#this song makes me feel so summery

[mymarifae]

idk how anyone can dislike the vbs daybreak frontline cover when it sounds like this

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I WANT YOU CLOSER, CLOSER EVEN STILL ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; in the midst of a rainshower, you run into your mysterious classmate.

word count; 6.1k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, implied no curses au, fluffy summer vibes, forced proximity (my beloved <3), pining, very shoujo manga coded, vague allusions to sugu having a troubled background, (kind of same w reader), switching povs, gojo slander, stsg implications if you squint (my brand), he’s a sweet sweet boy and i love him :((

a/n; teen sugu reminds me a lot of the kind upperclassman type of otome game li… with secret emotional baggage that makes his route really hard to complete….. anyway i dedicate this fic to hit mobage jujutsu kaisen: phantom parade PLEASE bring sugu home to me please please please ple

geto looks beautiful in the rain. 

it’s an embarrassing first thought to have, as he rounds the corner and comes into view. a black head of hair, making you stop in your tracks, breathe in a gulp of humid air.

you can’t help it, though.

it’s raining. droplets ricochet against the sidewalk in an endless cadence, the sky above you blanketed by gray clouds; enveloping your city in a summery shadow, the scent of hot concrete and blossoming hydrangeas. everything smells of a blistering summer, youth in a bottle cap. tasty on your tongue.

those very same hydrangeas surround him, on all sides, framing his figure like a painting come to life — splotches of colour, flecks of purple and pink and blue, clashing with the gray sky and the black umbrella in his hand. he looks a little disheveled, hair a little frizzy, bangs sticking to his skin. oddly at peace. when his eyes meet yours, you see a flash of recognition — a tiny spark in the amber hue. 

you take that as your cue to move closer. 

he waits for you, always so patient, smiling as you look both ways before crossing the street — shoes hitting the concrete in a steady thud, thud, thud. a splash from the puddle you step in.

you’re in a good mood. veins flooding with sugar and buzzing with joy, raindrops sticking to your skin and the plastic bag in your hand, absently humming along to a song playing through your headphones. your clothes are soaked, but you’re smiling; swinging the bag of treats as you walk. bags of chips, colourful lollipops, bottles of ramune, clinking together for every step you take. enough to last you a couple weeks. in your good mood, you ended up stocking up on your classmates’ favorites — bouncing on the balls of your feet at the thought of giving them away, seeing their satisfied little expressions.

you even got something for gojo. he’ll have to fight for it, obviously, but you look forward to seeing his face light up when he takes a bite of the soft mochi.

(you like giving them things. it’s fun. it makes you feel like a normal high school kid.)

nothing can dampen your spirits right now. the entire world smells of rain, and hydrangeas, and apple blossoms from the backyards behind you. a scent that creeps into your bloodstream, sneaks into your breath. a smile grows on your lips — blooming even brighter when you step into your classmate’s orbit.

”hey!” you chirp, raising a hand up in greeting.

”hey,” geto echoes, voice honeyed and smooth, bringing a hand up to wipe at his forehead. wet from the humid air. ”out on a walk?”

with a smile, you lift the plastic bag, grabbing his attention. clasping it tightly, with your wet fingers. ”just went to get some snacks. you?”

”i wanted to get some fresh air,” he smiles. eyeing you up and down. ”did you forget your umbrella?” 

silently, he takes in your appearance. your breathing is a tiny bit laboured, and the flimsy, oversized hoodie you’re wearing is sticking to your skin. it’s all that protects you from the steady downpour; no umbrella to be seen. you look small, tilting your head up, meeting his gaze. he feels the beginnings of a smile play at his lips. exasperated. all you do is blink, seemingly unbothered, as if you aren’t straight on the road to catching a cold. you can be a little scatterbrained. 

maybe that’s why he can’t help but dote on you.

(that’s what satoru calls it, at least. suguru thinks it’s just called being nice — not like satoru would know anything about that.)

”oh. no, i didn’t forget.” you scratch at the back of your neck. ”just didn’t know it was going to rain.”

the sudden downpour gave you no time to prepare, heavy and abrupt — clouds obscuring the glowing sun in what felt like no more than a second. like someone high above flicked the light switch of the world. all you could do was pull your hood up, try to walk under whatever apple tree you came across. it didn’t help much, though. 

you shift your weight from one foot to the other, soles weighed down with dew. sort of sheepish.

geto chuckles, raspy and soft. the sound makes your heart skip a beat. ”didn’t you see the weather report?”

”well, it… just slipped my mind, i guess.”

silently, you avert your gaze. now you remember — yaga-sensei did mention that, didn’t he? you heard him say it. but you just forgot.

geto is laughing at you, a little, from within his eyes; at least that’s the impression you get. so you continue, eager to defend your honour. 

”it’s fine, though,” you assure him, smiling brightly. a sunny grin. ”i like the rain!”

geto raises an unimpressed brow, but the expression fades away just as swiftly — giving way to something softer. ”you’re heading back to the dorms, right?” he asks, continuing once you give him a slight nod. ”then we can share.”

you blink. one moment passes, then two. but geto only smiles, shifting his umbrella a little, hoping you’ll get the hint. silently beckoning you over. 

it makes you feel oddly flustered.

in truth, you and him aren’t particularly close. he’s nice to you, sure, but geto is nice to everyone. you’d like to call him a friend, but what do you actually know about him? not much. 

suguru geto is a bit of an enigma. a little mysterious. he’s polite, well-mannered, and he seems like the most normal of your classmates — but the bar is in hell, because you know for a fact geto isn’t normal either. no normal guy deliberately chooses to keep his bangs like that. 

there’s a gap, there. a kind of inconsistency. he’s hard to approach, but he puts you at ease. pulls you in and scares you off. with a soft voice and kind smile, keen eyes and a heavy palm on your head. sometimes he brings you snacks when you study in the library, or helps you with homework. kind of like a dependable senpai. someone to lean on.

… but then there’s that gap. 

the real geto, who you’ve only seen glimpses of, only ever in gojo’s vicinity, is boyish and bright — he laughs and pouts and takes up space. he glows brighter than the sun. but the geto you’re seeing, right now, is more like the moon. wearing a polite, patient smile. standing up straight.

waiting for you to join him under his umbrella.

(he’s kind. but is he doing it because wants to, or because he feels obliged to?)

”… oh.” a pause. ”no, it’s fine!” you take a step back, quick to reassure him. ”i can walk there without it! i’m already soaked, anyway.”

geto observes you. for a moment, something in his expression flickers; a crease between his brows.

then he shakes his head. still wearing a comforting smile, the same one he always slips on when he’s around you. ”still. we don’t want you catching a cold,” he persists, sounding something like a nagging mother. ”you’ll miss the exam next week.”

and with that, your shoulders drop. 

right — the exam. the one you haven’t been studying for in the slightest, completely distracted by the feeling of summer in the air. the one you can’t fail, under any circumstances, because yaga-sensei can and will force you to take summer classes ad compensation. that exam. 

a wistful sigh leaves your lips. ”god, i wish.”

geto chuckles — a little deeper than usual. it makes your heart flutter. then he’s beckoning you over, again, with a slight shake of his head. 

”c’mon. there’s enough room for two.”

he gives you that same familiar smile, and you’re forced to admit that you might be slightly weak to it. something about the way his lips tug upwards, the light crinkle of his eyes. a certain glint in them that tells you he’s not budging on the issue. 

you’re still a little hesitant. but…

(this is a chance, isn’t it? a chance to bridge that gap between you.)

silently, shyly, you join him under his umbrella. shielding you from the still falling rain.

pitter patter, pitter patter. you don’t know where the rain ends and your own heartbeat begins. he’s so close — your shoulders nearly brushing together. it makes your nerves bubble up, in rhythm with the droplets bouncing off the cover up above. you feel stiff. the tiny, miniscule gap between you feels like a sweltering stove, radiating a heat that warns you to stay away. as if his touch could burn you. like this, you can even smell him; fresh laundry, an earthy cologne. the slightest hint of caffeine and tobacco. you blame it on shoko — the whole dormitory smells of cigarettes, thanks to her. 

it’s comforting, though. his scent. blending together with the aroma of rain, wet earth, blooming flowers. with his fragrance smoothing over all your senses, the closeness between you a constant reminder of the situation you’re in, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. 

all you do is murmur out a quick thanks, as you begin to walk, in tandem.

geto can’t help but steal a glance at you, out of the corner of his eye. you look a little meek, a little flustered. he hopes the narrow distance between you isn’t making you feel too uncomfortable. 

just to be sure, he angles his body away from yours. ever so slightly, one subtle step away, to make the gap a little wider. then, as discreetly as he can manage, he tilts the umbrella in your direction — not wanting the never-ending drops of rain to graze your skin. he can feel them, now, soaking through the material of his shirt, hitting his shoulder. but he doesn’t mind. to his relief, you don’t seem to notice. he’s pretty sure you’d protest; and as enjoyable as another friendly squabble would be, he’d prefer to avoid it for now.

you’re nice. accommodating, he thinks, in a subtle kind of way. always showing up with trinkets after your little outings, offering to get everyone a drink on your way to the vending machines. you’re friendly with the other two; always nagging at shoko to stop smoking, even when she just rolls her eyes and calls you a goody two shoes. recently, you’ve even started to be patient with satoru, even when he tries to get a rise out of you. it wasn’t like that at the start of the year. geto wonders what changed. 

he’s a little interested in you. just a little. you’re sweeter than the other two, easier to worry over. he saw you trip over your own shoelaces last week. you’re a little clumsy, a bit of a ditz — airheaded. maybe that’s why he can’t help but feel protective of you. satoru brushes everything off with a cheeky grin, and shoko is self-sustaining, but you’re often in need of a helping hand. the last time he tried that with the other two, they wouldn’t stop calling him mother geto until he smacked them over the head with satoru’s shounen jump issue. 

it makes him feel out of place — when he doesn’t have anything to tend to. itchy, a feeling of dread crawling up his throat. peace and quiet feels suffocating, when he isn’t in total control over it.

so, in his own way, small as it may be, geto enjoys taking care of you. grabbing you a carton of strawberry milk, or warding satoru away when he’s annoying you a little too much. he likes the smile you grace him with when he does. it’s pretty. and it’s all geto really knows about you — that, and that there’s a tenderness to you that’s hard to fake. it’s not much to go on.

so this is the perfect opportunity to learn more. 

(a heartfelt connection. something he’s always, always craved. something that maybe he can finally have, with satoru, and shoko, and you — 

if you’re willing, that is.)

”hey,” he starts, breaking the rainfilled silence. keeping his umbrella steady, leading you both away from a big puddle in the middle of the sidewalk. ”can i ask you something?”

you raise your head to look at him. blinking owlishly, at the sudden question, nerves beginning to rise again. he sounds kind of serious. did you do something? paranoia gnaws anxiously at the ridges of your ribs, but all you can do is swallow empty air and stammer out a meek reply.

”… uh, sure!”

geto glances over at you, his eyes meeting yours. that gaze of his is kind of heavy — the deep colour of his eyes coaxing you closer, luring you in. honey and amber, splotches of cedar and flecks of gold.

they’re pretty.

”this might be kind of a weird question,” he begins, reaching a hand up to adjust his bun, sneaking a finger under the black hair tie. voice light; to put you at ease. ”but i’m just curious.” 

he looks ahead, at the street before you, only meeting your stare once you give him a slight tilt of your head. then he parts his lips.

