#// *taps on the mic* and then he goes and fucking forget it

[sharkfinx]

Childhood Memories.

Far from the mainland of Kirigakure, deeper in the mist where the rays of sun would only reach in the hottest of the summer days. Wood platforms stand floating in the sea as the waves are peaceful at that part of the country. Some houses are connected by bridges, others seem to only lead to nothing at the first glance. Not all Hoshigakis liked to be dry all the time, some structures stood deeply at the sea’s bottom. 

Bubbles emerge at the corner of one of those platforms as one boy jumps from the water. Holding a red crab over his head and with quick steps enter one of those houses. 

"Mamaaa Mamaaa! Can I eat this??" The little boy exclaims to a taller figure, already nibbling on one of the crustacean’s legs. His mother stands almost two and half meters tall, their head resembles more a shark than the rest of their body. Their hands are busy sharpening a dagger in a grindstone in the middle of the kitchen.

"Oh dear, you'll ruin your appetite…. you better give it to me, nee." Her voice differs from her appearance, it’s a soft and monotone tone. She takes the little animals from the kid's hands and daggle it over her big jaw full of teeth. “Not fair! Not fair! Mama maaama!” The tiny boy can’t do anything besides try to reach it with his tiny hands.  As the crab was falling inside their mouth, a spear came flying and hits it. Crashing the little one over the bamboo’s wall. Another figure, smaller and more human..if it wasn't one single gill under each one of her cheeks and the blue grayish skin. She shakes her head negatively toward the two. At their back there’s a giant piece of squid that is wrapped with a net. It’s already sliced up as if it was torn apart with precision. 

“Eeehh? You’re taking the prey from your own kid? I’ll pull all of your teeth out.” The woman enters the kitchen soaked in water, twisting their long blue hair over the floor. It doesn’t seem to matter as the wood didn’t seem to absorb it. That house is adapted for that type of living. She tosses her caught at the other’s muzzle. “--- Again?” The giant answered with a scared voice, rummaging through kitchen’s silverware. A large ceramic board is placed in the sink, as it starts to prepare the dinner. “—don’t be so dramatic, my love. You act as if they wouldn’t grow back… besides you forgot to bring the kelp I asked twice that week. It’s your own fault.” She gives light taps over her wife’s shoulder before placing a hand over her own mouth that had the same sharp teeth. “Kekeekekeek ~”  

“No no.. you have to be more elegant, Kii-chan.” The smaller woman has a bamboo sword in her hands, circling the kid that stands still, balancing rice bags over their head and shoulders. At the slight movement, the mother gently taps her sword at his ankle, fixing his posture. “Mizukages can’t have rude soldiers by their side. We’re Hoshigakis—We are their blade, their hand, their strength…. Outside the battlefield we must be pristine, educated and — “What happens if I’m not?” The boy interrupts her, with a mockery grin. “I’ll bite your head off and have another son. Kekekeke~” She smacks the top of his head with the bamboo sword, rolling her eyes. “Ouchy! Moooommmm! You’re always saying that…” He feels his feet sinking for a second—immediately controlling his chakra to stay over the water. “Kii-chan, focus. Go on, again.” “I’m Hoshigaki Kisame, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He places a hand over his chest, bowing elegantly… it’s all perfect until a bag of rice falls from his shoulders. Silence. The little boy shrugs with a guilty smile but his mom doesn’t forgive. He runs but she’s faster and as soon after catching him, affectionally nimble on the boy’s head as he laughs wholeheartedly. 

The taller Hoshigaki and her kid are wearing matching aprons, the kitchen is big enough to fit them. Completely adapted with all tools that were handcrafted for her big claw hands. While the mom gouges the fishes from a basket, the little boy, standing over a chair, helps her by cutting vegetables. “ — I was from the fifth squad of soldiers while your mom was from the first division. She didn’t really want to retire, neee.” She talks in a dreamy manner, holding one of the fishes to her cheek. “Who would? Standing side by side by the third. She was so fierce, so strong… What an honor. Be their blade and listen directly to his orders? fighting non stop, the bloody org—” Kisame is unsure if his mom’s passion is directed to the Mizukage or to her wife. Maybe both? But his ears perked when she suddenly stopped. “Bloody what?” His ears work too good for his own good. “ Nothing, nee.” Her face is dark blue. She gets one of the fishes that wasn’t cut and slices their head off. Turning it upside down on a cup as she waits for the blood to pour.  Pushing to the boy that quickly forgets his question and starts drinking as if was a juice. “Then then?” “Well… We were training as usual. The first division is responsible for training the rest of the soldiers… and then It was my turn. I knew I wasn’t going to win, nee ! but I tried my best. In the end, I had one broken arm and one rib. My dorsal fin was bleeding out because she almost tore it off. Then she grabbed my face and said;  What a pathetic girl you are, Kekekeke. ~” The fish on her claws is smashed to bits as she fangirls in a completely passionate voice. “Took me 5 years to be able to defeat her so we could marry. So many broken bones.. Would do it all over again! nee nee ~” “But pathetic is ...! That’s an insult! That's rude! nee?” Kisame watches his mom pathetically hides her embarrassed face. “You won’t understand! You’re still a little pup, dear. Now enough talking! Finish cutting those before we both get our eyes pulled off, nee.”  She cleans off the bits of fish with water from the sink as they both return doing their chores.

It's graduation day. The friendships that were made in the past years were sliced off at every dance of sword that crashes at each other. Bodies cover the floor; Kids, young adults and others. All of the silenced voices had only one goal: to be a shinobi. Their only bad luck is to have a Hoshigaki at their class.

As his sword goes back to the shelf, the last one standing is covered in so much blood that his blue skin can’t be seen. It’s the first time Kisame has the scent of human blood. The ecstasy that only a winner can feel. From the top of the stairs a man stands taller than others, his expression unchanging upon the carnage. He stands from his chair—walks by the long stairs that take up the center of the stage. His long dark hair adorned with pears, his face calmer than death itself. The elegance, his manners. As he walks, others bow in respect. Until they’re face to face. His mothers talked about this man but seeing him was another completely experience. As if an angel descends from the heavens to meet him. A power that he can’t comprehend looks down, silently. The 10 year old boy places a hand over his chest, looks down and finally takes a knee. “I’m Hoshigaki Kisame, it’s an honor to meet you. Mizukage sama.” Perfectly acted at every bit, when given the order he opens his eyes again and stands up. He watches those hands so affectionately place the Kirigakure’s bandana over his forehead. Eyes never blinking staring at the figure, their straight hair that falls over their shoulder so gracefully, their delicate eyelashes and compassion. “Honor your village and the ones before and after me. Congratulations. Hoshigaki Kisame.” The little boy’s heart burst. It’s instincts, an automatic imprint that happens to every single one of his kin. He’s not nervous, but there’s something in his chest that burns passionately and he finally understands his mothers’s feelings. A loyalty uncompressible to anyone other than Hoshigakis.  “What a monstrous chakra he has.” The mizukage places a hand over the spiky blue hair of the graduate and gently pets. “He’s a single child after all. Kekekeke..”

Hoshigaki’s families rarely had a single child, the usual was six at the start as the number go down as they share that aspect with their animal counterpart. Three was the normal.. but one?  

“I guess he didn’t even spare his own siblings, nee.” “A monster, indeed. The monster of our hidden mis---” Their conversation is interrupted by a loud, deep purring that comes from the kid. All eyes turn to Kisame as he is grinning, eyes closed and nuzzling the Mizukage’s hand with his head. His mothers shake their heads, tapping his own forehead. The mizukage almost form something that resembles the smallest of the grins. He doesn’t smile—since that died a long time ago when someone was taken from him.

The three of them are walking under the moonlight, Kisame is over the shoulders of one of his moms, staring without stop at his bandana. “Ooooo! Smells like him!” He lowers it down as both of his moms give a sniff. “ It does! Isn’t that incredible? neee. Kii-chan!” The one carrying Kisame smiles happily afterwards. “I’m soo jealous! I was graduated by the second’s… His scent wasn’t as good.” “Someday…I...—would be nice to work for the Mizukage sama, nee ~” The kid nuzzle his mom’s head, taking a big yawn. “Kekekeke ~ It was inevitable! It's our instincts. The Mizukage represents our village and its people, ….Our connection with them runs in our blood. Kii-chan. When we shared our first meal—and our ancestors launched themselves into the land and lost their skin. The first accepted us as their kids.... but the third accept us as we are. Bloodlust and all. It’s our sacred purpose.��As they are the only ones that can handle our feral kind of love.”

He listens closely to his mother as her image mirrors under the sea at her feet. The bandana is tied back to their forehead and he promises to not forget what it represents.

[cinemastyles-blog]

You Think Of Me When Exactly?

Summary: a Wattpad request by mysticalrosean - “There was a girl at the show that had a sign saying " think of you when I shag my boyfriend" which I found really funny so I think it would make a good story where he sees that sign and he did acknowledge it he saw it for real haha but then make it so that he sees the girl again and remembers the sign she did and they end up fucking, also make it so he is dominant and kinda like teasing her about the fact she thinks of him while with her boyfriend or something also maybe turns out she doesn't actually have a bf so she just said that to get his attention haha”

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, suggestive language, inappropriate sign, oral (both), fingering, protected sex, hair pulling, biting, fluff with nasty filth | I love this idea so much

Y/F/N -> your friends name

Master

HARRY’S HOUSE/CURRENT HARRY

You honestly didn’t think Harry would see your sign.

But he did.

“Okay ne- wow..” Harry stops talking and chuckles. The fans follow and erupt with laughter.

“Oh my god, y/n. He’s looking at your sign!” You friend elbows you and you’re in shock, “Oh my god.”

You hold the sign up that reads I THINK OF YOU WHEN I SHAG MY BOYFRIEND and smile.

“What’s your name?” Harry asks you.

“Y/n!” You yell but you weren’t loud enough so Harry asks you again, “What’s your name?”

He puts his hand to his ear, “Y/n?”

You nod quickly, “Yes! Yeah, y/n!”

He presses his hips together and shakes his head, “Where are you from y/n?”

You tell him where you’re from and he smirks, repeating the location, “Yeah, I thought so.” He chuckles and you cover your face as you laugh, sign still in your hand facing him.

He laughs, “Down Y/N!”

You’re shaking at this point and mumble words that don’t even make sense, “Fuck, oh my god.”

“Who’s that?” Harry asks pointing to someone who’s on someone’s shoulders, “What’s your name?”

The girl yells, “Ella!”

“Ella? You get down as well!”

The crowd laughs and you’re still in shock at the interaction.

“Yes, y/n. We’ve all seen the sign! Thank you very much!” Harry laughs, “This is a family show.”

The crowd screams and Harry whispers into the mic, “Or is it?”

You scream and cheer with the crowd.

“No, actually tonight it is, my mother is here.” The crowd screams and he looks back at you, “Yes, show a little decorum, y/n. Thank you.”

You laugh and cover your face, putting your sign down.

“This next song, wow this is the weird transition ever, we’re about to sing you a very sad song.”

The rest of the concert was a exhilarated blur. All you can think of was Harry calling out your sign.

“Down, y/n.” His words replayed in your head and you knew if you had the chance, you would definitely get down for him.

On your knees.

Mouth open.

You would let that man defile you in more ways you can imagine.

——

“Yeah I’m headed to the coffee shop now.” You tell y/f/n, “Yes. I’m coming. I’m on…” you look around for road signs, “I don’t see any road signs but I’m by that library looking building.”

You walk up to a man who has his back turned and you gently tap his shoulder, “Excuse me, could you possibly tell me wh-“

You stop dead in your words.

“You’re on Brightwalton Street, love.” Harry give you a cheeky smirk.

“I gotta call you back.” You hang up the phone as your friend is talking, “Um.. h-hi Harry.”

“Hello, y/n.”

Him remembering your name sends chills down your spine, “You remember my name?”

“Can’t forget someone who brings a sign like that to my shows.” He shrugs and puts his hands in his hoodie pocket, “Where ya headed?”

“To the um.. coffee shop that’s I think next block over.”

He nods, “Meeting your boyfriend, huh?”

You laugh and shake your head, “No, no. He’s um.. back home. I’m meeting the friend that was with me last night.”

“Nice, nice. We’ll I hope to see you around.” He goes to walk away but turns around, “Send me a message on insta, I’d love to chat with you again.”

All you can do is nod.

He smiles and puts his head down at he turns around and walks away.

You stand there in shock. Your phone rings and rings until you finally snap out of what just happened, “Yeah, I’m coming. I just ran into Harry.”

——

“He said that he’d like to see with you again?” Y/f/n says as her jaw drops, “I’d get on that shit, y/n. Fuck.”

“Chat with.” You correct her, “Should I?”

She gives you a look, “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

You smirk and look at her before laughing, “Okay.”

You go to Instagram and go to Harry’s profile, “No but in all honesty though, do you really think he’ll answer?”

“Only one way to find out.” She moves over so she can see what you type.

“How’s that?” You angle your phone over so you can show her and she reads it out loud, “Hey Harry, it’s y/n. Just reaching out like you told me to. Would love to meet up with you for sure!”

She nods and taps the send button before you can stop her, “Now we wait.”

“Harry thinks I have a boyfriend.” You cover your mouth and laugh.

“At least when you fuck him that won’t make you a cheater.” She laughs and shrugs, “Did he read it yet?”

You roll your eyes, “Probably not. He’s a busy man.”

You tap on your messages and lean in to see if you’re reading it correctly, “Um.. what does that say?” You hold your phone up into y/f/n’s face and she leans out around and smirks at you, “Oh he for sure read that.”

You chew your thumb nail, “what if he leaves me on read? What if he was just playing a game?”

“A sick game, if you ask me, but I don’t think Harry would do that.” She reassures you. You set your phone down and lock it, anxiously bouncing your leg.

A few minutes later, your phone lights up with an Instagram notification.

You unlock it and look at it,

You can come by my hotel if you’d like, that way there’s no chance of us getting spotted by fans.

You look up at your friend and point to get, “You better keep your fucking mouth cemented shut.”

——

You walk into the hotel and go to the front desk like Harry said to do.

“Hi, I’m here to see Harry.” You smile at the woman and she tilts her head, “What are you here for?”

You remember what Harry told you to say, “The interview with him.”

She nods, “Alright. Fourth floor, room 265.” She smiles and goes back to typing on her computer. You walk away and let out a sigh as you approach the elevator.

The doors open with a ding and you step on, pressing the button labeled with the number four.

It feels like you’re stewing in your nervousness for what feels an eternity before the doors finally open. You step off, smiling at people as they step on. You walk down the hall, pressing your hands to your thighs as you wipe off the layer of sweat.

“263.. 264..” you bite your lip as you stand outside of Harry’s door. You slowly being your hand up and knock.

“Coming!” Harry says from the other side. You take a deep breathe let it out before he opens it, “Y/n. Come in, please.”

He smiles and extends his arm, motioning for you to come in as he steps aside.

You walk in and your anxiety disappears.

You look around at his hotel room, kind of surprised it isn’t any fancier, but Harry does seems like the guy to have just a regular hotel room, no rockstar treatment.

“So, how was the coffee shop?” Harry asks as he shuts the door, “Did you find it alright?”

No, your mind was so frazzled from the prior experience you kept getting your left and right mixed up.

You smile and nod, “I did, it was lovely place. We’re just trying to explore before we head back home.”

“To your boyfriend..” Harry smirks, “that gets replaced by the thought of me when you shag him..” he chuckles at his own joke and you nod your head, “Yep. That’s him.”

He sighs and walks over to the mini bar, “Would you like a drink, y/n?”

You probably shouldn’t, “Sure.” You walk over next to him and watch him pout the tan colored liquid into the small glass.

“You know.” He hands you your drink and leans against the stand as he takes a drink of his, “You we’re on my mind all night after the show. Even today.”

You raise your eyebrows and take a sip, scrunching them up at the straight liquor taste, “Really?”

He nods, “Yeah, I’ve seen a lot of those signs, but you’re just one I couldn’t stop thinking about.”

“Hmm. Weird.” You smirk and choke down the liquid, “I thought about you to.”

He chuckles, “That’s no surprise.”

You bite your lip, deciding right then and there you’re going to keep the secret of not having one until you leave him, “Yeah. I thought about all the ways I’m going to think about you when he’s doing stuff to me.”

