#whatever the thing on the top right is I can’t remember the name

[nonetoon]

Family Portrait 📸

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | end up here

a/n: i'm going FERALLLLLLL over this chapter. enjoy poisoned mercury's debut album hehe.

iv. end up here by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“your band name doesn’t even make any sense,” you argued, eyes narrowing at the boy in front of you. 

luke crashed your secret spot, again, and refused to let you smoke in silence until you gave him a detailed explanation of how your day went. he knew you didn’t smoke every day, only on days that were particularly hard. he noticed that your bad days always had something to do with your dad, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to bring that up. 

anyway, you got fed up with his badgering and that stupid smirk on his face because he knew you were about to crack, and decided that if he was going to act like a toddler, you would too. hence, why you were now bringing up his band name. 

luke took offense to that because he thought the band name was cool. he was the one to suggest it. he crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to let his hurt show on his face, “what do you mean? poisoned mercury is a sick name.” 

“mercury is already poisonous. your band name is like redundant or some shit.” 

“then why did so many people in history ingest it?” luke asked, recalling the one thing he remembered from his high school history class before he dropped out. he took a drag from his cigarette, turning his body a bit so the wind didn’t blow the smoke directly in your face. 

“they fucking died, castellan,” you replied, deadpan. 

“oh,” he blinked, staring off, “i didn’t know that.” 

you rolled your eyes, a habit that you’ve picked up whenever you were with him and sat back down on the bench. luke joined you, silent as he thought about what you just said. he really needed to stop zoning out during lessons, but since he was already out of high school, he guessed it didn’t matter anymore. 

as much as you hate to admit it, luke castellan was growing on you. sure, he got on your nerves like nobody else– the boy just doesn’t quit– but, he wasn’t half as bad as you originally thought. not that you’d ever tell him that though. 

when you got back to the cabin last week after helping with concert prep, the cabin was spotless. there were no empty red bull cans in sight, the table tops were free of crumbs, floor vacuumed and mopped, and there was even a candle burning on the counter. you approached your bedroom door to find a post-it on the handle. luke’s messy writing was smudged around the corners, but you could still make out what it said. 

“five star, 

i snitched on the boys and my mom will have a stern talk with them about their cleanliness. can’t promise that people will stop talking about me, but i can promise you won’t have to live in the dojo casa house mojo or whatever it was. 

ps i’m using the spot tomorrow, just thought i should let you know. maybe we can set up a calendar for reservations. 

luke :)” 

the cabin hasn’t been as messy since. whatever may castellan told the boys worked like a charm. there was still the occasional trash, but nothing crazy. it smelled better in the cabin too, still like a boy, but it smelled like expensive cologne more than anything. cedarwood and pine. 

and thankfully, the luke castellan hype train was starting to run out of steam, with many people finally realizing that he was also just a human being and the surprising revelation that luke castellan was not entertaining anyone during his time at camp helped with it as well. you still heard whispers about him here and there, but you were glad the topic of conversation was beginning to switch to something else. 

you and luke walked to the gym and back home every morning together. he and the boys sat with you and clarisse during meals. they tagged along for music lessons and spoke to the kids, which they really appreciated. they helped the older campers with writing music, luke particularly. you’d been around a few musicians in your life and many of them only kissed ass when your dad was around, but poisoned mercury was different. they were passionate about their music. that was clear.

after a conversation with clarisse, where she managed to convince you that not all musicians are like your ex, you began to let loose a little bit. you hung out with the boys more, partly as an excuse so clarisse could hang out with chris without causing too much suspicion, and found that you actually enjoyed their company. and luke castellan? well, he wasn’t half bad. that doesn’t mean he got off easy though. 

you took a hit of your vape, facing him, “are you done interrogating me?” 

“for now, yeah,” he smiled as you shook your head. “are you coming to the concert tonight?” 

“well, i did help organize it.” 

“a simple yes would’ve sufficed, five star,” luke teased, relighting his cigarette. it was burning unevenly and luke was never one to waste his cigarettes. “you gonna watch us play?” 

“don’t have a choice. dad wants me there the whole time.” 

“you can act a little excited,” luke ran a hand through his curls, “we are pretty good, you know.” 

“i know,” you hummed. the sun was beginning to set and there was a slight breeze in the air. goosebumps formed on your skin, the t-shirt and denim shorts you wore didn’t offer much comfort. you shivered, “i have listened to your music.” 

“are you cold?” 

your teeth chattered, but you shook your head, “i’m fine.” 

luke took off his hoodie, tossing it in your direction, “take it.” 

“no,” you tossed it back to him, “told you i’m good.”

always so stubborn, luke thought.  

“if you catch a cold, that’s not on me,” he placed the hoodie on the bench between the two of you. “which songs have you listened to?” 

“kilby girl, of course. it played on the radio so much when you guys first dropped it,” you said, remembering the days where you and your hometown friends would blast it in the car. it reminded you of high school, reckless decisions, life-long memories, and the thrill of knowing you were going to be playing the sport you’d worked so hard to excel in at a d1 level in the fall. you looked at him, sincerity in your eyes, “i really like family line. it might be my favorite.” 

luke’s eyebrows shot up. not many people talked about family line. it was probably their least streamed song. they never performed the song on tour because it was difficult for luke to sing it. it was a personal song to him. it was inspired by his relationship with his father, or lack thereof. 

when poisoned mercury first got signed to olympus records, luke sent a message to his dad on facebook. luke hadn’t tried to contact him since he was ten, not since his father returned his letter to him unopened, no response but a “return to sender” stamp plastered over the envelope. but after the small congratulatory party his mom set up for the band after they signed, luke felt like a little kid again, a kid who wanted to share the great news with his dad, so he found his dad on facebook, made an account, and sent him a message. 

he didn’t get a reply, which was expected, but it felt good for a second to pretend that he had a father to tell his good news to. luke thought he didn’t care about whether or not his dad was proud of him, but when his message went from “sent” to “read” a few days later, he was brought back to those moments in his life when he cried and wondered why he wasn’t enough to make his dad stay. he wrote family line in one sitting, on his bed in his bedroom in connecticut, looking at the little league medals on his wall that seemed to mock him. 

he originally didn’t want it on the album because he felt like it didn’t fit the vibe of the rest of the songs and that it was too real, too vulnerable for a debut album, but then he played it for his mom and she loved it. she cried when she first heard it and luke knew that even if people didn’t like the song, he was going to put it out for his mom. 

“huh,” he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, “wasn’t expecting that one. thought you’d be more of a crash my car type of girl.” 

“i like that too,” you shrugged, “but family line. that song. i don’t think i have the words to describe it.” 

“thanks, five star,” luke looked down at his feet, taking a puff from his dying cigarette. “that’s my mom’s favorite, too.” 

“did you write it?” 

luke nodded, looking to face you. there was a new expression on your face, one that you’d never used with him before. it was a mix of disbelief and awe. he tried not to get offended that you didn’t think he could write something like family line, but he couldn’t blame you. he didn’t really portray the type of person who would be able to be that raw and vulnerable on a song. “me and trav write the lyrics for our songs, mostly. chris and connor help too, but the bulk of the lyrics are me.” 

“you need to stop doing that.”

he cocked his head to the side, crushing the cigarette butt on the hardware of the bench, “doing what?” 

“surprising me,” you shook your head, “i don’t like it.” 

“i don’t know what to tell you,” he chuckled, leaning back on the bench. he looked out into the lake, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains, “i have layers. you just gotta give me a chance.” 

“how do you do it?” you sat criss cross on the bench, leaning against the arm rest. “how do you write like that?” 

you’d always been curious about music, even if you weren’t good at it. your dad was never one to answer your questions, especially because you were interested in lyrics more than anything, and that wasn’t his forte. 

luke mimicked your actions, “i dunno. personal experience, i guess?”

you frowned, thinking about the lyrics of family line. luke never talked about his dad, but spoke highly of his mom. was family line based on his own life? if it was, his dad was an asshole. 

you relented to the cold, grabbing the hoodie that he left in between the two of you. you ignored the triumphant smile on his face when you draped the sweater over your bare legs, shielding them from the wind chills. 

he continued, “sometimes things happen to me that get me worked up and i have to write a song about it. sometimes, it’s based on my imagination. it depends.”

you wanted to ask him about his dad, but you didn’t know if he considered you guys friends yet. it’s not like you made it easy for him anyway. you could deal with the banters and annoyance, but you didn’t want to push him to talk about something he wasn’t ready to. you could be a dick, but you weren’t cruel. 

you changed the subject, “okay, let’s play a game.” 

“21 questions?” luke bit his bottom lip, trying not to laugh. he waggled his eyebrows, dodging your arm that reached out to smack him. 

“you’re gross,” you gagged, knowing the implications of the game, “no, i’m gonna ask about the songs on your album and you tell me if it’s real life or from your imagination.” 

“alright, go for it five star,” he beamed, propping his elbows on his crossed knees. he loved talking about music with anyone. he could go on and on for hours. 

“18.” 

“real,” luke snorted, remembering the first time travis pitched the idea for the song to the band, “but not my experience. it was trav. he met this girl at one of our gigs in new york, right after we got signed, and he was obsessed. she was a freshman at nyu and she kept telling him he was too young for her, even though she was just less than a year older. trav was hooked.” 

you could picture it. it was definitely something travis would do. “okay, another one of my favorites. only angel?” 

“not real,” luke shook his head, a slight blush creeping up on his face. “if you tell anyone, five star, i will vehemently deny it, but i had a crush on jade west from victorious and i wrote it about her.” 

there was something about jade west that made luke like a love-sick puppy. ignoring the fact that she was hot, her attitude was something that luke was attracted to. she had a tough exterior and acted like she didn’t care about people, but she had her moments where she was soft and kind to the people she cared about the most. luke liked that. the idea that someone could be sensitive but only to the people they deemed worthy. 

he’d spent so much of his life trying to be worthy, in whatever way the stage of his life defined it, and he craved it– a pat on the back, an approval, a confirmation that he was worthy of it. 

you threw your head back laughing, surprised by his ridiculous confession. the sound of your laughter rang across the woods, making luke smile. your voice echoed throughout the trees and he his senses were surrounded by you. it hit luke like a truck. 

he sucked in a breath, taking out his phone. he jolted from his seat for more than one reason. “shit, five star. we gotta go.” 

you took out your phone too, checking the time. your eyes widened as you got up from your seat. you threw his hoodie over to him, “fuck, we’re late.” 

the two of you raced out of the woods, arriving to the concert venue with flushed faces and rapid breaths. you could feel clarisse’s knowing eyes on you as you got ready for the concert. you tried your best to ignore it. you were going to deal with that later. 

–

“and for the final event, i know you guys are looking forward to this one,” your dad laughed into the mic. the sun was long gone and there were disco lights illuminating the stage. a smoke machine was on either corner, making it difficult to see the bottom half of the stage. you and clarisse stood in the front row, listening to the deafening cheers of the campers. “ladies and gents, welcome poisoned mercury!” 

the screams got louder which you didn’t even know was possible. travis entered the stage first, sticking his tongue out as he expertly twirled his drumsticks around his fingers. connor came in next, smiling and waving at the crowd as he plugged his guitar into the amp. chris walked in with his bass strapped around his neck, eyes immediately finding clarisse and sending her a shy smile. you nudged her teasingly, enjoying the way she blushed under the lights. 

then luke castellan walked in. he ditched his hoodie and t-shirt and walked in with a white tank top on, messing with the curls on his head. he tugged on the silver necklace around his neck as his eyes scanned the crowd. he threw a wink to the group of the older girls in the back, turning to travis to let out a laugh at their reaction. the lights on the boys were blinding and a thin layer of sweat already began to form on their skin despite the bite to the air. 

luke took center stage, picking up his guitar. he leaned over directly in front of you, fingers pretending to mess with the wires connecting his guitar to the speakers, “hey, five star.” 

he straightened his back before you could reply. clarisse’s eyes darted between you and the boy, now nudging you like you did to her earlier. you rolled your eyes, smiling at the rest of the boys as luke began talking on the mic. 

“what’s up, camp half blood?” luke screamed into the mic. the crowd roared. “we’re poisoned mercury and we are so happy to be with you guys here this summer. before we close out this awesome concert, i wanna introduce our lovely band.” 

“on drums, we have the one and only, travis stoll!” luke turned around to applaud travis as he did a little drum solo, head banging as he hit the drums. he turned to connor, “on lead guitar, we have the amazing connor stoll!” 

connor strummed his guitar, leaning over on the left side to soak in the applause of the crowd. the girls beside you swooned as he unleashed one of his award-winning smiles. 

luke faced chris, “and on bass, we have my very best friend in the entire world, my 4lifer, chris rodriguez!” clarisse cheered loudly for chris as he played a tune on his bass, mouthing, “love you, brother,” to luke as he played. the crowd quited for a second as luke addressed them again, “and my name is luke castellan. we’re poisoned mercury!” 

you turned around to look at the crowd. the size of the crowd tripled when the boys got on stage. everyone had a smile on their face, excited to hear them play. 

“the song we’ll be singing for you guys today is from our debut album,” luke adjusted his mic on the stand. he got closer to it, lips touching the metal, “this is only angel.” 

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at their song choice. this was not the song they were supposed to sing. they’d been rehearsing kilby girl for the past week. luke saw your reaction, laughing along with you. 

the instrumentals began and you nearly missed the beat drop because of the cheers from the crowd. as the song progressed, the boys were one with the music. you watched luke sing, working the crowd like a pro. his skin glistened under the spotlight, beads of sweat tricking down the side of his face. he approached chris when the chorus started, dragging his mic stand with him. he swung his guitar around so it rested on his back as he sang the lyrics. his curls were sticking to his forehead, eyebrows raised in glee as he performed. 

you couldn’t take your eyes off the lead singer, not even when the rest of the band had their own solos in the song. your eyes were glued on luke; how his adam’s apple was on full display as he threw his head back, getting lost in the music, how his arms flexed as he wrapped the mic cord around his fist, how his thin tank top stuck to his body and how it raised when he lifted his arm up to bring the mic closer to his lips. you saw the outline of his abdomen and his v-line. 

but what really got you was his face. he looked at peace on stage, a wide smile on his face, full lips pink and glossy as he licked them in between verses. he looked incredible up there, like that was where he belonged. he was born to be on stage like this. 

“fuck,” you mumbled, applauding at the end of their song. luke’s eyes found yours as he sang the last bit of the song, smiling at you. you hoped clarisse couldn’t hear you talk to yourself. you looked down at your feet, tugging nervously on the collar of your shirt, “i get it now.”

[screeching-bunny]

I’m not sure if you accept thirst asks, but if you do, then, goshhhh imagine giving ‘it’ to one of your concubines and they just keep repeating the words “Thank you thank you thank you” as they suck and lap at your 🫢. They repeat the words like a prayer, almost as if they were worshipping a god (you).

But if don’t accept thirst asks then please feel free to ignore if this ever makes you uncomfortable.

Yandere! Concubine Harem Asks 1

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’ NSFW!!! MINORS DNI. This is my first time writing nsfw content so it’s kinda bad 💀.

In a magnificent office filled with many luxuries sat a grand ruler by their desk surrounded by towering piles of paperwork. The ruler's regal figure was draped in a robe of royal purple, adorned with gold trimmings, symbolizing their authority and power. As the sun's rays filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a warm glow upon the room, you sighed wearily, with brows furrowed with the weight of your responsibilities. All was quiet but if someone listened closely they could hear the faint sound of slurping.

“Can’t you be quieter? Can’t you see I’m trying to get some of my work done!?”

Beneath you and between your legs was your consort on his knees. He was undressed and was as naked as the day he was born. The man was known for his fierceness and cold heart was currently panting under you like a dog. The sounds of gasps and moans could be heard coming from the man. Currently his lips were red and swollen from the rough treatment that you have given him. Saliva dripped down his mouth as he was desperate to have a taste of you. He sucked and licked as if you were the only source of water he had in years. There was a look of desperateness in his eyes, it made you chuckle at how pathetic he looked. A constant mumbling of “thank yous” came from him each time he had a chance to breathe air.

The consort, whose name you couldn’t have bothered to remember, was as hard as a rock. Having enough of how slow this was going you decided to throw him down onto a couch. You made your way on top of him, positioned yourself, and slammed down right onto his member.

“Ahhh, agh!!”

Tears leaked from his eyes as he began to tremble. Your arms were pressed firmly into the cushions as you made your fierce movements as he was beneath you. He was huge and swollen within you. You began to rock your hips continuously down on him. His breathing became more harsh and stuttered. You leaned down and began to nibble down on his bottom lip. The kiss was very strong and aggressive. When your consort needed to breathe you made sure to slam your lips back on top of his again. His hands on your waist while your tongues intertwined with each other. Devastating pleasure overcame your consort. His eyes were hazy and you could feel a pump of warm liquid form inside of you. When you released from the kiss his mouth was red and swollen with a string of saliva attaching the two of you.

“Ah, ah, agh!!”

“I can’t believe you came from a kiss. Ugh whatever, a few of my advisors will be here any minute. If they catch us doing this, I won't be letting you off easy tonight.”

It was safe to say that the advisors were never allowed entrance into your study due to… your other matters. However, the next day whenever the maids came near that room, their faces would instantly turn bright red. The sounds that came from that room yesterday were definitely something else and they couldn’t help but blush from it. They just couldn’t believe it went on for an entire day! The good thing was that at least the maids that were in charge of cleaning up your mess got a massive raise but holy cow did you really have to break a sofa?!?! The only thing that they could do was pray for your poor consort.

[jjunieworld]

from the start ⊹៹🎐༉‧₊˚

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader

genre: fluff, bestfriends to lovers, first love!soobin, mutual (unknown) pining, a drop of angst (i can’t help myself)

synopsis: you never really understood the saying “you’ll always remember your first love,” but that was before you fell in love with your bestfriend soobin. now all of it makes sense. you notice everything about him, from his dimpled smile to the way he could go on and on about the things he loves. and that just makes you fall for him more. cupid has shot an arrow through your heart and you can’t take keeping your feelings for him inside anymore.

word count: 3.1k┊v-day event masterlist┊masterlist

a/n: based off from the start by laufey and part two of my v-day event! you already know i had to write for the first love!soobin agenda, it’s just too good! hoped you got the movie reference i threw in there ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა enjoy! ♡

if you were being honest, you weren’t listening to a single thing that soobin was saying to you. you had your head in your hand that was resting on the table, a lazy smile grazed your lips. the drinks and food the both of you got at your local café had been long abandoned. staring at him intently, his words went through one ear and out the other.

instead, you were more focused on the way he was speaking. arms flailing around as he explained to you whatever it was that he was talking about, his face shifting from expression to expression. the way he would look at you occasionally with slightly wide eyes that shined brightly, the corners of his lips always tilted upwards. god, you were so in love with him. just watching him talk made you fall deeper and deeper.

“y/n… are you listening?”

your ears perked up at the sound of your name. there was a slight awkwardness hanging in the air as soobin awaited your answer. soobin looked at you with those slightly wide eyes, still shining. there was a sheepish smile on his face, making you look at his dimpled cheeks. “of course i’m listening!” you replied. “keep talking!” soobin laughed shyly before continuing.

this time you focused on what he was saying. “—and, i don’t know, i just feel like she would really like it! do you think a locket is too much? would you like a locket in this situation?” you held down the urge to roll your eyes at the mention of your best friend’s crush. it killed you inside knowing that he didn’t feel the same way about you.

“a locket is cute! i’d like it if someone got me a locket! would wear it everyday even,” you pushed out, a practiced fake smile appearing on your face. soobin’s smile widened and you felt your heart leap at the sight. “really?” he asked. “it’s not too much?” you shook your head, your smile becoming ever so slightly less fake. the way he was staring at you like you held all the answers in the universe, you couldn’t take it anymore. why did he have to look at you like that?

you thought of confessing your feelings for him right then and there, even if you knew it would end in disaster. you could practically feel cupid’s arrow in your heart. if only soobin did too. the scenario rang in your head, the crushing, unrequited heartbreak, the end of the two of you being best friends. you could never do it, not that you would anyway. ever since you admitted that you were in love with soobin, you were a giggling mess around him, cheeks always heated. quietness hanging between the two of you that you so desperately wish he’d fill. tell you how much he liked you too.

when you first heard the saying “you always remember your first love,” you didn’t really understand it. but then again, you were never in love before. not until now. not until the feelings for your childhood best friend hit you full force. not until soobin. though you knew you would never be together, that didn’t stop you from melting everytime he smiled at you. laughed at one of your lame jokes. sat close to you, head on top of yours as you watched a movie together. a burning pain shot through your heart.

