other. with the difference in time zones, one of you is often receiving completely inappropriate content in the middle of day, so it's not out of the norm for you to be getting something like this at 10:30 in the morning. what's intriguing to you is that you know the time difference isn't that significant with his current trip which means it's barely afternoon where he is. he had to stay longer, because they had more stuff to complete so there’s no way he's not in the middle of something for work right now. 

turning back to your phone you take a sip of your coffee and hesitantly click on the picture. except it's not a photo like you originally thought. 

you immediately choke on your latte, fighting with every ounce of physical restraint you possess to not spit it across the table in shock. because playing on your phone is a video of hyunjin jerking off. 

he's in a dimly lit bathroom, and the camera is trained on his reflection in the mirror. the hand not holding his phone is wrapped around his dick, sliding slowly and firmly up and down his throbbing length. 

you can feel your panties growing wetter by the second as you watch the scene unfolding in front of you. he's still fully dressed, his cock just barely out, making it obvious he is short on time and just slipped away from work for a "bathroom break". the whole situation is just so erotic, and you can't help but rub your thighs together to relieve some of the tension. 

you quickly remember you're in a coffee shop in the middle of the morning and immediately stop, glancing around to make sure no one has noticed. 

you turn your gaze back to the screen as he starts increasing his speed and you watch as his mouth moves slightly, mumbling things you can't hear since your phone is on silent. the camera shakes slightly as his jerking grows erratic, his head thrown back, eyes closed, and plush lips parted in overwhelming pleasure as he spills himself into his hand. 

after a few moments his head rolls back, a few stands of his black hair sticking to his now sweaty forehead. he opens his eyes and a taunting smirk slowly crosses his face before everything goes black. 

you stare at the blank screen for who knows how long, still trying to process what you just watched. you both have sent plenty of explicit content before and have definitely engaged in more than your fair share of phone or videochat sex, but never have you sent videos before. it's only ever been pictures and dirty words exchanged between you throughout the day. there was a sort of understanding between you two that as much as you would get each other worked up, you would never actually act on your raging arousal until the other person could partake as well. but this changes everything. 

part of you is still in shock, part of you is frustrated that he would pleasure himself without you, and the other part of you is just plain horny. 

before you can even think of how to respond, your phone pings with another message from hyunjin. 

h: i miss you so much, i just couldn't wait until tonight. i needed to touch myself right now, needed to imagine i was there like i was supposed to be instead of here and that it was your hands wrapped around me while i came instead of mine. 

y/n: jesus christ, jinnie, i'm at a cafe. it's a good thing it's slow right now or someone else would have seen you touching your pretty cock. which you did without my permission i might add.

h: that sounds like a you problem.

y/n: excuse me? i would watch your tone or this will definitely become a you problem.

you fire back, surprised how much his messages have strayed far from his usual submissive tone. 

h: oh really? what are you going to do from hundreds of miles away?

your mouth drops open at his bold message. someone's feeling very bratty today, which seems a bit rude considering he's too far away for you to punish for his behavior. 

h: oh and i would also highly recommend you watch that video again when you can have the sound on...anyway, I should get back to work before chan starts looking for me, have a great day loves <3.

you message him a few more times with no response, so you assume he must have turned his phone off so he could focus on work. you try and return to your original plan of drinking coffee and reading, but you can't focus on the words in your book. all you can think about is that video and his taunting message about watching it with the volume on. 

finally your curiosity and arousal get the best of you, and you drain the rest of your mug before rushing to finish the rest of your errands. you end up forgetting a few things at the grocery store, but you couldn't care less at this point. 

the second you get home you plop on the couch and pull your phone out, not even wanting to take the time to go all the way to your room before watching it again. 

the arousal you've been feeling since you first watched the video only skyrockets when you start it again. the sound of his heavy breathing fills the room while you watch him stroke his cock. as the video continues, his breaths turn to gasps and quiet moans. you can tell even through the small screen that he is struggling to stay quiet so no one hears him in the bathroom. keeping his voice down has always been hard for him in bed, so you're not surprised. 

when he flicks his thumb over the spot just below the tip that you know drives him crazy, you watch as he bites down on his lip hard. despite his teeth sinking deep into the soft flesh of his bottom lip, you still hear the whimper that escapes him. 

just when you think you couldn't possibly be more turned on, he picks up the pace and starts coming into his hand. the absolutely filthy sounds of him finishing echo from your phone speakers, and your eyes nearly roll back from how overwhelmingly erotic the noise is. your already soaked panties are now entirely ruined, and your pussy is aching for him. 

you can't help but watch the video again. and then once more with the company of your favorite vibrator. but even several orgasms later, you still don't feel better. it's as though that video has given you an itch, and no matter how hard you try you won't be able to scratch it yourself. 

a couple of days later, hyunjin is finally almost home. he's due back from the airport at any time, and you couldn't be more excited. or more pissed. 

the last few days have been essentially ruined thanks to him and that fucking video. it's all you can think about, and no matter how many times you get off on your own you want more. you want him. 

and he hasn't been helping in the slightest. he's been super busy finishing up all the things for work he needed to, so he hasn't been able to videochat or call, but he has been texting. ever since he sent that video, he's been such a brat in his messages, and it only caused you to grow more and more frustrated as time went on. 

you're so wound up you think you might explode. and the second hyunjin walks through the door to your apartment, that's exactly what you do. 