You can feel your cheeks heating up but you stand your ground with yourself.

You know what you want and you’re going to get it.

“Yeah?” He glances over at you, “Wanna enlighten me?”

You grab the liquor bottle and walk over to the couch, “I guess I can.” You sit down and pour yourself a little bit more, “When he goes down on me.. I think about looking down and seeing you.”

He smirks and rubs his chin with his hand as he sits down beside you, “Okay.”

“And when he kisses down my neck..” you sip your drink and bite your lip as you look up at him, “I tell myself over over that it’s you leaving those perfect little bite marks on my skin.”

He leans in, moving your hair to inspect, “Looks like you need some new ones.” His eyes move to yours before he leans back, “Do you tell yourself it’s my cock that’s inside of you?”

You nod, “Gets me so fucking wet.” You lean back and cross one leg over the other, “When he cums on my face and I close my eyes..” you look up at him, “I think you get the point by now.”

He shakes his head slightly, a serious look lays on his face, “Tell me.”

You smirk and tilt your head, “I picture you standing over me, stroking your cock as your cum falls all over my face.”

He shifts around in his seat and you can tell his cock is growing hard, but you have no room to talk. You feel like there’s going to be a wet spot under you if you stand up.

“You’re a dirty girl, y/n. I could tell just by looking at you.” He runs a hand through his hair, “How would your boyfriend feel about you being alone in my hotel room with me?”

You lean forward and set your glass down on the table, “I think.. what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Harry chuckles, “Are you sure?”

You nod and look from his lips to his eyes, “More than sure, Harry.”

He sets his glass down on the table and pulls you into his lap, grinding his hips upward. You moan as you feel his cock rub against your aching cunt.

“So you think of me when he does this?” He moves your hair out of the way and presses his lips to your skin, sucking spots up and down your neck, earning moans the grow louder each time.

You tangle your fingers into the hair on the back of his head, pulling as he bites down a little harder, “Fuck, Harry.”

He leans back and smirks, “Do you sound like that for him?”

“Only when I think of you.”

He leans in to the other side of your neck, treating it the same as the other before leaning back, “He must not be very good at what he does if you think of me for everything.”

You smirk and lean in to kiss him. His lifts are soft against yours. He slides his hands around to your ass, pushing your hips down as he makes you feel how hard you’ve made him.

You moan against his lips as you slowly make out with him. Your hands tighten in his hair and you push your hips down, “Fuck.”

“Do you want to feel what you think about?” Harry asks as he slides his hands around to undo your jean shorts.

You nod, “Please.”

“Are you this proper with him, too?” He chuckles as he slips a hand into the front of you underwear, “Fuck, I got you this wet? You’re soaked, baby.”

You moan and rest your head on his as he circles your clit with his fingers, “Y-yes.” You grind your hips down onto his hand, “Fuck.”

“Do you think of me when you boyfriend does this?” He moves his hand I’m down and slips two fingers inside of you, “Does he think he got you this wet himself?” He chuckles, “Poor sap doesn’t even know the truth.”

You moan and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling that it’s actually Harry touching you.

“He probably does now. I bet you’re all over the internet.”

“I don’t care.” You moan out and tilt his head up to kiss him.

His fingers work their way in and out of you as you whine against his lips.

“Do you want to moan out my name sometimes?”

“Yes, Harry.” You moan in response, “All the time.”

He kisses down your neck, biting new marks into it, “You’re such a dirty girl.”

He takes his hand away and leans up slightly, pulling his shirt off over his head, “Lay back.”

You plop onto the couch and lay on your back, watching as Harry slides both you shorts and panties down your legs. He drops them to the ground and pushes your legs open, “You have a beautiful pussy.”

He smirks at you before leaning down and slipping his tongue between your folds, “oh shit.”

You gasp and grip the back of the couch, moaning as Harry’s tongue does what you always imagined, “Fuck. Yes, yes.”

Harry’s hands grip your hips and pull you towards him more, digging his fingertips into your skin. He moans against you and you arch your back, “Harry!”

He continues to work your pussy with his tongue, nose bumping your clit just right which keeps pushing you towards your orgasm, “Fuck, fuck shit.”

You gasp and lay a hand on his head, pushing down as you move your hips up and down. You clench around his tongue and a string of whines and moans leaves your lips.

Harry continues to eat you out through it before leaning back, “Better than your boyfriend?” He smirks stands up slowly.

You nod, chest rising and falling rapidly, “Oh yeah.”

He pushes down his sweats, leaving him in his boxers as he sits back down. He lays a hand over his throbbing cock and nods for you to come over to him.

You move up to sit by him and he kisses you, “Treat my cock how you treat your boyfriends when you think of me.”

He presses one more kiss to your lips and leans back to watch you. You lean down, pressing kisses to his cock thought the thinly stretched fabric, “off.” You mumble as you snap the waist band.

You slip your fingers into them, helping him pull them down. Your eyes fixate on the head of his cock and you pull your lip between your teeth.

You wrap your hand around him, stroking a few times as you build up saliva in your mouth. You wrap your lips around him and slowly work your way down before getting into a stealthy rhythm of bobbing your head.

“Oh fuck, y/n.” Harry groans and lays a hand on your upper back. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, “Shit.”

You relax and close your eyes, taking a deep breathe through your nose before sinking your head down on him, fully.

He gasps, “Fucking hell.” His hand slides up to your head, gently laying on it. You bring your head up, swirling your tongue around the tip, humming against him as you do.

“Y/N.. so good.” He pants out, “so fucking go-“ he groans as you slip him into your throat again, holding him here for a few seconds before sitting up.

He turns his head towards you with a smile as he pants, “If you do that when you think of me, your boyfriend is one lucky man.”

You roll your eyes and smirk, “Yeah, yeah.”

He grabs your wrists and pulls you into him. His hands slide down to your ass and squeeze, “I want to know what that pussy feels like.”

You nod and reach down to steady his cock. You rub it against your folds a few times before you feel the head of his cock stretching you open, “Fuck.” You moan quietly.

His grip tightens and he moves his hips up, eager to get inside of you.

You sink down into him, whimpering as he stretches you. He groans and looks up at you, “You feel so fucking good.”

He slides his hand up and grips your neck, pulling you down to crash his lips onto yours.

You move your hips at a rhythm that gives you the best pleasure you have ever felt. He slides his hand up, tangling it in your hair so he can tilt your head back, “Does my cock feel better than that boyfriend of yours?”

“y-yes.” you gasp out, “Fuck, so much better!” you dig your nails into his shoulder and push your hips down as you cum around his cock, “Fuck, fuck.”

“Shit.” Harry breathes out. He lets go of you hair and cups your cheek, “Im going to cum all over that pretty little face of yours.”

“Please do.” you look at him and take his thumb into your mouth, sucking it.”

He gasps and thrusts his hips up, “You’re such a dirty girl, cheating on your boyfriend with me.”

you smiles and gently bite down on his thumb, “Can i tell you something?”

he nods and rubs his thumb over your lips, “Hmm.”

“I actually don’t.. actually have a boyfriend.”

He chuckles, “Is that so?”

You nod and bite your lip, “I just wanted to see if you’d notice me.”

He smirks and leans in, pressing his lips up your neck and under your jaw, “I certainly did more than that, now didn’t I?”

He flips you so he’s on top of you and you’re on your back. he holds his cock still, resting inside of you.

“What are you doing?” you pout slightly.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, lying to me.” He leans down and brushes his lips over yours, “I’m going to make you beg for me to finish.”

“please harry.” you whine, moving your hips to get some sort of feeling, “I’m sorry.”

he tsks his tongue, “Not good enough, love.”

“Harry. please, fuck me.”

he watches as you pleade, “Harry. i’m s-“

he thrusts his cock deep inside of you and you take a sharp breathe, “Fuck yes, that please please please don’t stop.”

he slowly pulls out and thrusts back in, hard and deep.

“You’re lucky you’re you.” he winks and leans down to kiss you, swallowing your moans as he thrusts fast.

“yes, harry. fuck!” you let out a pleasured scream and wrap your legs around him, “Fuck, yes yes that!”

he moans into your neck and bites at your skin, “Fuck, m’gonna cum soon.”

you nod and unwrap your legs, preparing yourself to fall down to your knees.

“Fuck.” he grunts and pulls out, taking his cock into his hand as you get down onto the floor, waiting for his cum.

you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, closing your eyes as the first sting lands on your cheek.

he moans as he watches you collect it with your tongue, swiping it around your mouth and moaning out.

“You’re so fucking hot, y/n.” harry moans as he slows his hand down, stepping back to look at you as his chest rises and falls quickly.

you smile up at him, “Are you mad?”

he bites his lip and rests his hands on his hips. he stares at you for a few seconds before laughing and shaking his head, “No.” he goes to walk away but turns back and looks at you with a serious look, “Ill be mad if you fuck anyone else after this.”

——

i hope you liked this. please let me know what you thought of this. i think this was a great idea for a one shot so thank you to the person who submitted this!!

if you have any others feel free to send them here

likes and re blogs are majorly appreciated <3

[voidnoidoid]

Weaktober 2024 (3): Serenade

aka the eunjang gang hit up a karaoke joint.

"Thanks, enjoy your time!" The cashier at the counter said cheerily. The boys smiles and made their way to their room, second one down the right. Ben had oh so generously paid for their 2 hour karaoke session after losing tremendously at Street Fighter the other day, to Gray of course.

Eugene had some... interesting memories of karaoke after he and Gray had that encounter with the girls from their cram school, but forget all that, they were here to have fun and let off some steam after their mid-term exams! The whole gang was here, Ben, Alex, Gerard, Gray, Rowan and even Teddy, who showed up after some convincing.

"Alright," Ben announced, taking his place next to the karaoke machine, having appointed himself Song Master. "who wants to pick a song first?" Everyone looked at each other, excited to hear each other sing but nervous about being the first one. After a time, Rowan spoke up, raising his hand.

"Hey! Since Gray won the Street Fighter tournament, how about he goes first?" Everyone murmured their agreement, save for Gray, who blinked owlishly. He felt a bit nervous, with everyone's expectant gaze on him. He never really sang much before, not being the type for singing, and he mostly listened to white noise and instrumental study music.

"A-ah, well.. alright then," Gray said, a determined look in his eye. He was here to Have Fun, and he wouldn't let his friends down.

"Woo hoo!"

"Let's go Gray!"

"So what song will you pick?" asked Eugene.

"Let's see... erm. Uh. I don't know." Gray admitted, a blush colouring his cheeks. Alex laughed and picked out a song for him in his stead.

"You gotta know this one, haha!" Alex laughed, as the first notes of 'Nobody' by the Wonder Girls began to play. In fact, Gray DID know this song, because Stephen kept belting it out loud in the shower. Gray took a deep breath and sang, to the cheers and tambourine playing of his friends in the background.

---

The boys watched in glee and amusement and clapped along to Gray's singing. He had a nice voice, albeit a tad robotic and shaky due to nerves. It was nice seeing Gray letting loose like this, especially since he had so much on his shoulders since coming to Eunjang. They cheered as Gray got more into the song, singing with more passion, tapping his foot to the beat.

The silver haired boy was met with raucous applause at the end of his song. "Gray, that was awesome!" Ben cheered. Everyone else nodded, smiled and voiced their agreement.

After that, everyone took their turn singing a song. Ben went next, singing an energetic and corny rock song from the 80s and utterly butchering the English words. Alex and Teddy sung a duet, taking turns on the rap and singing portions. Rowan sung A Cruel Angel's Thesis like his life depended on it. Eugene sang 'What is Love' by TWICE, (because of course he stans TWICE).

Finally, it was Gerard's turn. After an emotional evening confiding in his friends about his past, they all knew he used to sing lead vocals in Slam, his old band. "Your pick Gerard," Eugene said as he handed him the mic. He accepted the mic with a smile, and chose to sing 'Eyes, Nose, Lips' by Taeyang.

Everyone sat entranced by Gerard's singing, his deep voice washing over them like ocean waves on a moonlit night. His singing was filled with emotion, the lyrics piercing their hearts with every notes. When he finished, the room was silent for a few moments. "...What?" Gerard said. His friends looked up at him in awe. A single tear rolled down Ben's cheek as he clutched his chest and uttered,

"Dude, I think I'm in love."

That broke the silence and everyone started laughing. Gerard barked out a laugh and whacked Ben painlessly on the head. "Haha shut the fuck up man!"

"No seriously I think that was the best thing I've heard all week." Ben said.

"You've got the voice of an angel." Alex agreed.

"Truly incredible." Gray nodded.

Gerard looked down, unable to hide the smile growing across his face. "Aw c'mon guys..."

After that, the boys went for another round of songs and sang the night away.

[the-flaneur]

you spin me right round baby

pairing: f1 grid x reader [headcanon]

ft. lewis hamilton, max verstappen, charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lando norris, oscar piastri, george russell, daniel ricciardo

summary: the drivers need some way to let off some steam, what's better than sex and a song?

warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW -> smut ft. unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), subtle mentions of kinks

wc: 961

[masterlist] [requests]

lewis

this man's airpods are permanently welded into his ears, istg we will never him in the paddock without them

he also makes his own music (even if it'll never be released)

so....

there’s no doubt that he has the most immaculately curated sex playlist

it’s perfect for any occasion: quickies, love making, exhibitionism, bdsm play, the list goes on....

he’s also not ashamed to hear his own voice playing in the background of your whiny moans and the slapping sound of his hips against yours, so pipe is definitely on the playlist (if not the top)

one secret track he also has saved, is one of the two of you fucking in the recording studio. if you listen closely enough, you can hear the clinking sound of handcuffs in the background as you both moan into the mics

on who, you ask?

that’s up to you ;)

max

max doesn’t listen to music very often, typically liking and listening to whatever music you like to have playing in the car or in the plane

this also largely applies to your sex playlist

however…

there are a couple of songs max does enjoy pounding your brains out to - namely one very specific beyonce track which was playing at the club when he first met you, and that was playing (muffledly) as he took you roughly in the club’s bathroom ten minutes later.

and it had even looped back by the time you were stumbling out of the bathroom, max’s cum still dripping down your leg.

(otherwise, there’s no music needed, your moans, his dirty talk and the dripping sound of your pussy enough are enough to get you both going quick enough)

charles

like lewis, charles’ affinity for music means he has a more than comprehensive sex playlist at hand for any moment

however, he does prefer songs without lyrics and only because he’ll be tempted to start singing along, and forget about fucking you into next week 

and we don’t want that so…

his playlist is largely filled with songs in french and italian, which does mean he does have the tendency to start cursing and moaning in french as you grind and dig your hips down on his dick. 

it gets even worse when you pepper hickies across his neck and chest, with his grunts and moans turning into whiny whimpers at your blossoming attacks.

carlos

carlos absolutely hates having a sex playlist.

it goes against the very epitome of his ideal sex scenario. the very fact that you may be displeased by his foreplay and desires to you fuck you into next week, that you somehow need other sensory stimulation, absolutely disgusts him.

no.

he needs to absolutely consume your every sense with him. and only him.

this means instead, pressing his body right up against yours, his growing dick pressed harshly against your back. his mouth nips at your ears and neck as the aroma of his natural musky smell fills your every breath. 

so expect the spanish seductor to do all the hard work ;)

lando

this boy is so fuckboy, clubbing at 3am coded, it’s obvious what’s going to be playing in the background of his apartment as he fucks his cum back into you

his preference for quickies in the backseat of his luxury cars means that your phone

(which is permanently plugged into in aux) 

is almost always blasting the playlist as he bends your back and rails your to the pounding bass

however, in the bedroom, he opts for a more quiet atmosphere, the songs turning more seductive, as he peers through his eyelashes, punishing two of his thick fingers into your cunt

oscar

oscar may appear to be one of the more tamer drivers on the grid, with a cool headed exterior and no nonsense attitude, but his sex playlist reveals a more playful side to him than most would believe

he’s definitely a secret sucker for a good club song, especially as he grips the back of your neck and pulls you towards him, making you reverse cowgirl him sitting up, his hands groping the front of your body, as a thick ring of cum forms at the base of his dick.

but he’ll still treat you like a goddess, prepared to get down on his hands and knees for you, whilst smirking has he sucks your clit and pounds two fingers into your pussy.

george

george, similar to oscar, appears to be a bit more chill about his sex life, but in this case he actually is

definitely one to prefer blowing out your back in bed, rather than somewhere more risky (unlike some of his more adventurous colleagues), but this doesn't mean the sex nor the playlist is tame either

it’s a good mix of slow seductive songs sprinkled in with the occasional chas atlantic song which he feels a bit more free to pull out and give you a backshot or two as he grips your hair into a ponytail

and embarrassing as it is, pipe is actually one of george’s favourite sex songs

(although he’ll never ever tell lewis this)

daniel

unironically, this man will fuck you into next week as he plays the most egregious songs at full volume

you’ve begged him to change it, and have even tried switching out his phone mid-sex for your own, but he quickly caught on, pinning your wrists with one of his hands, as he fumbles with connecting his phone back

(you’ll never admit it, but the songs have really grown on you)

however, the one thing you can publicly agree on is pony. he’s pulling off the entire magic mike™ experience just for you, and to put his own little flair on it, he’s making you wear his prized cowboy hat, as you ride his thick, denim covered thigh, just begging for more

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[oikadori]

hi! can i request Headcons about kita and osamu with their s/o in online class or google meet and forget to turn off the camera stuff. i like how you've done for suna, daichi and akaashi hehehe your hc is cute and i love it! 🥺❤️

LEAVING THEIR CAMERA ON WHILE BEING SOFT WITH THEIR S/O PART II 

⇢ includes: osamu , kita , iwaizumi | PART I , PART III

⇢ genre// cw: fluff , f!reader // suggestive, iwa bites you 

⇢ wc~ 1K

a/n: please yess i loved this prompt sorry for taking so long i just idek why i left this on my drafts for so long SORRY nonnie !!

reblogs are highly appreciated <3 

“hun-gry”

Osamu’s eyes drift from the laptop on the counter to you, softening when you loudly yawn entering the kitchen, he must admit that seeing you decked into one of his grey sweaters is making his heart beat a little faster than before.