“should i get it in gold or silver?” soobin asked, oblivious to your inner turmoil. you shrugged a little, “depends on her, really. just pay attention to the kind of jewelry she wears.” he nodded, deep in thought, as his eyes trailed along the rings on your fingers. “everyone’s different,” you added. “perfect! thank you, y/n! i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

you laid your hands onto the table, trying not to let the hurt show through your smile.

everytime you asked who this mystery girl was, soobin would always divert the question to something else. it was bad enough that he was clearly in love with someone else, but it was even worse that he wouldn’t even tell you who this someone else was. you were his best friend, for crying out loud!

soobin would go on and on about this girl, tell you how perfect she was, how she was his dream girl. “she’s everything i’ve ever wanted,” he had told you once. you thought he was thinking a little too far ahead. it’s only been about two months since he’s been telling you about her, at least openly, asking for your input on various gifts or conversation topics.

you were brought back to reality with soobin sighing dreamily. his head was in his hands, tilted to the side, and his body was leaned onto the table. “y/n, she’s so perfect. you don’t understand—“

blah blah blah, you thought. you lifted your eyebrows, nodding along at his words. you couldn’t take hearing any more of it. the idea of confessing your feelings became more and more tempting. even if it did ruin your friendship forever, at least you wouldn’t have to hear him daydream about some other girl.

“binnie, i’m sorry to cut you off, but i gotta go…” you trailed off, lying through your teeth. soobin’s smile faltered slightly as he glanced at his phone. “o-oh, okay!” you both stood to your feet. soobin handed you your bag of food and your drink, which you took from him with a smile. he pulled you into a tight hug, his hands resting at the small of your back, as he said, “don’t forget about our movie tonight.”

soobin pulled away, but still held you in his arms. “wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, causing him to smile. the two of you were so close, faces inches away from each other, that your heart started to beat rapidly. he let go of you and you felt empty without his warm embrace. soobin’s eyebrows raised suddenly, his face falling into a serious expression. “and you’re sure the locket isn’t too much?”

you just smiled, “if it were me, i would love it.” you exchanged your goodbyes and you speed walked to your car. you didn’t even know why he bothered with these gifts. the last two gifts he gave this mystery girl, she didn’t even end up liking.

“she didn’t really like them,” soobin had told you, the two of you were walking down the streetlight illuminated sidewalk. the cold winter air pierced through your thin jacket. he handed the gift to you, it was still in its elaborately decorated box. you opened it, a shocked smile on your face at its contents. it was a pair of knitted mittens that he clearly had gotten handmade. you remembered him telling you about it a few weeks ago. “but when i asked you, you said you’d really like them. so why let them go to waste!” soobin added.

that’s usually how his gift giving to this mystery girl went. it made you really dislike whoever she was. all these well thought out gifts from soobin and she couldn’t even have the common courtesy to accept them? it made your blood boil.

you looked to your hands that were resting on your steering wheel. those same knitted handmade mittens soobin had gifted you a month ago covered them. sighing at them, you pulled them off and threw them onto your passenger seat as you drove home.

laying on your bed, you looked through your window at the setting sun. the hues of dark blue and burnt wisps of orange perfectly visualizing how you felt. the moon shined brightly against the darkening backdrop, illuminating you.

“what should i do?” you asked the moon. the moon didn’t give a response. instead, she shined brighter as the world got darker. you sighed and sat up, it was almost time to meet soobin as his place for your movie night. “should i just tell him tonight, after the movie? face the terrifying unrequited instead of letting my love for him drive me insane?”

again, there was no response from the moon. you stood and walked to the window, staring up at the moon from the open blinds. “either way, damage will be done. you’re right, moon.”

tonight, you were gonna confess your feelings. you were gonna spend the whole movie taking in as much of your best friend before you ultimately lose him. you began getting ready, laughing wryly. “i sound like a lunatic,” you muttered to yourself.

just as you had finished getting ready, making sure to keep your outfit casual, you had gotten a text from soobin asking when you were coming. you shot him a quick text back, telling him you were on your way, as you raced to put your jacket on. you made sure to wear the gifts he had given you that this mystery girl didn’t want; the handmade mittens, a charm bracelet, and a pair of cute but simple earrings.

soobin had flung his door open, a wide smile lighting up his features. he ushered you in, to where he already had everything set up. a big bowl of popcorn sat on the living room table. the movie that the two of you were gonna watch, flipped, was ready to play on the tv.

“wow, you already have everything ready!” you commented as you took a seat on the couch. soobin sat down directly next to you, so close that your arms were pressed together. he gave you a shy smile, a chuckle on his lips, “i take our movie nights seriously!”

at some point in the movie, you had cuddled up into his side, your head resting on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around you as you stared at the screen. it was hard to focus on the movie with soobin playing with the charm bracelet he had gifted you absentmindedly. you shifted slightly, trying to focus your thoughts on the movie.

it was proving more and more increasingly difficult as the movie drew nearer and nearer to the end. the only relief you got was when soobin had paused the movie to make more popcorn.

the two of you had gotten slightly distracted. you were trying to see who could catch the piece of popcorn in their mouth first and you were both failing horrible. the sound of your giggles filled the room as the piece of popcorn somehow bounced off your nose and landed in your mouth. you raised your arms in the air as you cheered, laughing happily. “i can’t believe i got that!”

“you must’ve cheated somehow!” soobin pouted lightly. the two of you were facing each other, popcorn bowl between you. you took a couple pieces of popcorn from the bowl and ate them smugly, “no… i’m just that good!” soobin laughed and it was so infectious that it made you join in as well.

“how could she sit there and laugh and look so beautiful?”

you doubled over onto his chest, briefly forgetting about the movie and almost spilling the bowl of popcorn between the two of you. you and soobin’s laughs filled the room, seemingly laughing at nothing at this point. laughing because the other was laughing. you wished it could be like this forever.

soobin glowed in the silver light of the tv screen, and you had to refrain yourself from staring openly at him. you snuck looks at him when he was distracted, looking down to get more popcorn or throwing his head back slightly to laugh. it wasn’t enough.

once the movie ended and you had helped soobin clean up is when you really felt like your heart was gonna escape your chest from how hard it was pounding against the cage of your ribs. this was it. this was your time to confess.

you took in your best friend's appearance for what would probably be the last time, taking in every last detail. the way he stood so tall that he towered over you. the way he walked around the room making sure not to knock things over. the way his dimples appeared when he talked or smiled and how said smile was always directed at you. you took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself for what you were about to say next.

“hey, binnie?” you called out to him. he turned from where he stood next to the tv, messing with the buttons on the side of it. he had turned the lights on so you both were no longer in the dark. a small smile spread across his mouth, “yeah?” you took another deep breath, you had to get this off your chest. it was now or never. now or watch him obsess over someone else for the rest of your life.

“i love you,” you said. soobin turned to you fully from where you sat curled into the side of the couch, remote control hanging from his fingertips limply. his features softened and he looked at you fondly, “i love you too, y/nie.” you smiled slightly but shook your head. “no, i mean—i love you, love you,” you tried to clarify, looking away as your cheeks heated.

out the corner of your eye you saw him move towards you and felt the couch cushion dip next to you. his hand entered your vision as it cupped your cheek, guiding your face to look at his. soobin had a big smile on his face. your brows furrowed, “why are you smiling? i’m being serious, soobin!”

soobin just laughed a little, causing your confusion to deepen. did he really think you were joking? your eyes widened when instead of the rejection you were expecting, soobin instead softly joined his lips together with yours. “you idiot,” he finally replied against your lips, deepening the kiss as he pulled you closer to him.

after he pulled away, you were left breathless and even more confused. soobin looked at you with so much love in his eyes it had taken you aback. it was as if the veil between the two of you had been lifted. “i love you, love you, too,” soobin smiled.

“b-but, what—the mystery girl you’ve been talking about, what about her? didn’t you say she was your dream girl? your soulmate?” you stammered.

soobin chuckled as he got up from the couch. he walked back over to the tv and reached behind it, grabbing a small, nicely decorated box. soobin walked back over to the couch and sat down next to you again. he held the box out to you, “you beat me to the confession.”

you were in such shock all you could do was take the box numbly. when you opened it, you let out a gasp. there laid the locket soobin had been going on and on about earlier today, it’s intricately designed heart tugging on your emotions. you looked up to him, a bright smile on your face.

“there was no other girl,” soobin spoke, “only you. i guess i kinda messed up with my whole approach. i didn’t mean for it to seem like there was someone else, i was only trying to gauge your reactions to see if you liked me back…” you lightly shoved him, mouth still open in shock. “so you’re saying your dream girl, your soulmate, was me?” you asked. you desperately needed the clarification, to hear it come out of his own mouth in his own words.

soobin laughed, his features brightening with his smile, “yes, it was you! i have loved you from the start!”

you gently sat the locket box on the table and practically threw yourself onto his lap, attacking his lips with kisses. soobin laughed throughout the whole thing, holding your waist. “you idiot,” you started as you pulled back. “why didn’t you say anything?”

“why didn’t you?” he countered, then grimaced slightly as he remembered his mistake. “nevermind,” soobin added, making you laugh. “i didn’t want things to change between us for the worse. i didn’t want to lose my best friend.”

you kissed him again, “you could never lose me.” you grabbed the locket box and took the necklace out of it. soobin gently took from your hands and motioned for you to turn around, which you did. he clasped the locket onto your neck and you looked down at it as you turned back to him. it matched your charm bracelet and earrings perfectly.

“open it,” soobin said lightly. inside, on each side, was a picture of you and a picture of him. “when you close it, we kiss!” he exclaimed, demonstrating for you. you giggled and pressed your lips to his. “thank you, binnie, i love it. i love you.”

you and soobin had been dating for almost a year when he presented you with one of his many gifts over the span of your relationship. the two of you were at the park where you had met as kids, taking in the lush scenery and cool air.

“you have to stop giving me so many gifts,” you muttered as he showed you the box. your words got caught in your throat when you opened it to find a ring inside. the ring matched all of the other jewelry he had gotten you. you looked at soobin with eyes so wide they were gonna pop out of your head. “this isn’t the real thing,” soobin stated. “that moment will be a lot more special. but take this as my promise to love you forever.”

soobin slipped the ring onto your left hand ring finger and pressed a kiss against it. tears brimmed in your eyes as you pulled him into a tight hug. when you pulled away, the tears had fallen and were trailing down your cheeks. soobin cupped your face and wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs, then kissed you passionately.

you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to you. “i love you so much, soobin,” you said against his lips with a warm smile. you rested your forehead against his. “i love you more,” soobin replied.

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

permanent taglist: @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @rapmonie2047 @riaawr

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[riality-check]

Eddie needs this to go perfectly.

He’s… okay, saying he’s not an anxious person would be a lie. Eddie is very acquainted with the fight or flight instinct, with the latter of those two options being far more familiar. He’s vaguely obsessive and twitchy and, frankly, puts way too much thought and time into planning one-shots, nevermind regular campaign sessions.

Majority of the time, he likes to have control of a situation. There are reasons for that, plenty of which he knows, some of which he’s gone to therapy for, and more that are on the bedroom and currently irrelevant side of things.

The relevant side of things is the guy in front of him who doesn’t have any sort of ear protection on.

Eddie should mind his business. He really should. Corroded Coffin isn’t even headlining. They’re the openers for the tour of a much bigger band that noticed them and asked if they wanted to tour with them and Archie fangirled so hard he passed out. It was a whole thing.

Still, it’s their first real tour, and Eddie is a control freak, and he needs it to be perfect, which means no one gets hurt. This random guy - probably a roadie of some sort from how he’s plugging cables into something Eddie doesn’t know the name of - not having any sort of ear protection counts as someone maybe getting hurt.

Eddie doesn’t even know him, but he can’t have that happen.

Hell, this guy’s friend has her earplugs looped around her neck on a string like Eddie does. But Hottie - yeah, he’s hot and Eddie’s queer with a healthy sex drive, get over it - has none in sight.

That’s a problem. Eddie can’t have problems, not tonight, not before the first show.

“Hey!” he calls, walking over to Hottie and his friend, who are setting up equipment away from the stage. “You gotta have something for your ears, dude!”

Hottie and his friend exchange a look that Eddie can’t make heads or tails of.

“Thanks man,” Hottie says, and that nickname applies to his voice, too. “But I’m good.”

Eddie frowns. “You need to protect your hearing.”

“Trust me,” Hottie says. “I’ve worked a lot of gigs. Never wore anything then, won’t wear anything now, probably won’t wear anything at the next one.”

Okay. It’s fine. Eddie should walk away now. He’s totally capable of walking away. It is, quite obviously, the better alternative to this circular conversation.

But Hottie is gonna hurt himself this way. Potentially really badly if it’s not a one time thing. This is a metal show, for G-d’s sake. He’ll do some serious damage over time.

Eddie needs this to go perfectly, and for things to go perfectly, he can’t be responsible for that.

“I don’t think you get it,” he says. “You’re gonna destroy your ears that way, especially if you do this for a long time. This show is gonna be really intense, hell, the whole tour is! You can get cheap shit at the hardware store, it’s better than nothing-”

At the beginning of his rant, lecture, whatever, Hottie stares right at him. He has a really intense stare. Pretty brown eyes set in a prettier face with even prettier hair on top of his head. Eddie gets distracted by all that pretty and by trying to make his point.

And he doesn’t notice until halfway through that Hottie isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at his friend.

Eddie looks at her, too. Looks at her confused and focused expression. Looks at her hands moving rapidly.

Oh. G-d.

Hottie’s deaf, isn’t he?

“Trying my best but I’m not fluent, Steve,” she says. Her hands pause, and she looks down at them, confused.

Hottie - Steve - shrugs, and his hands move as he talks. “I’m not either. You were doing pretty good, though. I think. Or our mistakes just line up that well.”

“What’s the sign for reverb? It’s the last word he said.”

“No clue. You can just fingerspell it.”

“I can’t remember R.”

“How do you forget R? It’s in your name, Robin!”

The friend - Robin - throws her hands up. “You know I get it mixed up with X!”

Eddie wants to die. This is it. He’s going to melt into a puddle due to sheer embarrassment, fifteen minutes before the doors open to let in the biggest crowd Corroded Coffin has ever played for.

What a shitty way to go.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t-”

Steve cuts him off. “Normally, I can lip read enough to get the gist. But you speak too fast and trip over your words.”

Ouch. Okay.

“I do lights,” he continues. “Robin does sound. We know what we’re doing, and we don’t need you to tell us how to do our jobs, even if you mean well.”

Seriously?

Eddie should have minded his business. He knows that. But G-ddamn, that’s blunt.

He’s saved, thankfully, from digging himself into a bigger hole.

“Eddie!” Jeff hollers from the stage. “Get your ass over here!”

He turns to walk away, then turns back to Steve and Robin. “Sorry,” he says again.

He turns back around before he can see their reactions and runs back toward the stage. Intimately familiar with flight, and all that.

Shit. First night of tour, and he’s already made an enemy of the light and sound people.

And the light guy is hot.

Really hot.

And he hates Eddie.

This is gonna be a long few weeks.

Now with a continuation and a part 3!

ao3

[wren-kitchens]

i used to know (but i’m not sure now)

1298 words cw: panic attack

maybe joel should talk to scar. it- there’s no way he actually meant for joel to spiral into.. well, whatever joel has begun to spiral into. relatively close to a panic attack, probably, but joel can’t remember any of the techniques mumbo told him about for calming down after he and pearl started freaking out about being kicked out of the mounders- okay, he’s noticing a theme here.  that’s- that isn’t the point. he’s just- well, what if he goes to find scar to ask him about what he meant, and scar did mean to reference last life, and he’s- he’s mad at joel, or doesn’t wanna talk to him at all, and then joel has to leave again and he-

joel’s train of thought is interrupted painfully as he smacks the top of his head on his ceiling, and he realises that he’s been slowly flying upwards since he started spiralling. at least hitting his head managed to ground him. actually- can you call that grounding when he’s not on the ground?

or

joel is freaking out about past alliances. turns out, he’s not the only one

if I actually wrote/finished all the ideas I have in my head right now, i’d be posting daily istg

winter is the season of writers block however so you get this <3

if you’re going to like, please reblog!

joel is being dumb.

there’s no way scar was referencing magical mountain—he just saw a mountain and magic was alliterate with the word mountain, so he said magic mountain before he could remember about the almost identically named alliance they had, and by the time he remembered it was too awkward to change it. that’s- it has to have been that. that’s a very scar thing to do- it’s a very joel thing to do, in all honesty. if scar hadn’t said it, joel probably would have, and then he would be having pretty much the same dilemma—just a little to the left.

it was a slip of the tongue, and everyone moved past it, and- it might be their team name now, but that’s fine. is it a team on hermitcraft, or is it like.. a group? it’s not like they’re teaming up against each other this time, so they can’t be a team—or an alliance, on that note. it’s probably a group name then. maybe joel should suggest a different name next.. meeting? okay, he really doesn’t know as much about hermitcraft as he thought he did. 

and that’s- well, that’s an entirely different freakout he’s probably gonna have soon, but- what if the naming of this mountain was a kind of.. omen? what if it all goes wrong, and it turns out joel isn’t welcome here anymore, and then he has to go find somewhere else to stay- and everyone has already established their neighbours and their groups and joel will be like the odd one out- and it’s his first season, it can’t go wrong this quickly. joel might be having two freakouts at the same time now- that’s probably not a great sign, huh?

maybe joel should talk to scar. it- there’s no way he actually meant for joel to spiral into.. well, whateverjoel has begun to spiral into. relatively close to a panic attack, probably, but joel can’t remember any of the techniques mumbo told him about for calming down after he and pearl started freaking out about being kicked out of the mounders- okay, he’s noticing a theme here.  that’s- that isn’t the point. he’s just- well, what if he goes to find scar to ask him about what he meant, and scar did mean to reference last life, and he’s- he’s mad at joel, or doesn’t wanna talk to him at all, and then joel has to leave again and he-

joel’s train of thought is interrupted painfully as he smacks the top of his head on his ceiling, and he realises that he’s been slowly flying upwards since he started spiralling. at least hitting his head managed to ground him. actually- can you call that grounding when he’s not on the ground?

forcing himself to breathe slowly, joel lands back on the floor. okay. he should probably talk to scar, considering he’s getting this het up about everything. besides, since when has scar actually done anything like that for no reason? never, that’s when. probably.

it takes a moment for him to hype himself up enough for joel to even approach his front door, but he gets there after a minute. he puts his hand on the doorknob, pushes it down, pulls the door open and-

-and finds himself face to face with an equally nervous looking scar. 

scar jumps, making a noise like a suppressed yelp as he realises what just happened. “I- joel. you’re- hello!”

joel has seemingly forgotten how to form any coherent words, because all he can do is stare as scar starts to ramble about wanting to give joel something that he must have forgotten at home because he can’t seem to find it on him-

“are you-“ joel says suddenly, surprising both scar and himself. his voice is embarrassingly rough, which- okay, he didn’t actually cry or anything, why does he sound so bad? “is- I don’t know how to. say it.” he huffs in exasperation. “is this about last life?”

“I-“ something akin to fear flickers across scar’s face, and joel immediately regrets bringing it up until scar says, “it’s not.. not about last life.”

for a moment, neither of them say anything—the silence so loud, joel feels like he’s about to lose his mind. then, simultaneously-

“I shouldn’t-“

“you weren’t-“

scar looks like he’s about to cry, and joel wants to hug him but has no idea how he would even try- or if scar would even want that. “you- you can go first.”

“I- i’m sorry. for being so pissy to you after- after I turned red, I mean-“ joel throws his hands out in exasperation. “I was red- those were the rules! you couldn’t team with me, and I just- I took it harder than I should have, and then I took it out on you. and you didn’t- you don’t deserve that.” joel’s voice breaks embarrassingly at the end of that, and he clears his throat. 

“oh.” scar has tears in his eyes, and his voice wavers and- fuck, did joel say something wrong? but then the smallest of smiles ghosts across his lips. “I thought- I was gonna apologise for kicking you out for no reason. I thought you were gonna be mad at me.”

joel gives a huff of a laugh, slightly incredulous. “wh- I thought you were mad at me, I didn’t- why would I be mad at you?”

“‘cause- well, it’s a little hypocritical of me, right? me and grian in third life were breaking the rules, and then I didn’t break them for you.” scar’s ear twitches. “are you honestly not mad?”

“I mean- I was.” joel admits. “but not- I wasn’t mad at you, though. I thought- y’know, was it me?” he tries to keep his voice steady, but it wavers against his will, and he glances away from scar’s gaze. “i’d- in third life, I didn’t have a team. and then I teamed with you, and in a week, I was alone again. i just,” he shrugs in an attempt at nonchalance as he looks back at scar. “but then I had boat boys, and then the bad boys, and then the mounders, and- I wasn’t mad anymore.” 

scar’s smile turns a little sad. “I.. i’m not exactly a stranger to that feeling. so- i’m sorry I contributed-“

“oh, no- jimmy did this too, you don’t get to apologise for my problems.” joel slaps a hand over scar’s mouth, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “and, on that topic, i’m sorry if I made you feel like that in secret life- no, i’m allowed to say that because I actually did fuck up.” joel says as scar starts to protest. he moves his hand away for fear of being licked. “you always belong with us, you know that right?”