”why did you come here?”

you blink. 

silently, confusion painting the interior of your iris, you stare at him. waiting for a clarification that doesn’t come, before giving him a hesitant answer. ”… to get snacks?”

geto has the audacity to laugh, after such a vague question. the sound is light and breathy, melting together with the pitter patter of the rain, and for some reason it strikes you as sincere. ”not like that,” he grins. ”i mean, why did you come to the school in the first place?”

ah. 

that’s a different question. harder to answer. he must notice your hesitance, the puzzlement in your features, because he’s quick to elaborate. hiding a smile behind his fist, disguised as a cough.

(you’re sort of cute when you’re confused.)

”i mean — it’s an odd choice, isn’t it? far off the map, barely any students....” you nod along, and he continues. ”i don’t know about your background. but moving away from home must be kind of tough, right?” when he glances in your direction, you notice a sparkle of genuine curiosity in his eyes. ”so i was curious about your reason. if you feel comfortable telling me, i mean.”

a hum. it buzzes in your throat, absentminded, as you stare into space. brows furrowed. 

geto gives you time, as much time as you need, always willing to wait. for a minute or so, the only sounds that fill the space around you are the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the plastic cover of umbrella, and the sound of your shoes meeting puddles on the street. silently, you ponder the question. thinking of your answer.

geto has a point. you’ve been curious, too — about how your classmates ended up in such an eccentric little school, so detached from the rest of the world. a quirky private school in the middle of nowhere. you must all be a little eccentric yourselves. that’s probably why you feel so safe with them — you get the sense that you’re all lacking something. something that would ward normal kids away from such an unorthodox choice.

you could say you were just going with the flow. a relative of yours used to work with yaga-sensei, and heard about his position at a newly reinstated private school — heard that he was looking for students to fill the roster. 

so you accepted.

(if it was really that simple, geto would already have his answer.)

what drew you in, more than anything, was the promise of something new. a strange, small school, far away from home; from the people you know, the town you know, the life that you’ve lived. far away from the person you are, the person you was, the person you’ve always been.

an escape. that’s all it was. 

a way out.

he’s still waiting for your answer, even now, trying to read your thoughts off your face. eyes trailing over every contour. very briefly, you consider dodging the question — but his silent, steady presence squeezes a little honesty out of you. 

you want to give him a genuine answer.

”… i guess,” you begin, weighing the words on your tongue. they feel stale, a little awkward, but not dishonest. ”i wanted to stop being me for a bit.” 

the words are unexpected, surprising even to your own ears — like your mouth and your mind weren’t quite cooperating, one ahead of the other, one not weighing in on the honest choice. they catch geto off guard. 

he looks at you, silently, attempts to dissect your expression; but he doesn’t succeed. 

for a second, something flashes in his eyes. a glimmer that you just barely catch, that you can still sense behind his eyelids when they flutter shut. you’re not sure what to call it. recognition, maybe, or something like empathy. a sense of acknowledgement. it’s gone when he opens his eyes. 

he doesn’t look at you when he answers.

”… i get that.”

there’s a depth to his words that you’re afraid to uncover. you feel their weight, all the same, glancing up at him, studying his expression, the humid drops of dew that stick to his lashes. and you feel a tug. faint, non-existent, the string between your pinkies —

a growing connection. 

(it makes you feel oddly bare.)

all you can give him is a chuckle, a little breathless. ”do you?” you ask, grinning weakly. ”it’s a little melodramatic.”

geto only smiles. silent, comfort personified. there’s no judgement in his eyes, none whatsoever — because he knows exactly what you mean.

fleeing from the past. 

it’s a kind of murder, he thinks. a rebirth.

maybe the two of you are similar. similar in the sense that he recognizes the shadow in your eyes, the one he sometimes sees in mirrors; familiar in the sense that you both suffer from that same sickening awareness. 

(maybe you want the same thing he wants, what he’s always wanted — 

control.)

it’s a realization that creeps up on you, the both of you, slow and steady. a sense of kinship. it envelops you, cradles you close, in the same way molten clouds cover the summer sky.

geto isn’t lying, you can tell. he does get it. you know, just from that tilt of his voice, the way his eyelashes flutter, his absent shifting from one foot to another. and it soothes your worries.

everything is silent, for a bit. you look down at the asphalt, at your own reflection in a puddle, and geto gazes at the bushes of hydrangeas to his right. you feel safe, right next to him, under his umbrella. and he feels content to have you there. your shoulders brush together, for a moment, and it sends a jolt through your heartbeat.

geto inhales a breath.

”by the way —” 

”— have you studied for the exam?”

you both still. blurting out the words at the same time, turning to look at each other; sheepishly blinking in the other’s direction.

then he barks out a laugh.

”sorry,” he hums, a sleek smile on his lips. bright and sheepish. ”what was that? the exam?”

”ah — yeah,” you feel heat settle on the back of your neck, crawling up your ears. ”have you, um, studied for it at all?”

geto moves the umbrella from one arm to the other, smoothly directing you to stand on his right instead of his left. guiding you with his hand on your lower back, ghosting the fabric of your clothing. he stretches his free arm, a little stiff.

”yeah,” he exhales. ”not a lot, though.”

”really?” you blink up at him, trying not to blush at how easily he maneuvered you. stupid, stupid heartbeat. ”you strike me as the honour student type…”

geto scoffs. it leaves his lips before he can tug it back. ”satoru said the same thing.”

a breath spills from your lips, almost a chuckle. you’re not sure how to feel about being compared to gojo, of all people, but you’ll let it slide this once. ”well, you just kinda have that vibe.”

now he’s huffing, tethering on the edge of something childish, and your smile grows. you’re seeing him make a lot of new expressions today. 

”why, though?” comes a sigh. he must be playing it up, a little — you almost get fooled into thinking he’s pouting. ”is it the hair? i don’t even wear glasses anymore...”

”well —” you pause. ”hold on, you used to wear glasses?”

all you get is an absent hum. he doesn’t notice your wide, shellshocked eyes. ”when i was younger. i got rid of them a couple years back.”

“oh…” you try to imagine it, for a second. he’d look frighteningly good in them. just barely, you manage to keep yourself from saying it out loud. ”i think it’s more just your general personality. like, you’re responsible and polite… or something.”

and geto chuckles; the intersection between a teasing smile and a soft grin. it’s just a little bit ethereal, painted over with the humid summer air. he turns towards you.

”and that makes me an honour student?” 

”… okay, maybe not.” you bring a hand up to your hair, fixing it absently. deflating a little. ”you just strike me as intelligent, i guess.”

geto smiles, again, as always. the chuckle that escapes him is faint and fond, and awfully soft, dripping down his lips. ”well, thank you.” 

his eyes are warm, burning into yours. all you can do is glance away. you still don’t really understand this sensation — why he’s suddenly so easy to talk to. why he feels like something other than just a classmate, when he looks at you like that. 

then again, geto has always been a natural at putting people at ease. maybe that’s why you can’t help but warm up to him, compliantly, the way a child dutifully follows the first butterfly they ever see — it’s a little too pretty to resist. 

you want to slip deeper into his world, you realize. you don’t want this moment to end so soon.

”you guys really get along, huh?” you change the subject, speaking slowly, savouring every syllable. there isn’t any rush to get the words out all at once, when you’re with him. 

geto blinks, tilting his head. 

”hm?”

“you and gojo, i mean.”

a glimmer passes through his eyes, as your query sinks in. ”ah. yeah.” his gaze strays upwards, and a contemplative look settles into his face. he knows what you’re after, what you’re really asking; why are the two of you so close? why do you put up with his antics? 

what do you see in him? 

he thinks it’s a fair question. it’s not like he hasn’t asked himself the very same thing, before — satoru can be annoying. ignorant, too, and terribly rude. a little prick. when he stole his curry bun yesterday, geto wanted to kill him. spoiled little brat.

(then again, he’s…)

”he’s… well.” geto exhales, a little breathless. tasting the words on his tongue. ”you know how he is — but he’s not a bad guy.” 

and it’s true. he really isn’t. satoru is a lot of things; rude and spoiled, cocky and bratty, an expert at ticking everyone off. but there’s a kind of charm, there. an innocence that geto admires. 

satoru is childish — because he is a child. a child who knows a lot of things that children shouldn’t know. a child who doesn’t know the most basic of things. satoru doesn’t know how to make friends. he doesn’t know how to ask for help, doesn’t know how to give it. he doesn’t know what cotton candy tastes like, because he’s never tried it before. 

his childhood couldn't have been very warm. it definitely wasn’t normal. 

is that why he puts up with him, then? out of pity? of course not. the bare thought of it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. he’d never look down on satoru, like that — and he knows he’d hate him for it. if anything, geto thinks that maybe the two of them are close because he doesn’t give him any special treatment. even if satoru wasn’t treated with warmth or love, he was certainly coddled. spoiled. it’s evident, in the way that he acts.

but satoru isn’t a god, and he shouldn’t act like one. 

one punch, right across the face; knocking the white-haired boy off his feet. that’s where their friendship began. there were stars in satoru’s eyes, geto thinks, when he looked up at him from the ground. sunglasses fallen off from the impact, blue eyes entirely on display, catching the light of the sun — gleaming with a certain bewilderment. almost amazement. like he didn’t know he could be hit, didn’t know it was possible. the sun shone down on him, illuminating the vague bruising on his cheek, and geto wondered if that was the first punch the boy had ever taken.

it certainly wasn’t a first for him, when satoru lunged at him next —

it was a little juvenile. more than a little deranged. geto isn’t one to throw fists, in the first place — he’s out of practice. the punch he fed satoru might’ve been a little too forceful. he couldn’t help but feel bad, every so slightly, for putting a bruise on that irritatingly pretty face of his. 

but it still ended with satoru’s arm around his shoulder, a buzzing voice by his ear, proclaiming them as friends. cheery and bright.

geto couldn’t help but echo the statement.

(satoru is a lot of things. 

most of all, he’s really hard to hate.)

geto’s answer brings a smile to your face. ”yeah,” you hum, soft voice breaking him out of his reverie. ”he isn’t.”

he looks at you. silently, a question of his own brewing in his irises — and with you so close, close enough to touch, smiling at him like he’s an old friend… geto can’t help but indulge in his own curiosity. 

he tries to appear nonchalant, stealing a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. ”seems like the two of you are getting along better, too.” 

”me and gojo?” you blink, surprised. a little flustered. huffing out an amused breath, trying to brush off the bare thought. ”no way.”

geto laughs — it’s a deep sound, a full one. somehow very earnest. you wonder if that’s how his laugh always sounds, whenever gojo’s involved. ”oh, come on. you don’t hate him that much.” a teasing glint blooms in his eyes, as he scrutinizes you. ”or am i wrong?”

you pause. faltering, a little, gaze falling down to the pavement — then to the sky — then to him. and then back to the pavement. 

”… i mean…” you attempt to squeeze the words out from within your chest, but you can’t help but feel hesitant. as if gojo could jump out of the bushes at any moment, ready to tease you if you say anything that paints him in an even moderately decent light. ”i don’t… hate him. but he’s still annoying.” a pout slips onto your lips. “he has it out for me, you know.”

geto laughs, again. you note that you’re fond of the sound. ”isn’t that because he likes you, though? he just doesn’t know how to show it. it’s like pulling pigtails.”