“good morning to you too” he says between a deep chuckle as he presses a button on his earbuds. “Nice to see that you slept so well”

Your eyes adapt to the light and notice Osamu sitting in front of the screen, his notebook resting beneath his hands. You tilt your head, sleepiness still fogging your mind as you move behind him.

“I’m hungry ‘Samu” your head falls on top of his muscular shoulder and your arms wrap his torso

Osamu, quickly taps the button that deactivates the camera, or at least he thinks he did, before looking over his shoulder with half lidded eyes.

“You’re always hungry Y/N”

“You’re always hungry too!!

He shakes his head, stopping a small giggle to come out of his lips as you nuzzle your nose against his neck, leaving soft kisses and mumbling “cook me something” in the process. Osamu closes his eyes, enjoying your caresses before turning to face you.

“I didn’t know I had such a whiny baby as girlfriend” he lays his pen on top of his notebook before cupping your cheek with his big palm, “What am I going to do with ya?”

You pout at his mocking tone and Osamu sees the opportunity to kiss your lips, drawing a little moan out of you. Your eyes flutter closed as you hug him tighter, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours.

“Miya-kun! You are still part of this class!!” a female voice rings in Osamu’s ears making him stiffen, you, on the other hand, are brushing your lips on the sensitive skin of his neck searching for his mouth again, causing the spiker to blush violently as he apologizes. He looks at you with pleading eyes, using all his willpower to hold back the urge to kiss you.

“babes-please, stop.”

“Shin, can you help me with this real quick?”

Kita sees you from the corner of his eyes, standing on the entrance of his room, holding your math notebook and tapping your feet, waiting for an answer. He activates his microphone not facing you yet, addressing his classmates with a  stoic tone.

“Excuse me, I’m gonna leave for a bit” he explains to his group before deactivating his camera and mic to take off his earbuds, leaving them on top of the desk. Kita’s face softens as his eyes squint a bit to give you a tender smile, patting his lap for you to use as a seat. “Come, angel”

You eagerly move your feet in his direction before plopping your weight on his thighs, sitting horizontally. One of his palms caresses your back while the other rests on your legs.

“What is it, darling?” he whispers, leaning to pepper your cheek, making a bubbly laugh burst out of your throat.

“I-help me with math please, I don’t understand this right here” you whine, pointing with your pen at the equation on your notebook, an angry frown settling on your face as you reread the problem out loud.

“Poor baby, of course I’ll help ya”, Kita smiles before his nose tickles your neck and plants a little kiss over the exposed skin. “Okay, this goes like this-“

“Kita! Your camera is still on!” Aran’s yell coming from the earbuds is loud enough for you both to hear it, your face starting to burn as you look directly at the camera, finding the ace covering his eyes.

But Kita is calm, he gives a shy smile at the screen before plugging his earbuds back, squeezing softly your thigh in an attempt to relax you.

“Thank you Aran, I apologize for the scene but… I couldn’t help it” his cheeks redden a bit as you hide your face in your palms, muffling an apology before trying to stand up. Kita’s quickly grip your thigh stopping you for moving off his lap.

“I haven’t explained ya the exercise yet”

“Are you still in class?”

“I have a little break, need something?”

You look at your boyfriend from your chair, giving a worried look that makes his thick, brown eyebrows to furrow together before he huffs. He looks away, hiding the red flush that started creeping on his face.

“No.”, You notice by the way he’s standing there, shifting his weight from left to right and hiding his hands in his pockets that he’s lying so, you lean back, offering a teasing smile.

“Oh! In that case I better do some work”, you drift your attention back to your laptop but your chair turns to the side, finding Iwaizumi’s greyish eyes staring deeply at you as his hands grip firmly the arms of your chair, caging you in your seat. “What is it Haji?”

“Want you” two simple words that make your heart flutter. One of his palms moves behind your neck to secure his hold on you as his lips crash against yours in a passionate kiss.

The room is silent except for the sounds of your wet and sloppy kisses.

“Iwa-chan!!” your boyfriend’s eyes snap open, and he freezes, lips still latched at yours, as the voice of seijoh’s captain bounce against the walls, “you are gonna hurt her lips if you keep biting like a rabid dog! ”

Iwaizumi grunts, shooting daggers to the setter across the screen, and you swear he’s about to smash your laptop with his own hands.

“What the fuck?!”

“If you need advice I-“

You quickly hold onto his arm, dragging him towards you to place a chaste kiss on his cheeks, giggling at the whole situation as your free hand closes the laptop, leaving Oikawa talking to himself.

Iwaizumi huffs and curses, wearing blushy cheeks, pressing  his forehead against yours. He stares at your red, swollen lips before tracing them carefully with his calloused fingers, worried.

“Was he right? Did I hurt you? Shit. Gonna be gentler next time, princess”

taglist:  @evelynn27, @tobiosbbyghorl, @mjoork, @kenmaki, @hajiswife,  , @oikadiors , @arrogantsonofabiscuit, @asteroid-babe , @kouffee-ink, @wak4tosh1@sazunari @akkeyomi @ilovecheese08

[thefanficmonster]

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.” 

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

                                                          * * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger! 

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at. 

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black. 

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“ 

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me. 

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios

[stylistiquements]

The Sorcerer pt. 1

Corpse Husband x gn!reader

Reincarnation AU | Summary :

The same candle lights up on Corpse’s desk every time you are reborn and turn 23. He has been looking for you during centuries but this time you might be closer than anticipated.  {Playlist}

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

You’re about to blow your 23rd candles and Corpse is about to experience the consequences of it. Somehow, something about your rebirth is different this time.

☾ Words : 6009.

☾ Warnings : angst, mention of death (only suggested and not specific), grieving, swearing 

Masterlist | Next 

What does it mean to be a sorcerer in 2021? Corpse wonders as he chooses an outfit for his black bean character, lightly tapping his fingers in a crafted rhythm against his dark wooden desk. Nothing, really. The modern days turned his kind into a groundless concept, legendary creatures at best and it’s truly a shame when you think about it.

“Alright, are you ready?” Corpse asks as he moves his mouse above the “start” button and projects everyone into a new round.

“I won’t forgive you like I did last round,” Karl warns Corpse, dash of amusement in his tone.

“Sure,” he scoffs and the devious ghost of a smile shines on his lips when the bloody word “imposter” appears above his virtual pink cat hat.

Sorcerers used to be the rulers of this world and the most famous of well-hidden secrets; no one talked about it yet everyone knew. You just had to be here, respect and adoration followed their every move. People from all horizons went out of their way to meet them in hope of witnessing a miracle.

Oh, how the tables have turned now. They didn’t have to hide their face back then and it all went the harmonious way until a certain day when their fate met a tragic outcome. The day when life took a turn for the hidden.

Corpse is somehow retired now. Maybe that’s why he started doing youtube in the first place; because the craving of being needed had to be fulfilled one way or another. Or maybe because the thrill of life has been gone for so long he had to try everything to fill the void in hope of feeling a drip of something again. The weariness of a mere life stiffened in his rib cage from time to time, preventing a proper breathing.

He could have still been able to practice his magic facelessly -he wouldn’t be the first one to do so after all- but it seems crazy, surreal even, for him to picture being so public about such a heavy little secret nowadays. He found comfort in the concealed, in the invisible so long ago.

See, that’s the most important reason why Corpse is who he is today but stopping the explanations there would be neglecting the truth. Corpse would, but I'm more honest than he is.

Somehow, he believes a little too seriously that a kid’s app was designed to ruin his life. He feels this rotting taste that burns his tongue every time he thinks about it, he always talks about it with great passion; as if one minute videos could compete against the thundering energy that travels from his veins to the tip of his fingers. Witchcraft tiktok got the last bit of his ancestral pride and that’s a damn shame.

His character ambles around the hostile corridors dipped in yellow light, looking for a prey to slice in half. He doesn’t have a plan yet but he sure knows how to improvise by now. Corpse deems that he’s rather good at it. He meets Tina in O2. She’s wandering around, running like a headless chicken. What if he took that expression a little too seriously? Alas, he can’t wrap his mind around the idea of the unforgivable and she escapes his reach. Corpse’s nose wrinkles, better luck next time.

His fictional blood thirst gets stronger when he hops inside a vent and observes Rae’s red character doing her tasks. Corpse knows what comes next, it’s inevitable. A hint of excitement and nervousness hatch on his chest.

At the same time on the other side of the country, the ones you love are carrying a big cake to your table. It seems so silly and it leaves you slightly embarrassed that people are celebrating the fact that you were born but, somehow, you can’t forbid that smile to reach your ears.

When you look at the cake, a snort escapes your control. Your friends drew a glazed picture of you but you find yourself hoping that there isn’t much resemblance between that Picasso-ish designed cake and your actual face. I mean, except for that particularity your face displays; eyes that don’t match in colors, one green and one hazel, it really just looks like a kid's doodle.

23, what a weird number. It doesn’t sit quite right with you for some reason. 22 is fine, same goes for 24 but 23 … Somehow, it feels like something is either missing or too much. You’re not too sure which one it could be.

The warmth that emanates from the candles is sweet and tickles your chin softly and everyone is singing along the most disastrous birthday wishes. You’re preparing for your wish. What could you need more? You’re a faceless horror narrator on youtube and life is just about good. I mean, there really isn’t much to complain about and that should be enough.

Your mind drifts off for a second, contemplating what the dream life could be about while one of your friends is already complaining about wax getting all over your glazed face. You could wish for material things but they come and go and their meaning is only ephemeral, maybe 23 is about getting more than that.

Ah, found it. You close your eyes. May I find the place where I truly belong. 23 candles are blown in one breath, not a bad performance.

That’s when the candle on Corpse’s desk starts shining a delicate and orange shade.

Corpse doesn’t notice it at first, too impregnated by his hunt, but when the unusual warmth finally informs him of the merry event, he wrestles to keep his mind into the game. His virtual character stands motionless for a second as he mutes his mic and takes his headphones off.

Fuck, not now please.

Somewhere, a new version of the love of his life turned 23. His mind drifts off, wandering near this idea as his eyes meet the flame.

It’s been hundreds of years and that fucking candle kept you hostage of his mind. Because Corpse couldn’t forget about you, he built those walls to provide you from slipping away, from invading too much of his busy mind. It was a compromise he made with himself so he couldn’t reach you entirely and, therefore, miss you completely. Yet, your rebirth leaks through the pores of his brain and past the fences no matter how hard he tries.

Corpse battles to breathe, he tries to get his mind back on the game but somehow his throat is already filling with a dangerously acidic concoction. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice immediately the way his fingers start shaking at a painstaking rhythm.

He moves his character around. Left and right. It’s mechanical and meaningless, nothing but a lost cause. Corpse clenches his grip around the mouse, hoping that the unsteadiness would pity him. How much longer can he carry that feeling? It sits on his shoulders and his chest. It tests out his patience, his own resistance to pain.

“Corpse!” Rae shouts wholeheartedly, rooting him out of his spiral. “Where are you?!”

Fuck; he has no ounce of idea of what is happening in real life, too busy going down this familiar and intimate loop once more. He swallows it all, praying that you would spare him some earned mercy. You’re always so cruel, unabashedly sneaking in and taking over his space despite all his efforts.

“I-huh- I’m in medbay, I have scan," he bluffs, hoping that no one would notice the way his voice cracks at the end.

Because if anyone did, he would have to admit that he’s not okay, that he never was and doubts that he ever will be. Just as if conceding the facts would’ve allowed him to feel how flourishing his despair was. There’s this knot inside his throat. It’s painful and he’s so tired. How many times was he left crawling on his bathroom’s floor when his heart fractured a little deeper? He misses you every fucking day but each rebirth brings back more and more longing.

He would love to abandon himself to the aching pleasure of this unsolicited reminiscence but he knows that if he did, you would possess him wholly and never give him back. You plague his mind like a mist that grows thicker and thicker on his lungs. It diffuses everywhere and intoxicates what’s left of him.

“Sure sleepy but that’s bullshit,” Tina whines. “We know it’s Corpse. He’s been sus’ the entire round!”

“He said he had scan, right?” Sean interferes, believing that Corpse is the jester. “Why don’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

They’re all waiting for Corpse to step in, to defend himself but he’s no longer here, too busy trying to swallow the emotions that are leaking all over the place. It gnaws him alive, piece by piece and it hurts so fucking much. Will it ever stop?

Silence is convenient, “I voted” badges get pinned on everyone’s chest. His black character falls into the lava, what an ironic metaphor.

“Sorry guys, something came up and I gotta go.” He finally says, hurry in his voice. He doesn’t try to hide it. In fact, he can’t.

“Are you s…” Rae’s voice gets cut abruptly when Corpse quits the call without further notice.

Corpse knows what’s next, when his head gets overcrowded by feelings and his heart too empty. It’s ugly, it’s messy and oh how he wishes it would be different this time.

The room is spinning from the crumbs of your sweet face and the trickle of your voice that drips through his ears as if you were still here. He clings onto that distorted and stained picture as if it was the ultimate proof that you were real. Were you even real once ? Remembering feels like repeating a word over and over again: with time, it loses its meaning. It wasn’t you he remembered, Corpse figured it out a long time ago. You weren’t there anymore.

The thought of it drives him crazy. He wishes he could get rid of that fucking candle, constant reminder of your rebirth away from him, constant reminder of the defeat he has to endure every time you turn 23 and you’re still not by his side. He has been looking for you everywhere for hundreds of years, from the biggest capitals to the most secluded parts of this world, without a single hint of your existence. You’re his greatest failure and he can’t, he won’t stand that.

Corpse grabs the candle and it collides with the floor with a thud that tangles with his raw voice. His chest moves heavily. It's scattered and in discord and there is this distorted gaze on his face when he remembers that the candle cannot be shattered. It’s this unsolicited spark of self-awareness that brings him closer to reality. Fuck. What the fuck is he doing? Corpse finally lost his damn mind. His hands wander uncontrollably in his hair and he looks around frantically for a second, trying to remember how to survive.

Corpse’s head is pressuring him, rushing him to turn off his computer and spill the words that are stuck on the back of his tongue on a piece of paper. That grip is unforgivable and unclear but he starts writing as if it was the only thing left to do, maybe it is. It feels like survival instinct at this point, it feels like the last attempt to collect the pieces of himself you left behind.