“I- joel, if you make me cry, i’m gonna be so mad.” scar laughs, already crying as he pulls joel in for a hug. joel freezes in surprise for a moment, but before scar can start to pull away, he hugs scar back. “thank you.” scar mumbles into joel’s hair.

“I mean it.” joel says, muffled against scar’s shoulder. “if you ever start feeling like you’re alone on this mountain, my door is always open. it- pretty literally, actually, it’s built so the door is open.”

scar snorts. “you’re ruining the sappy moment.” he tells him, hugging him tighter. “you can’t be vulnerable for one second, can you?”

“wh- okay, i’m working on it.” joel scoffs, and scar cackles. “I only see you guys in death games, give me a break.”

“I forgive you.” scar says, voice soft all of a sudden, and joel smiles to himself. “i’m happy you’re here. i’ve missed you.”

[faetreides]

summary: situationship!rafe cameron x afab nerd!reader

cw: angst undertones w/ a hopeful ending, black cat!coded reader x whatever rafe would be, suggestive action in the shower & mentions of off screen nsfw (cum and thigh fucking but the latter is a bit more graphic lol) , class differences, rafe is pathetic and weird, implied drug use, rafe beats a man but you can decide if he killed him, reader has implied mental health issues and low self esteem, ambiguous feelings on rafe’s part (he said ily but he could be lying), dark content themes, rafe calls reader kitty in both a mean way and a pet name way, if the thing with reader’s first crush sounds too real that’s cause it is 🤫, started my period while i was formatting this (i just thought y’all should know)

wc: 1.9k+

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

consider commissioning me 🫀

“Hey, babe, would you be a good kitty and let me in?” Is what you’re greeted with when you swing open your screen door. Rafe Cameron looks pleased as punch, all things considered, soaking wet due to the pouring rain and no doubt high as a kite.

The slurred speech doesn’t alarm you as much as the river of blood flowing from his mouth.

“Jesus Christ, Rafe, what the fuck?” You try to sound harsh but the fuck is noticably softer than your other words and Rafe smiles, more blood drips down his chin.

You look over his shoulder to see his bike on its side in the dirt, it’s raining and you just know he’ll be pissed to see the mus clinging to it tomorrow. But for right now, you have an injured situationship to patch up.

He stumbles as you struggle to yank him aside, and he sways but collapses on your couch. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to lose your shit immediately. The audacity of this man to waltz in on you barely alive and expect some twisted kind of comfort, after everything.

“I was studying you know, textbooks are expensive so don’t start getting your blood on them.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, I know.”

Rafe grunts but keeps his body away from your books. That’s the least he can do, the bare minimum. You sigh and walk over him, kneeling in front of the couch. His eyes are dazed and unfocused as you brush the hair away from his forehead, but his fingers twitch.

“Why did you come here, Rafe? To me?” You whisper, tired and unamused.

You’re startled by his harsh cough, his fingers twitch in your direction again, “ ‘Was nowhere else, wanted you.”

Isn’t that good enough?

You blink dumbly at that, but you have no answer for his crazed ramblings so you slap your knees and make your way to the bathroom. You procure a wet washcloth and some measly bandages, he would just have to deal with it. Rafe’s eyes drag towards you when you kneel back in front of him and bring the cloth to his mouth.

You avoid his stare as you sop up the copious amounts of blood, praying that this wouldn’t need a visit to the hospital. In some ways, you’ve seen too much blood since Rafe Cameron decided to make a mockery of your existence. The gaggle of rich girls he used to have on each arm disappeared but he excused it by detailing his plans to lead you on in front of his friends, checking to see if you were in ear shot.

There’s nothing you did, in your mind. You stuck to yourself and somehow invited the attention of some psycho. That’s the hardest part of the situation, you can’t pinpoint a true beginning. You can only remember being in this murky middle, devoid of an ending. Rafe does have a pretty face though, unfortunately, the water from cloth making his skin glisten. You’ll throw the rag out after this, there’s no point trying to get the stain of blood out of anything.

Eventually, you’re done with the first part and have an excuse to turn away from him. You get back on your feet to reach for the bandages but a groan coming from behind stops you. You turn around and freeze when Rafe buries his nose into your lower stomach, barely brushing the top of your mound over your pajama shorts. He hisses through his teeth in pain as he pushes your shirt up with his bloodied knuckles.

“Rafe Cameron, what the hell are you-“

“ ‘Smells good as fuck, love you.”

You refuse to admit that you love him too, you can’t give him that. Okay, now shit’s really getting out of hand. He dips his head to get closer to your pussy but the second you see the tip of his tongue touch your shorts, you direct his face back to your stomach. You’ve never gone further than ‘will they-won’t they’ type touches with Rafe, but you just can’t give in no matter how much you lie awake at night thinking about it.

“All this is because of you, you know that? You fucked me up and made pummel the crap outta that guy.” The vibrations his clumsy words send through you gives you a serious case of the shivers, so you distract yourself by running your fingers through his matted hair. Because of course there’s blood on his head too. You’d usually chalk what he’s saying up to drugs and insanity, but with Rafe you just never know.

“What?”

“He said maybe I should lay off you so he could have a piece instead, and I just…. lost it. Why should some chump get a part of what’s all mine?” He says with a startling amount of clarity, voice flat and low.

You don’t designate him with a response, and truth be told he doesn’t want you too. You stretch for what in actuality is a $3 dollar package of hello kitty bandaids and rip the white coverings off a few of them. He makes god awful sounds as you apply them to his mouth, head, and hands. The mess in his hair probably isn't his but your conscience won't let you leave it alone. Something foreign to your head and your heart won’t let you leave him alone.

You decide to put the knife in your back all on your own and look up into his eyes. They’re too half lidded to get a clear reading on them but you’re afraid to rely on the emotions underneath the surface. You used to be scared that he couldn’t feel anything. Now, the idea of Rafe Cameron believing he’s in love is far more terrifying.

He’s a bit ridiculous with My Melody, Kuromi, and Keroppi all over himself, you can’t help the small smile that comes over you. You quickly flatten it before he can get too pleased with himself but the fingers curled against your tummy spasm as they spread out to caress your skin. Rafe has an unreadable look on his face as he smears blood over your womb, but you think if you step away he’ll lunge at you.

“I can help you wash the blood off in the shower.” Saying that is in no way a promise of commitment or change, but it might be the closest you ever get.

You’re used to scraps, scraps are fine.

And well, for much you pride yourself on being perfectly fine being alone, it’s achingly human to crave being loved more than anything else. You wander aimlessly because you won’t go where you’re not wanted, and for the longest you’ve been wanted nowhere. But here you are, obsessed over by someone who everyone wants.

Maybe you’re sick of trying to make all the right decisions if this is where it gets you, cold and alone. Is it so bad to not care anymore? It couldn’t be worse than when your first crush told you he loved you and then had a baby with your bully, you reason. Or when he dated one of your friends and she would “joke” about marrying you when you were alone.

The short trip to the shower is awkwardly silent, you have to lead Rafe and make sure he doesn’t trip. You stare more than any Twilight character as you help each other strip. You try to avoid the bruises on Rafe’s torso, but he chuckles about how “You should see the other guy, kitty.”

So you don’t back away when he slows the trajectory of your calloused hands and drags them up his body. Your nails are bitten unevenly, some leave scratches on his abs and some don’t. It’s exhilarating to see Rafe Caneron’s thread come undone, to watch as he tilts his head back and sighs. You rest your hands on his pecs and kiss the hollow of his throat before you can stop yourself.

You won’t mention the squeak he tries to stifle with the back of his balled up fist.

You step away from him to be vulnerable in return, his satisfaction is much more evident this time around. He rips your camisole in two and unhooks your bra too well, clearly having had practice. He cups your breasts in his hands with tenderness that you’d think is out of character for him. Rafe doesn’t even honk them in the dude bro way that you’d always assumed he would. No, he… massages the flesh in his palms between slow squeezes.

“Don’t see why you’re so insecure about these, I like them just fine.” He huffs, bending down to motorboat you before pulling you in the shower through his grunts of pain and exertion.

You notice that he doesn’t steal a glance at your pussy, almost like he’s scared of seeing it bare and puffy… and wet.

You like to feel like a boiling lobster in the shower, so you turn the dial the same direction as always. You’re worried that Rafe will hate the sting but when the water hits, he moans with an open mouth, eyes shut tight. Before your next breath, you’re pushed against the wall and now the blood’s in your mouth as you're taken into a french kiss right out the gate.

You go with it against your better judgment, until Rafe pulls away to pant against your collarbone. His next kiss is softer, shy like it’s an unknown thing to the two of you. His lips glide and mesh with yours as the water trails down in between your slick bodies. You feel like you’re going to pass out but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

You open your eyes to see the water at the base of the shower run red, and you lose yourself in the swirling motion until the pop of your honey scented shampoo bottle lid snaps you out of it.

“Turn around kitty, ‘said I'd help you scrub down.”

He’d be embarrassed if you said it, but it’s obvious he’s never done this before. He’s like a bull in a china shop gathering you up in a loose bundle and sloppily spreading the soap throughout it. You stay silent, preferring to bask in the absurdity of it all.

Washing Rafe’s hair takes less time, but like he did when you were cleaning him up earlier, he chooses to stare at you the entire time. You scratch his head to really work the shampoo in there and get the dried blood out, he latches onto your wrists and lets his eyes drift shut. He makes it inconvenient to help him when he kisses your jawline, but you allow it.

“Thanks, you’re pretty good with your hands.” Rafe whispers with a wry grin, pecking your mouth and dropping to his knees. Your pomegranate body wash in his uninjured hand. The amount he squirts onto the dollar store loofah on his other hand is a touch too generous.

You have to replace the hello kitty bandaids when the originals fall off after Rafe steps out of the shower minutes later, he insists on it. You make him lean against the bathroom counter and watch as you take a second shower to clean out the cum, he wears a petulant frown the whole time.

You’re bent over that same counter when you’re back in his orbit, teary eyes wide as he fucks your plush thighs.

The rain turns into a thunderstorm outside.

[dre6ming]

how would austin propose to reader?

Be mine forever?

He’s been dreaming of this moment for so long and every time he saw himself doing something so over the top and special for Y/n, but then he’d take a step back and remember who he was actually dating

Austin’s had the ring for a while now and he carries it with him, just in case one moment feels just perfect

He tries not to think too hard about the time he almost lost the ring, when he forgot his jacket at a restaurant, right after he really felt like that was it, but then the food came and you started to gossip and talk and he forgot

Secretly you’ve known about the ring for just as long as he’s had it, you found it doing laundry, he had forgotten it in he pocket of his jeans and you felt the box right before you threw them in the wash.

At one point you get impatient, Austin gets impatient, his family (who gave him his moms ring) gets impatient, but he just can’t make up his mind

Until…..

One day you step into the apartment, expecting to see Austin greet you excitedly, but instead being met with silence.

Walking further you see a trail of petals leading from the main entrance to your bedroom and your heart rate picks up as you follow it.

The door is slightly cracked and you push it further, revealing the room to you.

The smell is what hits you first, fresh flowers, so many fresh flowers, flowers of all colors, pink, red, white, you name it.

You look around and you see pictures of you and Austin hanging from the ceiling, tears start to gather in your eyes as you remember all the beautiful moments

You hear footsteps and then turn around to see Austin, dressed in white and blue striped pajamas pants, chest naked and hair disheveled, he looks Devine

“Nine hundred ninety nine flowers, nine hundred ninety nine pictures, I thought we could make it a thousand?” He says giving you a pink peony to hold.

The ring is tied around it with pink ribbon and your hands shake.

“Be my wife, be my forever? I’ve been thinking of the best way to ask, but I should have just done the thing I knew you’d love the most, just us two, you and me.” His voice sounds like hot honey and you almost melt to the ground

“Yes!” You say breathless and he hugs you, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. Placing both your feet back on the ground Austin’s shaky hands take the ring off of the flower and his delicate fingers hold your left hand up, sliding the ring on.

“A perfect fit!” You whisper absently and he chuckles. “I put it on your finger once when you were sleeping, got it resized after” you laugh at his efforts and thank whatever higher force brought such a man in your life. “I love you!” You say, kissing his nose while he’s preoccupied to look at the ring on your hand, still not believing he actually did it, he finally asked you.

“Now for the one thousand picture.” Austin says, shaking his head like waking up from a dream. You furrow your brows confused as he drags you over to the bed, telling you to sit on it. “I got the camera set up, filmed everything too!” He admits, showing you the small remote used to operate the device.

He sits on the bed with you and smiles, then he hits the button on the remote and you hear the timer of the camera going. Austin takes your left hand in both of his hands and he places a kiss on you knuckles. “ I love you forever!”

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[matryosika]

The Look

Pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader Wordcount: 2,159 words Genre: Smut (18+) Includes: Ex!hyunjin, mentions of break up and indications of an unhealthy relationship (nothing too detailed or specific). Possesiveness, a bit of angst if you squint. Infidelity? But not really? It's nothing too serious, anyway. Smut warnings under the cut. Author's Note: Wrote this TODAY. Everybody say congratulations on overcoming your writer's block Femme! It honestly has been a fucking while since I wrote anything, so this is news to me really. To be really honest I didn't want to get anywhere with this, I just felt like indulging myself with the "we shouldn't be doing this" kind of trope, so this is what it came out! Please remember that english is not my first language and this is not proofread, so I apologize for any mistakes in advance. If you like this, please leave a comment/reblog/ask and let me know what you think! AND if you wish to support my work further, you can buy me a ko-fi! The link it's in my pinned post. I love you for even reading me.

Smut warnings: Sex in a public place (club's restroom). Unprotected vaginal sex mentions of a condom but they ended up not using it anyways. Lots of dirty talking and physical touch. No kissing at all because they're exes and they don't go around kissing each other, apparently (but they do fuck so... ?). Jealous and possesive Hyunjin. Creampie. Multiple orgasms, overstimulation, use of petnames (baby and pretty). Hyunjin is kind of controlling, not in a dom kind of way but in a "I know you better than you know yourself" kind of way.

“He can’t make you feel like I do, can he?”

It's hard to think coherently and give him a proper answer when his cock is hitting the deepest spots within you. Repeatedly.

Not only that, but he's holding your hips in the angle he knows best. 

Hyunjin is right, no one can make you feel like he does. In every sense of the sentence. 

“He doesn’t know how to fuck you like this, right?” The queries continue, plump lips dragging along your jaw and chin with no other purpose than to feel your skin. Despite you two ending things, seemingly for good, you somehow always found yourself in the same situation: against him, or on top of him, or underneath him. “I know you don’t let him”. 

You're reminded of whatever he is talking about when you feel the rubber of the condom inside your hand, gripping it just as harshly as your walls clench around Hyunjin's dick.

He is right again, you don’t let your new conquer fuck you raw like he is doing right now. Shit, you haven't even let him fuck you at all.

That is not something your ex boyfriend should know about. 

“Baby,” the pet name slips off your lips and it sends shivers down Hyunjin's spine. It has been a while since he has heard you calling him that, but it still has the exact same effect.

Perhaps it's now boosted, considering neither of you should be fucking each other at this point. At least not now, that you've started dating men again. 

Nothing too serious, but you've tried to convince everyone that you're already over your ex boyfriend. And if by over you mean completely obsessed and desperate for the way only he knows how to fuck you, then yes: you are over him.

“Feels good?” Hyunjin asks through gritted teeth, pressing his forehead against yours. You can feel tears of his sweat mixing with yours, his fresh and minty breath fanning your cheeks and eyelashes. You nod desperately, swallowing thickly in hopes of being able to articulate a single, monosyllabic word. Yet the way he feels inside your pussy is too overwhelming to even let you form a coherent response. “Do you really think he could fuck you hard like this? Make you this wet?”

He could, but you're never going to know anyway. 

“That’s why you keep crawling back to me,” he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut when he feels your walls convulsing around him, “that's why you keep letting me fuck you”. 

It was for the best, you repeat yourself every time he thrusts his cock deeper inside you. It was for the best, but that doesn't necessarily mean it was what you wanted.

Ending things off with Hyunjin seemed like the only way to go —you two just didn't work out, no matter how hard each one of you tried. 

You loved each other, but it was kind of a sick love, a poisonous one. One would think they'll be able to live through it, but it eventually consumes you.

It ignites a fire that can never be put down. And living amongst flames it's not exactly what either of you were looking for. 

“Right there,” you cry out, the pathetic sounds being drowned by the music and party bustle happening outside the club's restroom where your date is patiently waiting for you.

Does he know Hyunjin is fucking you just meters away from him? Does he know you're going back home with a sore pussy and cum trailing down your legs?

Hyunjin’s cock twitches at the idea of him finding out you’re being dicked down by none other than your ex. 

The one you claim to be over with. 

The one whose memory, you assured, wasn't a threat to a new relationship.

“Yeah, right here?” Damned be him, who knows you maybe too well. You suppress a scream when his palm digs into the flesh of your lower tummy, pressing down hard where the tip of his cock is brushing the deepest spots within you, “can you feel me here? Can you feel how hard my dick is?”

You moan in response. 

You can feel him there, and everywhere. You can feel his slim fingers pressed against the flesh of your hips. You can feel the tip of his nose buried on your neck, and his lips leaving a wet trail everywhere they go. You can feel his pulse, his heavy breathing.

The despair of being without fucking you for so long.

“That’s it,” Hyunjin groans when he feels you grinding your hips against his, lifting them up ever so slightly over the restroom sink. When you start forcing yourself against him, to do anything to feel him closer, he knows you're close to cumming. “That’s it, pretty, come and get what you want from me like you always do”. 

You have no other choice but to arch your back, the overwhelming pleasure taking control not only of your limbs but your whole body. You wrap your arms around Hyunjin's neck and your legs around his hips  tightly, pulling him as close as humanly possible.

“Just like that,” he praises you, licking his lips when his eyes fall to where your bodies connect. 

Hyunjin feels like he could come with that sight alone, but he needs to elongate it. What if you go back home with the man you're supposed to be on a date with, and decide that you want something serious with him? What if it's the last time he ever gets to fuck you? 

Hyunjin can't just come like that. He can't come without engraving the way your body feels inside his brain.

He can't come without letting his mouth speak freely what his pride doesn't allow him to say on a regular day.

Hyunjin can't come just yet. He needs you a bit more. A little bit longer.

“C-coming,” you sob against his neck, feeling him holding you tightly when your body trembles almost aggressively, “don’t stop, Hyunjin. D-don’t fucking stop”.

Not that he intended to.

Instead, he pushes his hips harder. Deeper. His hands move from your hips to your ass, and he uses his grip as leverage to piston even rougher inside you. 

So much so, you wince in pain. You don't want him to stop, but you can feel the built up tension exploding little by little. 

Like fireworks, one after the other.

“See?” Hyunjin groans, taking it upon him to help you ride your high. He doesn't slow down, despite how your nails are digging into his hair and the flesh of his nape. “We've broken up but your body still remembers me. You’re still so weak for me”. 

You hate how right he is, but you can't argue back. 

After going without each other for so long, almost 4 months, you didn't expect your body to react like this to his touch.

But it appears as if it has a mind of its own, one to which you have no access to. 

“No,” you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. The waves of pleasure travel from your core to the tip of your toes, and from your erect nipples to the thin hairs on your arms. You’re covered in goosebumps and can barely even remember any other name that’s not Hyunjin’s. “I’m not- I’m just-”.

It’s pointless to try and say something back. You're making a fool of yourself and you know it, but it seems as if your dignity always appears right at the epitome of the post-nut clarity. 

With Hyunjin's dick still inside you, you know such clarity is not going to last long, but you're going to hold on to it for as good as it lasts. 

“You’re just what?” He taunts you, guiding one of your hands from your arse to your face. He takes your cheeks and cups them, forcing your lips into a pathetic pout. “Desperate for me? For my touch?”

You try to shake your head as a way of saying no because your mouth can only do so much, but Hyunjin keeps you in place.

“No?” He asks you, frustration lingering on his tone. “Wasn’t this what you wanted all night long?”

4 months ago, things seemingly followed the natural course of them.

After much fucking and bickering, even after having broken up, you two parted ways —Hyunjin immersed himself in his profession, and you did the same. The late night calls weren't taken as frequently, and the drunken messages stopped receiving any sort of response.

It seemed as if you were already over each other —not only over the relationship, but those strange encounters you kept on having too. 

That was, of course, way long before tonight's affair. 

“No,” you whine yet again, trying to convince yourself that all that is happening wasn’t provoked and invited by you. “I was just- with my date”. 

“And where is that date of yours right now, pretty?” His voice is trembling, but Hyunjin still manages to keep his composure. 

He has always been the one to have the last word in everything, that much you know. And how could he not, when his voice stands strong even at moments like this, when his mind is completely losing control.

“You don’t even know, right?” 

He teases you, mouth slightly agape while a series of grunts and gasps escape his lips.

Sadly, he is getting closer.