”don’t even joke about that,” you scoff, shooting him a scowl. “and that wouldn’t make it any better, even if it was true.”

a fond smile. ”yeah, you’re right.” he opts to dial down on the teasing, shifting into a more sincere tone. ”you do seem more friendly now, though. before it felt like you really hated his guts.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. brows furrowing, as you mull on what to answer with. unsure how you really feel. it’s not like you’re suddenly super close, or anything — but you have gotten friendlier. just by a smidge, but still. you’ve gotten better at putting up with him and his antics, at finding comfort in how open he can be.

after a tiny pause, you speak up. 

”… i still don’t really understand him.” you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip, trapping it between your teeth. “but i think i might be starting to.” 

you’re a little embarrassed over the words that fall from your lips, barely above a whisper. 

”… he’s not the worst.”

geto smiles, but you don’t see it — gaze still lingering on the droplets that bounce off the pavement. ”i’m glad,” he hums, earnest. ”that guy needs more friends.”

something about his tone of voice urges you to look at him. that smile of his is bright, gleaming in the rain, in the midst of the flowers all around you. a little teasing, a little boyish, but somehow very sincere. you didn’t think you’d get to see it up close.

and you can’t help but chuckle. the raven-haired boy glances over at you, confusion in his eyes.

noticing it, you breathe out a quiet chuckle. ”sorry, it’s just —” a teasing grin smooths over your lips. ”you guys bicker a lot, and you act like he annoys you… but you really care for him, don’t you?”

this time, geto almost stops in his tracks. his eyes widen, slightly, and you’re not sure why he seems surprised — when he always sounds so fond saying satoru’s name, talking about him like they understand each other fully. maybe he didn’t notice it until now. 

a moment passes, before he collects himself, clearing his throat and averting his gaze. awfully good at keeping his composure. 

(though he fails to fully conceal the flustered look on his face.)

”i wouldn’t go that far,” he mumbles, but it only makes you chuckle again. his lips curl up slightly, at the sound; despite his embarrassment. ”someone’s gotta look out for that idiot.”

”right. of course.”

geto gives you a displeased little look. you bite back a laugh. feeling at ease, by his side — you get the sense that you can trust him, that you could tell him absolutely anything, and he still wouldn't use it against you. it’s a relief.

standing there, under geto’s umbrella, in the shadow of summer, rain obscuring the world — you reach a definitive conclusion.

you want to get to know him. want to see inside his heart, hear more of his thoughts. if you could only step over that gap between you, wriggle your way into his world — 

you think you’d be happy.

so, as you walk side by side, narrowly avoiding puddles and breathing in the humid summer air, you try to coax them out of him. little thoughts, bits and pieces of the suguru geto you yearn to meet.

(unbeknownst to you, he’s doing the same.)

you continue to talk. about miniscule things, meaningless things, a comfortable sensation of trust simmering in the air between you. and before you know it, you’ve stepped onto the school grounds, stopping right in front of the dormitory.

”here we are,” geto hums, folding the umbrella and tucking it between his arm and torso. you turn to look him in the eye, taking an absent step away.

”thanks, geto,” you can’t help but smile. ”for letting me walk with you.”

”don’t mention it.” he brushes you off with ease, quick to drag the door open; waiting for you to step inside before following suit. always so accommodating. 

for a second, he hesitates. a glimmer of uncertainty, in his eyes, that you miss — stretching out your tired limbs with a shallow groan, enjoying the warm and dry air on your skin. 

finally, geto takes the leap.

when he parts his lips, his voice comes out soothing. natural and breathy, floral patterns blooming on his tongue; as silky as jasmine petals. ”you can call me suguru, you know.” he lets the silence linger, for a moment. ”if you want to.”

you turn to look at him, eyes widening, at the sudden offer, and he can’t get a good read on the emotion reflected in them. you seem caught off guard, but he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing.

after a moment or two, you fumble for a response. 

”oh. um — okay? i will, then.” you shake your head, as if brushing off the hesitance you feel, mustering the courage to imitate his offer. ”in that case, you can call me by my first name, too.” 

a brief pause. 

”… if you want to.”

geto smiles. it’s laced with relief, hard to notice, impossible to miss. instead of answering with an affirmation, he takes a more teasing approach — unable to resist the temptation.

so he says your name. your first name, dragging the syllables out on his tongue, as if tasting it. trying to get used to the way the letters bend as they come out of his mouth. despite the teasing lilt it carries, the sound is oddly earnest; he pronounces it clearly, like he’s trying to call you to his side. you almost feel compelled to take a step towards him. 

geto looks you in the eye, as he calls you by your given name, for the very first time — and you can’t help but grow flustered.

”… suguru,” you echo, for whatever reason. you think your brain may be slightly fried. but it feels right, to say it. suguru. 

(what a pretty name.)

suguru smiles at you. you think it’s just a little wider than usual, a little more sincere. almost giddy, if you squint. in the open air, the intimate atmosphere simmers.

finally, you clear your throat, glancing in the direction of your dorm room. a silent que for him to follow.

and he does. leaving the umbrella by the hall, before walking you to your door. his steady, soothing presence sticking to your skin. you’re just about to place your fingers on the doorknob, when a pang of realization hits you — stopping you in your tracks.

”oh — right!”

swiftly, you turn on your heel, facing suguru again. he gazes down at you, bemusement in his eyes. watching as you rummage through the plastic bag hanging off your arm. finally, you find what you were looking for; holding it out towards him. 

”here,” you give him a warm smile. ”as thanks.”

suguru accepts it, compliantly, allowing you to slip a pack of gum into his palm. he recognizes the brand, one he favours over others. it helps him, on days he can’t find his appetite. 

did you see him chewing it at some point, he wonders? when, though? 

maybe you’re always paying attention to the people around you. the way they like their coffee, their favoured flavour of gum. it may be a small kindness, an absentminded one, but suguru thinks that makes it all the more meaningful. a kindness that seeps out of you, that draws him in. 

he wants to know more, about you. he really does.

but for now, this is enough. a walk back to your dorm, your shared home, talking and growing closer than before. 

it’s a small step, but in the right direction. 

the pack of gum stirs a mellow, tender feeling in his chest. all he can do is give you a smile, and a thank you that you’re quick to brush off. then you say your goodbyes, and you close the door behind you — flopping down on your bed with a muffled squeal. a giddy kind of excitement swimming in your veins. because finally, finally, you feel like the gap between you has been dented.

you know what his real laugh sounds like. that the tips of his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed. you know that he used to wear glasses, that you’re a little more similar than either of you could have assumed.

you know that you’re fond of him. fond of a boy with black hair, who smells of summer and rain and chewing gum. fond of a boy you’ve only scratched the surface of.

on the other side of the door, suguru walks back to his room. with a pep in his step, one that satoru notices — because of course he does — appearing from around the corner with a shit-eating grin.

“oh? what were you doing over there, suguru?”

suguru ignores him. popping a piece of the gum you gave him into his mouth, a flavour of apricot melting on his tongue — he sinks his teeth into it, slowly, feeling his lips curl up into a smile.

it tastes of summer and youth. a memory that both of you will savour, for many years to come.

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Keeping it quiet

Paring: Innocent!reader × dads!friend!Nat

Summery: You looked lonely Natasha could fix that

Warnings: SMUT, (legal) age gap, amab!nat, oral, fingering, p in v, pet names, implied aftercare, secret relationship, breeding kink, unprotected sex, no use of Y/N

Word count: 1.2k

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

AN: sorry for the long wait but here I am

Masterlist

Today was supposed to be a normal BBQ like your family had had so often in this warm summer months but ever since your father invited his collegue over to join something changed. Ever since you met Natasha Romanoff about 3 months back you couldn't stop thinking about her. She might have been old enough to be your mother and a friend of your father but you couldn't denie the fact that you were attracted to her like flies to the light. She was a true charmer excatly knowing what to say and to do. You never felt uncomfortable around her even though she blatanly flited with you. Her touch somehow always lingering on your skin when the two of you were alone. It was only a matter of time until you ended in Natashas bed legs widely spread as she savoured your taste. So the time flew sneaking around your parents watch as you kept your illicent affair hidden falling head over heals for the older woman. Today was one of those days where Nat came over to your parents place and just couldn't keep her hands of you.

Like always Natashas steps were light on the cold tiles of the french villa your family owned. Sometimes you thought she was an actual spy. You didn't hear her standing in the kitchen in skimpy clothing preparing something for dinner as you mindlessly hummed along whatever Taylor Swift song was currently on the radio. "What are you doing bunny" She sneaked up behind you pressing her front into your back her crotch againt the swell of your ass. "Just doin' a salad you know" She humped checking out the area to see if your parents were around before doing anything further. Her hands came up to your hips pulling your behind harder against her crotch. "Natty please" you whined as she smirked pressing her nose against your neck smelling the expensive perfume she had gotten you. "We can't not here" your breathing was heavy uneven "What if my parents see?"

"They're in the garden trust me bunny" She whispered her strong hands trialling up your sides to your chest. Even though your body was betraying you leaning into her touch seemingly begging for more you couldn't give in just yet. You wanted to show her how you infact could be stronger than your most animalistic thoughts. "Natasha not now" she groaned into her hear making you feel the wettnes betwen your owm legs. "Fuck bunny I can't wait to feel your tight little pussy pulsing around me begging me to let you cum. And then after you had your sweet sweet release I'm gonna breed you're dripping with my cum" she whispered into your ear before pushing herself from the counter leaving into the garden. Of course she wouldn't actually get you pregnant you where on the pill and you weren't sure if she was even fertile. It was more of her kink she had explained to you.

The rest of the night you two kept your play up. Acting asif you couldn't care less what the other was doing in front of your parents. Still you couldn't help but admire her beautiful features as she had some boring converstaion with your father about politics or what ever. What really interested you would be the time spend between the sheets with her as she would show you all her passions and desires. After what seemed like hours you finally snuck your way into the guest room. She was spread wide on the comfortable mattress only wearing a wifebeater and her chequered boxers. "There's my bunny eh" she turned her head towards you as you made your way over to the bed swinging your hips . You sat down deside you before turning to kiss you roughly slipping her tongue into your mouth as you shifted to strangle her waist feeling her growing erection as you rolled your hips against her crotch.

"Fuck Bunny" she breathed out as she gripped onto your hips stilling you in place. "let me get you ready first" she whispered flipping you to lay under her as she kissed your neck down reamoving your cami top in the process. She took on nipple in her mouth slightly sucking on it before her big hand started playing with your other nipple rubbing over it. You let out quiet whippers as she switched sides. After what she deemed to be enough attention to your chest she kissed her way down to your panties nibbling on the skin of your hips. She made sure to leave hickeys in her way. You tried your best go keep it quiet but when Nat did her thing it was hard. Natasha kissed your clit through the soaked through panties pulling them down only to revel your sticky heat.

She made a bold lick from the end of your pussy right up your puffy clit swirling her trained tongue around the erected nub. Her scarlet lips attached to your clit sucking on it making you cry out as you tried to close your legs around her head but she kept them spread. She slowly inserted two of her long fingers into your clenching hole as you quietly cried out for mor and more. Natasha moved her fingers roughly and fast not giving you time to adjust. "Fuck your so tight" she groaned pumping her fingers even faster. “Natty ‘m close so close“ You felt your release close enough to grab but then Nat pulled her dripping fingers from your heat leaving you high and dry. “W-What?” You mumbled out opening your eyes again only to see Natasha smirking down at you “I want some fun too honey“ she smirked flipping you to your knees pushing your hips up as you arched your back showing off both your tight holes to her.