"hey, love! how are--" 

"bedroom. now." you don't even give him a chance to finish before you're interrupting him.

“what, no hello? no, ‘my love, i’m so excited you’re home?’” he remarks, quirking a brow as he leans against the closed door lazily. 

“do you really think you deserve that?” you are genuinely happy he’s finally home, especially after having to extend his trip. you also know you’re being a bit harsh, but you’re too frustrated to pretend otherwise. 

“now what could you possibly be talking about?” he does absolutely nothing to suppress the smirk that crosses his face, and you know he’s fully aware of what he did. and fucking proud of himself. 

“you know exactly what the fuck you did.” his taunting behavior is only working to rile you up further. 

“oh, do i?” he pushes off the door and starts sauntering towards you, hands tucked casually in his pockets. his entire demeanor is so out of character for him that you hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. when he reaches you, he wraps his arms around your waist to draw you closer, and you can’t help the way you subconsciously lean into him.

“what could i have possibly done to get you this angry?” he murmurs before leaning in to plant soft, open-mouthed kisses along your neckline. you tip your head back as you reach up and twine your fingers through his hair, enjoying his touch for the first time in so long.

his hands move down to start slowly sliding up your bare thighs, and you quickly remember that all you’re wearing is one of his t-shirts. the hem brushes his fingers, and he slips them beneath the soft fabric, trailing them up the sides of your waist and towards your aching breasts. as much as your body is desperate to give in to him and his pursuits, you know you can’t just let him get away with acting like such a brat to you.

gently grasping his wrists, you lean in closer to him. “you owe me new panties,” you whisper before pulling his earlobe in your mouth, biting the soft flesh before dragging your teeth across it, pulling a moan from deep in his throat. 

“oh?” he manages to say before gasping as you travel down the column of his neck and across his throat. 

you pause, but keep your mouth against him so he can feel your lips brush back and forth across his sensitive skin as you speak. “yes, every pair of mine has been absolutely ruined since that stunt you pulled by sending me that damned video. i’ve been soaked for days now.”

“mmm, i’m so sorry, baby,” he moans, sounding very much so unapologetic. “i was just trying to show you how much i missed you.”

when you pull away to look at him, he pops his bottom lip out in a faux pout and you grind your teeth, so fed up with his attitude. 

“oh, really? that’s what you were trying to do?” you break away from him completely and stalk towards the bedroom. you hear him following you and spin around to shoot him a deadly glare once you walk through the doorway. “i can think of about a hundred other ways to tell someone you miss them besides jerking off in the middle of the afternoon.”

“but none of them would have been nearly as fun.” 

"as fun for who? because nothing has been farther from fun than how i’ve felt for the last few days.”

“well that’s too bad, because you may not have enjoyed it, but i was having a hell of a good time.” that damn smirk is on his face again, and your blood boils at how flippant he continues to be. 

“i would sit on your face right now if i knew it would make you shut up,” you spit out before you can even think twice about what you’re saying. “but, unfortunately, i get the feeling it wouldn’t stop you from running your mouth, and not in the way that i like.”

“see, i think you like me running my mouth. i think you like it a lot more than you want to admit,” he brushes past you and walks over to your nightstand, pretending to be interested in the decorations he has seen a million times before. “i mean, you said it yourself, your panties have been soaked for days.”

his casual demeanor is infuriating, but this confident, bratty side of him is so new you’re not totally sure how to respond. all you know is part of you is insanely turned on by it, while the other part of you wants to wrap your hand around his throat and fuck him until he turns back into the whiny, submissive slut he’s supposed to be.

at your silence, he nonchalantly glances over his shoulder at you. “you can just admit it, i wouldn’t blame you for it. i do have an incredible mouth.”

he did not just…fine. if he’s wants to play, then you will play. 

you join him across the room and wrap your arms around him, immediately slipping your fingers beneath his shirt to start tracing shapes across his stomach. although he tries to not respond, you don’t miss the way his breath catches when your fingers flit along the waistband of his pants, dipping every so slightly beneath. 

“oh, they’ve been absolutely soaked alright. yesterday i just didn’t wear underwear the whole day. i figured it would help me save on laundry,” you move your arms up to pull his shirt over his head before sliding your hand down along the front of his pants, cupping his already hard cock.

“this is all i’ve been able to think about,” you start to rub your palm along his length while you speak, knowing he can’t resist the combination of your dirty words and taunting hands. “toys work fine and all, but nothing is ever quite like the real thing."

when you give him a firm squeeze he turns around, unable to hold out any longer. you quickly step just out of his reach, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth as you flash him a sly grin.

“nuh, uh. i don’t know if you deserve to touch me quite yet,” you taunt. he reaches for you again, but you back away. you continue across the room towards the bed and he follows, getting more desperate to touch you with every step.