“You don’t even know where he is because you stopped caring about him the minute you saw me, right?” The cockiness in his voice is a painful reminder that you're not as strong-willed as you think you are. Not only that, but it also reminds you of how true Hyunjin is. “You’re so easy to read, so f-fucking easy”. 

You clench around him when you hear how he struggles to keep on talking. The way he runs out of breath, and each groan that follows every word is getting you going way more than it should. 

“That gaze of yours-” Hyunjin continues, nibbling at his plump bottom lip while his cat-like eyes find yours in the middle of the neon lights, “always tells me exactly what you want”. 

The look. The sight that will be forever imprinted in Hyunjin’s mind for good.

That look you used to give him when you were on your knees, with your hands wrapped around his length and the tip of his cock hitting the deepest part in your throat. 

That look you always gave him when the tip of his dick slid for the first time that night inside of you, along with that sigh of relief that escaped your lips every time it happened.

The look. 

When you saw him standing right across from you at the club, Hyunjin could decipher your gaze easily. 

After all, he is the one who knows you the most. 

“And I know this is what you want, right?” He asks you, increasing the speed of his thrusts. They get rougher as they get sloppier, completely losing the steady and sensual rhythm he set at first. 

You press your lips in a thin line, shutting your eyes close right after they threaten to start spilling tears from them. 

Hyunjin is always too much to take, and you're not sure if you love it or hate it. 

“I know you miss me just as much as I do,” Hyunjin gasps, salty drops of sweat traveling from his temples to your chest and tummy. “You can try to get over me, but I know you won't,” each word is accompanied by a harsh thrusts of his hips. 

It feels like a threat, but it's a fact.

“You don’t want to get over me, you just want to pretend,” he's fully aware of how loud he is being. How whiny his words are coming off, how desperate he sounds overall. But he can’t help himself, not when he is so close to tasting that sweet relief he has been craving for months now. “You can fuck- every man you want-, but it is always going to be me who you think about when you're coming around their cocks”. 

With that, he lets out a raspier, more primal grunt. One that’s explosive enough to stop him right on his tracks, breathing heavily while his head hangs low. 

You can feel his dick twitching inside of you, just right after you came around him for the third time tonight. 

Unexpected, without a warning. 

Your orgasm washed over you just as quickly as Hyunjin's did. With a dry throat and strangled breath you look at each other, feeling his hot arousal pumping inside you, painting your walls white. 

One would think that there's nothing left to say. Not when you're in this state of frenzy, completely unaware of your surroundings. 

But, as usual, Hyunjin has to have the last word.

“That is, if they can get you to come at all”. 

[byhees]

the intimacy of hands.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 1000 genre fluff established relationship warnings not proof-read kissing skinship petnames — more

a/n. revamped version ><

hold | heeseung

would get a teeny bit pouty when you wind up getting distracted from a conversation, eyes fixated on another object by the background; “hey, look at me too, babe”, he’d start, and when that served fruitless, he’d raise his hands to gently cup your cheeks, fingers softly brushing against your skin. “as i was saying,” a little pout, “how do you like my hair?”; and you’d just gawk at him, needing a quick second to recollect yourself from the momentary fluster.

intertwine | jongseong

finds every excuse in the book to intertwine hands with you; can’t blame though— he simply adores the warmth and softness of it all; would suggest such out of pocket, and completely random things just to give himself the right opportunities to interlock fingers with you; for instance, when baking, he’d suddenly say, “how about we mix the batter together?”, leaving you in a confused state; without much explanation, he’d wrap his fingers around your free-hand, swinging your intertwined hands in the empty space. “there! and if you get tired, i’ll transfer some energy over to you!” that’s not exactly how it works, but you’ll let it slide.

win | jaeyun

him being your number one supporter; always present for significant moments in your life, like your graduation, or maybe a win in a competition; you could just scan the rows of attendees, and you’d spot his twinkling eyes, as well as his handmade banner spelling out your name in bold, cute stickers of balloons and animals pasted all over the empty space; would also be there for the smaller moments, such as your first successful batch of cookies, or your first time solving those ‘only 0.000001% of people can get this right!’ kind of quizzes; whenever you walk up to him, regardless of whether you’re holding a medal or your phone, he’d lovingly wish you congratulations, snaking a hand and resting it on the small of your back to pull you close, and pepper your face with celebratory kisses.

lay | sunghoon

would go stargazing together with him; laying a gingham picnic-mat in the midst of a grassy field located at a nearby park, and gazing at the pretty skies above; him actually being pretty good at pointing out constellations, often times filling you in on the identity of said patterns. you, on the other hand, simply enjoyed being in his company, making out random images from the stars; “that one looks like a pineapple, no?” he’d giggle softly at your revelation, replying with a soft “not quite, but whatever you say, angel”; would often outstretch his hand, resting it on your own and tracing little constellations on your palm.

squeeze | seonwoo

is always there to help you out, especially during stressful moments; making sure that you’re all prepped and ready for a big presentation; going through your lines with you, and giving little feedbacks afterwards; on the big day, he’d wrap his hand around your clammy ones to offer affirming squeezes. “hey, hey! don’t panic, love… just remember what you recited to me last night, and you’ll be fine. trust me”, cherry on top is that he’d give you a peck before you’d leave.

hug | jungwon

is honestly so, so clingy when it comes to you; you’d be minding your own business, say washing the dishes, when a pair of arms would suddenly wrap around your waist, embracing you in a back-hug; he’d rest his chin on your shoulder, hands resting on the dip of your hip. “you were gone from bed for too, too long… i miss you already”, and here you’d be, trying to roll up the sleeves of his shirt to prevent dish soap from staining them; “it’s okay, babe.. can we just stay like this for another minute?” he’d bury his face in the crook of your neck, fingers lightly fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

wipe | riki

the type to notice even the most minute of things; say, a tiny, almost minuscule, streak of frosting on the corner of your lips— that he’d notice as well; would lean forward, extending a hand to wipe off the little bit of icing on your face, unintentionally putting a stop to your train of thoughts; “this bakery makes such tasty cakes! we shou—“ and he’d casually lean back in his seat afterwards, propping his elbow on the table, and resting his chin in the dip of his palm. “you were saying, love?”, but you’d be so flustered with all these butterflies soaring around your stomach, that you’d just pause for a moment, a light pink hue dusting your cheeks.

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

[moonlesslights]

Red thoughts (Sanemi x f!Reader)

Summary: After being kept apart from the Wind Hashira by your master, a mission suddenly brings the two of you together into a heartwarming path with dangerous twists in between that end up putting a bulge in Sanemi’s pants.

Warnings: Smut with plot. This is somewhat long but i’m really in love with this man so I also needed some fluff here. Minor character death and choking kink.

(If there’s something more you consider should be in Warnings, please let me know!)

A/N: I hope you enjoy this, because I truly enjoyed writing it. A lot of fun, love and smut with a happy ending, so don’t worry. Love y’all!

...

“So you’re the little flame.” The Wind Hashira grins at you, mockery dancing on his eyes. 

His white hair stands out against his pale skin full of scars that cross his face from side to side. A tug on one of the corners of your lips occurs when you are now able to observe that classic extravagance in each of the Hashira.

“Is a pleasure to finally meet you, sir.” You bow, slowly, and his smile disappears at the sight, drawing you to your full height again with the doubt that you've done something wrong.

You frown at his irritated gaze, glancing quickly at your own clothes for anything that didn't look entirely presentable. But you just can’t find a single stained o wrikled spot on your kimono, and the anger on his face is starting to freak you out. Was this what Kyojuro meant with his warnings about this man all this time?

"Has anyone told you how weird it is to introduce yourself to someone after spending a week in the same place as that person?" His voice now carries a hint of bitterness and irony that makes your stomach sink. "I've seen you loitering around the compound for six days and I think I'm the only Hashira who doesn't know your name."

Your eyes widen in surprise before you can do anything about it. He had seen you? For six days? Your mouth opens only to close again without having managed to bring a single word of excuse to the tip of your tongue. Gods, how disrespectful has it been to have overlooked him all this time? Now you have to feel your face heat up at the thought: How much have I ignored his presence that I've only seen him for two days?

His large eyes continue to examine you, piercing through every layer of courage it took you to even appear in his domain. Your heart is already beating faster than you would like, and each blow to the chest makes you lose more and more composure in the face of his insistent, too insistent gaze.

But it's not your fault! It's not fair that any opportunity to have a healthy friendship relationship with him slipped away before you could even notice because of someone else, because of...

 “I was looking foward to talk to you for some days now” You rush to say, narrowing your eyes in his direction. You're not going to let the first thing the imposing man knows about you is the fear his presence seemed to exude for everyone else. “But Master Rengoku… Mhm…!” Are you going to say it?, was it right? Your lips snap shut, gods, how were you going to explain that now?

"Oh." There is no need, you realize. No more words are necessary for the Hashira in front of you to understand your reasons at once.

However, you are not sure if that knowledge makes you happy.

You shift one foot after the other, playing with your balance as you remember how many times you asked to meet Master Shinazugawa and how many times Kyojuro talked you out of it. It were his words as your superior that you respected enough to carry out his wishes...

At least until Oyakata-sama himself called for you to ask you to join the Wind Hashira on a hunting adventure that had come his way.

"I'm sorry!" You exclaim at the top of your lungs, bowing.

Sanemi frowns even deeper, but this time with confusion. His voice is next to appear:

"What are you doing?! Stop you idiot!" A weary sigh calms you enough to look back at his face. You shrug, a soft smile painted on your lips. "Whatever. Wait for me here, we'll be gone in a moment."

Your enthusiastic nod only elicits another groan from him. His figure turns around and disappears into his residence, giving you the opportunity to observe the large trees and the huge garden that surrounds the wooden house.

It looks like a quiet, comfortable home. Definitely much quiet than the place you shared with Kyojuro as his tsuguko, and with three guys a little too hyperactive.

Your eyes roam the neatly arranged room, the fine armchairs and china arrangements on fully stocked bookcases. You can't help but smile at how long such order would last in your own residence with your 4 favorite walking disasters present.

"But why can't I go too?"

"I don’t need you."

"If it's an easy one they shouldn't send a Hashira..."

"Who said it was an easy one?!"

Your attention flows into the structure, watching two tall figures walk towards you.

Sanemi is wearing his classic outfit now, instead of the training uniform, and the boy next to him, Genya, his brother, frowns at the shout the Hashira just let out.

"Idiot..." The younger of the two murmurs under a sigh, but continuing on his way next to the white-haired one.

"I don't think it will take too long." Sanemi replies, giving him a death glare. "Take care of the place while I'm gone."

"As if I ever hadn't." Genya murmurs, arms crossed.

A simple smile is drawn on your lips at the scene, attracting the dark-haired boy's gaze faster than you would have liked.

His eyes widen in surprise and his mouth falls in reflex as he turns to his brother with raised eyebrows.

"And what are you lookin at now?" Sanemi spits out, almost baring his fangs.

Genya gently shakes his head, widening his eyes even further: "Isn't she who...?"

The Hashira's huge hand shoots at his brother's head, holding it in a threatening movement for several seconds until he finishes whispering something into his ear.

A threat that, more than scaring the minor, encourages him to let out a mocking laugh and to say goodbye to both of you with a huge smile that seems to warm up the top of the ears of your companion.

...

Traveling to the northern village began as a journey nothing if not heavy.

Sanemi was not someone who was easy to strike up a conversation with, and you had to realize that sooner than later.

Monosyllables. That's the only thing you can expect for an answer. A "yes", a "no", a shrug of the shoulders or an irritated sigh; and, if the Hashira is feeling generous, maybe he'll give you an "Enough already"

Was that he was still angry about the incident with Rengoku?, or is it his nature that prevents him from trying to be the least bit nice?

Whatever the case was, it is gettin in your nerves. And maybe that’s why you get along so well with the guys and Kyojuro: they just never shut up. And neither do you. So how is this supposed to work now?

“How about we play a game?” You try now, giving him the most unstable smile he could have seen in a while.

His eyes travel to yours, slowly. He tilts his head with an almost imperceptible movement and your smile is now threatening to split your face in two.

“Mhm.” Sanemi shrugs and turns to the road again.

Your blood boils in your veins. You’re not going to be able to stand the next two and half hours of travel this way. Agh!

“Just answer me, would you?!” You snap, abruptly stopping. “I’m sorry about what happened with Master Rengoku, but I'm here now and I’m trying to make it up for both of us!, I wanted to talk to you too, I actually wanted to see your training, I WAS JUST FOLLOWING ORDERS, ASSHOLE!”

The silence after your scream cuts the air. The crow above your heads squawks between the discomfort as you feel your teeth pressed together. The wind caresses your skin, cold, and you swear this is how he would feel.

“I see something… yellow.”

It takes you a moment to restart your brain cells. One blink, two blinks. He’s standing right in front of you, not even looking in your direction; one hand on the Katana’ handle and his breath as calm as you have ever heard.

… Is he trying to play?

Your mouth feels dry. Your heart in the throat still. Of course.

“That yellow flag…”

“No.” He answers.

Both of you continue walking in silence, soft steps directed to that still far destiny.

“The curtains of that house.”

“No.”

“The dress of that girl.”

“No.”

“Haven’t we passed it already?” You ask, looking back to see if something yellow made it out of your sight.

“No.”

The shoes, those doors, the ornaments, that house, the hair of that man…

“No.”

“Agh! I don’t know. Screw it, you’re impossible…” You groan, looking at him. “What is it?”

He then turns to you, grin on his face and bright eyes of someone who just won. Well, at least he looks more happy now, it doesn’t matter if…

“The sun”

This mother…

“The sun it’s not yellow!”

“Of course it is!”

“No! Look at it now, do you see it yellow?” He frowns, glancing at you like you were crazy.

“Of course I’m not looking at it, I’m not stupid.”

That’s debatable.

“The sun is not yellow, that game wasn’t fair.”

“Everyone draws it yellow.” He shrugs, ignoring the looks of other people on the two of you.

You clench your jaw. Does he feel like he won?, let’s show him how stupid he really is.

“My turn.” You rush, looking around you. “I see something… White.”

“The clouds.”

“No.”

“The wall.”

“No.”

“If this is some kind of joke…” He looks at you as you spread an innocent smile over your face. “That doll.”

You turn your head as you actually thought about it, but then: “No.”

Ten more objects passed over his lips movements, his patience running low with every response your gave him.

“Do you give up?” You ask, leaning in his direction.

“No. Shut up.”

Another ten objects and the town it’s left behind, making him grow angrier with every step. C'mon, everything in the woods was brown and green, what the hell would be your excuse for cheating now?

“Do you give up?” You ask again, confusing his thoughts.

“Screw you.” He sentences, avoiding your gaze.

You take that as a yes.

Your smile widens and he lets out a sight, irritated.

“That.” Your hand raises and points to his head. “Your hair.”

His face… priceless. His clenching fist… threatening. He feels the anger raise up to his system as his eyes fix on the white strand falling to his face, smacking reason into him.

Nah, that should have been cheating, it wasn’t allowed, was it?, choosing something of one of the players. It wasn’t fair because… because he didn’t even thought for a second his hair was the thing you were seeing. Fuck off…

He looks at you, frowning and with his canines showing; but in the moment you burst out laughing, his walls crumble.

The joy that emanates from your throat is… lovely. He had never got the chance to hear it before, always too far from you, always too distracted. Your eyes are almost close as your smile spreads across your face, and then…

“Don’t look at me like that, neither of us can beat the other!” You let go your body to his, dropping your head on his shoulder with a soft movement. Then he learned your first love language: touch.

And it was bad, it was too bad, because he loved the touch, he craved it, but most of the time he didn’t know how to ask for it. So when someone he finds lovely takes ahead, he just can’t help it: he doesn’t want to lose it.

His hands raise to your shoulders and brings back your body against him, brute. Chest to chest, skin caressing skin, and cold wind messing his stupid white hair.

His eyes are glued to the distance in front of him, refusing you the possibility to look at his face. And maybe it was okay, because you would have got scared at how uneasy he looked, what the hell is he doing?

His brows are strongly furrowed and his arms are shaking with the idea of the mistake he just made; but he doesn’t seem to be able to lose the grip on your body.

And he just hates it, he hates it until you let out a soft happy sigh and rub your nose against the skin on his collarbones, he hates it until you let your head rest on his shoulder and your arms climb to wrap around his neck.

“This is nice.” And he doesn’t hates it anymore. 'Cause you murmur with your lips touching his skin, easing the crawl of anxiety you got every time you went on a mission.

So he lets go, lowering his arm to your waist, applying comforting pressure to your body. His head drops to your shoulders and he swears the rhythm of his heart calms as your essence surrounds him.

Another squawk echoes from the sky and his hands tighten on the fabric of your kimono.

"You know that the Demon in that town could be a Kizuki, right?"

"Mmm... Mhm" You nod.

"Genya doesn't know anything, I didn't want to worry him... He's always been affected a bit more than the others." Sanemi sighs, his cold hands giving a pleasant chill to your skin. "I'm not your master and I don't give a shit about oaths... If things get ugly, you're out, do you understand me?"

"No, wait..."

Sanemi stands back up to his full height, his arms still around you and his face inches from yours; widened pupils that don't leave your eyes for a second.

"I don't want you to play hero, all you'll do is embarrass yourself. I want you to get out of there and bring Rengoku or Tengen with you, do you understand?"

You shake your head, looking down. This is not how it is suppose to work.

"That's an order."

"Genya would never forgive me. If I came back without you, I would never forgive me... Not if this is our first mission together."

The Hashira shakes his head in amusement.

"He will. You will. It's an occupational hazard."

Your eyes go up to his, how can you fit in so well with someone you've only just met?, how can you feel it under your skin?

"I don't need you to promise me that you will..." He whispers, his lips brushing your cheek now and his lashes caressing your temple. "I need you to obey."

Your heart pounds in your chest, throwing you off balance. You have no choice but to nod.

...

The village... The village was not in the form you expected to find it.

There were no bodies on the sidewalks and no blood running down the streets. No screams or terrified people. It didn't look at all like what Oyakata-sama had described as "a village subjugated by a demon".

The only thing that seems to warn of danger is the strange atmosphere in which everyone seems to move. Pink particles that float through the entire town and begin to blur your vision just 10 minutes after your arrival.

"What is this?" You whisper, reaching your hand out in front of you trying to catch a few between your fingers.

Sanemi shakes his head next to you, tapping your wrist to stop you from doing that.

"I have no idea, but I don't think it's the best to stick around too long to find out what happens if we keep breathing this shit." A man walks in front of you, smiling a little too friendly, lowering his eyes to your entire shape. "This thing keeps them calm and happy one way or another. We need to get to the Demon before this lowers our own defenses."

After a few comments, you both agree that the best way to find the responsible for all of that was following the path to the biggest concentration of pink particles. But with every step you keep taking to the big house on the edge of the town, your head feels more and more light and your feet start to move on their own.

You two need to finish this as quickly as possible or you won’t be able to fight right.

“Let me take the front, you enter from the back. Let’s take it by surprise and cut its head off once for all.”

Sanemi smirks at your plan, nodding.

“Whatever you say, little flame.” He agrees, taking his katana. “Just try not to die before I get there to save your ass, got it?”

You smile as you see his frame disappear when he turns to the next lane, white hair floating between the darkness. He’s going to do his part, you’re sure, and you need to do yours if you want to prove everyone and yourself that you deserved to be the next Fire Hashira.

The front door creeks at your intrusion, letting you observe with apprehensiveness the first hall on sight. Your steps appear to make too much noise and your ears keep warning you on every little noise you’re aware of.

Katana on hand, it is the only thing that makes you feel ready to whatever it’s coming. That said, your movements are clumsier at every minute that passes, and the amount of concentration of pink dust in that house was crazy. You could barely see two steps ahead of you.

“C’mon, c’mon..” You mutter, rushing your steps upstairs. “Where are y…?”

“Where is your lover?”

You stop every single movement of your muscles at the voice breathing on the back of your neck. A chill runs thought your spine. Shit, you couldn’t even sense her smell by now.

“I’m sure he was with you on your way here…” She continues, starting to walk into your sight.

“Do you mean that white haired guy?” You ask, raising your katana in front of you, furrowing your brows.

“Yes!” She exalts, smiling with bright fangs. “Where is he?, did he left you? Already?”

Her pretty face shrugs in confusion, looking at you like she was really concerned about your answer. She’s tall, a lot more than you, and her dark hair seems to float around her pink dress, giving her an strange aura you have never felt before… But that could be just the amount of pink particles you had inhaled by now.

“It was about the guy you kissed months ago?, Is he jealous?” Her bright eyes give her a childish, almost innocent appearance.

You step back. How did she managed to know about that?

“You kissed him too just a couple of days ago, isn’t?!” Your eyes fly open at her statement, felling like an idiot the moment your face starts to turn red. How could you be blushing in a moment like this? “But you don’t feel the same way… Is it because this new man?”

Her voice trembles and you force yourself to look at her eyes. You feel your chest let go at the realization: She wasn’t a Kizuki. But the way tears start to build up under her eyes tells you that her explosive personality could be the real problem.