Dear you,

Happy birthday, wherever you are in this world. Another letter is about to join the pile. How many are there already? I wouldn’t know. I stopped counting since it made me sick.

As every time, I hope it’s the best birthday you have ever had. I remember the twenty-third birthday we spent together as if it were yesterday. I can no longer recall the way your eyes wrinkled under your bright smile or the sound of your echoing laughter but I do remember that warm feeling inside my chest, the pain in my cheeks from laughing with all my heart. How pleasant was it to be able to live it all with you? To be able to embrace you, to breathe you, to see you. Forgive me, my love, for I am no longer capable of picturing anything of you. I wish I could. I wish I could be haunted by a proper ghost, at least, and not just a glimpse of the range of emotions that animated me when you were by my side. All I can remember now is that you felt like a firework and that my eyes never met a prettier human. It’s so truly unfair to think about the fact that no one matters as much as you still do.

I am drifting off, am I? I always tend to do that in those letters. I hope you’re doing well, I really do. Did you spend your birthday with the ones who love you? I hope you’re happy and healthy. It’s the only important thing, or at least that’s what I have learned so far.

I hate those letters, they make me realize how lonely I am. Somehow, it feels like I’m expecting an answer that is never going to arrive.

Fuck. My skin aches from the lack of your touch. I miss you so fucking much. Just tell me what to do. I tried everything and you’re still stuck inside my brain. I’m a sorcerer for fuck’s sake, one of the most powerful beings to have ever existed and yet the concept of one single human defeats me day after day, rebirth after rebirth. I’m a fucking shame for my kind. I hate you. I love you so very much. Happy birthday.

Yours truly, Corpse Husband

The paper is stained by the storm that has been building up in Corpse's mind for hours. The letters are deformed now. Look at the mess you just made. He throws the letters away, where he can no longer see it and brings his knees to his chest, resting his head between his legs. He feels like screaming one more time but he’s choking. Sweet and sore agony grips his throat as his veins are burning with thick poison.

Don’t be fooled, Corpse would have been able to cast a spell or two to forget about your existence and spare himself a bit. Yet, it would only erase the last proof he had of you, not his feelings. He would have to bear the burden of a quest he could no longer figure out. He would be left longing for something that no longer existed. As if it wasn’t the case already. He wishes he could sleep, life would be so fucking easier if he could just fall asleep.

A few days have passed since your birthday. The thread between days and nights is thin and confusing and the candle on Corpse’s desk is still radiating with as much energy as the first day.

Corpse’s head is heavy, aching, he wonders if he could still carry it on his shoulders if he wasn’t lying on his bed. That sore body feels like it has been drained from an eagerness that has been growing for too long. Corpse groans, trying to figure out what’s sheets and blankets and what’s limbs, living up to the name he chose for himself.

Every ray of the sun is burning his skin. It leaves his body smelling like heat, he doesn't like that smell. Now, he could just get up and draw the curtains but that laziness is as weary as infiltrated. If only it could rain, maybe it would soothe his nerves and his growing migraine.

After a few minutes of silent fulminations, Corpse finally unlocks his phone and opens his texts one by one just to ignore them. He’s curled up on himself, as if a compressed version of his darkness could help in order to block the light. Sorcerers are supposed to be tied with nature, with every ray of the moon and the sun. His bond with the sun is molded, if not completely doomed to grow untie. Corpse is a sorcerer like no others and that goes without saying.

One text captures his breath and his attention, bringing back some interest into the numbness. It’s coming from you, y/n. Or at least, the “you” from this present life. The “you” who isn’t aware of the past and the “you” Corpse doesn’t know is the one he has been looking for during eternity.

In this life, the two of you aren’t close enough to be friends -and he would never let you take that role- but, by the time of your first Twitter interaction -which consisted of you tweeting emo Sykkuno with tattoo pictures and Corpse replying with a meme that said "If life is a simulation please turn it off", Corpse knew you should be near him at all time. Not too close for you to actually be able to touch him but definitely not too far. It’s peculiar but something that has to be felt, not explained; a primitive hunch so loud it couldn’t be unheard.

His mind is awake again. The plan for today, which consisted of him rotting in his bed, seems compromised right now. Corpse turns to lay on the left side of the bed, where the sheets are cooler. His brows furrow and he sighs heavily as he rubs his eyes with his thumbs.

Corpse really doesn’t know why he’d feel that way in the first place for someone like you. You always seem so organic, radiating, so free in the way you choose to exist. He envies you for being so authentic when all he can afford to do is remain hidden, where no light can really reach him if not to draw a faint shape of his being. No harsh feelings though, it’s just the way he feels about anyone who doesn’t sound fake. There is still a bit of remaining endearment in the way Corpse’s words are thrown at you, you just have to know what to look for.

Now, Corpse trades his horror narrator's advices against some social media help. Those things are bigger than him, he’s too old for that anyway. You think the way he still uses symbols as emojis is charming -no one does that anymore- but Corpse just can’t keep up with today’s slang and way of showing emotions via texts. Kids these days are just too creative with the way they express themselves.

[Hello, Mr Sorcerer, hope you’re doing good. I need your help on something.]

Huh.

He meets your words and his mind gets coated in sweat, frozen blood preventing the next heartbeat from happening. Who told you?

Corpse can’t wrap his mind around the fact that his most precious secret is being exposed with that much negligence. He can count on his fingers the number of people who are aware of his true nature, half of them are actually other magical beings of some sort. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

His head is hammered by thoughts. He thinks he’s screwed, that everyone will know. He can already foresee what is about to come. That’s why there is a bit of fear in the way his eyebrows are arching. His alerted mind screams for him to just throw his phone across the room but his fingers, covered in panic, are faster. The first text he sends is not directed to you, but to Sykkuno, his familiar.

Familiars are to sorcerers what assistants are to magicians. In short -but not limited to- a massive help.

Corpse’s link with Sykkuno transcends the law of words and thoughts. They just understand each other and the way they do, without even having to see each other, is just something that has to be witnessed once in a lifetime. It’s a sort of energy that travels through space, a special connection. It's light and invisible but leaves a warm trail on its way.

However, what doesn’t transcend their bond is the concept of time zone -which Corpse forgot about for a second. Sykkuno is probably asleep right now. Corpse’s panic takes back its race once he realizes he’s on his own and he types:

[Haha, very funny. You know, if you wanted to talk, you just had to say hi :)]

Denial, that will do the trick, right? You can’t be that persistent. Or at least that’s what Corpse hopes when he leaves his phone on an unstable balance on his forehead, waiting for an answer he hopes would spare his mind from yet another issue he has to take care of.

[I knew you’d say that but don’t worry, I promise I won’t snitch,] you reply, lips twitching under a sly smile. [I’m way too afraid of you cursing me or something.]

[Who told you shit like that anyway?]

[I just know someone.]

His expression hardens, that head keeps throbbing harder and harder by the minute. You’re so impetuous and it turns him into an impatient and choleric fog. The topic is too important, crucial and it shows how you truly have no idea what you’re talking about when you act as recklessly as you do.

[Some crazy folk told you about magic and you believed them, huh? Thought you were smarter than that.]

[Dream would be pretty upset if he knew you called him “some crazy folk”.]

Corpse stares numbly at his screen before sitting back on his bed, pulling away from his vision the curly strands that fell down. He throws a bunch of silent curses at the sun which is still attacking him, if not even more now. He types a few words but erases them in a snap, repeating the process once or twice more. Now he has to send another text, this one is for Dream : “we need to talk.”

What a weird day.

Questions, Corpse has so many of them but he can’t stop shaking his head with confusion. He had no idea you knew Dream. Why would Dream reveal something so critical as Corpse’s identity? Why would another sorcerer send you his way? That’s not how things are done unless it’s something they deem they wouldn’t be able to handle and there’s really a few things Dream wouldn’t be able to do. Corpse hesitates for second, fingers fidgeting in the air. He doubts that he would ever be capable of doing something Dream can’t do but does it really matter when, right now, you’re holding information you should never be holding in the first place?

[Feeling like trading secrets under the full moon?] You outbid. It’s always so tempting to tease Corpse when he sounds like a grumpy old man.

[A sincere fuck you.]

[That’s very rude, Mr Sorcerer.]

The way you avoid providing any sort of explanation grows in his mind like weeds that need to be ripped off. Really, from all the good timing in the world, you had to choose the worst one. But there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips when he does the math and realizes that, if you wanted to use that secret to your advantage, you would have done it by now. A slow relief that softens his headache. Also, Corpse is well aware that, as annoying as you can get, he can’t refuse you a thing.

[Fine, tell me what you need.]

[So I keep seeing the same number again and again and your name keeps appearing in my head at random times. Still don’t get the correlation but I know there is one. I wanna know the number’s meaning and how I can get rid of you.]

Corpse huffs, he’d like to know that himself. He’s about to laugh it off when he reads the text one more time. Something about it is mysterious enough to pique his curiosity. You mentioned his name, it bothers him. Not that he doesn’t appreciate you thinking about him but because it sounds odd enough to be something related to magic in one way or another. There’s this mix of excitement and apprehension that fills the pit of his stomach and now half of a smile is embellishing his lips. This buzzing sound in his brain, maybe it’s the final signal that he should start practicing magic again, the final signal his life will feel thrilling again.

[Call you in 5. This is a consultation by the way, I’m not doing this for free.]

[Fine, you rat.] You answer with a victorious smile.

Corpse’s words linger in the air. It’s smooth like velvet -you could almost touch it if you pictured it hard enough- and it’s soothing in some way. It’s deep mumbles and bits of light chuckles and a little magic. You’re spinning slowly on your chair, playing with strands of your hair. There’s a different tone in Corpse’s voice. He sounds tired and it’s mixed with something else you can’t really pinpoint. For the best or the worst, that, has yet to be determined.

“So.” Corpse says, bringing you back to reality. “What’s that number you were talking about?”

“Right. So, I keep seeing the number 5 everywhere. I wake up at 5:55 every morning. When my eyes are looking at the clock, it’s 5:55PM and it extends to absolutely everything.” You faintly slap your palm against your thighs in exasperation.

Corpse is silent for a moment as he tries to collect the bits of knowledge that are still hanging here and there inside his mind. As he expected, the pressure below his left eyebrow makes it hard to think. He really doesn’t get why Dream wouldn’t be able to take care of a matter that sounds so frivolous. It feels like the most important piece of the puzzle is missing , the one that makes the whole picture makes sense.

“Okay, this is not really my specialty but the number 5 is an interesting angel number.” Corpse hums. The word “specialty” echoes. Dream talked about that once and somehow, that’s how you finally realized that Corpse was, indeed, a sorcerer. Not that you wouldn’t believe the information in the first place but there’s a remarkable difference between learning and experiencing. What would be his specialty then?

Dream introduced you to this new veil a couple of months ago and you never fully believed in it before getting involved. Maybe that’s why you never talked about it to anyone. Even now, your skeptical nature always finds its way back to you. He said all sorcerers had specialties and that his was clairvoyance. You don’t really know what that means but you wouldn’t ask too much. Knowledge seems like a curse in that field, or at least that’s what you have learned from Dream’s distressed tone when he talked about the past. He always sounded like a broken record, a little out of tune, as if his soul was still partially stuck back there and maybe that’s why Corpse always sounded that way too.

“Do you believe in guardian angels?” You raise an eyebrow, high voice brimming with confusion.

“Do you?” Corpse pauses, you’re silent for a couple of seconds and he realizes that he won’t get an answer to that. “The number 5 is your guardian angel trying to tell you that things are about to change in your life. In fact, it means that the process already started.”

“You’re kinda scaring me though,” you say as you readjust your sit, nose wrinkling under an almost grimace. You don’t like it, you don’t like their world. It’s not yours, you’re only a human with a mere life and an almost mere job. Sometimes, you hate Dream for letting you on this secret you were now forced to keep. It always felt so two faced.

“You don’t have to be scared, the change is only gonna benefit you.” Corpse’s voice is soft and the way you can tell he believes in the words he is speaking is almost as surprising as reassuring. You can’t help it, you don’t like change. The unknown is called that way for a reason and maybe this reason is the explanation for why it needs to remain that way.

“Sure,” you coy. “What do I do about you? That’s what really interests me.”

He scoffs. Trust me, that’s what interests him the most as well. Yet Corpse knows no answer to that. He hesitates for a second and his eyes wander into the void. Should he let you know that he doesn’t have a clue, that it somehow scares him as much as it intrigues you? It feels like his broken sorcerer ego would crack even more if he did. Maybe he just had to find out before letting you know.

“Are you obsessed with me, y/n?” Corpse winces. Why would he have to travel through sarcasmland(™) to escape the question? His eyes go wide for a second, flickering on corners of his empty room. It’s only fair that he would tease you like you tease him, right?

“You’re just being annoying now,” you mumble, cheeks flushing in a vivid tint of pink and Corpse snorts.

Corpse almost forgot about himself for a second, about that damn candle, but it hits him once the conversation fades away and the static silence is the only thing left. So he gets up, grunts in complaint rooted out by sore muscles, turns his computer on and plays some rain sounds. The melody of droplets hitting the ground is reminding him how to breathe.

“Rain sounds, huh,” you whisper. “You like those.”

Corpse hums and the two of you are left listening to the rain. It tickles your ears pleasantly, so you close your eyes and relax in the back of your chair for a moment. It’s a beautiful disharmony if you really pay attention, just like Corpse is. You feel like the conversation is about to end, you don’t want him to hang up just yet.

“Corpse?” Your voice trails for a second and Corpse hums again. “Why did you decide to be faceless?”

“What did Dream answer to that question?” His tone is interesting, a bit higher than it probably should have been. What came up as conversation modalities turns into a piqued interest.

“He never answered me," you mumble.

“So people like you can’t take advantage of our nature in real life too,” he lies and you can tell by the half chuckle that travels with the answer.

You know you won’t get more from him, way less than you wish you did. Those faceless sorcerers always leave you hanging. They let you in on their little Hannah Montana life but never bear the consequence that is this endless and flowing well of questions. The rain rings heavily through your ears. It’s time for the call to end.

"Goodbye, Mr Sorcerer,” you sing before hanging up.

When the darkness finally surrounds Corpse, he slips into a strange place that greets him with a familiar smell; vanilla and freshly cut grass. The birds are singing. He takes a long inspiration, his body knows before he does. Corpse looks around, trying to let the image of the surrounding setting sink in.

That place seems oddly familiar, yet totally new; a kitchen made of golden wooden walls. It's decorated with an old and distinguished taste. The wooden table is dressed with a pretty blue and red tablecloth. Vases of fresh flowers displayed on parts of the kitchen, dried herbs hanging above the sink in front of the window. It’s dipped in sunlight, too bright to be real. The rays of light are swaying with the shadows of branches which are dancing outside with the wind. Corpse doesn’t mind the light for once, he even closes his eyes for a second to let every pore of his body get soaked in it. God, did he miss that place.

“Honey, I was waiting for you.”

Corpse’s heart jumps a little before clutching harder. He knows who’s here, he knows it’s his unforgettable love and the idea makes him almost want to never open his eyes again. He can feel it, the profound kindness and sweet smiles that are surrounding you like it always have and it makes his eyes burn with tears that are ready to trail down his cheek, sobs jostling inside his throat. Corpse wishes he could just cover you in embraces and kisses but he can’t, he can never do that in those dreams.

Corpse tries his hardest not to let the frustration immerse him in bitterness by controlling his breathing which could get carried away at any moment now. He finally swallows it all to look at you. There’s a significant disappointment on his face when he realizes yours is as blurry as always. He wishes he could just witness this beauty one more time. He doesn’t remember what your face looks like, you’re not real. It’s nothing but a dream and you’re not here.

“I made some cookies for you.” The ghost of you says as it points out a chair that seems to have appeared out of nowhere, inviting him to take a seat as it does the same. “Those are your favorite, remember?”

With a voice sweeter than honey, so bewitching, Corpse’s body works on its own and mimics your gestures. His eyes are frozen on your silhouette. He tries to remember the shades and colors that were once painted on your face. If only he could remember.

“Did you redecorate our kitchen?” Corpse asks as he takes a bite of the cookie.

“Did I?” Your past self wonders out loud. “It’s been so long, I can’t tell.”