You heard her removing her boxers she already was rock hard for you her reddened tip leaking with pre cum as she expertly spits on her shaft spreading the slick over it. She moved closer pushing her tip to you clit enjoying the sight of you bucking your hips desperately trying to find your pleasure. “Ngh Tasha please” you begged making her listen slowly pushing in making you gasp at the feeling of being stretched out like that. She gave you time to quickly adjust before picking up pace fucking you hard and rough as she had a death grip on your hips. You couldn’t care less about the bruises as you pushed your face into the pillow muffling your sounds. With Natasha whimpers and the sound of skin slapping your moans filled the hot summer night air hoping your parents couldn’t hear you.

You kept clenching down on Nat she grabbed onto your shoulders. “Fuck ‘m gonna breed that little pussy ngh… I’m gonna make you so full of my cum“ you whined out before the coil in your stomach snapped and you came hard Natasha following soon releasing her white seed deep inside your whomp. She proceeded to help you through your orgasm even cleaning you up before cuddling you to sleep her arms tightly around your smaller body.

:)

[grapejuicestyless]

To Love, To Love, To Love

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: You thought you were over him in every way possible, but you can never really kill feelings that strong.

His curls were soft between my fingers, knuckle deep in his hair, pulling out the tangles with each curl of my fingers.

He hummed appreciatively against my chest, his cheek pressed to my body, lips resting heavily between the valley of my breasts. I could feel each breath lingering on my skin, his lip balm smeared on my shirt, one he had bought for me the night before to match.

“They just threw away the entire plot line in the fourth movie, I don’t get it. It’s like everything that made the first three so good was completely ruined for the sake of some extra cash.” Harry mumbled tiredly, pointing at the tv with narrowed eyes.

“This company always does this, can you even be surprised? Every successful franchise always becomes a cash grab for them.”

Harry hummed, and the sound vibrated against my body. It was all so serene between us. A calm after a whirlwind of a few years.

Harry and I had been two wild dogs, chasing after each other’s tails, running in desperate circles yet we ran at the same pace, and we never figured out how to capture what we wanted.

So many nights had been spent crying over the boy, how my heart ached with affection for my best friend, how badly I needed him to want me. I began dressing better for him, and carrying around mints with the hope that maybe the next time I would see him, he would have me.

But I was a dog with a bird at his door, giving him something valuable to myself that it seemed he never wanted.

Harry did the same things. He’d been drowning in his love for his best friend for so long, aching pains in his bones from the waiting for me. He’d never wanted anything more, but the talking from strangers and advice from friends led us astray. How could the other love each other? How could our best friend develop feelings for us? It all seemed so impossible, and the tears drowned us until we flushed out, and our conversations ran dry.

Nobody tells you that even once you move on, those feelings never really leave. Even now, after years of silence that neither of us meant to keep, after we convinced ourselves we flushed away our devotion and joked about how blind we were, with his head on my chest now I feel especially warm in the familiar house.

You can fall out of love with people, but there will always be that lingering feeling of “what if.” A feeling that bubbles until the warmth returns and your situations draw you back into the storm like a riptide pulling you under. Part of me would always love Harry, only now I liked him much more to ever try and be in love with him again.

Silence is much worse than any rejection. The heartache of realizing you lost contact three months deep hurts much worse than any apology for not returning your feelings. It’s like a knife.

We’ve grown now, we’re older, we can control ourselves. We aren’t teenagers who run around kissing the people by the bars, we stay inside and don’t go looking for something that will someday find us. When I complain that I want to kiss someone, to be kissed, he raises his hand eagerly and smiles, declaring he wants to press his lips to mine. But it’s all a joke now, or that’s how I see it.

Maybe to him, it’s not. Maybe when we make jokes about being in love, about the songs he wrote for me in my wake and the tears I shed over him it’s because part of it is still true, maybe we just don’t believe it anymore. Harry once loved me just as hard and true as I once did for him. Though we may not be chasing after one another, I know that part of him still loves me too.

When we’re forty and single, we’ll get married, and we’ll laugh about how long it took us to get together, but for now he lays on my chest and makes fun of some old movies that seemed better when we were kids. He points out the bad green screen that we never caught when we were younger, and his laughter will echo through my bones.

And I’ll soak up every moment with him, because even if we never happened, at least I have him. At least we never became strangers.

[strawberrysainz]

i can see you. max verstappen (18+)

“ you brush past me in the hallway / and you don't think i, i, i can see ya, do ya? ”

max verstappen x fem!wolff!reader

smut. don’t interact if you’re under 18. alcohol consumption, profanity.

Your eyes follow the box of gum being passed around in the car. You sit in the left backseat; the blacked out car is filled with four Mercedes employees that are painful strangers.

The girl next to you offers you a stick of the gum, which you accept gratefully. It’s Saturday morning, and your elbows bump against hers as you try to adjust your earphones.

The Fleetwood Mac album floats through your ears, bringing forward memories of being a little kid dancing in someone’s room to the CD. You must’ve been in between your mom and dad then. You tense slightly at the memory, and the rapid German that fills the car from the other four makes you feel soothed.

Entering the paddock, some summery song is floating through your AirPods, and the tune is hitting different today so you smile.

The photographers obviously take the opportunity that your smile brings to snap pictures (you’re usually grumpy) and you’re standing in front of Red Bull’s garage talking to some girls who work there that you clubbed with a while back when he walks out, brushing past, his fingers accidentally grazing your forearm.

You feel full of fire as you look away from the group to look at him and his eyes meet yours, looking back. The moment is interrupted by your mother calling on the phone, and you excuse yourself to go back to Mercedes’ motorhome.

🎱☕️🏎️💌

You two meet again in Austria.

This time you nod back when he walks past, nodding, and Christian Horner shouts something to Susie that has her fake laughing.

He wins the sprint race, and you catch a glimpse of him after, holding the trophy up in celebration in the paddock. He’s smiling widely, eyes full of laughter, and you’re not. You’re a blur of dark hair and dark eyes and a dismissive look across the pathway and he’s staring and you’re turning away, feeling burned.

That Sunday night (he wins the race) you find each other for a split second in the club; you’re talking to some guy and he yaps your ear off while you stare at him across the dance floor.

Then Max turns around and finds your face amongst the masses, indifferent before turning back.

You nod to the empty air.

🎱☕️🏎️💌

At Silverstone you’re much happier below the podium, and Lando pours champagne directly on your head from above as you screech.

Max watches.

You’re hugging Lewis afterwards when those icy eyes are on you again, and a feeling races through you as you turn around to shake his hand amicably. A bolt of energy rushes through you as his hand grasps yours, and you’re not sure what he says above the noise but you smile and say ‘well done’ like your father raised you.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

Budapest is warm. You see him on Wednesday night on the river.

You’re donning a short skirt and a strappy top, eager to curb the discomfort of the heat.

Lando had organised a boat trip down the Danube and invited you, some other drivers and his friends and all of their partners.

You don’t expect to see Max there; but you’re silly for doing so, because they’re close, aren’t they.

You’ve got an Aperol Spritz when he taps your upper thigh when you walk past and you look down, eyes wide, and he gestures for you to sit next to him.

You sit down on the cushion, legs folding beneath you gracefully as you have this urge to shift the skirt a little bit up your thighs innocently.

His gaze is heavy and intense as he trails it from your exposed thighs to your face, and you look at him neutrally, chatting about some paddock gossip, and to your surprise he acts as if nothing had happened, and indulges in your stupid small talk.

The Aperol disappears and you’re a bit buzzed.

“Your dad spoke to me about you the other day,” he says bluntly, and your lips quirk.

“Really? About what?”

He smirks.

You laugh.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

You’ve convinced him to get a beer in his system an hour later, and your head is resting on your hand, hair falling down as you listen to him talk about his cats.

Carlos comes to join then, and whatever he had going on with you disappears as he talks with the two of you.

You flirt with Carlos anyway, annoyed with the lack of action on his part.

Carlos gladly reciprocates, hand gliding up a thigh after you ask dumb questions and you bite a lip, eyes dark, and Max looks furious.

You lean in to whisper something in Carlos’ ear, red lipstick leaving a mark on his cheek when Max excuses himself and you move closer to the Spaniard, waving goodbye with a smirk on your face.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

You don’t kiss Carlos when the night ends, and you wave him a goodbye, turning to go, when you feel Max’s hand around your wrist.

You turn around and roll your eyes, beginning to walk to the Uber. Max doesn’t say anything, just gets in with you. You choose the middle seat, childishly brushing your bare thigh against his jeans.

You notice he’s screwing his eyes shut, physically refraining from something.

You feel like a teenager trying to seduce a guy and it’s working, you suppose, when you tuck your hair behind your ear, exposing your neck, and he stiffens.

Ten minutes later, at the back entrance of the hotel, you slide out, thanking the driver, and turn to look at Max with your eyebrows raised. He huffs and walks to you, shoving you against the wall.

His lips go to your neck, and you’re still, and he’s kissing you then, hard and intense, and your legs are weak when he slides a hand up your thigh.

You break away, pulling him away inside.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

Stumbling into the hotel room clumsily, he’s pushing you against the bathroom door, and you’re staring at his body against yours in the mirror, and he’s murmuring what a dirty girl you are and you’re shivering with excitement.

“Fuck you,” you whisper when he’s pulling off your top and bra, and he’s laughing incredulously when he’s leaning down and you’re moaning when he starts to brush his thumb against your nipple, and you’re all wriggly when you pull off his shirt and trace his stomach, eyes lidded.

Your eyes go down to his boxers where the outline of his cock is clear and you pull it out, thick and firm, the tip weeping as you brush it and he moans loudly, and he’s kissing you desperately and you’re so wet.

His fingers slide under your skirt and pull down your panties, and he glides his fingertips over your pussy quickly before you’re whining when he nudges your clit, and he’s kissing you again. Your back arches against the door.

He pushes into you and you’re both a mix of curses and delicious moans, and after a moment he begins to move, fast, and after a minute or so you’re screaming his name as he slams into you again and again.

He comes quickly; you smirk as his hips stutter, and his fingers find your clit before you’re begging him for things you can’t explain, and with a minute of his fingers circling your clit roughly, the thickness of his fingertips nudging you over and over with some kind of horrible preciseness, you come, hard. All over his hand. He’s kissing your neck again and again, and you’re staring at him for the first time clearly, this man you know nothing about, and his hand grips your hair as he kisses you again, and you feel alive.

🎱☕️🏎️💋

He’s waiting for you in a passage the next day, and you smile with a spring in your step as you walk straight past, hand touching his for a moment, watching him walk away in your peripheral.

Liked by landonorris, susiewolff and 127,356 others

yourinstagram Bye bye Budapest x

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🎱☕️🏎️💋

part 2? thoughts? let me knooowww xxxx

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Worship

a/n I won’t say anything because what is there to say… Also, this is fiction idk why but I just feel the need to wave that flag here.

Summery: Just on stage shenanigans between you, the back singer, and the boys.

warning: no full on smut because there’s so much of that as it is but they are sex on legs so this does have sexual implications. I’m just a girl. And I feel like I should go confess my sins to someone.

All of them x reader

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Nothing truly beats the feeling of the stage lighting beaming on you. The radiant atmosphere and the beating of the crowd in front of the stage. It got addictive fast. And the rush of both adrenaline and freedom you never truly got over. Most of the time, it still felt like a dream. Like you weren’t there. There weren’t four other people. A whole band that people swooned over. 

You still remember the notification of the private message in your DMs. “We’ve seen your videos. The voice is to die for. Up to back us up?” You had stared at it for hours. Pressing the profile over and over again, convinced that one of the times it would take you to some scammy account, but it didn’t. So you took that leap of fate, and the roller coaster that unfolded still made your skin tingle at times. 