“But then why did he leave you?! Didn’t he know you want him?”

“No…” You try to calm her. Your hand tightens on your weapon, getting nervous at how every rush of emotions lets out another wave of pinky particles. “He’s not my lover, he just had things to do.”

“N-No… But you two… I was sure…” Her knees buckle, looking at you with hidden pain in her features.

“It’s okay.” You coo. As pacific as her death could, the better.

“No… No, no!” Another pink wave hits you straight on the face. “You’re lying!, or you don’t- you don’t know how he… Where is he? Where is he?!”

“I’m here.”

Both pairs of eyes fly to the the back door of the room, widening with different emotions at the white haired figure brandishing a katana on its hands.

“Yes!, he came!” She looks at you with evident excitement and you need to hide the amusement at the confusion written on Sanemi’s face. “Now I can tell you how he feels, now you can know I wasn’t wrong!”

That seems to activate something in the Hashira. Sanemi clenches his jaw, tensing up.

“Fuck this.” He whispers, rushing towards the demon with a clean movement, seeking to cut off his head in one move.

However, the smile on the girls face only gets bigger and bigger. Jumping aside, the blade misses her neck for inches.

You get on action now, taking advantage of the distraction caused with Sanemi intervention to direct your katana to her feet, hitting below her knees with almost a perfect technique. Still, your legs feel weak at the sudden movement and your fantastic success is quickly overpowered by your face crashing on the floor.

Before the demon falls, her crawls aim to Sanemi, who just in time steps back and brandish his katana so the entire hand of the girl is cut off her body.

You had seen it before, a thousand times with Rengoku: the only thing that could make a Hashira spend more than three minutes with a demon is a number on its eyes. Anything else, they would tear it apart.

The demon in front of you… She wouldn’t stand a chance.

And she appears to knows it, too early, too easy.

Sanemi’s blade doesn’t stop for a second, it redirects to her neck, letting the flesh slide through the metal, dropping an amused head to the ground with a soft thud.

Her body stays still on the air, frozen in time, just a few centimeters above the wooden floor; still connected to the Demon emotions.

A prostitute, you realize.

She was a prostitute, a girl too innocent for that kind of job. A girl without family, without friends, just her and business. A girl who dreamed of another life, a beautiful life, with a house, a dog and a man who loved her above anything else. She spent her last minutes as human believing she would find true love with one of those men she had in her bed.

And on her last night, she did. She fell in love. But the beast there saw another kind of potential for her, another job. So she took his blood and never got tired of it.

He never loved me…

“Flame, step back!”

Between those sheets, I never found love…

“Master!”

“But you…” She raises her gaze, smiling so pure that your heart drops at the sight. “You are going to find it. It’s really here…”

Her body twitches on the air and her skin starts to break on even more pink cracks that threaten to split at any given moment.

“I’m so happy for you two… I’m happy now.”

“Get down!”

Sanemi’s voice is the last thing you hear before her whole body exploits into uncountable waves of red particles, washing over you with so much strength that your own body is thrown to the nearest wall.

“Master?” Your voice is barely a whisper and yet, your throat aches at the minimal effort.

Your lungs tighten every time you breathe and your legs feel weak, too weak. Moving out of the room can’t even be in your plans right now.

Everything you see is just red.

…

“You stupid idiot, where are you?”

It is Sanemi. His voice is what brings you back now, again. His steps seem to be still far from you, but you can tell he’s getting closer.

The red dust has almost disappeared by now, only a few particles remain floating around you and your hair. What a disaster…

“I’m still here, Master.” You answer, trying your best to get on your feet again.

“Yeah, no shit.” His mad voice echoes trough the walls before his tall frame appears crossing the back door once again, too. “Lucky you…”

“Lucky me?, I have no idea how much of that red shit I just inhaled…” You frow, raising your face to meet his a few feet from you. Yet, the one thing that catch your eye is the enormous hole on the room’s window. Oh… “Lucky me, I guess”

He huffs at your realization, taking a few steps ahead, watching for himself from how high he had fell. A new record, it seems.

“Are you hurt?” You ask, shaking off some more dust from your clothes. He doesn’t respond, still looking through the window. “What is this shit anyways?”

You start to walk closer to him, muttering some more questions under your breath. Nothing really important as you try to convince yourself that the Wind Hashira is tough enough to take that fall, that he would be okay, that Shinobu would make sure of that.

By the way, you need to send a crow as soon as possible so they can know about Sanemi’s state…

“Stop”

Eh?

The Hashira’s hand is raised up to your chest, indicating you for don’t keeping getting any closer to him.

“What?”

“Stop. Just fucking stop” His voice cracks at the last word, turning on all your alerts.

“Sanemi?, are you felling unwell? Does something hurt?” Your hand reaches out for his shoulder and you take it back almost immediately.

He was burning…

“Sanemi?, are you…?”

“Get away from me. Now.”

His voice is harsh and doesn’t leave space for questions. You had only heard him using it on another slayers, leaving them with wreaked knees and whole body trembles.

Still, seeing the way his eyes shut close, almost painfully, you just couldn’t seem to obey this order.

“Why?, what do you feel?” You coo, leaning closer to him.

His response comes with another tremble.

“I’m hot. I feel like I’m burning alive…”

Your heart sinks, drowning in impotence when you don’t find anything you can do immediately to take that pain away from him.

“It’s okay, I’ll send a letter to Shinobu right now, I’m sure she will know what to do.” You try, taking him from both shoulders.

“No. You go…” He shakes his head, getting your hands off of him. “I want you out of this room.”

“No, what are you talking about?, I’m not leaving you.” You reach for him again. “Come on now, can you walk?”

You raise his arm on your own, trying to lock it over your shoulders to help him move, but his head starts to shake in denial the moment you step closer, struggling with each other.

“No. No, it’s okay…”

“Let me help you…”

“No, leave me.”

“C'mon now, just let me…”

“I told you to stop!”

The next thing you feel is your ass crashing down the floor, hard. His movements were too sudden and his strength too much for you. You need to look up to him to realize how far he had just pushed you.

However, any hints of anger wash away when you focus on his face:

White salty hair sticked to his even more pale skin, unmatched breath and open eyes with extremely widened pupils.

Oh.. and a bulge between his legs.

It hits you.

Hard.

That’s what that red dust was: an aphrodisiac. A powerful one for what you could see. You feel stupid for have just realized what you had let Sanemi gotten in to. He probably was in an even moren affected state since the beginning.

You start to remember your way to this house, how the men seem to be in an perpetual infatuation’ state. Even the Wind Hashira looked approachable under that pink dust. You bet women loved how easy was to deal with men under that spell.

Gods, you and Shinobu should start a new project right away…

“Out.” Sanemi orders, avoiding to look in your direction. You open your mouth just in time to be interrupted again: “Get out before I do something we will both regret tomorrow.”

You begin to shake your head as soon as his words hit you in the throat. His pain is evident, his face is red and his fists clench around nothing, digging his nails to his own flesh, so hard that you fear it’ll start bleeding.

Did he plan on you leaving him like that?

“Look at me…” You ask. “Look at me, Sanemi.” The way his eyes lift at the mention of his name dropping of your lips gets you walking to him in no time. “If I get out of here now I won’t be able to come back for at least three hours, you sure you can hold on until that?, you sure you won’t do something mad out of desperation before that?”

“If you do not leave this room right now I’m sure I will do something mad.” His eyes have turned bestial and his knuckles are white, clenching now so hard on the window frame you’re sure he will break the wood under his fingers soon.

Your heart pounds on your chest and your brain is working at full speed. You should go, you should start running as soon as possible and bring help here, but again, how long would that take?, how much suffering he would have to bear when you…?

“Fuck!” The pain that exudes his voice is the breaking point for you when you watch him fold on his stomach, bracing himself like he would die right there.

“Would you really regret it?!” You exclaim, looking down to his widened pupils.

He shakes his head, unsure.

“I don’t want to mess up whatever is going between you and Rengoku” He admits, frowning.

“What?, what are you talking about?, there’s nothing going with me and Kyojuro.”

He starts to try to stand straight again, still clenching to his stomach. You do your best to help him, letting him use your shoulder as a support and then getting your hands under his, so your arms avoid him to come down again.

Still, he lets out a desperate groan when your chest and his own rub through the movements and his hot skin touches your cold.

“That witch said you kissed a guy, right?, wasn’t it Rengoku?” His head drops to your shoulder. Hot breath running chills against your sensitive skin.

You nod, letting Sanemi's essence surround you.

“And she also said I didn’t feel the same… Remember?” That was the first time you admitted that out loud. “So tell me now if you will regret it so much so I can go out and bring help…”

“I would kill for having you in my arms the whole night, flame.” His lips brush against your neck, igniting your hear in only one sentence. “But if we do this, if we do this right now..” he lets you feel again the bulge pressing against your lower stomach. “I’m not letting you go back to him. This won’t be a one night stand, flame. I’m keeping you… so you tell me if it won’t be you the one who regrets it tomorrow.”

You smile, felling his head moving out of the crock of your neck to look at you directly on the face.

You get on your tip toes, pushing both of the tips of your noses together. His lips brush against yours and you start to wonder if that red dust didn’t affect you too. But with the growing tension, the only thing you can do is closing your eyes and crave for him to close the space that still remained between your bodies.

“I need words, little flame.” He grins, and when you open your eyes you swear you haven’t seen such a beautiful man in your entire life.

“I won’t regret it.” You smile, sure, running your fingers through his white strands, trying to make him certain of your decision. “Let’s do this.”

“You won’t run away?”

“Where else could I be, idiot?”

The way his lips crash against yours lets you feel how much pain was still running trough his system. The way his hands clench to your hips, forcing your body to curve into his, lets you feel how much desire he is holding on.

Your legs wrap around his waist when he lifts you from the floor. You can feel that he’s moving, but his hot lips dancing against yours, letting his wet tongue explore your mouth, avoid you to acknowledge anything else.

His neck then curves to lower his head, placing soft wet kisses to your sensitive skin from your jaw to your collarbones. Your mouth falls open, letting out a low gasp at the way his huge hands start to browse your body. You feel him everywhere.

Still, it is how his teeth crave into your skin what brings you back to what was really happening. No matter how much you would have wished this to occur under different circumstances, you can’t let the joy of the moment distracts you for what you need to do right here, right now, this time.

You drop from Sanemi’s embrace and plant your feet on the floor again. His confused face doesn’t last long after your hands push his chest and force his body to fall onto the bed of the room he had brought you two to.

“What are you…? Oh, fuuuuck.” Your tongue tracing the fine line of hair from his pelvis to his navel makes him arch his back with a loud groan falling from his clenched teeth.

Your hands travel around his exposed torso before you push your body up, straddling his hips with your legs. He takes you by the neck and pulls you into a kiss, devouring your mouth as you roll down your hips, applying friction on his crotch. The hardness in his pants rubs against your clit just right and you let a moan fall from your mouth, making him groan.

“Fuck, please, Flame…”

The desperation in his voice takes you by surprise when he takes by the waist and applies pressure down on him, forcing you to feel how bad he needed you.

You leave one last kiss on his jaw before kneeling down, looking at him when your fingers pull at the edge of his pants. Sweaty white locks glued to his forehead and a slight brush of pink across his cheeks and nose gives you every answer your needed. You pull down the fabric and he finishes to toss it off his feet, freeing his cock in front of you.

Well, his idiocy is definitely not the only big thing about him. Shit, is that really going to fit inside you?

You take him with one hand, giving it a few strokes, unsure. You are a virgin after all, you are not quite confident that you are doing it right. You move your hand up and down, applying pressure and registering Sanemi’s reactions; and when you pass your thumb across the tip and he throws his head back, you know you did something right.

“Just like that…” The white haired murmurs, supporting his weight on his elbows, closing his eyes, enjoying the soft caresses of your little hands of him, not sure if it was the red dust what was making his body feel surrounded in flames or  just how much he had dreamed about this from the first time he saw you...

God, this shit is getting on his brain, he needs to make sure it doesn’t get to his tongue.

Tongue...

“Fuck-... Flame!” His hand tugs at your hair as the wet contact of your mouth wraps around him. 

His eyes dart to look at you between his legs, your lips just a few millimeters from the tip and dove eyes looking in his direction. His breathing gets stuck in his throat and suddenly, Sanemi feels guilt pounding in his chest.

“Did I do it wrong?” You ask just above your breath and he swears he could die right there and now. 

“No, no... It’s just... We should change positions, c’mon, I want to make you feel good too...” He starts shifting his body before you press a hand on his chest again, shaking your head. 

“No, Sanemi...” You climb up to him without letting go of his cock, also raising your free hand to his shoulder. “Tonight is about helping you, besides...” You press your lips to his ear as you whisper: “You’ll make me feel good in a bit too.”

And you swear you can feel him throb in your hand. 

His eyes are glued to you as you lower down to your knees again. You let your tongue fall out your mouth, pressing along all his long shape before wraping your lips at the top and taking his balls and the bottom with your hand. 

The first few moves you try are just testing, because you can't get him deep enough before you gag. So when his hands tangles on your hair again but instead of pushing you away bring you closer to him, you know you’re fucked. 

“Relax your throat and stick your tongue out... Yes, like that.” His hand starts pushing you down and you feel your eyes getting watery as his tip hits the deep of your throat. “Juuuust like that. Good girl.”

You take a deep breath when he goes all the way back again and, before you know, he’s pushing into you with a new found rhythm. Your hands grasp at his hips, trying to mantain a little control over your body as brutal groans scape from his lips and the thrusting becomes even more erratic. 

You gag one more time and look at him with those lust-filled eyes and he truly believes he has never seen anything hotter. His hips stutter and he lets out a soft moan after a deep groan when he pulls you out just in time, ‘cause not even understanding what was going on, you followed his movements and now your pretty face was splattered in cum. 

He was wrong, there was something even hotter. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He’s not. Do not believe him. 

You smile and grab your kimono’s sleeve to wipe it off only for him to pull at your wrist and stop you. You open your eyes big and look at him closing the distance between your bodies. His thumb comes at your face and colects the cum with a couple of movements. 

“Open.” He orders, tapping your lower lip with his knuckles. 

You obey him, letting your jaw fall down just enough so he could push in his thumb, letting you taste him as he pressed down your tongue with malice. A grin appears on his face as your lips close around his finger. 

“Stop being so goddamn sinful, little flame.” 

A genuine smile breaks your act. You got caught. He pulls away and you let out a soft laugh, looking at him with bright eyes. God, how could this feel so right?

 “How are you feeling?” You ask, soon enough your features are full of concern again and he hates the sight of it. 

His big hands grab at your waist and pull you up to his lap, wraping his arms around you. You blink with curiosity at him when he frowns and press his index right between your brows. 

“Don’t do that, you’ll get wrinkles.”

You let out a loud laugh before pressing your own index on his forehead too. “But you are doing the same, idiot.” He looks up and huffs, letting his hand fall again to your hips. “Besides, smiling also creates wrinkles, here...” You touch both side of his eyes.

“Those I don’t care.” He complains, narrowing his eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask again, preoccupied that the pain from the begginind hadn’t stopped. 

“Better. I can stop here, I feel good enough to wait for Shinobu if that’s what you’re asking, Flame.” Sanemi’s lips are now brushing agaisnt yours with every word his lips drop. “But I don’t want to. So tell me if I need to stop right now, we’ll do whatever feels okay with you.”

Your red face is the only thing that doesn’t feel okay. For fuck’s sake... C’mon!, what happened to all your confidence? No, why did you have to sit there?!

“Did you listen, little flame?, it’s okay if you want to stop here.” 

You shake you head at his suggestion, looking down. He tries to tilt your head up with his fingers but you refuse it, bitting your lip before your are able to speak.

“... This feels okay.” You whisper, rocking down your hips with his hard cock. His hands tighten on your skin and you are still wondering if he knew how wet you got of feeling him growing underneath you all this time. 

“Fine.” Is the only thing he says before he turns you around and drops your back against the mattress.

Sanemi undresses you quickly, big scratchy hands that run over your body without any shame. Your kimono slips off your shoulders when your breasts are exposed. Sanemi is fully hard again and... He was lying to you. He wasn't okay, every second tested his ability to keep his hands to himself, every time you touched him he ignited, just how much pain was he willing to take if you believed him?

His eyes follow each of your agitated breaths and you now know perfectly well that the red dust is still running through his entire system. His lips wrap around your right nipple while two of his fingers pinch the left one, creating electrical currents down your body. You let out a gasp, feeling his tongue dancing on your skin, but not satisfied with that, he presses his teeth down your nipple, not letting go until you whimper under him, and with that, he crawls to your lips again, demanding for his tongue to be taken into your mouth.

“Sanemi…” You whisper, cupping his face between your hands.

As he works with your lower lip, one of his hands loosens the skirt of your kimono and takes it down your legs, letting you push it off your feet to the floor. His fingers then trace down your leg up to your inner thighs, pressing his thumb slowly on your bundle of nerves and forcing a moan out of you straight to his lips.

“Let me prepare you, little flame.” He says, pleas, as his digit works on you, making your squirm under him.

“Mhm..!, Sanemi, no…”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Your panties finally come off and you are, now, completely exposed to him. He accommodates you on top of a pillow, letting your head rest as he backs up a bit, only enough to watch your entire body, dark pupils all over it, red cheeks calling for another thing but just lust.

“You’re so, so beautiful, flame.” He grins, hidden thoughts under his tongue. “I’m scared to stain you…”

“Sanemi-”

“Am I even worth to it, love?” The sudden pet name takes you by surprise, letting you silenced for his next sentence: “I don’t think I have ever hold something so precious, I-”

“I want it to be you, Sanemi.” You interrupt him, smiling. “I’m starting to suspect Oyakata-sama knew what he was doing putting the two of us in this mission.”

He lets go of a simple laugh, warming your heart. “Do you really think so?”

You nod, cupping his pale face between your hands to peck his lips three times. His hand rests above one of yours, bringing you closer to him, enjoying your essence surrounding him.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

You try to look at his face to talk him out of “thanking you” but you’re suddenly pushed back into the mattress, covered by his whole body.

“Now let’s do this right, shall we?”

“Sane- Oh, fuck!” His fingers start to play on your clit without a warning, pressing down on your skin, almost making spread your legs with no other thought in your head.

His pace is savage, delicious, bringing you closer to the edge only for him to stop, delighting himself with the way you squirm under him, noting how he was the first man to make you feel this way.

Soon, one of his fingers looks for your entrance, moving cautiously until he finds it, then, he curves.

“Mhmmm…!”

“Yes, right there, love, isn’t it?” He gives you a sided smile, taking a much faster rhythm and adding a second finger a moment later, opening you for him. “I’m gonna need you to tell me if something doesn’t feel right when I put it in, okay?”

You nod, biting down your lip. His words were like an echo comparing to the felling overflowing all of your senses. However, instead of positioning right, your master continued with his finger inside of you, pulsing every time harder and harder.

“Sanemi… It’s okay, I can ~ah~ do it now…”

He shakes his head. His pupils almost take the entirety of his eyes by now, looking down at you when he says:

“I need you as relaxed as possible. I don’t want to hurt you, Flame… So I need to take one out of you first.”

His left hand comes down on your throat, deliciously squeezing, as a third finger joins the pair inside of you and his thumb takes over your clit. It soon becomes too much to bear and you can’t say no more than “yes” every time a new motion brings closer and closer to your ecstasy.

And it comes sooner than expected: crashing, destructive all over your body, making you grip fiercely to Sanemi’s arms, arching your back on senseless movements.

“That’s right, little flame.” His praising words drawn another moan from you, taking you back from your orgasm sweet and gentle. Two words you couldn’t believe, described the Wind Hashira. “Do you feel good now?”

You nod, closed eyes and sloppy smile.

“Yeah.” You grant. He steals another kiss and looks at you in the eyes. “Come here, Sanemi…”

As you share a deeper kiss he finally positions between your legs, still playing softly with your clit, and pressing the tip into your entrance. You gasp to his mouth and his tongue takes the chance to come down in you, letting you taste the salt and forest in him.

Sanemi starts to slide in, bruising grip on your hips when he groans, murmuring under his breath “you’re tight…”. The sting that comes along alerts your senses, but the feeling clouds them again. The pain and the pleasure had never been in such a close line before.

“I’m… Oh, god- I’m gonna start moving now, okay?” His head is beside yours and his breathing sends shivers down your spine.

You lift your legs, interlacing them around his waist when you nod.

Slowly, he exits you only half of his shaft, and pushes in again. Both of you gasp at the feeling. Your nails look for his skin one more time, burying themselves and leaving furious red marks on him as he repeats this movement enough times for you to accustom his size.

That was seven minutes ago.

Now that you have given him green flag to start moving as he wished so, now he was on his knees and your hips lifted up to him, with both of his hands holding you up by the waist as he thrusted into you in what it seemed an unstoppable pace.

Your moans were loud, specially since, on a particularly hard thrust that made you clench on him, Sanemi had growled and bitted down your shoulder, hurting the skin but sending you on another uncontrollable orgasm.