The treat tastes as good as it always has, Corpse takes another bite. The silence in the kitchen is delicate, contemplative. Outside, the weather is lovely; white clouds floating above the endless and bright green meadows. Corpse tries to take everything he can from that dream, from the peacefulness he feels now deep inside, and the perfume of your skin, to the sweet voice that caresses his ears. If Corpse could stay here forever, he would.

“Why are you here, my love?” You suddenly ask, forcing Corpse’s attention which he refuses by looking away.

“I wonder if the wind is warm or cool outside, maybe I should check.”

Corpse knows what happens every time you visit his dreams : you end up asking this question, he answers and suddenly he’s alone and you vanished into thin air. The response is always the same; because I miss you. It leaves him feeling lonelier than ever, craving a presence he can no longer be blessed with. Just a little bit longer, please. He blinks rapidly to expel the few tears that are forming in his eyes, so the knot inside his throat wouldn’t become more unbearable than it already is. Corpse is left feeling so desperate and helpless.

In a precipitation he almost can't control, he gets up and walks towards the door. He just wants to feel the wind on his skin. Please, just a bit longer. Corpse is almost at the door when his eyes deform with stupor under the pressure of a hand that grabs his sleeve. His heart stops, he was never able to touch you in a dream before. What changed? There’s a moment of hesitation before his eyes travel from your hand, to your arm, to your neck, to your face and he can no longer swallow his emotions when he dives into your eyes. Your eyes, he can see them.

When Corpse wakes up, wiped out of his dream, his breath is short and sweat pearls down his forehead. He’s in a rush, he remembers something about your face, something important. He knows what to look for now; your eyes, your irises. They don’t match in color. The left is green, the right has a pretty hazel color.

☾ A/N : Welcome on this new AU my friends I’m so excited to have you here with me on this new journey! I hope you liked the first chapter. A big thank you to @moontwinkles for beta reading the chapter and being a big help 💗 How are we feeling about this? Faceless leo men being sorcerers and familiar Sykkuno??? Idk I’m a little too passionate about it. Don’t worry the next chapter won’t be as angsty as this one but I needed to express my thrist for angst lmao anyway let me know what you think! Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

☾ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 *OPEN* : @open-minded-chip-101​ ; @lochness-butmakeitsexy​ ; @bizarrebibitch​ ; @bellomi-clarke​ ; @ladybismuth​ ; @katyasrussianaccent​ ; @satanhauntedourcats​ ; @owl-llie​ ; @teenloves​ ; @notannis​ ; @mcntsee​ ; @rottenroyalebooks​​ ; @peachdoppi​ ; @mirahg​ ; @foxxtrot-116​ ; @koi-soi​ ; @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker ; @butterfly-skinnylegend ; @fanworrior ; @stickystrawberrysyrup ;

[arrowflier]

Fic prompt: How do people who tangentially know Ian react when Gay Jesus goes viral? Do they reach out to Ian/the Gallaghers? Lip's college friends, Milkovich cousins, ROTC classmates, Kash and Linda ... Is Gus Pfender telling someone Gay Jesus was his brother-in-law for 4 seconds? :D

I Heard it Through the Grapevine

“This is a pretty new one,” Gus Pfender said into the mic, sitting onstage at a little bar on the outskirts of New York City. “About a girl I knew a while back. A girl that was totally crazy, you all know the type.” He paused and waited for the knowing laughter to die down.

“No, but really though, she was!” he continued, idly tapping on the neck of his guitar as he talked. “She got me to marry her and everything, then slept with her ex, then tried to marry some other guy before we were even separated! Can you believe that?”

The laughter was more awkward that time, but he didn’t notice.

“Anyway, turns out she came by crazy honestly, runs in the family or something.” Even his band mates were starting to get a little antsy behind him, but he wasn’t quite done throwing his ex under the metaphorical bus.

“Yeah, get this—her little brother started a cult, called himself Gay Jesus or somethin’. Just saw him on the news—he blew up a van!” Gus laughed so hard he almost fell off his stool, but the audience was quiet.

The drummer cleared his throat behind him, and Gus finally got with the program, righting himself and coughing into the mic before saying, “Anyway, here it is; sing along loud if you know it, maybe she’ll hear us all the way back in Chicago.”

And he launched into the opening chords of “Fuck You Fiona”.

In the audience, Mandy Milkovich straightened up at the first round of Fiona’s name echoing around the dimly lit room. Her date—well, her client—touched her arm, and she jerked away before she could remember herself. Remember that she was supposed to like being touched, now.

“Sorry,” she simpered at the short older man, putting her hand on his when he let it fall to the table between them. “You just surprised me, hun.”

She smiled at him sweetly, pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth until it hurt. “Be right back,” she promised him quickly, before standing and grabbing her purse from the back of her chair. “Just need to go freshen up for you.”

She cringed as she said it, but it had the desired effect, the man just waving her away as he turned his attention back to the stage just in time for the rousing chorus of “fuck you”.

As soon as the bathroom door slammed shut behind her, Mandy was leaning over the sink, breathing heavily. Chicago. Fiona. Crazy family. Little brother.

Ian.

She fumbled in her purse for her phone, a sleek black thing that one of her more dedicated clients had bought for her. She swiped past the homescreen that he had set to a picture of the two of them, and opened up her browser.

Ian Gallagher she typed in, holding her breath as the results of the search loaded.

It came out in a single whoosh when she saw it, leaving her limp against the dirty porcelain.

Chicago’s Ian ‘Gay Jesus’ Gallagher Charged with Arson and Destruction of Property read the very top headline. Mandy skimmed the rest through the tears that filled her eyes, not daring to let them fall.

Ian Gallagher, middle child of six, pled guilty by reason of insanity at his trial last week, claiming his unmedicated bipolar disorder was the reason for his irrational behavior.

Oh god, Ian.

Last time she saw him, Ian had his shit together. He had a job, and a boyfriend, and he was taking his meds, and he kept her calm and helped her deal with a fucking body and gave her a place to stay for the night. What had happened since then? How had things gone so wrong for him again?

She didn’t know. She needed to know. She needed to know that he was okay.

Mandy bit her lip, mind racing as she considered her options. None of them were good. Mickey was gone. She didn’t speak to the rest of her family. She could call Iggy, or Colin she supposed, but she wasn’t even sure they weren’t in jail themselves. Besides, if they weren’t, she didn’t want Terry overhearing.

With shaking hands, she dialed a number she had been pretending she didn’t know, instead. A number that she had been trying her best to forget.

Phillip Gallagher picked up on the very first ring.

“Yeah, alright. No, I know, Mandy. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.”

Lip sighed as he pressed the end call button, rubbing a hand over his face. Joaquin, sitting next to him, blew a stream of smoke in Lip’s face until he straightened again, coughing.

“The hell was that for, asshole?” he asked, waving the smoke away. “You know how much shit I’m gonna get if Tami smells that on me?”

Joaquin snorted. “Still can’t believe you shacked up with your baby-mamma, man,” he teased. “You have a kid now, what the fuck?”

“Yeah, well,” Lip muttered, reaching over to steal the joint right out of his hand despite his warnings about the smell. “A lot of things have changed since the last time I saw you.”

No shit. The last time Joaquin had seen Lip Gallagher, he’d been helping him steal money from the high-end startup Lip was working for. Then he’d just disappeared, only to wander into the little cafe where Joaquin liked to take lunch just a few days ago. They’d been catching up a little bit each day since, but Joaquin’s head was still spinning trying to equate this short-haired, run-down family man with the brilliant guy he knew back in the day.

“So, who was that?” Joaquin pried. “Who’s Mandy? You two-timing your girl already, Gallagher?”

“Fuck no,” Lip exclaimed, nearly spitting out the joint. Joaquin snatched it back immediately—the Gallagher he knew never would have risked the good stuff like that.

“No,” Lip repeated more calmly. “I uh, used to date her,” he revealed. “Before I knew you. But that was a long time ago.”

Joaquin nodded. “So what’s she callin’ you for then?”

Lip rubbed at his lip—Joaquin giggled in his head at that thought—and went quiet for a long moment. Joaquin just sat by him and smoked, content to wait it out.

“She was asking about my brother,” Lip answered finally. “They were friends.”

“Which brother?” Joaquin questioned. “The janitor, or the crazy one?”

Lip eyed him oddly. “The janitor is the crazy one,” he said, but Joaquin shook his head.

“No, no,” he rambled, “the little guy, the one you thought was dealin’.”

“Carl?” Lip clarified, and laughed, fingers picking idly at the knee of his jeans. “Nah, Carl’s actually doin’ alright now, I think. It’s Ian. The one you met.”

“What’s goin’ on with him?”

Lip hesitated, and then, “You heard about Gay Jesus?” he asked, and Joaquin felt his eyes go wide. He almost dropped the joint himself this time.

“No way,” he breathed out. “That was him?” He gestured wildly. “With the kids, and the cult, and the van?”

“That was him,” Lip confirmed grimly. “Off his meds, we think. That’s what he says, at least.”

Joaquin whistled, and handed the joint back. “Think you need this more than me right now,” he said.

Lip didn’t disagree when he took it.

Linda looked up when a stranger entered her store, then promptly rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine. The kids were with the sitter and the store was practically empty, so there was no reason not to take some time for herself for once. A single stoner wandering around the aisles wasn’t that much of a concern.

Still, she kept an eye on him as he poked through what they had to offer. He wasn’t bad looking, despite his floppy hair and red-rimmed eyes—reminded her a little bit of a young Kash, even.

She promptly hated herself for thinking of her absent, no-good husband, and hated the stranger in the store for making her do it.

So when he finally came to the counter, holding two bags of chips and a Red Bull, she might have been just a tad ruder than normal.

“Put it on the counter,” she ordered gruffly when he just stood there, staring into space.

“Whoa, yeah, sorry, sorry,” he rambled, doing as he was bid. “Just came from visiting a buddy, guess I left my mind behind a bit, huh?” He giggled. A grown man just giggled in her store.

“Maybe you know them, the Gallaghers?” He continued while she rang him up. Her hands barely paused when she heard the name. That was a long time ago, and they didn’t come here anymore.

The stoner was still talking, though. “Man they’ve had some bad luck, you know?” He shook his head. “First with Lip’s stuff, now his brother again?”

Linda stilled, bag of chips still in hand.

“Which brother?” she asked despite herself. She shouldn’t care, but somehow she still did. That little shit had stolen her husband, got his boyfriend shot in her store, and bailed on her with no warning, but when he had been there, he had been good to her. Helped her run the store, even helped her with the kids if she begged. She’d been sad to hear it when he went off the rails, but the rumor around town was that he was doing better, now.

“The crazy red-haired one,” the stoner answered, and she guessed a rumor was all it had been. “They call him Gay Jesus now, he blew up a van and everything.”

“Ten seventy-five,” she told him, not commenting any more on the topic. It wasn’t her business.

But as the stranger walked out the door, leaving her to her magazine again, she considered sending some sort of basket to the Gallagher house. For old time’s sake.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t even notice the bell over the door ring a second time as someone else hurried out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Iggy Milkovich muttered to himself as he rushed off down the street away from the Kash’N’Grab, forgetting to even steal anything in his hurry.

Ian fucking Gallagher. Gay fucking Jesus. How had nobody around him seen that coming?

Iggy remembered when Ian was living with them, before he went crazy the first time. Or while he went crazy the first time? Who fucking knew, that kid was always off the rails if he thought taking up with Iggy’s kid brother right under Terry’s nose was a good fucking idea.

But there was that one time, when things were mostly still going good, when he remembered hearing Mickey talk to his boy about crashing some funeral. A funeral for a fairy soldier that Ian knew when he was going by his brother’s name out at bootcamp. They’d come home from that thing with Ian practically vibrating, bouncing off the walls with fury at the protest they had wandered into, and he had seen the way it made Mickey freak out.

Mickey was in Mexico now. Iggy knew that. Everybody fucking knew that, even if they pretended they didn’t. And it was a bad fucking idea for him to find out about this, for so many reasons.

But Iggy couldn’t do that to his brother. He couldn’t hide something like this. And if Mickey found out some other way, from someone else…well. There was no saying what stupid shit that fucker might do.

So when he got home, he hit the bong to calm his racing heart. Then he picked up the phone, and dialed a number he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Yeah, thanks Ig,” Mickey said into his burner phone. “I already knew.”

His partner for the day, some new cartel wannabe that got paired up with the Gringo to see how he managed the streets, gave him a weird look as he shoved the phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“Who was that?” the burly man asked, voice rough, and Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Your girlfriend,” he answered dryly. “Wanted to know if I had dropped your ass in the grave yet so we can go fuck in peace.”

The idiot looked like he actually believed it, and Mickey snorted.

“A fuckin’ contact, okay?” he revealed. “And none of your fuckin’ business ‘til you manage to climb the ladder past ‘basic bitch errand boy’, so get the shit and let’s get movin’.”

At least the moron followed instructions.

Mickey wiped a hand over his face while the other man’s back was turned, gathering himself. It was confirmed, then. First by those weird-ass rainbow shirts, and now by Iggy, who wouldn’t lie to him about something like that. Ian Gallagher had gotten himself in trouble, and Mickey wasn’t there to save him this time.

He sighed as his partner came back with the rest of the goods, and they set off to a new position on the next corner.

One way or another, it looked like Mickey Milkovich was going back to Chicago.

[thinking-about-sw33ts]

αѕ ρяσмιѕє∂ нєяє ιѕ σиє σf тнє fαиfι¢ѕ!! ι ωιℓℓ ρσѕт тнє σтнєя σиє αѕ ωєℓℓ, ѕσ ∂σи'т ωσяяу! αи∂ αѕ αℓωαуѕ ιf тнєяє αяє αиу ѕρєℓℓιиg мιѕтαкє(ѕ)/єяяσя(ѕ), ρℓєαѕє тєℓℓ мє αи∂ ι ωιℓℓ fιχ ιт тнє ѕαмє gσєѕ fσя тнє тяαиѕℓαтισи(ѕ)!! αи∂ мαувє fσя α fєω σf тнє ∂єfιиιтισи(ѕ)! αgαιи, αℓℓ σf тнєѕє ωιℓℓ вє σи ωαттα∂ тσσ!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

⭐️Corsets⭐️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anime:

🗝Nanbaka🗝

Supporting ship(s):

🎥Tsukumo🎥 X 💢Honey💢

Type:

🌸Fluff🌸

🌶Spicy🌶

AU(Alternative Universe):

🗝Normal🗝

Love interest for Reader:

🛠Trois🛠

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🚻(Y/N)’s P.O.V🚻(Point of View):

“For the last game! Is of course, the sake barrel tournament!” Mitsuru claimed, while floating over the roaring audience. After explaining what the objective was, the game soon began.

Samon immediately charged after Kiji, while Honey and Trois quickly ran towards the large wooden barrel, with cell 8 on their tail.

I feel myself getting worried, knowing that Trois and Honey weren’t really much of a fighter. So cell 8 beating them wouldn't really be much of a surprise.

“Quit it Monkey! Don’t you dare ruin my makeup! Do you know how much time I spent on this!” Kiji cried out, using his dual weapons to dodge Samon’s swinging staff.

“Shut up, Pheasant!” Samon shouted, trying to at least hit one of the pressure spots on Kiji’s body.

Suddenly Trois grabs Honey’s leg before swinging him around, and tossing him towards the wooden sake barrel, Honey landing perfectly in the middle, breaking the wooden seal over the wooden sake barrel, before falling in, and getting soaked by the sake.

The audience being completely silent, clearly shocked by what Trois had done, before roaring out cheers of excitement.

“And there ya have it folks! Seems like Building 3 finally won the new year's tournament, for once!” Mitsuru announced over the mic, clearly pumped up.

Suddenly Kiji brings one of his hands, and places it on his hip, striking a victorious pose. “Hmp, and that’s what you all get for doubting me.” Kiji purred out, his confidence showing.

Honey soon rises from the wooden sake barrel about to shout at Trois for what he just did, before trying to process everything that had happened staring back at the said frenchie.

Once he realizes what had happened he gets out of the barrel before cheering himself. Trois on the other hand stares at me, before flashing a charming, but gentle smile.

I felt my cheeks getting warm, before smiling back. Giving him a thumbs up. “Aren’t you going to give him a victory kiss, inmate 6?” Ahato asked, giving me a closed-eyed smile.