“How you don’t break an ankle in these is beyond me," II grumbled, gesturing to the high heels you were strapping around your legs. Before throwing the towel he had just used to dry his hair with, at you. You huffed back, “Of course you wouldn’t know; you sit and look pretty the whole show."  You shot him an overly exaggerated smile before flipping him off. “Put the claws away, baby," he said, lifting his hands up, “I would love to keep my eyes for some time longer." You lifted both of your hands, making sure to flex the black coffin-shaped nails, only earning a chuckle in return from II. 

“No form of violence is allowed backstage," III cut in, putting the mask over his face, “Unless it’s consensual, of course." The three of you snickered. There was never a dull moment with them. You weren’t sure exactly why you imagined them to be all cold and unapproachable, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. From the silly hats they happily took from the fans to messing around on stage barking. “We’re out in thirty,"  IV's voice cut through the snickering. “Vess?”, you questioned, standing up only to still feel tiny among them. It was unfair how even killer heels had you feeling minuter. “In his element, ready to go," the usual then. You turned to the mirror while doing the last checkups. Fiddling with the straps of your dress.

“Headset feels good?”, warm hands slipped up your beck, fidgeting with the wires as if he even knew what he was doing. “You just needed an excuse to put your hands on me, sir," you said, pushing back against IV’s chest. He already had his mask on, but from the way his blue eyes flickered, you knew he was smirking at you. “You can’t call the man guilty if you haven’t caught him red-handed, darling,"  he muttered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “And to my defense, the wire wasn’t plugged in,"  he snickers before pulling back. You shook your head as you watched him follow after the boys out. Reaching for your mask, you take a couple of deep breaths to steady your heartbeat. It was going to be a night to remember. You could just feel it. 

And your gut wasn’t wrong. The crowd was wild tonight, and that always set the bend into a different kind of frenzy. For most of the shows, you were usually up there on your pedestal. Looking like a vision cloaked in both light and darkness, there were some songs that Vessle liked having you down there with him. But you always felt almost guilty. You didn’t want the fans to feel like you were there to change the dynamic. Let alone take up a spot that wasn’t yours to take. 

So when you noticed Vessel striding towards you, you couldn’t help but silently shake your head. They had already all been all over each other all night. But you don’t get to run through all of your reasons as to why this was a bad idea before Vessel was in front of your pedestal. Hands reaching up for your ankles before he pointed for you to get down. You shook your head at him, continuing to sing your part. Not wanting the interaction to seem odd, you sank to your knees so you can touch his face, only realizing how wrong this move was once Vessel's hands grip the sides of your hips and you’re airborne before you can even blink. 

A small shriek slips past your lips as you hold onto his shoulders. But no matter what your reaction to this was, he was all smug about it. His white teeth bright against the black paint covering his body. “I don’t like it when you put on unnecessary fights," he mused before turning back to the crowd. So, you let the thrill of the beat take over. Playing into the role of the masked goddess. A siren. That was the beauty of the mask. Such little thing making the biggest difference. Giving one the chance to feel way more confident. 

And it’s II your legs take you to first. His eyes follow your movements all across the stage. With the drum set taking most of his platform he was sat on, playing games with this man was tricky. But it wasn’t impossible. So you slither behind him. Placing your hand on top of his head, you carefully make him look up at you. That same moment, the heel II was so found off finds its way between his parted legs. Without missing a beat, his face is pressed into your upper thigh, fingers dipping beneath the mesh overlay of your dress. And you know there will be hell to pay later on from the way he’s gripping your ankle. You push his face away from your body, throwing him a lighthearted kiss as you hurry down the platform stairs. The roar of the crowd filling all of your senses. 

III is left to your mercy next. And since his eyes were all over you, you knew that even if you were to walk right past him, he would follow you across the stage. So you stand there, motioning with your fingers for him to come to you. Right as your part of the solo vocals came. Ones that boys even called your siren song. You let the melody pour out of you. Watching III sink to his knees in front of you. Your brain blanks for a moment as he leans forward, and you just know why the crowd erupts in chaos. So your fingers find his head, pulling him even closer. Let him paint the picture of devouring you. Worshipping you. And you’re yet again so thankful for the mask covering your face because you know that your face would be as red as the paint on his skin. Especially after he stands back up. Fingers moved to brush over his lips as if he was cleaning them.

You can feel someone’s eyes burning holes in your body, and you’re not even one bit surprised to see IV with his eyes blazing. He was the one you flirted the most with backstage as well. Since day one, there was just that mutual fire you both shared. So the back and forth between you both was never-ending. But if there was one thing IV avoided, it was making any move towards you while everyone was on stage. And while boys took their sweet time being lunatics when it came to you. His play pretend ended with his bandmates. Yet you didn’t miss the glances he threw your way. Or how he would find himself close to your pedestal, close enough to touch but never leaning in. 

And while your head was telling you that maybe he just didn’t want to get involved, your heart was telling you to take yet another leap of faith. So you two stood in front of each other for a heartbeat. And right as Descending’s you came crawling back to me, filled the stage. Your finger hooked beneath the bottom of his mask as you pulled him closer. No matter the blast of sounds around you, you could still make out the growl that slipped past his lips. And since his eyes promised hell, you threw all caution to the wind as you leaned in, smashing your lips against his. You didn’t let it linger for too long; there was little fun in having two masks between you both, but it got the point across well enough. 

IV’s hand reached for you as you moved back away. A freaked-out giggle slipped past your lips as you darted towards your last victim for the night. Well, and shelter now, considering that you had to get away from IV. Vessel was someone you knew had to be worshipped in front of the fans. You weren’t living under a rock. His hands and fingers had separate fan blogs, not to mention his carved-out chest muscles. So you slipped behind him. Letting your fingers trail the sides of him. Finding the sweat-drenched skin. Dragging your nails over the paint, no doubt leave claw marks in its way. 

You rested your head against Vessel’s beck for a heartbeat, hoping to slip from behind him with ease. But you couldn’t have been more wrong because the moment you took the reassured stride away from him. A firm hand gripped your hair as he carefully, yet rather possessively, dragged you back to him. Pulling your head back so he could look down at you, shaking his head. But the smile gave his controlling demeanor away. “Whatever will we do with you, little Vixen?" You bit your lip, shrugging slightly. Playfully pushing at his chest, you slipped out of his grip. Swaying your hips as you slowly climbed back to the steps of your pedestal. Not letting your brain think of the hell you just set ablaze.

[ms-fade]

✷Let Go For Me✷

✷ Older!Lucerys velaryon x Fem!Reader dabble

☪︎ words: 446

☪︎ summery: I’m not going to lie, I was chatting with @madame-fear and I got the idea for smut and i couldn’t get our husband out of my mind.

☪︎ warnings: smut content, short story, fingering, doing it on a desks, him being a bit rough but loving, mention of clothes touching, he’s so passionate for us🫣

There was many things Luke loved about your body, most of them having to do with getting you alone and undressed. The feeling of your heated soft skin under his fingers tips, the way your stomach raised and called with each noise of pleasure— and the way your hips to rocked to get more from him unconsciously. Everything about you had him feeling just as high as you without having anything done to him, your pleasure was all he needed.

His fingers reached deep within your sobbing cunt with your juices trailing down your things and his fingers. You gripped onto his clothing for support while your lips whimpered just like your aching pussy. The desk underneath you moved with his movement and you tried to fight both sounds- your moans and the rattling sound. Green eyes followed all your expressions, every wrinkle in your brows, every eye roll, and when your mouth hung open to give him sweet songs.

“You’re leaking so much,” he purred down at you, his fingers still working in and out, “by the end there might be a puddle underneath us.” his lips curled into a heavy smirk at his own teasing. you shook your head embarrassed and gripped into him tighter. the dress barely hanging onto your body was pushed aside, he had consume ones made just for easy access when you needed it. the undergarments where on the floor and had a damp stop within them from his works, loving to make you so turned on before taking them off.

“don’t be ashamed, you know I love how much of a mess we both make.” his lips captured yours with a passionate kiss to distract you for a second while pushing in and moving harder. his fingers plumped you full and made your pussy gush at how fast he was going. The kiss you shared turned into him taking all of your moans in as you got louder.

“Cum— gonna cum.” you announced and pushed against his rhythm to make it harder. your walls tightened around him every second, he pulled away from you to watch you cum before his eyes.

“Let go for me, my sweet girl, relax that running mind.” your back arched with pleasure and soon you couldn’t stop yourself from twitching from your orgasim. the sticky juices coated his fingers and made your hole messy as he pumped a few more times, your pussy pulsating with shocking intensity.

“Such a mess, pussy dripping with cum,” he looked at you as his eyes grew mischievous and started to slide down to his knees in front of your naked cunt. “I’ll have to clean you up myself.”

[thecynthh]

a little ink - C.S

summery - y/n is journaling in bed but chris gets bored of his phone and begins to play around with y/n's stationary.

notes - fluff <33333, chris is so boyfriend, i thought the fandom needed more fluff, short

a/n - hey yall, this is an apology gift because ive been bad on being active and writing so enjoy this lil thing i whipped up.

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

i stationed myself on my side of the large bed with a little tray table on top of my bare legs. my shorts barely covered up to my mid thigh so the vent near me was absolutely chilling. i begin to go slowly when i'm trying to write a title for my next page, i began to journal when my boyfriends brother and my therapist recommended it to me, despite how simple matt’s was, I thought i could take it up a notch and make it a little cutesy. 

my pencil case was jam packed with highlighters, colourful pens and high quality markers, my concentration stays strict on the page in front of me, i tried to keep my penmanship neat while i'm trying to write something in cursive. a warm hand wraps around my ankles as i look down beside me seeing chris look at me with want in his eyes. “hi chris,” i simply say looking at the boy while i put the cap back onto my brush tip marker. 

“hi baby,” he looks up at me with a beaming bright smile, he just radiates good energy and love. he drops his phone beside him now playing a song instead of the various audios from tiktok. 

his hand sneaks up into my pencil case grabbing a yellow marker from it. he uncaps it and i feel the light pressure of it press down onto my skin, the yellow marker glides along my scar, he continues to draw past it to make a star out of the previously hurt skin. chris knew i was self conscious about my scars, it was a permanent reminder of the pain i went through in highschool. 

he didn’t care though. he continued to draw random doodles on my leg, moving on to my arms where more scars lay hurt, he switched out his marker for a different colour the more he explored. little hearts, stars and chris’ signature riddle my legs and arms, i feel his writing getting a bit faster. It looks like a sentence but i couldn’t quite read it.

 i stopped what i was doing a long time ago, now just admiring what he was doing. he was so focused on writing his signature on the larger line of a scar i had on my arm using the line from my body to represent the line through the dollar sign he always made whenever he wrote his name. 

he does a very magnificent heart beside his name, filling it in still trying to be very soft on  my skin as the ink seeps in. he plants a fulfilling kiss onto the scar now covered in orange ink, he looks up at me with a little bit of a knowing look painted on his face. “im sorry, it was only meant to be a little ink but your scars are beautiful, as is the rest of you.” his finger underlines the sentence imprinted on my skin as he reads it out. 