You don’t think you can take one more.

“Don’t close your eyes, flame. Look at me.” He takes by the chin, forcing you to lock gazes with him. He grins and you can feel him starting to squeeze on your throat again. “Mhm! Fuck, you like that, don’t you?, I know you like it because you squeeze me down here… and you moan, shit, you moan so sweet, little flame.”

“Sanemi…” You whimper, arching your back and pressing your fingers on his biceps, giving him exactly what he needed.

“I’m gonna cum, love. Oh- I’m gonna…”

“Inside.” You bring your arms around his neck when your back finally meets the mattress again and his body comes closer to yours.

“I-I can’t, flame. We can’t.”

He’s not lying. He might be dying to impregnate you and get his seed deep into you, hell, he can get completely turned on only with the thought of fucking a baby into your tummy, but…

You shake your head, pleasure clouding your reasonable brain when your legs find their own way to lock behind Sanemi, mumbling one more time “inside”

Well, fuck it.

The white haired resumes his brutal thrusts, continuing brushing your clit with the thumb of his right hand and pressing down your throat with his left.

He edges you for some more minutes, keeping you moaning into his ear and screaming his name as he wished so; but finally, his hips start to lose control and the big dom man above you soon turns into a mess of grunts and low whimpers almost asking you to make him cum.

“Oh, please, please, pleaseeeee… Fuck!, Ah! Fuck… So-so good.”

You wished you could have laugh at the moans of your master, but you weren’t in an exactly better state right now. If worst, you could barely speak and your legs were trembling intensely with your tummy still having spasms every three seconds, bringing another gasp out of you.

Sanemi moved out of you and to your side like a big cat that had been just fed and was ready to take a deserved nap.

“Are you okay?, how are you feeling?” His arm comes under your body, bringing you closer to him.

“I’m okay, how are you feeling?” You repeat, concern still hidden in your voice. Was he still in pain?

“I’ll survive.” He smiles, tilting his head, but the answer doesn’t sit right on you and he can almost immediately tell. “I’m okay now, Flame. I swear. Believe, if a need another little dosis of help, I’ll let you know.”

This time it’s you who breaks into a smile, smacking his chest playfully while you shake your head. At the action, he throws his head back, laughing with his eyes closed. He had never felt this happy before, he didn’t remember how good it felt. To love. To be loved.

It is really here.

And you have never seen such a beautiful thing before. If you could burn into your pupils a permanent image for the rest of your life, this would be it.

To want to hold something forever.

“Sleep, little flame, we have a big journey tomorrow.”

You are already yawning as he speaks, nodding and not even protesting at his words. Your legs were jelly, your vocal cords sore and the tiredness of the fight was finally catching up to you.

“Mhm-mhm, good night, Sanemi.”

He grins, placing the covers on top of both you.

“Good night, love.”

His lips pressed on your forehead are the last thing you feel before finally surrendering to your heavy eyelids, but you can still swear you hear the soft and lovely laugh of that little demon somewhere out there.

She’s glad you’re happy.

You’re glad she’s finally in a place where she can be too.

[roachesbf]

You already know who it isssssss!!!

If you’re up for it, considering you’ve already done a bear courting fic with König if I’m correct.. anywho, if you’re up to it! Bear!Price.

He’s just so big and hairy, and likely musky with an earthy scent. Probably constantly scenting your room or clothes, sometimes even your person as a whole. Big hands keeping you as close as possible.

He’s so possessive at times, keeping you in big bear hugs as he huffs and growls towards anyone too close for liking. He just wants you to himself, can’t risk having someone else’s scent on you.

The man is a heavy sleeper, and refuses to let you go once you’re in bed with him. Keeping you borderline hostage as he purrs and hums pleasantly.

And he’s big on providing. Living up to his little fishermen’s hat as he constantly goes out and brings you back the nicest fish he could find. He wants to show you that he can provide! The perfect mate, no?

He’s just so big on making sure you’re safe and loved. He wants you to know it too. Doting on you constantly and spoiling you with his love.

Anywhooo, per usual, keep up the amazing work!!<333

- 🪶

Bear Price Headcanons

Hohoho you’re totally right about Price’s scenting obsession, he loves having you wear his clothing. Hats, jackets, shirts you name it, at this point his clothes are your clothes. He’s got such an aggressive scent to others though, it’s almost impossible to not smell him on you since he’s with you any chance he gets. Holding you close or nuzzling his beard into your neck, tickling you in the process. It quite literally makes everyone sick and they complain to him about constantly scenting you but he just looks away and says he has no idea what they’re talking about. 

This mf is so funny though because in his sleep he’ll accidentally roll onto you, a few smacks on his back he wakes up and with a grumbly tone says “Sorry about that love :3” But he’s not sorry at all because he thinks it’s pretty funny and you’re lucky if he doesn’t do it again later that night. If he's not on top of you he’s got you in a strong hold on your waist, keeping you close that he’s practically suffocating you but shittt nobody here is gonna complain.

I feel like he’s very embarrassed about being jealous and possessive, because what does he have to worry about at his grown age. If he was doing something and he saw someone interacting with you in a way he didn’t like, he'd immediately pause whatever he was doing, it’s a simple way of body language to show that he’s distressed. Afterwards he’ll go and wrap an arm around your waist and give you a kiss on the lips before asking what you were talking about. 

If you tease him about it he’ll just gruff and say “So what..” Of course make, him feel better by giving him a kiss on the cheek. It's very sweet and domestic, always managing to calm him down. 

Tbh Price to me is that one image where it’s like my bitch wife tells me what to do, if he sees you being too rowdy, he’s picking you up over your shoulder. Or he’ll place his bucket hat on you, which surprises you so much you don’t even remember what got you acting out in the first place. He also does that to be smug, he knows everybody hates it and thinks it's ugly…but they also simultaneously want it, it's a need. So when you walk in with the hat, they’re just so jealous because how do you have it???

In my heart I know he is a great cook, and it’s one of the biggest things he does to show off to you. Not only is he strong, smart, but he’s an incredible cook. He’d bend over backwards to impress you with his cooking, he also knows cooking is a thing a lot of guys lack in so it’s just another thing he has over others that proves he’s better.  

[givemea-dam-break]

daughters of the evening

⭒⭒⭒⭒ in which luke’s descent from good may be found.

pairing: luke castellan x (fem) reader

a/n: hey guys!! first fic in a while and i know, i know, pjo book readers are disappointed in me… but i’m just a girl! i’m literally just a girl! please enjoy my brain baby i love her :) i love writing quests so much, so this was really nice to write for my first fic back on tumblr. i hope you guys enjoy! if anybody wants to be added to my pjo taglist, let me know!

warnings: canon typical violence, book spoilers, blood/injury description, rusty writing

words: 5.8K ⭒⭒⭒⭒

(y/n) couldn’t remember when the change in Luke became permanent.

She could remember the hints of something at the corners of his eyes, something that bit at the happiness that filled them, eating away at it like rot on wood. She could remember the slow decline in his respect for his father, respect that had barely been there for years, though was now bridging on outright disrespect.

She could remember the crux of it all, the very moment in which all of the little things began to coalesce into something ugly. A flash of claws, the deep scarlet of mortal blood followed by shimmering gold ichor. The horrible sound of screaming. Gleaming fruits of gold. Gorgeous, blooming green trees towering above them that concealed the violence below.

It was after the quest that Luke, her Luke, was never the same.

⭒⭒

“I don’t remember San Francisco looking like this.”

Luke’s lips curled into a smile. “You’ve never been to San Francisco.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen it in movies through which I have lived vicariously. It’s in one of the Indiana Jones’s, right? Looks different.”

“Those movies are from the eighties,” Luke said. “So, yeah, it’s going to look different.”

Charles Beckendorf, their questmate, heaved a sigh. “Do you guys ever stop?”

“Stop what?” (y/n) asked.

“Being annoying? Flirting? Whatever you want to call it.”

Her face felt awfully hot and she found herself unable to even look in Luke’s general direction. It was a comment that had been made many times in the past, one she was sure Luke was sick to death of, but she found herself yearning for comments like it. They meant that maybe she wasn’t dreaming up something between them.

Either way, she didn’t acknowledge it, rather stuffing her hand into her unzipped backpack and scrounging around until finally she found what she wanted. With a dramatic flair, she revealed three paper maps, each embellished with their names written in colourful pen at the top.

A moment of silence, then Luke said, “Why do we need a map each? Can’t we just share? And where did you even get those?”

“I got them back in Salt Lake City, before we happened upon that massive crab, you remember the one? All blue and slimy.” She pressed the maps into their hands. “There are multiple because knowing you both, you’ll lose them and I’m not buying any more. But, look! They’re colour-coded. Green for me because, duh, Demeter. Orange for Beckendorf, red for you. We can at least make this quest for some stupid apples interesting.”

Beckendorf raised a brow, giving her a strange look. “With glittery gel pen?”

“Glittery gel pen makes everything better,” she insisted. “I’m glad you acknowledge that. Now, come on. With all this talking you two have been doing, we don’t have much time to spare. You’re like a pair of gossiping grannies.”

The two shared a look over her head, one they thought she didn’t see, but it only made her hold back a laugh. They were a relatively upbeat group as it was, but she prided herself on keeping the mood light, especially when danger was looming. With the might of glittery gel pens, a travel-size game of Monopoly, and a cheesy puns book they had picked up off the side of the road, they would be unstoppable should their enemies need a good laugh.

It wasn’t that they weren’t capable of what was ahead of them that she felt the need to joke around, it was just her regular nerves. The three of them were experienced and powerful demigods, skilled fighters and strategists, the best of the best. Luke had his immense skill with a sword and the mind of a trickster; Beckendorf had the brains and strength of a blacksmith, and could sense a trap a mile away and disarm it in moments; (y/n) herself was a powerful daughter of Demeter and, though not to the standard of Luke, was also skilled with a sword.

They hadn’t faced much trouble before. They were a tried-and-tested trio, having been on multiple quests together in the past and finding themselves working well together. 

This time, it seemed like a match made by the Fates. A quest ordained by Hermes, Luke’s father, to retrieve the Apples of Immortality from the Garden of the Hesperides - gardens and plants being the domain of Demeter and, by extension, (y/n). And, no doubt, there would be many traps or the need for a strong mind, hence Beckendorf. He was a year or two younger than she and Luke, but had proved himself upon countless occasions. She trusted him with her life.

Almost a week now they’d been on this quest, and still she felt like a giddy child. Almost seventeen and, at her big age, she was holding back smiles and giggles befitting of a schoolgirl with a crush. Part of it was gratefulness that a demigod such as Luke had chosen her to join him on this quest, even after being friends for years and having gone on numerous quests together already. Part of it was simply that she was madly in love with the boy.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then, watching the way the afternoon sun gleamed on his face, setting his dark eyes alight with flame. There was a curious smile on his lips, one that concealed mischief and intelligence; one she had loved for as long as she could remember. His hair was messy after days of travelling and not bothering to fuss with it - she dreaded to think of what her own looked like, the only mirror she had being her sword - but there was something so extremely endearing about it. Wild curls that gave his lightly-freckled face even more life.

Their maps didn’t help their hunt for the Garden an awful lot. For what had to have been at least two hours, they stumbled around the city, turning this way and that, earning odd looks from strangers. 

“For being the son of the god of travellers,” (y/n) said, “you are horrendous at reading a map.”

Luke gave her a nudge with his elbow as he scanned the map. He was grinning. Her stomach was doing cartwheels. “Maps make sense enough, but I think these ones are out of date.”

“Maps don’t go out of date, stupid.”

Beckendorf was holding back a smile. “I think he’s right. I think our maps are too old.”

(y/n) glowered at them, plucking their maps from their hands. Fine. They didn’t deserve to hold maps graced with her glittery gel pens anyways.

“Well,” she said. “Unless either of you have any ideas, we’re going to be stuck wandering for hours. Come on, Luke. Use your magicky journey powers. They got us this far.”

His eyes shone, and her knees felt a little weak. She loved it when he looked at her like that, when she had said something funny. It was as though the heavens themselves had descended and flooded his face with light and beauty. She couldn’t look away.

“It’s a big garden,” he retorted. “Find the big garden, daughter of the mighty Demeter!”

She knew he meant it as a joke - the sarcasm was practically dripping from his voice - but there was something in his tone that she couldn’t identify. Something deeper than a simple sarcastic comment. This had been a pity quest, of sorts, she knew. Luke had been getting restless and his father had wanted to satiate him, but it wasn’t enough. He was displeased with the gods, to say the least.

But he kept a good lock on his expressions, on his words. She wouldn’t have suspected a thing had she not known him as well as she knew the feeling of grass beneath her feet.

Eventually, combining their powers and the single brain cell that seemed to be taken by Beckendorf, they found their way to the Mount Tamalpais State Park, which was not open to visitors now that the sun was setting.

They stared up at the distant mountain, the sloping greenland and towering trees that led towards it, and heaved a synonymous groan. Quests could never be even slightly easy, it seemed. Why would the gods let them head to a random park in the city when they could have them trespassing in a state park at night, lives in the hands of the monsters and animals alike that roamed the woods? The gods would rather have them arrested than have something be easy.

“You’re kidding, right?” Beckendorf said. “We don’t have to walk all that way?”

(y/n) frowned. She wished more than anything that they could just turn around and leave, a feeling she did not often get on quests. But something didn’t feel right. There was a twist in her gut, a deep intuition that told her something was going to go wrong.

But her gut was also pulling her towards the mountain. There was a power there, unlike any she had felt before, and she wanted to know what it was. 

“We’ll be fine,” she insisted, though she didn’t feel entirely sure herself.

She was the first to make the step towards their darkening fates. If she had known the outcome, she would have turned and fled immediately.

The three of them trudged up the path, flicking on torches when the sky grew darker and the ground in front of them too hard to see. It gave them an eerie glow, entirely unlike the warm glow of their weapons. All of their features were in stark contrast to the dark surroundings; Luke’s cheekbones, Beckendorf’s eyes, her brownbone. It was disconcerting, and it felt all too much like they were the lead characters in a ghost story.

She was considering turning back about halfway there. The tug in her gut was becoming stronger, almost unbearable, and her head was pounding, filled with the worry of the possible incidents that had not happened yet. 

The only thing that kept her going was Luke’s pinky finger wrapped around hers.

Maybe he felt her nerves, so acute that she feared her sinews and tendons and bones could snap at any moment. But Luke knew her. He had known her since they were barely teenagers. He knew her better than she knew herself: every habit she had; every face she made; every hint of a feeling before she knew it was coming. He had some deep understanding of her, one that would have made her feel vulnerable in any other situation with any other person. Luke was not any other person.

His pinky was wrapped around hers tightly, warmer than the rest of her body put together. It curled around hers just so, acknowledging her worry. His jacket sleeve brushed hers.

It wasn’t until they reached the Garden at the foot of the mountain that his hand wrapped around hers fully, encasing it entirely in warmth and comfort. His palms were calloused, fingers ribbed with light scars, but she could not imagine it any other way.

The Garden of the Hesperides was easily the most beautiful place she had ever seen and was likely the most beautiful place she would ever see. Stars hung above them in the night sky, glittering so brightly it was as though they could reach out and touch them with their outstretched fingers. Lush green grass coated the ground beneath their feet and beyond, speckled with flowers so bright they almost glowed in the dark. It was bristling with life, so full of it that (y/n) could feel it all deep in her bones.

But the source of the power lay further afield.

A tree, much taller than the rest, stood at the centre of the garden, boasting more golden apples than (y/n) could count. Its branches swayed in the faint breeze in mesmerising swoops, and the scent of fresh fruit laced with something that could only be described as addictive brushed over them. A faint mist swirled around the trunk of the tree, glittering slightly in the moonlight.

“Holy Hephaestus,” Beckendorf murmured, slack-jawed.

“That’s one big tree,” Luke said. 

“You certainly have a way with words,” (y/n) said.

His hand only squeezed hers in response. She could feel his heartbeat in his wrist. How was it so steady?

There was a shift in the wind, then, and a soft bite came into the air. Goosebumps prickled the skin of their arms, raising the hair there. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she swore she could hear the faintest lull of singing voices and could feel the weight of some large presence in the air. Nothing could be seen but the beautiful garden and the decadent tree in the centre.

“Luke Castellan,” said a soft voice. Luke visibly tensed, eyes narrowing at the usage of his surname. “(y/n) (l/n). Charles Beckendorf. We have been expecting you in our Garden for quite some time now.”

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. But, finally, after a few moments, the speaker emerged from the fine mist.

She didn’t look like much, appearing to be barely older than (y/n), but there was something about her surrounding aura that suggested she was much, much older. Dark, inky hair tumbled over narrow tawny shoulders, framing even darker eyes that shone with unknown magic. The woman seemed to blink slowly, as if bored or tired, and it looked as though she were merely floating over the ground rather than walking. It was hard to tell. Her Greek chiton covered her feet.

“We are the Hesperides,” she said, voice ever gentle, as four more women appeared, each almost identical in appearance. “Daughters of the Evening. Nymphs of the Sunset. Protectors of this Garden. What is your business here?”

There was a cockiness to Luke’s smile then, one that had (y/n) on edge. “If you’ve been expecting us, then surely you know our business.”

The lead Hesperide drew nearer, stopping a few feet away from their trio. Her sisters gathered at her sides, dark eyes sparkling with stars and cold curiosity and something overtly bitter. The demigods were clearly unwelcome here, but they intended to make a game of their quest.

(y/n)’s hand squeezed Luke’s in warning. He spared her a glance, her heart drawing still when his warm eyes met hers. His chin dipped slightly in a nod, and he gave her hand a squeeze before turning his attention back to the Hesperides.

“We’ve been sent here on a quest by my father Hermes,” Luke announced. His voice held more confidence than she felt. “We’re here to retrieve a golden apple.”

It was strange watching the Hesperides’ heads tilt in unison as if they were each an extension of the other. Voices lulled around them, soft and gentle, and the worry seeped from her very bones. Her hand fell from Luke’s. Something felt strangely at ease in her stomach despite their circumstances.

“You may try,” said the lead Hesperide. Her skin glimmered like marble in the moonlight. “Our dearest Ladon protects this tree with his life. He does not sleep. Every second of every day, he guards our gift from Gaea, the goddess Hera’s wedding gift. Do not think it will be easy to pass him.”

The Hesperides seemed to fade into the mist, then, their bodies becoming light and transparent as they slowly backed away until nothing was left but the faint singing swirling around them. The voices gave (y/n) a strange feeling, as though pulling her towards the tree.

“Who’s Ladon?” Beckendorf asked.

The three of them stood for a moment, watching the swirling mist.

“A dragon,” (y/n) said. “A big dragon.”

She could feel his presence, she realised. The heavy weight that had settled over them upon entering the Garden, it couldn’t be anything else. Even still, she could feel him through the ground, like an impending sense of death and doom. She’d had similar feelings before, an innate knowledge that the strawberry fields were close to wilting one year. Campers had called her crazy, but she knew. The earth knew.

And it knew now. She was horribly aware of the heaviness in her gut that surrounded the bright power of the apple tree. It could be nothing but Ladon.

“Any ideas, Luke?” she asked. “You’re our idea guy.”

He scoffed. “Since when? You’ve been dragging us around by our ears this entire quest.”

But he could see the nerves that she felt. He knew how strange this was for her, to feel so deeply worried about a quest. He knew something was wrong.

“I’ll get the apple,” he said, and his shoulders rose with confidence. His hand, the one that had held (y/n)’s moments ago, twitched just so. “I’m the fastest out of the three of us. You two, keep our friend distracted.”

There was a deep grumble at that moment, as if Ladon were making himself known. It shook the ground and the boughs of the tree trembled. Sweet-smelling apples tumbled into the mist.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to get the apples?” (y/n) asked. “You brought along a daughter of Demeter for a reason.”

He smiled softly at her. “That’s not the reason I brought you along.”

And, before either she or Beckendorf could protest his stupidity or question his statement, Luke’s glowing sword materialised in his hand and he was running into the mist.

The mist spread apart as his feet made contact, and (y/n)’s heart dropped. Beckendorf, one of the bravest demigods she had ever met despite his age, had a tremor in his hands as he pulled free his sword.

Within the mist was the largest monster (y/n) had ever seen. It was wrapped around the tree in a serpentine-like way, scales glimmering in the moonlight like molten copper and bronze. Massive claws sunk into the dirt surrounding the tree, at least the length of her forearm and as wide as Beckendorf’s. Every breath it released shook the branches of the tree as though caught in a gale.

The most horrifying part: the dragon had a hundred heads.

She had read about Ladon, had familiarised herself with the myths surrounding the Hesperides. Days before the quest, she and Luke had sat down at the canoe lake, poring over old history books that told the tale of Heracles and his Twelve Labours, one of which was the very quest they were being made to repeat. Luke had made a joke of it back then, unhappy with the quest he had been given and disbelieving that what they faced would be much of a threat.