“I suppose so.” I replied, leaning against the red railings, desperately trying to calm down my raging blush. Soon enough Cell 6 returned back to their seats. Each boy being seated on my side.

“I, Ahato, is always and very impressed with what you do! You did great, Kiji Onee-sama! We’ll finally get a raise!~” Ahato fanboyed, high-fiving Kiji with both of his arms.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Mon Amour~” Trois asked, tapping his cheek with his pointer finger. I rolled my (E/C) coloured eyes at him, before giving in, and giving him a victory kiss on his cheek.

While Honey sat on the other side of me, completely ignoring the both of us. The warden soon started her speech congratulating the winning building.

During said speech I had managed to nudge Honey’s arm using my elbow, catching his attention. I pointed to a different building, building 13.

While pointing to the said different building, I was also directly pointing at a certain pink haired shinobi. This action made Honey blush, turning his gaze away from me, and staring at the shinobi.

‘He totally has the hots for him.’ I thought to myself smugly, while smirking. From the corner of my eye, I saw the said shinobi waving at Honey, which Honey waved back. A little smile grazing his face.

‘I didn’t know he could make that face.’ I thought to myself, finally ignoring the two of them, and focusing on the speech.

Soon enough, the speech was over, and the feast took place! After the feast we got escorted back to our cell. “Goodnight you three!~” Kiji announced, doing his final rounds before going home.

Suddenly Honey raises himself using his elbows. Trois doing the same shortly after. While I just turned at them, laying down, too lazy to sit up.

“This year was nice.” Trois commented, smiling softly. “Another year, where I get to see your hideous face, once again, Trois.” Honey teased, a smirk planted on his face. Trois ignored his comment, paying attention to me.

“What did you two want, exactly?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me. “A lingerie viewing exhibit~” Both of them purred out, clearly excited. A little blush could be seen on their cheeks. While their eyes sparkled.

I just shivered, not knowing why they’re so fascinated with women’s underwear. “Lights out!” Ahato announced, before shortly shutting off the lights after. “What about you, (Y/N)?” Trois asked, while Honey didn’t say anything. Although, clearly listening in.

“A phone that stores all genres of Manga, Manhua, Manhwas, and Anime!” I announced, excited. My (E/C) eyes sparkling. “That sounds nice.” Trois commented, a small smile grazing his features.

Soon enough Honey slowly went to sleep, snuggling deeper inside his dark purple futon, the both of us following shortly after. Trois slowly gets up from his mint green futon, and slips in my (Y/F/C) futon.

Trois held me protectively, yet softly, his legs tangled with mine. He raises a few of my (H/C) coloured hair out of my forehead, before planting a soft kiss. Giving my lips a small peck as well. I placed my hand on his cheek, caressing it. He softly grabs my wrist, before planting another kiss directly on it.

Giving me yet another gentle loving smile. Me, softly smiling back.

“Ugh, get a room.” Honey groaned out, annoyed. “Says the one who has a crush on that ninja from building 13.” I replied, annoyed as well, clearly just trying to enjoy peace, and quiet with my lover.

“What!?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🚻(Y/N)’s P.O.V🚻(Point of View):

The next day soon came, as well as our prizes. After eating breakfast in the cafeteria. Feeling absolute euphoria eating (Y/F/F), my favorite!~

While Trois ate some Cream stew, and Honey a clam chowder. We quickly got escorted to Kazari’s lab by Kiji. “Oh, hello there number 6. Just wait here, while I grab your prize.” Kazari explained, hurrying to go get the prize from another room.

I sat on a chair, patiently waiting for Kazari to come back. Soon after she comes back with a (Y/F/C) coloured phone, which she hands to me.

“It has all the latest Mangas and Animes, along with some of the oldest ones, and ones in between.” Kazari added, petting my head.

“Thank you so much Kazari!~” I cheered, quickly opening the phone. Hopping on a Manga I’ve always wanted to read. Soon enough we got to the boy’s prize.

Trois inviting Uno, thinking he might want to see it as well, much to Honey’s dismay. Kiji soon comes back, fetching us, before taking us to another separate room. The boys quickly head inside, clearly excited.

“Oh my~” Both boys mutter out, surprised. Once they settle down from their excitement, they scatter looking at the different lingeries, bras, and panties.

“Oh my god! This is pure heaven!~” Honey cheered, looking at the different selections of panties. “They even have white lace~” He mutters out, reading the sign on the bottom. His emerald eyes sparkling with endearment.

Uno soon joins in, entering through the door, before looking at a certain baby blue lingerie two piece set. His ocean coloured eyes sparkling with excitement.

I just stare at the unnecessary commotion their making, my (E/C) orbs judging them ever so slightly. As much as I loved my perverted boyfriend, Trois, sometimes his pervertedness can get out of hand.

I quickly go back to reading (F/M) on my(Y/F/C) phone, ignoring them, and leaning against the wall. That focus slowly breaking from the commotion the boys were making.

I walk around, looking at the different things as well. Before stumbling on a plain (Y/F/C) corset vest. ‘I have been wanting to try a corset for the last few days.’ I wondered to myself, not knowing that I was actually muttering it out. All of a sudden I felt someone hugging me from behind, making me jump, since I was surprised.

I looked behind me only to instantly calm down, seeing that it was only Trois. He places a few strands of my (H/L) (H/C) behind my ear, before trailing a few light, fluttery kisses down my neck. I chuckle, the sensation making me feel slightly ticklish. Making me blush lightly.

“Did that one catch your eye, mon chéri~” Trois asks, his deep rose coloured eyes showing nothing but mischief. “And what if I say yes?” I asked him back, wondering what he had stored.

“Ugh! I told you before, get a fucking room!”

“Damn pretty boy!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✨Timeskip✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🚻(Y/N)’s P.O.V🚻(Point of View):

“Apparently Honey was allowed to stay at cell 11, building 13 for the night.” Trois explained, using his towel to dry his hair, before brushing it. I nod, to show that I was listening.

“Lights out!” Kiji announces, before doing another round. Soon after the lights shut off, covering us in total darkness. The only light coming from the moon in the starry sky.

“I got you a little of something (Y/N).”

“And what might that be?”

I sat up from my (Y/F/C) futon, curious for what he got me. He quickly goes towards one of the white fancy wardrobes, pulling on one of the bottom drawers, before fetching a medium sized (Y/F/C) wrapped box.

He hands me the box, excited for me to open it. Once I opened it, I realized that it was the corset vest I took a liking to. “How did you even get this?” I asked him, generally surprised, before excitement took place.

He ignored my question, quickly pecking my lips. “You’re too cute for your own good, Mon Amour.” Trois purred out, taking my hand, and kissing it.

“Such a gentleman~” I praised him, feeding his ever growing ego. “Do you mind if you put it on me?” I ask him, turning away in order to hide my red face. “Whatever you need sweetheart~”

Trois sits beside me, before grabbing my wrist, which makes me fall directly on his lap, facing him. He quickly fetches the corset, placing it on me.

I hook the pieces on the front. I feel Trois’ hands on each side of my hips, guiding them up and down, before getting the two strings from the back of the corset, wrapping it around his hands, and pulling.

I slightly jumped, getting startled, before relaxing once again. Once he had completely pulled them he quickly tied them. “You look like an absolute God/Goddess in that (Y/N).” Trois whispers into my ear, before placing his head on my shoulder, cuddling me.

He soon raises his head, capturing my lips against his. Our tongues moved smoothly against each other. We quickly pulled apart, since the need for air was growing stronger. A string of saliva connecting to each other’s lips.

We both panted, clearly out of breath. He headed over to my neck, covering it with noticeable hickeys, and love bites. Before I could moan, I covered my mouth with my hand, so that I wouldn’t make any embarrassing noises.

“People can see them.” I panted out, blush covering my cheeks, from what had earlier happened. “Good~ People can see that you're mine.” Trois replied, smirking to himself.

“Oh my God! Trois what are you doing!” Kiji shrieked out, shining his flashlight on us. “Wait, is that the corset from the exhibit?!” Honey questions, a mixture of surprise and disgust hinted in his voice. “Honey weren’t you supposed to be with your ninja boyfriend!” I questioned back, panicking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Translation(s):

• Mon Amour = My Love.

• Mon Cherie = My Dear.

Definition(s):

• (Y/F/C) = Your Favorite Colour.

• (Y/N) = Your Name.

• (H/L) = Hair Length.

• (H/C) = Hair Colour.

• (F/M) = Favorite Manga/Manhua/Manhwa.

• (E/C) = Eye Colour.

• (Y/F/F) = Your Favorite Food.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Five Times Colson Baker Almost Kissed You and the One Time He Did

Requested? For someone else maybe (i’m sorry LMAO)

Warnings? None? 

Summary: You and Colson have been best friends for years now and had feelings for each other for what seems like the same amount of time. However, you always seem to be missing out on one another. 

Word Count: 2,902 (it’s so long but I promise it’s worth it)

One

“One hour,” Colson says, trying to convince you. 

“No.” 

“Please? We can get food after,” he begs and you consider it for a moment. 

“Alright.” 

Colson cheers loudly at this, picking you up and spinning you around before throwing you back onto his king-sized bed. He heads to his closet, sorting through his clothes to find something to wear and you roll your eyes at your best friend. 

Colson had been begging you practically all week to go to a party that Pete Davidson was surprisingly throwing. You had always wanted to meet his best friend but had never gotten the time to do so. That was the main reason you said yes to going to the party and the other was Colson was Colson and you couldn’t say no to those big blue eyes.

“One hour,” you tell him when you arrive at the house. 

“One hour,” he repeats pressing a kiss to your cheek before heading into the party. 

You head in slowly, making your way to the drink table first and pouring yourself something before figuring out what to do next. Just as you’re about to walk around in hopes of finding someone you know, you hear someone call your name. 

“(y/n)?” you turn to see Pete standing a few feet away with a smile plastered on his face. 

“Hey! I’m Pete,” he says offering his hand to shake. “I didn’t mean to sound weird knowing who you are, Colson talks about you a lot.” 

“Good to know,” you joke, and Pete smiles. 

The two of you end up talking for a while, getting to know each other, and trading secrets about Colson. You don’t realize how fast time is going until a drunk Colson finds you. 

“Darling!” he calls, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and leaning his head against yours. “You met Pete?” 

“Yes, love. And you’re wasted?” you ask. 

You turn your head to the side to look at your best friend when it occurs to you how close Colson is. An inch rests between two of you, and your eyes flicker between his and his lips. Your eyes land on each other and for a moment something passes between the two of you. 

"Y'all gonna kiss or what?" Pete says from in front of the two of you. 

You and Col both laugh, and your head rests on his chest. The two of you cast another glance at each other before you maneuver so your arm is around Colson's waist and his slips around your shoulders. 

"Let's go, big guy." 

Two

"Fuck!" Colson curses loudly while messing with the pearl-like necklace. 

You stand from your spot on the couch and head over to your frustrated best friend. As you walk up to him, his hands drop and you stand in front of him. You offer a small smile and reach up to click together the confusing necklace. 

“I’m nervous,” he admits as you work on the jewelry. “Why the fuck am I nervous?” 

“Because it’s a VMA and you’ve been working your ass off and you deserve one.” 

“But I don’t care if we win or lose,” he insists and you nod. 

“I know. But you still care a little bit.” 

After fastening the necklace, you fix it so the bullhorn is at the center of his neck. Once finished, your hands fall to his chest and you look up at him. 

“You’re gonna win.” 

Because of restrictions, you sit to the side of the room as Colson heads in front of the cameras to talk to the interviewer. You sit back and admire your best friend’s success, proud to have been able to watch how far he’s come and how amazing he’s done in his career, vma or not. 

“What I wanna let you know, you won the vma. I have somebody bringing it in for you right now.”  

Just as Colson begins to freak out on camera, you immediately start to jump up and down for your best friend. You want to run up and hug him and tell him you knew it but you refrain wanting to hear what he says in his acceptance speech. 

He runs through the og’s, Casie, his family, Travis, and Mod, and just as he’s about to stop, his eyes land on you. 

“My beautiful best friend. Just before this, she was reassuring me that I was gonna win and I trust her with everything. Thank you for always believing in me.” 

A happy tear falls as Colson continues to cheer and you watch until the interview is over and the crew cuts the camera. As soon as they’re finished, Colson beelines straight for you. 

His arms wrap around your waist and yours slip around his shoulders and you can feel the excitement and love radiate between the two of you. He picks you up and spins you around unable to contain the happiness and you’re both practically screaming in the tiny backstage area. 

“I won!!” he yells. 

“You won!!” you echo and you’re both laughing out of pure bliss. 

He sets you down and you take a step back, your hands moving from his shoulders to his face and you cup his cheeks and see a beaming smile greet you. 

“I’m so proud of you Col,” you say and he laughs lightly still not believing this all. 

You stay there like that for a moment, gazing into each other eyes and your heart beats fast as his striking blue eyes study yours. Your thumb absentmindedly strokes the side of his cheek and he leans into your touch. You’re certain he’s leaning in and you’re getting closer when someone interrupts you. 

“Colson? Is it okay if we get some pictures?” 

Three

“Okay, we’re gonna sit here and get all of our work done even if it kills us,” you say turning to your best friend and laughing. 

“Or, we could go to this party in the hills?” Kells asks, offering you puppy dog eyes. 

“Absolutely not. You have to finish that song and I need to write this paper. We can get it done together.” 

The older boy gazes at you from across the room and you meet it with ease. After a moment or so, he breaks and you giggle lightly knowing you won. 

You and Colson both had been putting off your respective work for days now. You were both born procrastinators, having bad habits for waiting till the last minute to get things done. When you met each other, it got a little bit easier to finish things though when you had to do it together. 

However, sometimes you got things done much later in the night than the two of you would have liked. Currently, it was almost 2:30 and neither one of you had made much progress. 

“Okay, I’m done,” Kells says coming over to your spot on the couch and laying down. 

His head falls into your lap and you instinctively let your hands fall to his hair. Your hands card through the soft blonde locks that fall into a messy mohawk formation on his head. You watch as Kells eyes fall shut as your nails scratch the sides of his buzzed hair before running through the locks once more, 

“Hey,” Colson says and you look down at him. You smile lightly at the older boy and he sits up at the action. He props up on his elbow, one hand reaching up to twirl his fingers through your hair and you hum at the action. Your eyes trace over his features, committing each perfect detail to memory. 

You suddenly realize you’re both moving closer and closer to each other until you’re centimeters away from each other. Your heart is nonexistent and your eyes shut in anticipation at the closeness. 

Suddenly the loud sound of your alarm goes off and the two of you split. Colson falls back into your lap, his head hanging lowly and sighing quietly. You scramble to turn the alarm off, completely forgetting that you turned it on in case you took a nap during your work. 

“So close,” you hear Colson whisper before he stands and goes back to his work and you find yourself smiling. 

Four

“I suck,” you tell him. 

“You don’t suck,” Colson reassures you. 

“Please? It’s one song, the last song! Please?” he begs taking your hands in his and tugging at them lightly. 

“Fine.” 

“Let’s go!” Col cheers letting go of your hands to pump his fists together. 

Colson had come to you when he was almost finished with the album and had only a few songs left to mix and go over to make sure they were perfect. After going over the album and the deluxe over and over, Colson finally realized what he was missing. 

“It’s just this part at the end, me and Dom already did it but I think adding a high harmony will be perfect,” Colson explains, leading you into the small recording booth. 

He wanted to add you onto body bag, one of your favorite tracks off of Col’s new album that he recorded with none other than YungBlud. The two finished the song, but Colson insists the ending woahs need a harmony. So, he came to you which you still didn’t understand in the slightest. 

“Are you sure you want me to sing? I’m gonna ruin the whole song.” 

“Definite. I’ll sing with you if that makes you feel better,” he reassures and you nod. 

The two of you get set up, Col explaining the process along the way and you try to follow along to the best of your abilities. After putting on your headphones and you both step up to the mic, your nerves start to kick in. 

“I promise it’s not bad. And we can always redo it.” 

You nod at your best friend and he smiles before giving Travis the thumbs up to start the audio. The backing of the song begins and out of habit, you begin to dance to the song. 