“chris i'm gonna cry oh my gosh. you are so cute, you know that?” i saw trying to hold back a sob. 

a chuckle escapes his smiley lips “i love you so much y/n” his lips make contact with the star that started the rest of the pseudo tattoos. i wish i could keep this image in my head forever, because this was a moment too precious to let go of.

taglist - @westwiing13 @comet235 @mayhem73

[lunaroserites]

Does Heaven Even Know You’re Missing

Paring: Established Bucky X Fem!Reader (Sugar)

Summery: Just a snippet Sugar and Bucky. Steve is alive. Part of the Sugar AU. Inspired by a song of the same name by Nickelback

Warnings: Nightmares, comfort, fluff, no use of Y/N, Not beta'd all mistakes are my own

Word Count: ~1005

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

Read Too Sweet here

Whimpering, you heard whimpering as you stirred awake which caused you to jolt upright and look around. Looking at your phone after you snatched it from the bedside table it read 4:03am. You felt him thrashing a little next to you and the whimpering got louder. Quickly you turned and leaned over him, he was squirming, there was a very evident sheen of sweat over his entire body. 

He had been working on staying in bed for the whole night, it was proving to be a difficult task these last couple weeks. A difficult mission seemed to have rocked him in some way he refused to discuss with you. He didn’t want to scare you, but he was scaring you more by hiding it. He was a stubborn man, proud and terrified you would look at him differently if you knew everything going on in his tangled web of a mind. 

He had told you once that the first time he stayed in bed all night was the first time you stayed over, he didn’t start in bed and end up on the floor in the living room like always. You brought peace to his soul, calmed his racing thoughts and soothed his worries. With you in his arms, he felt safe. 

You quickly pulled the blanket down and off him so he wouldn’t feel confined, you touched the lamp stand, casting a dim amber light over you two. His eyelids were fluttering as his eyes moved frantically under them. You touched his cheek softly and stroked it gently. 

The first time he had a nightmare in bed with you, was scary. You had to call Steve to help. Now you have a routine, you didn’t leave. His grip on your waist wouldn’t allow you to anyway. 

“Bucky,” you cooed softly, “Bucky,” you stroked his cheek gently again and you felt his grip tighten momentarily on your waist. His fingers flexed and gripped the soft fabric of your night dress. He moved and turned over you, tucking his face into your neck and inhaling deeply. 

One, two, three, four, five deep breaths later he collapsed on top of you. His weight was comforting and his intangible murmurs as he came too were almost relaxing. You gently stroked his hair and rubbed his shoulder. 

“Just say you’ll stay and never go,” he mumbled into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your neck. “Never leave me here alone,” your heart broke at the desperation in his hoarse voice. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured softly into his ear as you kissed his temple. “I’m here forever,” you hugged him tightly. He whimpered into your neck and shifted so you were tucked safely next to his large body, cradled into his chest. 

“The day I finally felt alive,” he said, his voice trembling as he gripped your mid section tightly, holding you tightly to his chest. “Was the day you fell into my life,” he whispered into your hair, his hot breath fanning over your scalp. 

“Bucky,” you said softly. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he snuggled closer. 

Sleep didn’t come easy again, every twitch of him against you made you wake up. Every deep breath made your breath hitch. You were afraid he was slipping again, back into his mind. You feared he was caging himself into his mind, screaming for help he wouldn’t dare ask for. 

You felt hot tears well up in your eyes and your breath stuttered out as you tried to calm yourself. He was the one who was having nightmares, he was the one scared and here you were crying because of how it made you feel. You felt selfish. You cared so deeply about him, you fought so hard to make him realize you were there, forever. You weren’t going anywhere. 

“Sugar,” his voice was coarse and thick with sleep. “Honey,” he cupped your tear streaked cheek and turned your face toward him adjusting so he was propped up on his arm. He peered down at you, his eyes swimming with so many emotions you couldn’t place just one. “What’s the matter?” He asked softly. 

You brought your hand up and stroked his stubble covered cheek and let the tears come freely. “I’m worried about you,” you whimpered out. You hated how emotional you were, you were so quick to cry when emotions got high. 

“Ssssh,” he pressed a firm kiss on your forehead. “I’m fine sweetheart, it was just a nightmare.” You took a few deep breaths and tried to compose yourself. 

“It’s more than just a nightmare,” your voice was small, fragile. “You’re slipping again,” you didn’t want to sound like you were accusing him of anything. Something in his eyes broke, you were prepared for him to do what he would usually do, put a wall up and ignore it until it exploded out of the seams. His shuddering breath caught you off guard. 

“I am. I’m sorry I tried to hide it,” he said softly, he was half lying on top of you, his big hands holding your head and stroking your face, his hot breath fanned over your face as he stared into your eyes. “I’m afraid you’ll leave. If you knew about the things I’ve had to do. The things I’ve done.” You went to speak, he shushed you again. “Not before. Now. The things I do on missions. I’m not sure I’m a soul you can save my sweet angel.” 

“Bucky,” you placed your hand over his and slipped your fingers between his. “I’m not leaving. I promised you.” 

“Heaven is going to come for you one day. When they realize you’re missing,” he murmured and rubbed his nose against yours. 

“I traded an eternity to come and hide away with you,” you whispered back, relaxing under his weight as he settled. 

“I’m never gonna give you back,” his voice was soft, and he pressed a gentle kiss on your lips.  You were his sugar, his sweet angel, his everything. 

Feel free to send me a message if you have a request or would like more, or would like to be added to the tag list ❤️

[bee6r]

Nightmare Blurb

{JJ Maybank x !GN! Reader}

Summery: JJ has a nightmare while you are in the shower

Warnings: nothing, just fluff

WC: .4k

You run your hands through your hair, coating the strands with shampoo, and working it into your roots. Humming to a song you don't entirely know the words to, you remain unaware of the nightmare that is taking over JJ's mind, on the couch in John B's living room.

"No, stop," he mumbles, his head sway from side to side on the pillow. "Don't, don't leave me." His words begin quietly, but eventually his voice raises to a slight shout, but still, you do not hear his words over the running water.

"Please," he begins to beg, his head still turning left and right, and his arms beginning to thrash at his sides, "don't go, it's going to be okay." Suddenly, as the first couple of tears begin to run down his cheeks, he shoots up and off of the couch, his eyes wide, and his hands grasping at the cushions, feeling for the place where you usually lay on his chest.

When he finally realizes that you are not there with him, he turns to look around the room, realizing, only then, that the shower is running. He throws off the light blanket that you had spread over him not twenty minutes ago, and makes his way to the bathroom, not bothering to knock as he reaches the door. When he makes his way inside, and pulls away the shower curtains to reveal you, standing naked and covered in soap, in the shower, he finds himself having to fight the urge to fall against you immediately.

You're concerned look at the tears still running down his cheeks, and the fact that he is now stepping into the shower completely clothed, makes his heart melt, and once he is in the shower, he wraps his arms protectively around you, and buries his face into your neck, letting out a muffled sob.

You turn completely towards him and bring your arms to rest on his shoulders, kissing his cheek and exposed neck in an effort to calm him, not knowing that your presence is enough to make him feel eternally peaceful.

"It's okay, JJ, it's okay baby. You're okay now," you coo, tightening your embrace. He does the same in responds, kissing your jawline so gently, that you can't even he sure he had done it, and nuzzling his nose even deeper into the crook of your neck.

"I love you baby," you tell him through your continued cooing, "I love you forever." More tears slide down JJ's face at the words, and he smiles softly.

"I love you too."

[burntb4bydoll]

HIII CAN YOU Please PLEASE PLEASE DO A STORY ON TOM HOLDING READER LIKE THIS (LOVE YOU STINKBUTT)

UGH THATS PICTURE IS SO CUTE I LOVE🤭 LOVE YOU TOO CUTIE PIE😘💗

Tom Kaulitz x fem!reader

Summery: Tom accidentally wakes you up and he tries to make up for it:)

Warnings: none lol

A loud bang came from a few feet away from you, making you jolt awake. The room was dark so you couldn’t really see anything, but you could make out a figure standing by the side of your bed. Before you could freak out, the person reaches to turn on the lamp, illuminating his face. You sighed in relief when you realized that it was just Tom. “Jesus, Tom! You scared the shit outta me!” He just smiled and shook his head a little,

“Sorry, I accidentally ran into the wall. It was so dark in here..” he sounded a little embarrassed and you both just started at each other before bursting into a fit of giggles. Once you laughter died down he walks closer to where you laid on the bed, “sit up, let me hold you.” You sat up and moved over to let him in the bed. Tom sat up against the headboard and motioned for you to come over to him. You curled into his lap and rested your head in his neck.

“I missed you Tom. Where were you?” He sighed and stared to rub your back.

“I missed you too. I got too caught up in learning our new song and I accidentally stayed at the studio for way longer than expected.” You hummed, your tiredness washing over you. His lips pressed soft kisses on your head as he continues to rub your back. “Im sorry I woke you up. Go back to sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Your eyes were already shut and you could feel yourself slipping into sleep again, but not before mumbling a quiet,

“I love you Tommy.”

[spider-ghoul]

Nice to have a friend

Percy Jackson x Gn!reader (loosely based off the taylor swift song)

summery: winter nights, gloves, and your impulsive best friend

Warnings: reader is mentioned to be shorter than Percy, use of Y/N, light cussing(?), nothing else I can think of lmk if you spot something :)

I wrote this really fast so idk it might be complete shit

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"Walk me back to my cabin?" I say though a yawn, it wasn't really late but today was overwhelmingly tiring and i wanted nothing more than to sleep for about three years. 

"Yeah yeah, whatever, dummy." Percy said,  he had his signature grin on his face. The one that told me he was about to say something stupid. "You know...if you're so tired you could always let me carry you-" there it is.

"Shut it, Jackson." I cut him off, watching as he raises his hands in defeat.

"My bad, my bad-" he still has that stupid shit-eating grin on his face, he's too damn cocky for his own good. but I wouldn't change a thing about his stupid face.

I stick my tongue out at him, and he does the same in response, "let's go, you big baby-" I mumble, yawning again.

We quickly fall into pace with each other, it's almost routine at this point. We've been doing it since we were twelve, sitting by each other at the campfire, making fun of each other's singing, and him walking me to my cabin.

I was spending my winter break at camp, with my  best friend, Percy Jackson. It was the perfect break from school, from everything. From monsters, and studying, and tests. I fell back into our patterns quickly. 

Although, recently, it feels a little different. His hand brushes against mine, and our fingers intertwine. Any jokes i wanted to make die in my throat. It's the same feeling every night, holding hands, never talking about what it means.

i look up at him, and he's looking at me.

He squeezes my hand twice, his gloves are scratchy on my skin. 

Whatever this is, whatever we are, it's an unsaid thing. Something under the skin, barely noticeable unless you're looking for it. A ball of yarn about to unravel.

Something we avoid, but can see. Something we hear but don't listen too. Longing glances and hugs a moment too long. Never pushing it, never reaching out just a little more for fear of what we would find.

I looked down at the path we were walking, it was covered in a light layer of snow. Yeah, camp had the weather shield, but Chiron has an affinity for snow, letting it sprinkle into camp during the cold months. 

there are a few sets of footprints, but most campers stay home during the holidays, leaving camp almost empty. 

 The cabins were a good walk from the fire place, the warmness of the flames quickly left me shivering. Goosebumps slowly plagued my skin, and I pulled my jacket  a little tighter. 

"Cold?" Percy asks, his voice laced with concern. 

I shrugged and he rolled his eyes. He pulled is hand away from me, I hated the way it made my heart ache in my chest. I watched silently as he tugged the glove off his right hand and passed it to me.

"..thanks." I whispered, my cheeks are only red because of the cold, I swear.  I tug the glove onto my hand, it was still warm from his. 

it only takes him a few seconds for him to wrap his finger around mine again. 