But Ladon was no joke. It was an entirely different thing seeing drawings of the dragon and seeing him in real life. His hundred heads slithered through the air like snakes on the water, luminous yellow eyes watching the demigods with piqued interest. 

Even Luke faltered.

A deep breath came from all two hundred of the dragon’s nostrils, washing over them in a hot, acidic wave. The smell alone was horrendous, like an old, decrepit sewer filled with rotting rats, and it had the hairs on her arms standing and her eyes burning. 

She was worried that she may never be able to move again, frozen in place by the sheer might of Ladon, but when Luke turned to look at her, blood flooded into her veins again. He was counting on her. She wouldn’t let him down.

Ladon expected a frontal assault. He was waiting for Luke to attack, watching like a predator on prey, but he did not expect the very tree he protected to act against him.

With a heave of energy, (y/n) stretched out her arm and watched as the tree’s trunk began to swell as if filling with liquid. Ladon’s serpentine body writhed around it, twisting as he moved to accommodate the growing tree. The branches above him shook, dipping towards the ground slowly. Too slowly.

The dragon seemed to realise what, or who, was causing the change, and snarled ferociously. It was at that moment that Beckendorf grabbed a ball of Celestial bronze from his belt and, with a strong arm and remarkably good aim, threw it at the beast.

An explosion of green ignited before them as the ball slammed into Ladon’s thick hide. The dragon roared, whether in pain or fury, and set its bright gaze on (y/n) and Beckendorf.

Fear coursed through her body. She could hardly breathe. The branches wavered, pausing the pursuit to the ground. Beckendorf launched another one of his Celestial bronze bombs.

A pity quest, that’s what this had been. But, maybe, it was more than that. Maybe this was Hermes’ punishment for Luke wanting more from his life. Maybe this was (y/n)’s consequence for falling so irrevocably in love with Luke - for feeling the way she did, she would have to follow him to impossible circumstances.

But none of them deserved it.

It was at that moment that Luke took his leap.

With speed befitting a child of Hermes, he leapt onto Ladon’s mighty body, feet finding purchase on his rough scales, and launched himself upwards towards the descending branches.

For a moment, there was hope. Even Heracles had not retrieved the apples by facing Ladon, but maybe Luke would. Perhaps Luke would succeed where Heracles had not. Pride swelled in her heart, coated her tongue like warm honey, and she almost smiled.

Copper-coloured claws flashed in the moonlight. A chorus of soft, harmonising voices swirled around them like mist.

Mistake, they sang. The boy has made a mistake.

There was a cry of pain so guttural that (y/n) felt it in her soul. Her feet were moving before she could truly comprehend what was happening. The grass tried to reach for her ankles, tried to stop her in her mission, but nothing could. Had a god stood before her, she would have found her way past them. Nothing could stop her, not even this dragon that caused such fear in her bones.

She reached Luke as Ladon wound around the tree tightly, snarling protectively. Something in the beast’s demeanour hinted at pain beneath the danger, and when she saw the gold blood pooling just a few feet away, she knew why.

A claw, one of Ladon’s, severed from the knuckle down lay strewn in the grass. The dragon hissed as Beckendorf snatched it up, hefting his sword as (y/n) pulled Luke away.

He was bleeding badly. A deep gash ran from the tip of his brow down to the corner of his  mouth, somehow missing his eye but cutting just above and below. His skin was already becoming dangerously pale. Her hands were covered in blood. His blood. She was going to be sick.

“Hey,” she murmured, gently laying his head on her lap. Her hands trembled as she reached into her bag. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Luke shuddered, eyes half-lidded and struggling to find something to focus on. “Are you -?”

“I’m fine,” she said. After a terrible moment, one that took far too long, she pulled free a small vial of nectar, wrapped tightly in old face-cloths to keep it from smashing in her bag. Her hands couldn’t stop shaking as she tried to unwrap it.

Beckendorf knelt beside her, claw at his side, and took the vial from her hands. She didn’t know how his hands could be so steady. She could hardly breathe. Not with Luke so injured, not with Ladon eyeing them hungrily.

He handed the vial back, and she propped Luke’s head up slightly. With a hiss of pain, she managed to open his mouth just enough to pour the small amount of nectar in. He swallowed with a struggle.

There was no telling how long it would take the nectar to work, but they couldn’t stay there under the watchful glare of Ladon, who looked ready to attack again. (y/n) took a trembling breath.

“Beckendorf,” she said, “are you able to carry him? At least until we can get out of this place. I can try - I can clean the wound when we’re safe.”

He nodded and hoisted Luke up into his arms, careful not to jostle his head too much.

She didn’t realise she had been crying until they stopped.

Beckendorf set Luke down on a soft patch of grass beyond the Garden, and (y/n) tucked her jacket underneath his head. The nectar seemed to be working, albeit slowly. Some colour was returning to his skin, but it was hard to see under all of the blood.

“You’re okay,” she murmured again, but she wasn’t sure who she was telling. She wiped her tears with the back of her hands.

She grabbed one of the face-cloths the vial of nectar had been wrapped in, soaking it in water from her water bottle, and slowly brought it to Luke’s face.

His eyes seemed to have some ability to focus now, watching her beneath a glaze of pain. It tore her soul in half to see him in pain, wincing as she gently dabbed the blood from his cheek. Her fingers were stained. His cheek was, too.

“I’m going to keep watch,” said Beckendorf. “Those Hesperides gave me a bad feeling.”

(y/n) nodded, watching for a moment as he trudged a few feet away, just out of earshot, but her focus soon returned to Luke. She tried not to think too much about how his hand was gripping her knee as she cleaned the rest of the blood.

“Is the nectar working?” she asked when she saw his eyes drooping. “What does it taste like?”

His gaze found hers, warm and cloudy. A pained smile fought its way onto his lips despite the slowly-healing scar on his cheek. She could see the skin trying to sew itself back together with the aid of the nectar.

“That smoothie you made a few months back with the - with the camp’s strawberries,” he uttered. “And whatever those green leaves were.”

She found herself smiling despite the red coating her hands. “Mint. And it was that good, huh? Last I checked, nectar for you tasted like that weird concoction of Coke and Sprite you liked so much.”

For a moment, his eyes grew distant before refocusing on her face. They flickered over her features as if seeing them for the first time. His hand felt awfully warm on her knee.

“Anything you make is better,” he said. 

“Is that so?” She brushed his hair back from his face softly, cleaning the last bits of blood.

His skin was still stitching itself back together, but the nectar seemed to have stopped the bleeding. Second by second, blood flooded back into his face, giving him the colour that seemed to have been leached from his skin.

He nodded, his smile seeming as though it pained him less. His hand slipped from her knee, coming up to wrap itself around hers. The cloth fell from her fingers and onto the grass. Her fingers were still wet, though in the dim light she couldn’t tell if it was from water or lingering blood. She didn’t have the stomach to find out.

“You said you didn’t bring me on this quest because of my mother,” she said cautiously. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “So why did you?”

A soft squeeze of her hand. “This wasn’t a quest I wanted to do without you,” he said. “I like having you by my side. You give me strength.”

She was sure he could feel her pulse beating rapidly in her fingers, but he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t need to. It was entirely likely that he was able to read her mind, he knew her so well. And she was okay with that.

“You’re stupid, you know,” she said, but her voice wavered.

“Stupidly brave?” he suggested. “Stupidly handsome? Stupidly charming?”

“I’m supposed to be supporting you right now,” she grumbled. “Not the other way around.”

His cocky grin was back and her heart fluttered. “Which one is it?”

“Which what?”

“Stupidly brave, handsome, or charming?”

All three, she thought. All three and so much more.

“Stupidly stupid,” she decided. 

Her thumb grazed his cheekbone, the one without the scar, and a shiver ran through his body. His hand tightened on hers and his smile softened into something more personal. It was the kind of smile she would have leapt into Tartarus to ensure its permanence on his lips. Soft and kind and reserved just for her. If she'd been standing, her knees would have buckled.

“You give me strength, too,” she murmured.

A sliver of hair slipped in front of her eyes, and moments later, Luke’s free hand was there, gently brushing it away. His eyes sparkled. They seemed clearer now, less agonised.

The events of the last hour - gods, it had felt like much longer - came crashing back onto her at his touch, asphyxiating and terrifying. Overwhelming guilt filled her veins and arteries with terrible speed, sapping all the strength from her bones. Her fingers trembled once more.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her throat felt suddenly raw. “If I’d done a better job distracting Ladon, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt.”

Luke’s eyes were dark for a moment, swirling with something she couldn’t identify, but they softened seconds later. His hand rested on her cheek, warm and comforting, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at his eyes now.

“This is not your fault,” he said, and his voice was remarkably strong. “This is the gods’ fault. It’s my father’s fault. But it is not your fault.”

She tried to believe him, truly she did, but looking at the fresh scar on his face, even having been almost entirely healed with nectar, had her heart heavy in her chest. 

He knew this. Gods, he knew her every thought. His hand slipped from hers, cupping her other cheek and tilting her head so that she would look at him properly. There was a flush to his cheeks now - good, it meant he was getting better. 

“My father did this,” he insisted. “You hear me? This was not you. And, gods, believe me when I say that I’m glad it was me that went for the apples and not you. I couldn’t live with myself if you got injured.”

But you did, she wanted to say - no, scream. How do I live with that?

“I’m okay,” he said softly, cautiously, as if talking to a child who had just woken from a nightmare. “I’m okay.”

His hand fell from her face, taking hers in its grip once more, and placed her fingers on the newly formed scar.

She jerked back, terrified that the sensation would cause him more pain, but he just gave her that smile again, the one that made her knees feel like jelly, and pressed her fingers to it once more. Already, the skin was raised and slightly twisted, accommodating for the injury. She could faintly feel his pulse beneath his skin, slow and infuriatingly steady.

“It doesn't hurt,” he promised. His voice was so reassuring that she could feel it in her bones, and she was half-convinced he was secretly a child of Aphrodite, blessed with charmspeak. “I’m okay because of you.”

Her throat was achy. “And Beckendorf.”

He gave a small laugh. “And Beckendorf. But mainly you. You’ve given me strength.”

It was then that the world itself seemed to stop. He was leaning upwards, bringing her face close to his, and his lips brushed hers so softly that she feared she may have been dreaming the entire encounter.

She could taste the faint remnants of metallic blood, though it was easily brushed aside. Luke’s lips were slightly wind-chapped but she found herself uncaring when they slotted perfectly against hers.

This kiss was something she had been waiting years for, and it was better than she could have ever dreamed. The feeling of his hands on her, his lips against hers, it was something that could not be replicated in a dream, like flying for the first time and feeling the clouds beneath your fingers.

It was addictive, more so than the stupid apples that had caused Luke such pain, and she found herself wanting more. It was an effort to pull away from him, but eventually, she did. Beckendorf was only a few feet away and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. It would make for an awkward journey home.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Luke murmured.

Finally, there was a smile tugging on her lips again. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting.”

It took another hour or so before Luke was well enough to get moving. The dark trails gave all of them a bad feeling, and (y/n) wasn’t able to shake the almost hypnotic choral voices of the Hesperides until they were out of the State Park. Luke was shaky on his feet for a little while but his strength was returning.

And with it came anger.

Not anger at (y/n) or Beckendorf, no. He still smiled at them as usual, fingers entwined with (y/n)’s so tightly it was as though he was afraid she would slip away. Jokes still slipped past his lips despite the events of the evening.

But he was filled with fiery rage. It was hidden, but (y/n) could read him like a book. She had seen the inklings of it throughout the previous days of their quest, had seen it more clearly while she was cleaning the blood from his face - this anger, though, was pure. Harder to mask.

He had already been furious with his quest, a detail he had tried to keep hidden from her. He hated the idea of repeating history and the fact that this quest was simply made to satiate him, to prevent him from growing restless at camp and questioning the authority of the gods.

This was a breaking point.

It became clearer the more time passed. As the days and weeks went by, he would hold her hand like a lifeline and kiss her so softly it felt as though she was dreaming, but the anger never left. It ate away at him, dimming his smiles and reducing any respect he had left for the gods until there was nothing left but a shadow of what had once been there.

The scar never faded. It became a reminder of what he believed to be the gods’ failure. His failure.

He was still her Luke. The Luke she had known and loved since she was thirteen. She was just terrified of what he might become.

[arent-i-the-fairest]

Idk if anyone remembers this but there was a trend in ig where vids of ppl just holding out their hand out and their partners put their chin or hand on it. Can we get the dorm leaders' reaction to their s/o putting their hand out without telling them what they want? The dorm leaders don't know this trend.

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨?

author’s note : my friends used to do this to me all the time!!! and i had absolutely no clue what they wanted from me!! it was this ask that made me realize ajdjdkjd

riddle rosehearts

it’s just a staring contest between you two for a while, both of you waiting for the other to do something. riddle just wants to know what you need so he can continue on with his house warden duties.

“you know, i really must be on my way now.”

you quickly slide in front of riddle’s path. “but why?” you ask, and his eyes widen.

“don’t tell me you’ve forgotten rule 683??”

“of.. of course not.” you lied, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as he narrows his eyes at you.

“.. just tell me what you’re holding your hand out like that for.” he sighs.

“oh, alright. i wanted you to either hold it or put your chin on it.”

“t-that’s what you’ve been holding me up for?” riddle sputters, slowly becoming red faced.

“won’t you do one of those for me? just for a second?” you plead.

“it’s nearly 3:00, i can’t—” he looks at your disappointed face, then lets out a defeated sigh. he quickly intertwines his fingers with yours, then stomps off 2 seconds later, flustered.

“thank you riddle!” you shout after him.

leona kingscholar

you caught him while he was super sleepy— like, 5 seconds away from passing out sleepy. you thought of pestering him later when he’d be more awake, but decided to try holding your hand out anyways. and you’re glad you did.

leona’s ears twitch as you quietly coo his name.

he’s barely conscious, and all he can register is you sliding your hand towards him. using up the last bit of his energy, he sluggishly lays his head on your palm before falling asleep. and you’re fighting the urge to squeal.

this probably beats whatever cold, moody response he would’ve given if he were awake, huh?

azul ashengrotto

his last guess would’ve been that you were wanting him to either hold or put his chin on top of your hand. see, immediate thought was that you were asking him for cash or something.

but you lowkey had him wondering if he was supposed to know what you were asking for. like, is this a common gesture humans do with each other that he somehow didn’t study before he came on land? you’re unintentionally making him question his knowledge.

azul looks up from your palm to your face. “what’s this? you’re begging?”

you stifle a chuckle. “i’m not asking for money. i know you’re hellbent on not giving anyone a dime.” you joke. he straightens up at the comment.

“how cruel of you to say, my dear! i’m not that stingy— i’d very much be willing to donate a couple madol to my beloved partner. but since that’s not what you’re asking for right now..”

azul looks at you expectantly, but receives no answer. he sighs. “.. well, what are you asking for?”

“this.” you reach over and grab his hand, placing it on top of yours and coiling both your fingers together. his composure falls apart with each second.

“o-oh, i see.” he coughs, using his free hand to cover as much of his flushed face as possible.

kalim al-asim

guesses everything he can. gives you a high five, does this little handshake thing, drops random items in your hand, everything. it’s super entertaining to see. but he does, in the end, finally pass when he rests his chin on your hand, stumped.

“i’m at a loss.” kalim says, nuzzling his face against your palm. “what were you trying to get me to do?”

“what you’re doing right now, actually.” you laugh. a look of shock crosses his face for a moment before he smiles, springing up off your hand.

“really?! so i did figure it out— unintentionally. but still!!” kalim exclaims.

“yeah you did! now come and put your chin back on my hand!”

vil schoenheit

it doesn’t take vil longer than 3 seconds to realize this is supposed to be some kind of trend— how he hasn’t actually heard of/seen it, he’s not sure. but he shuts you down pretty quickly. it’s the reaction you get most of the time when you try to do stuff like this with him; he’s not really one for entertaining your little games. unless he’s feeling nice.

“you’re no fun.” you pout, dropping your hand.

“i don’t know the trend.” vil says, toying with your hair.

“that’s the fun of this though— you don’t know what to do, so you make some cute reaction or something.”

“well, i’m curious. what was the goal?”

“you were meant to rest your chin on my hand, or hold my hand. either one.” you explain. he chuckles, inching closer to you.

“i see. how cute. well, i’ll make the kind offer of holding your hand now, if you’d still like.” —you quickly take him up on his proposal.

idia shroud

as he does with every situation he’s suddenly presented with, idia instantly starts to panic. s-stop looking at him so expectantly, will you?! he’s gonna start crumbling under this pressure!

in the end, he awkwardly places his hand on top of yours. you two aren’t holding hands, you just have them laying flat on top of each other— but it works!

“y’know idia, with how often you’re online, i’m surprised you haven’t stumbled on this trend before.”

“i don’t go on magicam or other social media nearly as often as i play video games. but even if i did, i don’t really follow couple trends and that all that romantic stuff.” he explains, avoiding eye contact with you. “.. but i could. for us to do them.” he adds in a voice barely audible.

“did you say something at the end there?”

“N-NO.”

malleus draconia

just instantly takes your hand in his, asking what you need. (he’s so smooth but he is absolutely oblivious to it.) and you’re stunned for a second, wondering if he knows the trend after all. lilia has been introducing him to technology more.. but you decide not to question it too much. instead, you just enjoy the little physical affection.

“what’s the matter, child of man? you’ve suddenly gone quiet.” 

“i-i’m just fine, don’t worry.” you quickly say. he’s got ice cold hands, yet they’re so comfortable to hold..

“i see. that’s a relief. what did you need then?” he asks.

“this, actually.” you say, staring down at you two’s hands. he lets out a confused hum, and you snap out of it. “let me give you context!”

[celtic-crossbow]

Series Masterlist

*Click here to be added to taglists.

Chapter 10

Warnings: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SA. Please venture forth with caution. Other warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; panic attacks; allusions to previous SA

You rushed into your cell, getting into a physical altercation with the sheet over the door when you became tangled in your haste. Tossing your clothes into the corner, you scrambled up to your top bunk and sat against the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. 

Carol stood by the small table, simply blinking. “I thought you were gonna shower.” 

You were too shaken to produce a logical response. “I, um, changed my mind. I’ll…I’ll do it in the morning.” Had you looked at your roommate, you would have seen the clear skepticism in her expression. 

“Are you okay?” She queried. 

“Um, yeah. Yeah.” You answered with zero confidence. You were honestly the furthest thing from okay. Daryl had just said your name while pleasuring himself. But why? He had rejected your attempts to do what you were purchased for, assuring you that he didn’t see you like that. You had never lost that feeling of dreaded expectation, convinced that he was biding his time. Did this mean you were right? Was he waiting for you to be alone and vulnerable?

A rapping of knuckles against the bars on the other side of the sheet that provided the thinnest layer of security for you startled you from your thoughts. You could no more than watch as Carol approached the doorway. 

“Daryl. Hey, I’m glad you’re here. I need to talk to you. Why are you wet?” 

Your breaths came faster, your heart pounding in your ears. No, Carol was safe. Carol had promised. 

“Grabbed a shower. This yers?” 

Your eyes were the size of saucers when Carol took the towel and looked back at you, eyeing you suspiciously for the briefest of moments. Then smiling Carol was back, accepting the colorful towel. You realized he probably thought it was hers because of her penchant for flowers. 

“Yes, I must’ve dropped it when I was gonna take a shower earlier, but remembered that I needed to…do something…else.”

Ouch. That was horrible. And obviously hard to believe since Daryl was looking at her with that arched eyebrow. 

“Y’alrigh’?”

“I’m fine, Daryl. Just tired.” Carol folded the towel neatly and let it drape over her arm. 

“What’d ya need ta talk ‘bout?” 

“You know, it can wait. I need to get to bed and you need to get to…well, probably not sleeping because you’re you.”

“Whatever.” He scoffed, clearly not upset, and started away from the doorway. 

“Night, Daryl.”

“Mhm, night.” 

Carol smiled until the sheet fell closed and then promptly chucked the towel at your head. “Changed your mind?!” She whisper-yelled. 

“I didn’t know! I…I didn’t hear the water at first!” You retorted at the same level. You had already started to cry, confused and embarrassed and on top of it all, scared. You couldn’t tell anyone what you had seen. Something was keeping Daryl from acting on his desires, a fact for which you weren’t sure you were relieved or disappointed. 

She had no idea why you were so upset when she climbed up into the bunk with you and pulled you into her side. “It’s okay.” She smoothed her hand over your hair and let you sniffle and quietly sob. “Did you see anything?”

Fuck. She just had to ask. You didn’t want to lie to her; never wanted to lie to her. Maybe just an omission would do? “I saw…scars.” The woman holding you flinched. She knew about them. Of course she did. They were close friends. “They look like mine.” You added softly. 

“Y/N, I can’t tell you about those. It’s not my story to tell. I can tell you that you shouldn’t mention them.” You sat back, watching her with red-rimmed eyes. “It’s a touchy subject for him. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”

You nodded, feeling worse than you had initially, but at least it was over now. Carol patted your cheek and climbed down so you could slide under your blanket and get some rest. 