Just before the part you’re supposed to sing hits, Colson taps you and you look over at him and he nods as you’re supposed to come in. The two of you sing together, you hitting a higher harmony and Colson smiles wide at you the entire time. 

“It’s perfect guys,” Travis says when you’re finished. 

“We finished!” Colson yells. 

“You did it!” You yell back. 

It hits you both at the same time, the fact that Colson had finished something so close to him and your best friend had achieved something so great. 

You jump into Colson’s arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. He catches you as if he’s done this a million times, his arm circling your waist and he pushes his face into your neck. 

You pull away, about to tell Col how proud you are of him when you’re struck by the proximity of the two of you. You both smile widely at each other, radiating complete and utter joy. You move closer, wanting to finally close the gap, wanting to enhance this moment when you’re interrupted. 

“Uh, guys?” 

Five

“Colson,” you whine from across the room. 

“Yes?” he asks looking up at you. 

You give him a look, the look you’ve perfected between the two of you that is always understood whether you say something before, after, or nothing at all. It always means I want food. 

“We just ate!” he exclaims and you burst out laughing. 

“We ate preppy award show food! I want Mcdonald’s,” you say in between laughter. 

“I mean,” he says, shooting you the same look and now you’re both cackling together. 

You grab your phone and Col grabs his keys and the two of you head out together. Some days, going to McDonald’s and just hanging out was the best for you and Colson. You got to relax, spend some genuine time with each other and do whatever you wanted. 

As you drive, you and Colson sing along to your throwback playlist and talk about the award show you just attended together. You two were getting tired of award season, and the speeches and the tiny food. However, you always promised that if you had each other you’d bear every award show. 

“Usual?” Col asks when you pull up the speaker. 

“Yes please,” you answer. 

Colson orders your food and as you pull up to the first window you try to hand him your credit card. 

“Venmo me,” he says. 

“I..” you begin and he tilts his head to the side in confusion. 

“Have no money in my bank account currently.” 

The two of you burst out laughing, the worker giving you confused looks as Colson hands him his card anyway and you try to protest but nothing comes out between the giggles. 

After Colson pays and you pick up the food, you tell him to pull over somewhere so you can eat. He ends up finding a secluded parking lot for the two of you to chill. 

As you eat, you two talk about random things, from stories from the week to past dumb things you two have done. You end up laughing and enjoying your time well past when you finish your food. 

“Remember when you fell at that award show?” kells asks and you begin to laugh.

“It was one time!” 

“You face planted!” he reminds you and you’re both laughing all over again. 

“You didn’t even try and catch me,” you whine. 

“I’ll always catch you I promise,” he says and you look over at your best friend. 

Kells wears a serious expression replacing the bright but rare smile on his lips just seconds previous. Your eyes search his, uncertain of the meaning behind the words. His hand takes yours, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin and his eyes stare into the distance as he does the action. 

“Col,” you whisper, trying to get the older boys attention. 

His eyes snap to yours and his hand moves from yours to your cheek. His thumb traces your features, trailing from your jaw to your lips and you’re breathless at his touch. Just as you inch closer and closer, your lips ghost over each other’s, and your breath hitches. 

You think you’re about to meet, a long-awaited connection when a horn blares out of nowhere, scaring the two of you apart. You both settle back into your seats, a soft chuckle emitting from your best friend as he shakes his head. You bite your lip, a hand coming up to feel the skin where his fingers gracefully touched and you can’t believe your moment was ruined once more. 

And One 

“Hey I’m coming over in 5,” you say greeting Colson from the view of your car. 

“Uh why?” he asks peering into the phone to figure out why you’re headed over to his place so late at night. 

“Cause there’s a meteor shower and I wanna watch it from a good view,” you explain and Colson laughs at you. 

After a quick drive, you’re walking inside of Colson’s house with blankets, pillows, and tons of snacks. When Col sees you, he hops up from the couch and helps you with the stuff. 

“You seriously drove all the way over here for a meteor shower?” 

“It’s a better view over here!” you defend and Colson laughs. 

Together you bring the stuff upstairs and manage to bring it out onto the rooftop. You set up, laying blankets over the rooftop, setting up pillows, and laying out snacks. 

“When is the shower supposed to start?” Col asks as he climbs back onto the roof next to you. 

“I think like 10 minutes?” 

Colson nods in response, settling in next to you. He lays down, his hand slipping underneath his head to prop himself up slightly. You lay down next to him, relaxed in each other’s presence as you wait for the meteor shower to begin. 

As you sit and stare at the stars, your mind wanders to the boy next to you. As cheesy as it was, you’d always be grateful to have Colson Baker in your life. No matter what happened, knowing him and gaining life experience together will be something you always cherished. 

You feel Colson moving next to you, and his hand slowly trails down until it meets yours, interlocking your fingers with ease. Your heart pounds slowly in your chest and you’re surprised Colson can’t hear it. 

“Hey,” he says and you turn to look at him. 

His hand comes to meet your cheek and you search his eyes. You sink into the feeling of his hands on you and nothing feels better in the world. As he moves closer, your breath hitches and you’re mesmerized by his stunning blue eyes. 

Then his lips are on yours, and the long awaited connection has sparks lighting from end to end. He moves slightly so he’s facing you, one hand holding your waist as the other caresses your cheek and you’re relaxed into his touch. 

As he pulls away, he places another chaste kiss to your lips and you’re left smiling wide. As you stare into Col’s eyes, you can’t help but giggle as the ultimate feeling of happiness overwhelms you. 

“Fucking finally,” he says and the two of you are really laughing now. 

[commanderserwin]

— week 21 with levi ackerman.

✧ tags. fluff (in the beginning?), angst, bad language, slight nsfw, & descriptions of blood, weapons, and character death 🧍🏻‍♀️

✧ more. zombie apocalypse AU b/c why not?

✧ notes. ‘tis a word vomit and i have no idea why — just me and my small love for zombie movies and aus, so here goes! enjoy !!!

“Stay.”

Levi grumbled at how your arm and leg kept him captive on the bed, his hand finding your thigh— as he rolled his eyes, feeling your lips pepper kisses onto his jaw, and he loved it.

“One minute,” Levi turned his head, capturing your chapped lips onto his, his thumb playing with the waistband of your underwear, as he winked at you.

You laughed onto his shoulder, kissing the spot below his ear as you snuggled closer, closing your eyes as you breathed in the morning, greeting it with minute long cuddle and few kisses that painted your nose and forehead from the man laying beside you.

“Time’s up,” Levi groaned, feeling your hold on him tightening as you refused to let him go.

Levi let you hold on a minute longer again, kissing your temple as he counted to the last ten seconds, with the last as a smack to your thigh while you yelped loudly, a scowl forming on your lips but Levi kissed it away with no fail. He smiled at your morning dilemma, his heart bursting as you followed him behind him, a stomp on your feet as Levi made his way towards the kitchen.

He has always loved making breakfast with and for you and with your grumpy state made it all better. His hands instinctually made its way towards the kettle, flipping the mugs as he made tea and your preferred drink for the day— as he knew it like the back of his hand, and one look at your face. His basis was the frown on your lips, and it all dissolves as the steam from the hot water hits your face in a welcome delight.

“What time do you have to go to work?” You asked, taking a bite of his toast as you passed by him, grabbing a slice of your own.

“In two hours,” he responded, taking your seat as you settled into your office space, a little desk that he has set up for you. “What time do you have to get to work?”

“Now,” you winked, making kissy faces at him as you opened your laptop— ready to start the day facing the screen.

Levi nodded, finishing his breakfast as quietly as he could while you talked to your client— camera off that’s why you twirled around on your chair, watching Levi with teasing eyes. He shook his head, a blush washing on his skin as he caught glimpse of your eyes— but he’s got enough self-control to not fall for them, kissing your forehead as he made his way to the bathroom to start and get ready for his work.

Every morning was like clockwork already— and by the time he has come out of the bathroom, he would see you making a homemade lunch, while you continued to talk, moving your hands animatedly. He settled again on the kitchen table, graciously accepting his second cup of tea from you while the minutes flew by until it was time for him to go.

With a hug and a kiss, you walked Levi to the door, covering the mic from your earphones as you confessed your daily love, leaving the stoic man a blushing mess as he walked out of the door, a paperbag on his hand as he drove to work.

The day went by slowly, his own clients calling him as he watched the hours go by. He checked his phone multiple times, a text from you from hours ago, and he bombarded you as much as he could hide his phone whenever his boss would walk by.

Then something unusual happened— like straight out of a fucking movie.

The tall ceilings didn’t rumble, the streets did. The building has got thick walls and windows, withstanding few rainy days but what it didn’t withstand was the shrilling screams of people running towards each other— out of the cars, out of the building doors, as they watched others with a scream cut short.

“What the fuck,” Levi mumbled to himself, pushing the chair away as his hand fumbled with the phone, his thumb clicking your contact number with a nervous tap. “What the actual fuck?”

No answer.

His coworker bumped into him, cursing them with his eyes as he clicked on the notification— a news article from his phone. He skimmed it, his eyes rereading the words: blood, humans, trial gone wrong, infection, and the infected.

“Are they filming down the street?” Levi asked, holding the shoulders of his colleague, his eyes piercing through them as they stuttered incoherently, but they only pushed Levi away with a tear down their cheek.

His phone vibrated— your caller ID flashing and he fumbled to accept and finally, his mind has come into peace as he heard your voice amidst the chaos down the street. He walked closer to the windows, seeing flashes of dark liquid that he refuses to acknowledge that was blood.

Levi listened to shrill screams on your phone, and color drained from his face as it all sounded the same. It was noisy, it was full of screaming— agony until the last second that it lasted. He couldn’t help but worry about you, his hands fumbling with anything to keep him grounded. He clutched his phone tighter as usual, hearing your voice and never wanting to let go of it, of you.

“Levi, where are you?” You asked, double-locking the car as people rammed into your car, but you held on to the phone with such urgency as you listened to the other line. “Are you safe?”

“What do you mean, ‘Am I safe?’” Levi walked towards his cubicle, turning his monitor on as his office turned into its own secluded chaos, “I’m at work. Where are you?”

“Going home, I went to grab some groceries,” you answered, ducking your head below as you made use of the tint on the car windows.

Some elderly man slammed on to your trunk, making the car shake as cars honked loudly.

“I thought you had work? It’s only been a few hours.”

“My client rescheduled their telerehab. So I went to the store.”

“Okay,” Levi nodded, breathing through his nose, “Okay, listen.”

“Do you know what’s happening?”

“Did you lock the doors?” Levi asked, avoiding your question.

“Yes, I always lock the door.”

“And how far away from you from the apartment?”

“Ten minutes.”

“You have to walk.”

“I’m not walking!” You gasped, looking at the backseat where a couple of grocery bags were sitting, “And I’m not leaving the car!”

“Darling-,”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” Levi raised his head, his eyes almost bulging from the updated news articles— and he really couldn’t believe his eyes.

The human trial from the nearby city had an outbreak. Their subjects resorting to death, but undead— zombified beings as infected blood ran through its course in their own bloodstream, affecting their brain and nervous system— paralyzed yet moving. Things— humans that doesn’t make sense.

Fucking zombies.

“You only call me darling when you are nervous.”

Levi arched his brow, breathing hard as he shut his monitor off. He looked down again, the streets covered in blood and bodies— and he backed away, the color from his already pale skin draining as he looked at the traffic block. It was going to take him an hour to usually get home— but with this mess, he has no idea if he could get there in a hour.

He wanted to go home.

“All right,” Levi breathed, his hold tightening on the phone, finally coming into terms with the movie-like situation. “Drive home. Carry whatever you think you will need inside the apartment. Grab the toolbox from the trunk. Get the food— anything essential inside.”

“You’re making me nervous,” you whispered, driving carefully away from the crowd as you took the longer route just to get home, “This whole thing is making me nervous.”

“Me too,” Levi murmured, grabbing his things from his cubicle as he grabbed whatever he could find that would be useful. “Don’t forget to lock the doors, do you hear me?”

“Lock the doors,” you repeated, driving a little faster as the roads were clear of any slosh of liquid and less bodies.

One mistake that you have done was stopping— the car coming into a halt as you watched the scene before you.

It was a little girl, her mouth dripping with her blood and mixed with whoever was dead on her hands. Her eyes were red, every vein dark underneath her dark skin, and stared right at your very being. With delicate steps, she moved closer, and you moved the car in reverse. But when she stood by your window, she slammed her hand on it, marking your window with her tiny hand.

Her handprint marked blood all over your car window— and you eyed at her victim. Perhaps her mother, as you guessed from the matching shirt. Her mother twitched— heavy and dark blood gushing out of her neck. She should’ve been dead, and should’ve stayed dead— but her fingers moved little by little, until she stayed upright, her eyes drilling into yours.

Every fiber of your body turned into dust, as you screamed, biting down on your hand as the little girl screamed with you, clawing her hand— but she couldn’t.

“What the fuck is happening?” Levi asked on the other line, his voice muffled as you dropped your phone. “Hey! Hey!”

“She was dead!” You screamed into the phone, gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles turned white, “She was dead and... she! There was blood everywhere... how is she alive?”

“Get out of there, darling,” Levi seethed at the situation, clenching his eyes shut as he focused on your voice, “Go!”

Finally, you gassed it, accelerating— feeling the car bump as you drove over the body, while you sweat for your very life. You placed the phone on loudspeaker, finding hope and solace through the curses of your significant other, focusing on his voice as it always calms you down. You counted his curses, finding a smile on your face and his new record of fifty bad words in a matter of minutes.

“Are you near the apartment?”

You nodded— agreeing a second later as the parking opened for you, and you held the phone near to your ear hoping it would close the distance between the two of you.

You wanted him home.

“I'm home already, get here now.”

“Good,” Levi ran down the stairs, towards the garage. He spotted his car, jumping on it instantly, “Wait for me.”

“Come home,” you sobbed, fumbling with the house keys as you opened the door— finding power to carry all the things in one go. “I love you. You have to come home, okay?”

“I love you,” Levi kissed you through the phone, an edge of a smile forming on his mouth as you chuckled-sobbed, “Don’t cry. Don’t go out, I’ll be home in a while.”

That was the last thing Levi has said to you.

His voice echoing in your memory, distant and near as you waited, and waited.

He didn’t make it home that day, and you waited for hours, until the suns changed and the moon waved for a new awful morning as screams made its way towards the quiet apartment. The moment that you hit home, you charged your phone, anything that will be used to communicate, even scrounging for Levi’s radio that he insisted on keeping, and with the mention of your beloved, your body shook in sobs as you tried to reattach yourself from what was happening as you waited for him. 

You should have contacted him every minute and every hour— asking where the hell he is, but the mocking message of an unattended phone sang into your ears. Until all signal towers came down— no phone, no lines, no television, nothings. And all you could do was fucking wait, and you have waited too long that food has been stale for a while— days, weeks, months and you closed off from everybody. Yet, you didn’t move. The sofa has become your bed, a hand on the hilt of a knife as the other clutched the pillow while you slept in a shallow slumber— dreaming of when he would be home and what people have become.

The door and the carpet tainted red, your blood mixed with whoever tried to pried your door open. The handle was broken, and you repaired it as best as you could with Levi’s commanding voice echoing in your head.

Everything revolved around Levi— and you still wonder where he was.

Days, weeks, and months since he made that promise, and as each day goes by— it becomes ruined and broken, your life breaking down slowly as hope washed itself away, leaving you alone with nothing but a wish for him to still be there. 

Another wish to whatever innocence is left within you and him.

The walkie-talkie became your friend— going on and off as you tried to catch a glimpse of whatever or whoever would be there to answer call, but nobody responded to the static buzz.

“I’m running out of water,” you coughed, counting ten small water bottles.

You were running out of everything as the long months drained your supplies.

And so you made a promise to yourself— get out of the apartment, find more food and water, and look for him.

If he couldn’t find his way to you— maybe it was best to find him yourself.

Week One: you started from scratch as you left the apartment. What you had was Levi’s large backpack which contained all your food, and water, a few pair of underwear and clothes, your dead phone, a wrench and a knife, and the walkie-talkie.

Week Two: you stayed in the car, a bad fucking move as an infected person broke your windshield, as they heard you crying. You ran them over— and it that makes them your second death.