“come on, don’t do this. you know i was just playing with you," he pleas.

without saying a word, you finally step closer and pull him into a passionate kiss. your mouths clash, tongues quickly intertwining as you guide him backward. he breaks the kiss for a moment to grin victoriously when the back of his legs suddenly hit the mattress.

the confidence in his smile quickly fades to nervousness when you firmly press on his shoulders, causing him to sit on the edge of the bed, a sinister look in your eyes. 

“i don’t think you truly understand what it was like having to watch that video. forced to be an observer to your pleasure from hundreds of miles away, not being able to touch you or taste you,” you crawl up around his body as you speak, pausing your words every now and again to kiss his chest, or suck on the side of his neck, dragging your tongue across his warm flesh.  “do you know how devastatingly erotic you look when you cum?”

you’ve now made it so you’re positioned directly behind him, sitting up on your knees. hyunjin’s gaze follows you the entire time, watching your every movement. they track the path of your hands as you start slowly dragging them down his sides and across his stomach causing his muscles to tighten involuntarily beneath your touch. 

when he doesn’t respond, you reach around him to grasp his chin firmly between your fingers, turning his head until it’s facing directly at the full length mirror positioned on the wall opposite of your bed. your eyes meet his in the reflection and he watches as you lean in close to him, dropping your voice low when you speak again. 

“i haven’t been able to think of anything but how you looked when you spilled into your hand in that bathroom. the sounds that poured from your mouth when you found your pleasure. i’ve been completely unable to focus on anything else. all my time the last few days has been spent replaying it in my head, watching the video over and over, touching myself all day long to try and release this constant tension. but no matter how many times i make myself cum, it does nothing for the ache in my pussy. an ache that you caused…and now you’re going to see what that looks like.”

you don’t miss the way his pupils dilate slightly at your words or the way a shiver rolls through his body.

“so here’s what’s going to happen. you’re going to sit here and watch in that mirror while i touch you. you are to keep your eyes on yourself, not me. i want you to see how utterly intoxicating you look when you lose yourself in pleasure. if you refuse to play by my rules, i won’t let you cum. if you look away, i won’t let you cum. if you open that bratty little mouth of yours to do anything but beg, i won’t let you cum. understood?”

he nods slightly at your commands, throat rolling as he swallows thickly. 

“now take off your pants.”

a smile grows on your face as you watch him obey immediately, quickly shedding his clothing before sitting back on the edge of the bed in front of you. his dick is already painfully hard, and you haven’t even started yet. 

wasting no time, you wrap your fingers around his length, enjoying the hiss that leaves his lips at your touch. you whisper dirty words in his ear with every movement of your hand.

“you look so pretty like this, your body on display with my hand on your cock.”

“look at that. watch how your breathing jumps and your stomach clenches when i stroke you like this.”

“do you see the way your lips part when you can’t possibly hold back a moan for a moment longer? the only thing that could make them look better is if they were wrapped around my nipples.”

he listens obediently, eyes never leaving the mirror as he takes in every detail of his erotic, stunning form being brought closer and closer to orgasm.

his dick is practically throbbing in your hold, and you can tell the addition of watching himself fall apart in front of his eyes is only adding to his pleasure, rushing him towards release faster than ever before. you start to flick your thumb over his head with every pull of your hand, and he chokes on a moan.

after a few more strokes, you lean forward to suck on the sensitive spot just below his ear, and that’s all it takes to send him hurtling over the edge. 

his head starts to fall back towards your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as loud moans and curses pour from his lips while his orgasm tears through him. 

“no,” you command, using your free hand to tip his head back up to face the mirror again. “watch.”

he manages to open his eyes once more, focusing his gaze once more on his reflection. sweaty strands of black hair cling to his forehead, his plush lips are parted slightly, and his entire body is starting to shudder as the intensity of his release threatens to overwhelm him. you continue to stroke him even after he has finished cumming, making sure to draw out each and every aftershock of his orgasm, stopping just before he crosses the threshold into overstimulation. 

you release his cock and slowly draw your hands up and down the lengths of his arms while planting gentle kisses on his neck. for several moments the only sound in the room is hyunjin’s panting, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath while coming down from his high.

once he seems to have calmed down most of the way, you stand up off the bed to circle around in front of him, standing between his legs. you tip his chin until he looks up at you, his eyes still somewhat dazed from the intensity of his orgasm. 

“do you understand now?”

he nods almost robotically in response, brain clearly still trying to catch up and you bite your bottom lip while smiling to yourself, fully enjoying just how blissed out he looks in this moment. 

“good boy. now that we’ve cleared that up, i’m going to put that bratty little mouth of yours to good use and ride your face until you make me cum so hard i see stars. then you’re going to fuck me like i deserve until i forget just how badly my pussy has been aching for you.”

the dazed look in his eyes completely disappears at your filthy words and he nods enthusiastically, willing falling backwards onto the bed when you tap his chest lightly, ready to drown in your dripping cunt.