The rest of the walk back is in a comfortable silence, somewhere along the way he started swinging our hands back and forth. 

When we finally got to my cabin, I wished we didn't. I didn't want him to leave, I didn't want to lose the feeling of his hand on mine. 

He led me onto my porch, and I turned around to face him, our hands still intertwined. I smiled up at him, meeting his eyes. He smiled back. 

"See you tomorrow?" His smile was softer, quieter, just for me. 

"Course'." I whisper back. 

neither of us move, our hands still intertwined between us. I should just pull away, I know I should, but gods.. I don't want to. I only want to be closer to him. Who cares if the yarn unravels? 

"..Percy?" If I want to do it I just should, right?

"..yeah?" I should just ask him. I should just say it. I'm gonna say it. 

"..Percy.. I-" 

And then I hesitate. 

"...I'll see you at breakfast." I say with a breath out, peeling my hand away from his, stepping back. 

I could see the hesitance behind his eyes, but he nodded, "Night." 

"..night." I say quietly, watching as he smiled one more time before he turned to leave me. I was still wearing his glove. 

I stood there to watch him leave like I always did, watching him slowly sink into the shadows away from me.

I closed my eyes, turning on my heels, my hand on the doorknob when I heard him again. 

"Wait!" I quickly turned around at his voice, it was louder than he normally was. his voice sounded almost desperate to get my attention. He was running up the porch stairs.  

"Percy-?" 

And then he's in front of me, his hands on my cheeks, and his lips on mine. 

It only took me a few seconds to close my eyes, leaning closer to him. One of my cheeks was suddenly colder, and one had itchy yarn pressed on to it. Heaven. 

He pulled away a little too quickly, breathing heavy. 

"Goodnight." He said, turning on his heels and running back into the darkness. 

[grapejuicestyless]

People Pleaser

Harry Styles x fem! bandmate reader

summery: Y/n gives too much and Harry is the only one to give back.

Angst(kinda) to fluff!

If you were to ask the public, ‘Who embodies love on tour?’ The majority, if not everybody would be quick to conclude it was Harry. He was the front man, it was his tour. A man who grows flowers with his voice and encourages affection between even the most different strangers.

If you asked the people involved, they would say Y/n Y/l/n.

Y/n is a woman with so much empathy she walked in others shoes more than her own. She spends her free time devoted to helping her friends and family. Constantly doting on them despite how grave the situation seemed.

So yeah, if you were to define HSLOT, it would be Y/n, Y/l/n. The pianist who sat quietly in the back of the stage, tucked away behind Sarah and Pauli, quiet as a mouse.

——————————————————————————

The sun was high, burning into the black chevron of the HSLOT Wembley stage floor. The white and black paint radiating vastly different temperatures in the June heat. The backtracks boomed through the stadium, muffling the farther backstage you got. Humidity suffocated everything in a sticky wetness.

Harry was dancing in a black bunny shirt, sleeves rolled to his shoulders and shorts shorter than my own. Today the sun was more brutal than ever and the effects were obvious. Skin was redder than before and water bottles could be found empty and scattered beneath the instruments. The HSLOT band was huddling under the small amount of shade they could find over the small overhang mounted on the stage. Lucky for me, because of how tucked away my space was, I had full access to the cool shade and the slight breeze of the AC blasting through the backstage area. Mitch, however, due to his front and center stationing, was falling victim to the peak heat of the day.

Harry hummed into the microphone, lazily speaking numbers out of order to get a laugh out of anyone, though the heat seemed to be getting to him too as he seemed out of his usual pre-show element. The only thing there seemed to be more abundance of than Harry’s pitiful jokes, was the sweat drenching each and every one of us.

“Y/n/n?” A soft voice called from just in front of me.

Mitch stood just in front of Pauli who was stuck half in the sun and half in the shade, his body squished into the darkness. His hair was matted with wet and held up tightly in a man bun, his shirt drenched in sweat more so than the rest of us.

“Eh, Im sorry to ask but would you mind if we could just switch positions for just a bit? I’m overheating over there and need a small break.” He pleaded.

Ever the people pleaser, the urge to stay in the shade was pushed down and away as my body moved quicker than my mind. I was eager to make Mitch happy, loving the satisfaction helping a friend out gave me.

He traded me a small hand held fan for my perfect shady spot. Though the plastic wings barely moved and the air barely soothed the heat, the thought was nice enough of him to suggest.

So I stood in the sun, the rays casting down on me like a blanket that could only be described as hell on earth. Sweat collected more aggressively on my forehead but the quick look over to Mitch, who had a lazy smile on his face from the shade and the inconsistent AC gusts made it a whole lot more worth it.

By now we were on Satellite, Harry mumbling the song, waltzing over to Elin to make sure she was still feeling okay. It was moments like this that I believed we were soulmates. Bonded together by the environment that seemed to tug us together like some sort of gravity. His straightforward kindness and appreciation one of his best qualities that I loved.

I let myself marinate in my own wetness, my legs heavy from the heat and my cheeks growing sore from the sun. My eyes grew heavy and the fan grew weaker and weaker. Truthfully, I was struggling.

“Y/n..?” I heard a small yell from Sarah, who I was sure was boiling surrounded by all that plastic and metal, despite the shade. She was still blocked off from the AC air, so the heat might as well have been just as bad.

I nodded to her, making my way over cautiously, the floor slippery with the dew from the humidity and the sweat dripping off our noses.

“What’s up, babe?” I smiled, leaning against the edge of the platform her drums were set on.

“I’m struggling a bit here. I’m a little trapped.” I raised an eyebrow, ready to take a seat to listen to what she had to say. I wondered if it was about the baby or if it was a mental block. I was ready to be a good friend when she needed it.

“Do you think I could borrow that fan? Just for a second? It’s like a hotbox in here.” My eyes drifted to the soft vibrations rumbling through my palm, the soft buzzing sound from the hand held fan spinning softly in all its neon green glory.

Forming my lips into a thin line, I nodded, plastering on a smile and reaching up to hand it to Sarah.

She was thankful for my generosity, flashing me a smile and holding up a weak thumbs up. I reflected her gesture, hunching my shoulders as I spun to return back to the spot I’d taken in the sun.

Just now, I began to realize how much I took that tan for granted. Even the soft wind was able to move the still air that casted over the UK today.

My heavy feet turned into cinder blocks and my eyes became unbearably heavy. I seemed sway on my feet a little, every blink becoming stickier as my eyelashes bunched together more and more. It felt like hours going by. Realistically it had only been five minutes, but everything moved in slow motion now.

I think Harry was singing Matilda now, but it seemed to be silenced by the clogging of my ears. I felt faint suddenly, my body too heavy to hold up. I felt myself stumble. It was usually now I would focus all my attention in on his beautiful melody, but my ears seemed to reject any sound whatsoever other than shouts and belly laughter across the stage.

“Hey Y/n!” I heard loud and clear, the bubbly voice belonging to none other than my best friend. The man who I’d been stuck with since his very first show and the person in my mind that hung the stars and moon single handedly in my life. The closest thing I had to a home on tour, Harry.

I’m not sure if I was able to lift my lips into a smile or not, everything blurring together in a mushy mess. It was like I was on psychedelics while being totally sober.

Trying to remain polite, I tried to be more welcoming to him, reaching up to wave only to find myself stumbling back into the elevated stage platforms, hands slamming into the wood so hard the corners caused red lines to form, blood peaking in blots on my skin.

“Y/n!” He sounded more frantic now, not as light and airy like before. The sound of a microphone falling to the ground was ear piercing, if I could cover my ears I would. His feet sounded heavy, the sound echoing through the empty area like bricks. My elbows collapsed under the pressure of my body and my knees buckled.

I waited for the ground to come, braced for it even. Ready to bruise my face and bleed from the nose. But it never came. Instead I was wrapped in a wet body, my face smushing against a hard chest.

“Shit, can I get some medical help?” Harry. Harry had caught me. How quick he was to rush in to help.

I couldn’t quite make out his face with how jumbled up my brain was from the heatstroke I was almost sure my body was going through right now, all I saw was black dots and blurry pink lips moving quickly. I think he mumbled, “You’re okay, it’s fine.” But maybe that was an illusion I made up for some sort of comfort.

We met eyes, a worried shock painted on Harry’s face before I was met with the soothing darkness of sleep.

——————————————————————————

I woke up to a cooler climate. A buzzing sounding through the vent on the ceiling. Tassels of pink and yellow blowing in the wind. I had an ice pack taped to my forehead and one wrapped around my stomach with velcro.

My head was pounding with one of the worst headaches I’d ever dealt with in my entire life and my eyes were aggressively watering despite my excessive wiping.

I tried to sit up, but could only groan with how sore I was, my hand pressing against the ice pack quickly.

“Y/n, oh thank god.” I felt the couch dip by my head, Harry’s body kneeling on the ground in front of my face and his head hovering over mine as he hunched over me. The carpet ruffled beneath his knees as he settled into place. His breathing was slightly jagged, a little quick. Maybe in his panic it had picked up. Compared to mine, which was slow and steady. A good long sleep will do that to you.

“Did I faint?” My mouth was dry, so everything that came out of my mouth was strained and rough. Sandpaper scratching my vocal cords.

The question was obvious, I knew I had gone down before I even fell. I knew I was going down as soon as I handed away the shady spot and the fan. Maybe not directly, but that small tugging feeling that fought briefly with my body knew. I couldn’t help but let the smallest smirk grace my lips, trying to be funny and light hearted in a time of need.

“Gave everyone a proper scare, really did. Went down pretty fast.” He lifted an arm from his sides to gently move the ice pack from my forehead, sensing the slight discomfort it was giving me, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. We watched each other quietly in the quiet of the communal dressing room.

His smile was infectious, always was. Harry had that kind of bunny tooth smile that made my stomach do secret summersaults and flutter occasionally. Despite the strict platonic relationship we’d established, it was hard to not fall for the other half who understood the urge to put others before myself just as well.

Lost in the dreamy thought of him, I snapped back to see the white smile slowly wipe off his face, eyebrows pulling together in worry and his gaze becoming less lighthearted and more serious.

“Was it dramatic? Could I win an Oscar for it?” I joked, lightening up the mood, or attempting to.

“Yes, and yes. Would’ve swept them, I think.” We laughed weakly, not finding the situation funny but the inability to stay so serious for so long amusing.

“We shouldn’t have had soundcheck outside. I knew it was too hot out, I’m sorry.” The warm bareness of his fingers engulfed mine gently, his thumb brushing my knuckles so light it almost barely ghosted over my skin.

“It’s not your fault, I made a couple bad choices that got me there.”

“Such a pushover.” I snorted, removing my hand from his in fake offense to his comment, though it was both true and not in any sense mean or bad intentioned.

“And to think, I had the perfect AC spot in the shade too!” We continued to joke, not finding anything about this at all serious. We probably seemed fucked in the head to the outside perspective. Who treats heat stroke like it meant nothing?

“I need to learn how to say no.” Harry silently agreed, eyes flicking up to mine slowly, almost like he was tracing my body in an outline in his head. Saving a mental photo of his best friend covered in sweat, melted ice and plastic icepacks.

“You do.” I smiled.

“I know.” He raised a brow.

“You do. Can’t have that happening. Scared me.” His sudden confession lacked any previous lightheartedness that we’d bounced off of each other just moments before.

I grabbed his hand again, now my thumb was the one to merely ghost over his skin smoothly.