Neither of you were aware of the stealthy hunter that had been listening just outside the cell. 

Daryl had no idea how he was going to handle you that day. You had seen him in the shower. Claimed to only have seen his scars, which was bad enough, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what else you saw but was left to wonder what you may have heard. 

His anxiety was eating him alive at that point. Maybe he could just say no for the day. Then Carol would be asking why. Maybe he should just tell her? No! If he could see the little devil on his shoulder, he’d punch the bastard. He could say he was sick. No, that wouldn’t be smart. Not after the flu fiasco. He’d just put everyone on edge. Maybe he could—

“Hi.”

Fuck. He hadn’t heard you approaching. This whole situation really had him thrown off. “Yer early.” He commented gruffly, hoping you’d go away and give him just a little bit longer to figure out something. He didn’t turn around, he couldn’t look at you. Not yet. 

“I’m…uh…I’m sorry.” You said in such a tiny voice that even he felt like shit. “I was, um, helping Carol with breakfast and, um, well, I didn’t have anything else to do, so I thought that m-maybe I could just go work on what you showed me yesterday until you were ready.” He could hear you moving around but then you stilled. “You, uh, you left this with me yesterday.” He knew he’d left the knife. He had wanted you to have it, something to make you feel safe. But he couldn’t just say that, could he?

God, he was in over his head. Why the fuck didn’t Carol just let him stay away from you?

He glanced over his shoulder to your petite hand, carefully holding the blade with the hilt toward him. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t have a chance to ask. 

“I didn’t, um, well…I wasn’t sure if you’d have me, uh, use it again today. So… I- I cleaned it for you.”

Why did that small gesture make his chest ache? Idiot, she’s bein’ nice. Girl still thinks ya bought her fer ya ta fuck n’ lock away. Daryl cleared his throat. “Nah, s’yers. Don’ need it no more. Got others.” Hopefully you took that as him being anything but nice. 

“Wow, th-thank you, Sir.” He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, counting down in his head. “I mean, I mean Daryl! I’m sorry.” You squeaked before he could even get to seven. Jesus, you sounded so afraid of him. 

He grunted, crossing his arms. Yep, that’s gon’ help her not be scared. “Le’s go, then.” He walked away toward the fences, not hearing your quick footfalls for a few moments. You tended to stay behind him, which he was grateful for and at the fences, you would be in front of him and clearing out walkers. That was also helpful. He was too concerned with safety to focus on anything else. 

When he stopped, he nearly flinched out of his skin when you actually came to stand beside him. Peripherally, he could see your big doe eyes shining up at him. “Same as yesterday?” You asked quietly. 

“Mhm.” When you walked ahead, he exhaled. Jesus, he needed a cigarette. He kept his eyes on you while pulling the pack from his vest pocket. From the feel of it, he’d need to make a run soon if he wanted more. There was probably a list of supplies that others needed, so he could take care of that while he was at it. 

He flicked the lighter to life and inhaled while the end of the smoke ignited, the first dregs of nicotine soothing his frazzled nerves. Christ, he’d never experienced this kind of inner turmoil over a woman before. Any sexual encounters he’d had before were no strings attached and usually only happened as a distraction while Merle was off getting high or getting fucked himself. 

“Again.” He ordered with smoke billowing from his mouth, blowing the remainder out once you moved to the next walker. You were off that day, your movements languid and uncoordinated when compared to the day before. The reason was obvious but you weren’t aware that he knew. Still, you pressed on each time he urged. You were pertinacious, he’d give you that. 

Until you came face to face with a corpse that appeared to be recently turned. Daryl straightened, on alert while you drove the blade home. He figured you’d have difficulty retracting the weapon from a skull that wasn’t soft with decomposition. 

“It’s stuck.” You turned to him for instruction, taking your eyes off the undead trying to get at you. A second was all it took for rotting fingers to find purchase in your tresses, yanking you against the fence. 

“Shit!” His cigarette fell, forgotten, his knife in hand. You were screaming, teeth clicking in your ear as another walker locked a fist in your hair. You released the knife in flight response, reaching behind your head for only a moment before Daryl was grabbing both of your wrists to pull them away from the jaws that would have easily taken a finger or two. He sliced through the fingers holding you and pulled you away from danger. 

Though you had stopped screaming, your sobs continued. The archer held you against him with one arm and pulled your knife free with his other hand, allowing the dead bastard to fall. He let the weapon clatter to the ground. He could come back for it later. “Y’alrigh’? Ya bit?”

Your hands were fisted tightly in his vest, your knuckles white. There were no visible marks, but it would be a good idea to let Hershel look you over anyway. 

“C’mon. I gotcha.” He never made you let go even after he scooped you up. Carol was running toward him and met him halfway to the prison. 

“Daryl, what happened?!” She was petting your hair and whispering softly while keeping up with the archer’s pace. 

“Couple walkers grabbed her. Don’ think she’s bit but doc should look at her anyway.” He kept his blue eyes on the door, avoiding the bundle in his arms. 

“Yeah, good idea.” Carol continued to try and calm you. “You’re okay. Daryl’s got you and I’m right here. You’re okay. Try to catch your breath.” When you didn’t, his friend looked to him. “She’s gonna hyperventilate if we don’t calm her down.”

Fuck. He stopped just outside the prison, still not looking down. “Y/N. Can ya feel me breathin’?” An almost imperceptible nod against his chest. “Wantcha ta try n’ match mine.” You struggled as he began to move, stepping inside once Carol opened the door. You still trembled but your panicked breaths were slowing. 

“That’s it.” Carol encouraged. “Keep trying to breathe like Daryl. Steady in and out.” She placed a hand on Daryl’s shoulder and squeezed then ran ahead, calling for the veterinarian. 

Daryl was approaching the cell block when you looked up at him, face red and cheeks wet. “I’m…I’m sorry, Daryl.”

Your apology befogged the archer. “Wha’ the hell fer?”

Your lip began to quiver just as he risked a glance at you. Shit. 

“I…I m-m-messed up tr-training.”

The archer’s eyes softened. It would have been impossible to prevent it. “We all have close calls.” He explained, his tone almost gentle. “I fell down a ravine once n’ stabbed myself with my own bolt.” Carol was at the cell door waiting when he came walking through. “Jus’ gotta keep yer guard up, okay?”

You nodded, finally releasing his vest to wipe at your mess of a face. Daryl placed you on the table for Hershel and stepped back next to Carol. 

“I’ll stay with her.” She said, not taking her eyes off of you. “I think Rick found some people today and brought them back. Think he may need a hand?” Daryl hummed but stayed rooted to the spot he occupied. “She’ll be fine, Pookie.” The point of her elbow found his ribs, resulting in a scowl aimed in her direction. “Go on.”

He couldn’t stay. Carol knew that too. You were likely to need to be undressed. Daryl turned and made his way out. “Lemme know.” He said without stopping, hearing Carol’s dismissive ‘mhm’ before he rounded the corner. 

Hershel had declared you to be in better health than you had been when you first arrived. You’d gained a little weight. Your hair wasn’t as dull. Your skin wasn’t as dry. In his opinion, your time spent there had done wonders. No injuries from the day’s disaster, aside from the emotional distress. He had recommended a light sedative and rest for the remainder of the day, but you insisted that you had more to learn, hopped off the table, and went to find Daryl. 

It was early evening, plenty of daylight left for more time at the fence. You were nervously wringing your hands as you searched outside without luck, venturing to areas you’d never been without Carol. Even in the daytime, the empty sections made your skin crawl. 

There was a stretch of concrete around one side that dipped into a wide alley of sorts. Carol would take you there sometimes to work on laundry when your anxiety was at distressing levels. It was unlikely you’d find Daryl there but it made sense that if Carol would bring you there for solitude, maybe the archer would visit for the same reason. 

You rounded the corner, looking over your shoulder to see if anyone you were familiar with was outside. You felt on edge going out of sight without someone escorting you. When you walked right into someone, you thought it was Daryl for the briefest of moments. 

“I’m so sorry!” You looked up to lock eyes with a man you had never seen before. “I didn’t… I-I’m sorry. I should—” You started to turn. Your heart was thundering behind your ribs. 

“Oh, hey, hey, hey!” The man placed a large hand on your shoulder and squeezed, the pressure uncomfortable, bordering on painful. “What’s your hurry, princess?” Your mouth moved but you couldn’t make your voice work. “Hey, Marvin, c’mere!”

“Who’s this?” The second man asked, reaching toward you to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger while the first led you further into the alley. “She’s awfully pretty, Lonny.”

“She sure is.” Lonny’s hand left your shoulder to wrap around your waist, pulling you along beside him. “What’s your name, doll?” You didn’t answer. You pressed the heels of your shoes into the concrete, trying to slow the journey or make him lose his grip. 

“Lonny and I are new here.”

“Mhm. That, we are.”

“Came in with a group today. Maybe you could give us the official welcome celebration.” 

“I need, um, I need to get back. Daryl. He’s gonna be looking for me.” You lied, hoping they had met the archer. You were nearly certain no one would fuck with you if they thought Daryl might come in search. 

“Daryl. Daryl. Which one was that, Marv?”

“The guy who asked us how many people we killed?” 

A hand wandered down your side and then under your shirt, roughly caressing the skin below your ribs. You made a distressed noise in the back of your throat, struggling in earnest to get away. Both men chuckled at your efforts. 

“Nah, I think it may have been mister crossbow.”

“You know, it’s funny. We got in here on a technicality.” You managed to slip out of their grasp, not waiting a single second before running toward the corner. 

“Help! Carol!” She had promised. She promised. “Hel—”

Something slammed into you from behind, sending you tumbling to the ground. You caught yourself on your palms, feeling the sting of the unforgiving concrete. Marvin crawled up to press you down with the weight of his body, laughing when you began to sob. 

“Y’see, we never killed any of them girls.” He licked the shell of your ear, the sound alone making your stomach turn. “We did what we wanted and then left ‘em for the dead to enjoy.”

“Get her pants off.” Lonny ordered. You could hear the shuffle of clothing, the frictional drag of a zipper. You kicked and shouted; tried crawling away when you had no time to get to your feet. 

“Keep her still!”

Your hair was tugged harshly before your face was slammed against the ground. White hot pain permeated through your skull before a blissful numbness. Time seemed to pass in clouded fragments, pieces missing that left the events incomplete. The feel of fabric sliding down your legs. Muted voices and laughter. Pain, dulled but consistent. 

A brief reprieve of just nothing. 

Your eyes peeled open slowly, the pain registering before your vision gave you anything but a blurry mess of colors. There was a wet burn between your legs, which were bare and being scraped by the rough texture of the concrete. You managed a whine and pulled your hands up beside your head, clawing at the ground to try and drag yourself away from the rough digits scratching against your inner walls. 

“Don’t fuck it up too much, man.”

“Looks like someone already did that.”

The sob that broke from your lips was accompanied by a wrecked version of ‘ow.’ There was blood below your face, you could feel its stickiness on your skin; the way your tears carved through it. 

Carol had promised. You were meant to be safe now. The fight drained from you, your training hooked and pulled to the forefront of your addled brain. Your body didn’t belong to you. Let them use you. That’s what you were made for; that was your purpose. 

You closed your eyes. 

“Ya got less than one goddamn second ta move away from her ‘fore I put a bolt in yer brain.”

Your eyes snapped open, your lips parting to breathe out one word.

“Daryl.”

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[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Love me or hate me, both are in my favor (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic Rivals AU])

I know y’all I know… I promise from now on, from this chapter this final I will put my priorities on finishing this fic, and the next chapter will be longer. anyways, not proofread. Enjoy once again.

Some villains foreshadowing, cursing maybe (can’t remember tbh), not much tbh.

Word count: 2.1k

Series Masterlist Series playlist

Chapter 10: What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

—

“How interesting… seems my wall crawling friend here found himself a little girlfriend…”

You both couldn’t see him, but he saw you. Saw the way Spider-Man’s hand so easily found its way to the small of your back, saw how he smiled down at you when his blue and red mask was partly off, the way your eyes gleamed as you looked up at him. Young love.

He couldn’t wait to destroy it, to rip it right out of Spider-Man’s sharp talons.

“Enjoy her while you can Spidey… You won’t have her for long…”

—

Miguel has officially burned whatever unstable bridge he had with you. You won’t talk to him, you won’t go up to him to compare scores anymore, won’t even glance his way anymore. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it, he knows he did, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t stuck internally mourning the loss of any good blood between you and his civilian form, officially snapping the last olive branch you had given him.

You wouldn’t talk to him, you wouldn’t stop by his desk anymore, started to take the longer routes to class whenever you would both have to go to the same class just so you weren’t in the same viscosity as him, hell, he’s pretty sure you haven’t even looked at him since. He can’t blame you though no matter how much he wanted to, he brought this upon himself. If he was able to keep his mouth shut, then maybe he would be able to better his chances of turning your silly rivalry into something closer to companionship. Now… his only hope was to be patient, and pray that you would eventually grow enough of a soft spot for him to be able to enter your life once more.

Step one, would be to make you acknowledge him. Even if it’s a small glare or a rolling of the eyes, he’ll take whatever you’ll give him. So he starts of small, a small scrap of paper with the words “I’m sorry, pls stop ignoring me so I won’t feel bad when I crush you on the next quiz”, it was meant as a joke, hoping to garner some sort of reaction out of you, where that be a chuckle or snort or an eyeroll. But you didn’t even open the note up, the second you saw his initials written in his neat handwriting on top of the folded paper, you crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash can before returning to your seat before the teacher began class.

You were stubborn, but so is Miguel, that was one of the many things you both had in common. So he tired again… in the next class he had with you, samething, a small folded slip of paper placed on the top of your desk, only for you to repeat your actions by throwing it away again. But as time passes he gets more persistent, started to leave your favorite candies and flowers on your desk, you knew it was him too, because they’d always be accompanied with his name on something, and despite how much it pains you to throw away perfectly good candy and flowers your need to keep a grudge was larger.

—

“Are you kidding me? How long is it gonna take for him to get the hint…” You whined quietly to Mj, as you picked up the small stuff doggy he had left on your desk this time, he knew you wouldn’t have the heart to toss this. Damn him.

“It’s a bit cute doesn’t you think? He’s like all those guys you read and watch about in those romance novels and movies.” Mj tried to reason with you, a small giggle leaving her lips as she picked it up and examined it. “It’s so cute too…”

“Well lucky you, it’s yours now.” You deadpanned with an eye roll as you sat in your seat, “And that’s different, at least all the guys in the movies and books didn’t drag the girl through the mud and insult them the way he did me.” You added, crossing your arms and turning your nose up in a slightly childish way, not even glancing at said male that you were talking about despite him sitting a few seats over from you, fidgeting with his phone as he pretended not to listen. You didn’t care if he did or not.

Mj just sent you a friendly glare, one that silently says, “don’t you think you're blowing this out of proportion?” You then tilted your head to the side, sending her one back that simply said “no.” she couldn’t help roll her eyes a bit at your dramatic as she gladly takes the stuff husky and placed it her bag, despite now being in basically no contact with your rival, it felt like you were complaining about him increased ten fold. Erasing any progress she and Peter were hoping to get the two of you together.

“So,” She finally drops it, glancing at the clock above the door of the classroom to see how much time she had before having to find her seat. “Are you doing anything after class tonight? Gwen from my French class is having a party at her dorm tonight, wanted to see if you’d come with me.” She asked, hoping to finally get you out and distracted. Frowning slightly white how quickly you shook your head.

“Can’t. I’m gonna be busy tonight.” You quickly answered, pulling out your supplies from your bag, making her groan at the rejection.

“You’ve been ‘busy’ all week, I know you well enough to know you’re probably just watching some random movie in bed.” She retorted, crossing her arms as she lightly glared at you.

“I have an actual thing tonight.” You replied, a smile creeping on your lips as you spoke. Mj raising her brow in suspension.

“A thing?”

“Yeah a thing.” You giggled a bit, feeling your cheeks warm up slightly.

“Okay can you tell me what said ‘thing’ is?” She asked, placing her hands flat on your desk as she leaned in a bit to get a bit closer, you pretended to think about it for a second, letting out a small hmm before finally answering.

“Okay, okay fine. Only since you're my best friend, I’ll tell you.” You said before folding your hands under your chin. “I’ve got… a date, for a lack of better terms.” You admit with a smile, Mj’s eyes widened so big you thought they’d popped out of her eyelids.

“No-no way!” She shout-whispered, going to sit in the empty chair next to her despite it not being her assigned seat. “Wait who!? Is it someone we know? Is it someone at this school?” She asked to which you quickly shook your head too, another smile spreads on your lips as you noticed her face form into one of confusion.

“Nooo, or actually I have no idea where he goes to school.” She scrunched together her brows at the odd answer.

“What do you mean you don’t know what school he goes to? Have you ever met this guy in person before?” You couldn’t help but let out a snort as she goes into ‘mom friend’ mode, her naturally overly protective nature shining through a bit. “Because if this is some, like random guy you met off social media I forbid you going-“

“Oh my goodness, no, no it’s nothing like that.” You shook your head and laughed, trying to explain yourself before she went into a full tirade about stranger danger. “I’ve met him in person, multiple times actually.”

“…Okay, so what’s his name?” You could still hear the slightest bit of suspicion in her tone as she narrowed her eyes at you. Only to watch them narrow more as you shrugged your shoulders, making her let out an over exaggerated sigh. “Is there anything you can tell me about him then? Literally anything.” It’s clear that her patience with you was starting to wear thin from you keeping her in the dark about the supposed guy you were going to see.

With practically perfect timing with the bell, you made a quick movement with both your hands. Middle and ring finger folding flat against your palms as the pointer, index and thumb were stretched out. Her jaw dropped to the floor as the biology teacher told everyone to get to their assigned seats, leaving you free from any more questions from the shocked redhead.

—

“Why can’t we take the subway or something? Do you really need your main mode of transportation to be swinging?” You asked as you placed on a jacket, trying your best to not get cold feet on your plans with the spider despite him already being in your window. “I’ve developed a new fear of heights because of you.” You whined, which wasn’t a complete lie. Especially after the whole Doc Ock situation.

“When have I ever given you a reason to doubt my ability to hold you safely while swinging?” He asked with a head tilt, squatting in your window stool, despite the mask being on your still noticed the way it shifted as he smirked.

“Well… no but-“

“See. You’re safe-“

“That doesn't mean I can’t still be scared though.” You pouted, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you took a step closer to his spot in your window. “This might be second nature to you but it’s not for me, okay Mr.Man.” You retorted, before a small squeal left your lips when he pulled you closer to him once you were in arm’s reach, a smile creeping onto your lips despite your attempt to act annoyed with his actions. The red line where his right eyebrow would be raised up as he hugs your waist.

“Mr.Man?”

“Yeah… you know, Spider-Man. Mr.Man. I-I don’t know, it sounded better in my head.” You huffed, face heating up slightly from embarrassment as he let a snort out before even realizing he did, shaking his head playful as you attempted to explain away the attempt at being sassy. “I don’t know your name yet, okay. Cut me some slack.”

“Okay okay, sorry.” He chuckled, motioning for you to get on the window ledge with him, his grip tightened around your waist to make sure you didn’t fall, your arms wrapping around his neck as he helped slip you out of your window. Shutting it behind you both with a web after he swung you both onto the neighboring rooftop. A small squeal leaving your lips as you cross the distance.

“Where are we going anyways?” You asked, moving some loose strands of hair out from your face as you looked up at the vigilante.

“One of my favorite spots, has a great view of the city.” He told you, patting the side of your hip as a silent command to wrap your legs around his waist for extra security while he swung you both, quickly doing as you’re told, shifting until you were comfortable on his side, arms around his broad shoulders and one ankle hooked under the other to keep your legs around his hips. Once he felt the shuffling stop, he shot one of this neon red web to the top of your dorm building, his free hand that was gripping your waist gave your side a little squeeze, as if to silently warn you he was about to start swinging. “But first I gotta go pick up our dinner.”

—

“Mmm… yeah you're right, these sandwiches are waaay better then the bodega from around the corner of my school.” You admitted in between bits of your sandwich, taking a sip of your drink to help wash the food down. “Too bad it’s all the way across town, that’s too far for me to just get a sandwich. A forty minute subway ride is not worth it.”

“Well, if you're ever in the mood for one, I’ll get you one. It takes me less than half that time to make the trip.” He told you as he readjusted his mask to sit on his nose better, and cleaned some crumbs off the side of his plump lips.

“I’ll have to take you up on that deal sometime.” You joked, wrapping your free arm around your torso in an attempt to gain some more warmth. Even with one of your thicker winter jackets on, it was no match against the cold winds of late fall in the city from up at the top of the Empire State. You had no idea how Spider-Man wasn’t developing hypothermia considering he appeared to only be wearing the blue and red spandex suit. He must have noticed your body begin to tremble slightly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to steal some of his warmth.

—

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