“I know, I’m sorry. Don’t wanna worry you.” It was the most sincere thing I’d said all day. The only thing I’d truly meant really. All those “My pleasures” and, “Of courses” only being half hearted and made based solely on the idea that someone else could benefit from it more than I would.

“I love you.” Silence hugged the room around his confession. Not that we hadn’t exchanged the sentence consistently. Throwing it around so much it was a habit to tell each other before we left any room or made a joke so good it deserved the praise. But somehow, the words sat different than before. They held more seriousness and more honesty than the other times, and I couldn’t help the giddiness it gave me.

“I love you too.” Maybe if the situation wasn’t so dramatic and the heat wasn’t getting to both of us incredibly bad, maybe then it wouldn’t have happened. Some sort of forced confession out of the blue.

He showed no signs of having any interests in me. Other than the constant presence he seemed to enjoy having in my life and the fact that nobody knew me like him, he could have fooled me completely.

“Yeah?” He laughed through his teeth, breathy and light.

I nodded slowly, sure of myself but shy on the idea he could be playing with me. He would walk me to the door of hope and send me home crying. Maybe it was the feeling of giving so much and never getting anything back. Maybe it was the all too familiar feeling of being used because of the overflowing empathy I was dealt at birth and the nagging persistence in my mind ordering me to please the people around me that was responsible for the twinge of doubt I held to him. But his eyes held kindness and full trust, I couldn’t help but feel that fluttery feeling.

It could have been from the heat, but most likely from him rushing the blood from my heart straight to my cheeks.

“I hope you mean it in the way I think you mean it, because if this is the heat stroke playing with my feelings, I’m about to look really stupid.” My arms outstretched around his neck, pulling him to my lips. My fingers tangling between his puffy curls and damp with the sweat beaded on the back of his tanned neck.

His kiss was just as sweet as I expected it. It wasn’t an intricate make out with a long battle between our tongues. It was needy, but not in a rushed way. It was short, but did more than any sloppy kiss could possibly say.

“Is now a good time to say I only see you as a friend?” I couldn’t help but silently laugh at that. My chest moving up and down while my mouth was pulled into a large smile that broke out on my face.

Harry was still so close, yet to pull back completely as his breath fanned my nose and his forehead almost touched mine.

“Now that I’ve wooed you, does this mean you’ll let me play tonight?” His lips silenced mine, pressing hard and smooth against each other. He pulled away with a wet release.

“No.” For the millionth time, we laughed. We laughed, feeling happy. Content that I was okay, that this was okay. That we were whatever we were. Maybe we had crossed the line between strictly platonic. Maybe we were towing the line between lovers and best friends. But it didn’t matter because whatever we had was warmer than the June heat and bigger than any crowd Wembley could pull in our hearts.

It was all some sappy story of the girl who gave too much and the only man who gave back, very on brand for the HSLOT crew.

Maybe heat strokes could be good.

Read part 2 here!

[scratch-house]

the starshine always kept you warm.

alright so i'm continuing my thing of finishing up old wips, this being one of them. i sketched this out during the #finishinfinitytrain trend, but obviously (sadly) that's well past over. i think. they should finish it anyway. for me

i had sketches for each of the books, but s2 was the one i had the most motivation to finish. i love s2! i think lake being transmasc and having a crush on a boy did a lot for me at the time. i identified differently when i watched it than i do now

the song i picked for this one doesn't quite fit perfectly, like jesse isn't famous or rich or anything assuming the lyrics are from lake's perspective, but i figured jesse's life being comparatively kinder than lake's might make up for that. just the general vibe of having escaped on some level into a better circumstance. it was all kind of accidental though--the background color came before the song did, and the lyrics just kind of popped into my head after that. i was very much going for a summery, warm, out-on-a-hot-afternoon feel, and the entire album is very that

[http-paprika]

what's lost / simon "ghost" riley

part one zombie-apocalypse!au / pairing simon "ghost" riley x female reader / wc 1103 / warnings brief mentions of gore and violence, minor swearing, attempted suicide.

summery during the escort to edinburgh, things don't go as ghost had planned, causing him to lose y/n

note when i saw this is just an angst filled shitshow, i mean it. like, bawled my eyes out a bit, had to write this over multiple days i was struggling.

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The air in his lungs was bitter, stale. His body was a shell of what it was, skin turning purple and yellow like a large bruising sore. It had been too long since Ghost had cried, what felt like a lifetime ago as tears blurred his vision, jagged sobs escaping his throat.

Ghost’s breathing harbors, slowing as the infection pulsed through his veins. In his final few moments of sanity, he thought of Y/N who he’d forced to run when a horde had overcome them on the outskirts of Edinburgh. The sound of her voice, the feeling of her lips against his mask warmed his heart as Ghost brought the gun up against his head. His jaw was slacked, broken in the fight, blood drooling from his lips. The words spewed out his mouth, a muddled mess as he closed his eyes and gripped the metal harshly. “I– I’m sorry.”  

 The gun clattered to the ground, he should’ve done it, but her face burned too painfully in his to pull the trigger. All consuming him along with the infected venom that had transformed him. 

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 Y/N’s laugh was like a sweet song as they continued, through the wild brush of an overgrown wheat field. Ghost couldn’t even remember what he’d said to make her laugh, but a smile tugged at his lips to hear it. 

“If the outbreak hadn’t happened, what did you plan on doing with your life?” She asked him, obvious to the lump that clogs his throat. 

“Didn’t exactly plan for a future.” Ghost admitted, watching her stop and frown at his response. His feet slowed to a stop, and he turned to look at her. “I’m not exactly the type who plans to settle down, have kids, and retire—nothing for me outside of the military. The outbreak didn’t really change that. Probably spend the rest of my days being worked to death by them if I’m not bitten first.” 

 “Oh.” It sounded so painfully bleak for him to tell her the truth, but she’d asked, and Y/N had heard worse. 

“Don’t break your heart over it. You’ve still got a promising life ahead of you.” He walks back over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Gotta make a cure, have your name known across what’s left of the UK, maybe the world.” 

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Y/N can still hear her heart beating like a drum through her entire body as they check it, ensuring it’s clean from infection bites. Her cheeks were tight and dry, the crying had stopped when she’d reached the QZ, not out of relief or happiness, but because of a numb dread that’d washed over her. It had been two, maybe three hours since she’d left Ghost, the infection had either spread and he’d turned into a walking corpse. Or— Y/N shuddered, hating the ugly images that bubbled in her mind. Either result was a knife to the chest and tears threatened to spill over again.

 It had been her fault that he’d been bitten, at least that’s what she’d convinced herself. Had she been more aware, more capable, Ghost wouldn’t have had to become a flesh barrier between Y/N and the undead. She’d scowled and cursed at him, anger turning into blinding grief when the realization hit, a blood indent in his wrist from teeth. He’d been served a fate worse than death saving her. And the guilt of it sliced like a knife through her heart. 

Ghost should’ve been there, with her safely in the QZ. Kissing her and reminding her that they were safe, safer than they’d been since they’d left London over a month before. But she was there, a hollow shell all alone as they escorted her through the secured area to the lab that would become a prison for her. 

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The song of crickets filled Ghost’’s ears as they settled for the night, making a small camp in the deep black of a forest. He sat so that Y/N’s head rested on his lap, his hand absent-mindedly running through her hair. “You’re quiet tonight.” 

 Almost wondering if she’d fallen asleep there, he looked down at her face and she quickly averted her gaze away from his. “Y/N? What’s wrong love?” 

 “What are you going to do when we get to Edinburgh?” She finally speaks, keeping her gaze focused on the small camping lantern they had, watching the few insects that flew to it, hoping for the warmer sun. “Or were you not planning on getting that far either?” 

 “Oh.” Ghost lets out a groan, running a hand over his face. So she was still thinking about their conversation from earlier, considering his words on a personal level, as if they’d been directed to her. He’d been backed into a wall with her question, the truth was pathetic and Ghost worried how she’d respond to it.

“So you didn’t think that far.” Y/N didn’t ask but stated firmly before sitting up and pushing away from Ghost. Taking her warmth away from him. 

“Y/N, love–” He reached a hand out, placing it lightly on her arm and removing it after Ghost watched her flinch from his touch. “No, I didn’t think about what I’d do after. Was too focused on the mission of just getting you there safely. But I’ve thought about it, and if you’ll have me, I’d like to stay there for you.” 

Whipping her head around, she stared at him surprised by his request, almost wondering if she’d heard him correctly. He was being vulnerable with her, it caused a lump to form in her throat.

 “Stay… with me?” 

“Yes.” Ghost nodded his head, taking her hand in his and bringing it close to his clothed mouth. “Please, Y/N? I’ll be your damn guard dog if that’s what it takes.” He finishes his plea, kissing the palm of her hand despite the fabric barrier between his lips and her skin. Stray tears in his eyes he blinked away, focusing on her, nothing else mattered but her.

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The afterlife was not what Ghost expected, his body and mind were infected, driving him with an everpresent thirst for flesh and blood. Like a street dog, wandering the expanse of Edinburgh fighting the wild hunger that’d taken over him and so many others. But there was a hollow feeling, some part of his past life still tethered to the shell of his body. Some haunting voice that still rang in his ears like a beautiful song that drew him away from corpses and rotting flesh. Someone whose side he should’ve never left. 

tag-list @amazingori

[h7vn]

Adorn!!

Word count: 479

Pair: Song Eunseok x Reader

Summary: No summery, just this one fan call got me in SHAMBLES.

Eunseok fancall for context: Here!

“Tell me you love me.” Eunseok groaned into your ear, basically folding you in half. His grip tight as he kept both of your wrists up above your head and your legs over his shoulders, his free hand moving down to scratch at your breasts.

Eunseok loved marking you whenever he could, however he could. Including hickeys and bite marks, also totally random scratches left on your skin and letting him cum on you. He couldn’t help it, something about seeing you decorated in his marks, something HE did, something you LET him do made him go feral.

Struggling to even get your words out, you yell out whatever words your brain allowed you to comprehend. “Love- love you!” You cry out as he hits that one spot inside you over and over again, not letting you breath especially as he keeps trying to move your legs closer to your chest, as if he’s trying to break you.

Finally seeing you, his good girl. After being on tour for so long, made this even move blissful. His possessive nature not allowing him to sleep as he left you alone for weeks at a time. “How much did you miss me, baby?” He questioned you, a bit of a more whinier edge to his voice as he got closer and closer to his climax.

“So, so much! Missed you so much, Seok!” You choked out, seeing stars. Not being able to see much as you opened your eyes from the pleasure-filled tears you shed, the familiar feeling of your orgasm making itself comfortable in your lower parts.

He winced as you clenched around him, letting go of your wrists before moving his hand to your hair, pulling your head to the side lightly to get a clear view of your neck. Balancing himself with the arm that held your hair on the bed he used the other to play with your clit, with the clear goal of not only helping you achieve your orgasm but to ride it out as well. He was a sucker for making his good girl feel good, how he could thrive off even just hearing your moans and the way he played you.

Leaving dark bite marks and hickeys literally almost everywhere on your neck, you both came together. With you moaning out and him grunting in your ear, there would definitely be some noise complaints but it’s not like he cared anyway, as long as his baby was taken care of.

And with that, he still didn’t pull out but letting himself soften inside you, feeling too good to pull out so he didn’t. Laying his tall, lean frame on top of you as you both caught your breath before kissing your neck again but much more lovingly this time and less like he wanted to rearrange your guts.

“Pull out, Seok..”

“…”

“…”

“No.”