Week Three: you saw an empty deli store. You went in— further and further into the back but the door opened and came a big dead man running but you placed a wrench on their big dead head.

Week Four: you were farther from the city. The signs becoming a maze to understand, words illegible as it was covered in blood.

Week Five: you passed by where Levi was working by. The car stopped, sputtering its last gas as you bid goodbye— but seeing Levi’s car, abandoned. With a heavy hand, you destroyed the window, seeing the keys stuck into the ignition as Levi’s briefcase collected dust on the backseat. There was no sign of him, as you left a note and a few tears as you broke down— biting down on your hand because you had to mourn in silence.

Week Six: you carried Levi’s briefcase for a week, but you left it as it became too heavy for you to carry. The only thing that you kept was the little pin on his briefcase— the one that he says that reminds him of you.

Week Seven: your shoes broke down, and comes your fourth death.

Week Eight: fifth death.

Week Nine: the winds grew a little colder, and you find shelter inside a car, the smell rotted as you later found a hand on the backseat.

Week Ten: you were tired, and comes the sixth victim.

Week Eleven: your mind was fucking with you, and you brushed it away.

Week Eleven: it was a dream— and that was the result of sleeping in a stupid store where mirrors all perfectly stood, every glimpse a fucking joke. A sick joke that is— because the mirrors reflected him.

Week Eleven: Levi’s here.

Levi crushed you into a hug, his hair somewhat long yet his face stayed smooth— a few mentions of stubble but it was him. His body felt so familiar that you found yourself curling for his warmth, for the security, for the home that he was.

Levi thought, he’s finally home. He’s found you.

Nobody spoke for a few minutes— unbelieving of what was happening. If you were alive. If he was alive. If that was you. If that was really him. The only thing that was said in those minutes were tears and quivering chins as Levi fumbled with his fingers— holding on to you as you pulled him close.

“Are you going to eat me?” You quietly asked, cupping his cheeks, as you checked his grounding eyes for any evident him.

“Stop with that,” Levi kissed your cheek, hugging you tight again.

His kiss felt like the sweet drops of wine, color finding its way towards the dark hues, as you leaned on his touch— tired yet there. The feelings that blossomed on your chest was huge, almost drowning you again into your sorrows but Levi pulled you back again, and it brought you to tears.

“I waited!” You suddenly cried, curling your knees to your chest as you felt Levi’s arms anchor you to reality, “I waited, Levi! You told me... you told me to wait and that you were coming home.”

“I know,” Levi breathed, cradling your head as you drove him to tears— making him shudder in regret and anger, but it all turned to smoke because you were there and so was he.

But everything felt flat— the hues darkening once more. Tough love— survival at the cost of one’s innocence, but it was there. Levi brought your face to his eyes as he looked for you somewhere deep within the months that you were alone and scared.

And you were still there, fleeting but there.

Love stayed the same while hope tarnished.

Joy pooled at your eyes— the very ones that he would look into, from the moment he would wake up in your bed with the light brushing your skin, and as he closed his eyes, a smile gracing your lips as the day ended. Fleeting but there.

Levi held your hand, carrying the bag as he guided you to his secured spot. He looked back and forth, breathing a little easier as he locked the doors behind him. It was a small family mart, aisles and racks empty with crusting blood and shredded skin, but safe.

In the morning, he woke up with your arms around him— just before. Just like that morning. His lips turned to yours as your very habit stayed the same, your voice carrying himself to agree with nothing but a kiss again on your lips. Levi found himself wrapping his leg around you, flushing you on his chest as he peppered kisses on to your nape while you chuckled softly— prying his arms.

“One minute,” Levi kissed your ear, nuzzling his cheek against your shoulder as you turned around in his embrace.

His grey eyes comforted you, carrying a hint of love and life while you allowed yourself to be hugged, relishing the way he feels after almost a year of him being gone and found again.

A year of it— and nobody spoke about what actually happened that night.

Infected. Infectious diseas. Blood. A human trial gone wrong.

Zombies— like the goddamn movies.

“Will you make me toast,” you whispered, asking him as you placed a hand over his chest— holding on to him and the memory of when it was good, like it was now.

“I believe what I only have are crackers,” Levi whispered in your ear, kissing your nose as your eyes fluttered open once more— and he took you in.

By the way your hair turned greasy, by the way the clothes on your back became ripped and drenched in dried blood, by the way your chapped morning lips stayed the same, by the way your face still contorts into his favorite smile.

“Has my darling turned cheap?”

“God.” Levi rolled his eyes, kissing your cheek numerous times as he finally caught on your dislike for the pet name.

“Now you understand how I feel when you call me darling?” You laughed, placing as much distance as Levi attacked you with tickles and kisses, his shoulders shaking in laughter as he breathily agreed.

Then, he stopped.

Bodies still tangled with each other— and you listened. Nothing was walking by the store, no slosh of liquid echoed into the empty street.

“Listen.” Levi murmured on your lips, his eyes closing as you saw him through the corners of your eyes— and you closed your eyes too, “Listen. This is my favorite part of my morning.”

After a few still minutes, your face lit up in tears, “Birds.”

“Don’t they sound beautiful?”

You opened your eyes to see him staring right at you, his eyes tired yet happy. Levi pushed away your tears, pecking your forehead.

That was the only time that you’ve realized that the tree beside your apartment housed a nest that Levi always prepared worms by the windowsill and that the birds always woke the both of you.

A new start— but this time after a broken heart, you were glad to start the day again with him.

Week Twelve: he always held your hand whenever the both of you would walk. His hand clutched yours that you even complained that it was too tight— but Levi would only kiss your palm and would loosen it.

Week Thirteen: Levi found an empty bodega, making the makeshift beds again, and he held you through the night as you cried, telling him the victims you have killed. That week marked your seventh kill.

Week Fourteen: he was drenched in blood because doesn’t want you to add another one to your list. Levi killed three instantly, and when you asked him how many has he killed, his eyes turned lifeless for a second, until he whispered— “Let’s not talk about it.”

Week Fifteen: you practiced with Levi as he gave you more effective tips to efficiently mark for the kill. He disagreed first, but he confessed later on that he was sick of it.

“I don’t want to kill one more,” he whispered into the dark as both of you listened to the loose footsteps outsides— daunting to add one more. Just one more. His hand found yours in the dark, turning his head to you as he pulled you to his side of the makeshift bed, whispering once more.

“I’ll take care of it,” and you marked the dead teenager as your eighth.

Week Sixteen: Levi found some tester bottles of perfume on clothes store— surprising you as it was the one that sits on your dresser, making you bawl into your hands as the scent brought back too many memories. He sprayed some on to his skin, making you even cry but he kissed your tears away— his eyes later turning into a shade darker.

His mouth found yours into a fervor that night, silent moans and groans echoing in the same bodega as Levi made love to you— and you him under the gaze of the daring moonlight, bodies moving slowly and sensual, hands finding each other, lips swollen as Levi kept you quiet with his own.

“Levi,” you moaned, feeling the coils of your stomach tighten— hips hitting together as his thrusts became lazy, his thumb finding your folds while you squealed.

“Be quiet,” Levi grunted against your mouth, his tongue grazing your lower lip as he held your hips down, watching you with hooded eyes with the way your back arch— face nodding.

“Fuck—,” you breathed, running your nails on his back as his thumb found your clit, driving you to oblivion as he felt your walls flutter around him. “Fu— Levi-,”

He lost himself, thrusting harder and deeper, listening to the lewd sloppy sounds as he felt your slick cover his length, groaning as your walls fluttered again— as his breathy voice moaned your name over and over again like a song that he would gladly sing over and over again.

Week Seventeen: Levi plucked a grass from in between the cracks of the sidewalk as he gave it to you. In return, you surprised him with a loose tea bag with lukewarm water and he accepted it happier than ever.

“I love you,” Levi murmured, cupping the thermos, bringing his lips to the edge for the first drink of his year that was made by you.

“Me or the tea?” You asked, munching on breakfast as you tilted your head to your partner with a teasing smile on your face. 

Levi answered your question with an attack of kisses on your cheeks and neck— making you giggle until he held you steady with his hands on your waist, eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around him, breathing him in as he snuggled into the crook of your neck— your shirt becoming wet from each other’s tears.

Week Eighteen: you cut Levi’s hair, using a broken razor as he listed his instructions with his wavering voice as he looked right at you through the mirror. Levi admitted that it was the best haircut he has ever gotten, even when his bangs were choppy.

In return to find another space, comes your ninth.

Levi hesitated as the undead little girl that you saw from the day slowly walked over to him with a sinister smile. She marked as your tenth, and you mumbled a little prayer for the mother and the daughter that you have killed before and now.

In the evening, he held you close and dear, your shirt turning wet as he angrily cried but you only shushed him gently— “I’ll take care of it always.”

Week Nineteen: he turned to you in his sleep, fluttering his eyes open as you groggily reached for him. You kissed the sleep back on to him, giggling through the kisses as he tried to capture your lips with a failed mission.

On the last day, marks your eleventh kill.

Week Twenty: it was another sick fucking joke.

“Give me a minute.”

“Go.”

“Give me a fucking minute!”

Levi closed his mouth as his chest heaved heavily, his hands wrapping around his leg, unsuccessfully stopping the gush of blood that painted his skin and clothes dark red— and yet in whatever pain that he was in, he gave you a minute.

He has always given you a minute, spare— lots of it, but now he can’t risk it.

Not one spare second because he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

Levi watched you with careful eyes as you murmured to yourself, eyes closed as tears fell angrily at the corners of your eyes. He looked away, his eyes straining at the pain, and when he finally opened his eyes— he saw you looking straight at him with bright and hopeful eyes.

“We could... we could,” you stuttered, hands pressing into his wound to stop his breathing as Levi nodded, listening, “the best thing that we could do is cut your leg off.”

“It’s already in my bloodstream,” Levi whispered, the blood never stopped flowing no matter the pressure.

“You don’t know that,” you smiled— cried, wiping away your tears.

Levi shook his head. He breathed hard, inhaling and exhaling at the way his body turned into something sinister, watching his veins darken under his pale skin, but weakly pulled his sleeves down, as you watched closely. Your eyes were still filled with innocence— and after everything that you have been through, he wanted to preserve an ounce of it, for himself and for you.

That’s why you needed to go.

“Please,” Levi sighed, closing his eyes as he counted in his mind. Perhaps in a few seconds, the blood vessels in his eyes would pop, his sclera gone dark, “Please.”

The feeling of his warm hand covered yours and you pushed away the thoughts that came next as he heaved, controlling the minimal thrashing of his body. Levi nudged your chin, holding it form as he opened his eyes— and you tried to focus on how it looked like before.

Grey and nice, warm and soft, everything that you have loved, everything that he said, everything that was him— Levi.

“I want you to stand up,” Levi coughed, leaning on to the wall as you helped him. His hand found his spare gun and knife, as he pushed them to you gently. “I want you to get up. I want you to go.”

“You’re asking me the impossible,” you whispered, hand loosening from his wound as Levi blinked, his breath staggering.

“But it is for the best.”

“I can’t lose you,” you breathed, cupping his cheeks as you wiped away the tears— the blood that ran through his beautiful face. “Not again.”

“I know.”

Levi smiled, wiping his hand on his pants to clean them— as he ran his knuckles on the apple of your cheeks, one last time. He soothed the furrow between your brows, he cupped your cheek, making you lean for his touch as you kissed the inside of his wrist, murmuring against his touch.

“I can’t lose you.” You whispered, looking at his wound. 

He pushed you to the wall at the moment it happened— the infected person crawling quietly as it sunk its teeth on Levi’s leg, making him topple over but he killed it in a second— all to save you.

“Levi, I can’t lose you,” you repeated quietly, chest shaking as tears clouded your eyes, “Not again!”

He screamed from the agony, his chest constricting whatever air was left in his body, holding himself close as he bit down on his hand as it washed through him. He pushed his weapons to you hard, making you stumble over as he watched your figure crawl away from him, inch by inch— and the hunger inside him fought its way towards his mind as he longed for the flesh and blood that rests perfectly on your body.

Yet, one thing stays the same.

His lips turned blue, as you watched him carefully, his mouth turning— whispering his very words that would make your heart skip a beat, be the reason for the unending adoration and devotion between the two of you.

“I love you,” Levi mouthed, his hands aimless around his body— no longer fighting whatever was inside him.

“I love you,” you cried, the tears falling freely as you found yourself standing to the other wall, feeling the cold cement hit your skin as your fingers fumbled with the gun and knife.

For whatever cruel reason, life has beaten the air out of you, your mind escaping its own as you chose— suffocating you, strangling the love out of you as you pocketed the knife.

Your whole body shook quietly— crying silently. The chest-heaving kind, where everything made it so fucking difficult for you to breathe, when you didn’t want anybody to know that you were bawling your eyes out, hands almost scarred from how hard you bit it down. Betrayal for the one that you truly love ran straight to your core— as you chose.

Levi smiled as his eyes became red— proud of how steady your arms were as you raised the gun— just like how he taught you. With the last ounce of life in his body, he professed his love for you one last time, and the farewell that mourned for himself, his fate, and for you. His memories clouded into colors that he hasn’t seen before, mundane things and memories with you, the way your lips would turn up at the sight of him, the way your eyes would convey such a deep message— deepest as the ocean as he would always compare.

He felt the air become static in his skin, feel his heart stop, feel everything stop. His eyes opened, seeing the hesitation in your hands but he has to do this, and he pushed you to save you. He saw his life with you— and he has to say goodbye one last time. Levi used whatever he could muster, as he whispered, hearing the shot echo in the cold room.

“Stay away.”

[staarshines]

Alderaanian Tragedy || P.D.

Warnings: Mentions of ecstasy (in the song), mention of getting drunk

Word Count: 1.8k

The story as to how you ended up in the middle of a cantina on Ajan Kloss, dancing with the love of your life, foreheads pressed together while laughing, still high from the first two kisses just a mere few hours after the war of your generation ended.

[A/N]: i said i would write it 😌 NO THIS IS NOT ANGST I PROMISE!! it’s based off of the song “greek tragedy” which’s remix went viral on tiktok lately—if you’re gonna listen to it while reading the story, please do not listen to the remix because that’s the complete opposite of the original 😭 And yes if like five of the words seem changed I did change a few lyrics to fit the universe better!!

Poe.

That was the only person you wanted to find when you landed—everyone else could wait. Rey, Finn, L’ulo, Rose—they all could wait.

The love of your life couldn’t.

Maybe it was the absolute high you were still riding from watching all those allies drop out of hyperspace. Maybe it was relief about the war you’d been fighting for for nearly half a decade finally being over. Maybe it was fear of how many blasts had barely missed your X-Wing that last battle. Or maybe, just maybe, it was just exhaustion of keeping the secret for so long. But you needed to tell him.

After all, you had no excuses now.

We’re fighting in a war.

We can’t risk being distracted.

What if something happens to one of us?

It’s not a good time.

If he doesn’t feel the same, we won’t be able to work together anymore.

No. None of that. All those “excuses” went down with the dreadnoughts on Exegol.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to even be actively looking for him, just wandering through the crowd of ecstatic rebels because you know the moment you see his eyes, you’ll be racing toward him.

And you’re damn right.

You run into his arms so hard that you knock the breath out from your own lungs—forget about his. You know he’s saying something, you just can’t hear it over the rebels’ cheers and your own sobs. It’s practically impossible to get out of his grip, but once you do, you press your forehead so hard against his that it hurts, laughing through your tears, his face cupped in your hands and vice versa—you swear to the Maker you would’ve kissed him right then and there had Rey and Finn not nearly tackled you both to the ground with a hug.

Nobody says a thing for who knows how long—the silence in between the four of you is more than enough. Once the four of you pull apart, it takes mere seconds for you all to break out in laughter after seeing the fatigue on everyone’s faces. Nevertheless, the flyboy has something else on his mind.

“We’re definitely getting drunk tonight, right?”

“I thought we were dressing cute—” you blurt out, looking at your black skater dress and Finn’s collared shirt before seeing Poe in his signature tank top-half flightsuit and Rey in one of her regular sleeveless tunics and a jacket.

“I thought we were dressing homeless…”

“I was just too tired to change out of my flightsuit.” Finn snickers and you just roll your eyes, fighting back a smile (and failing, obviously). “It doesn’t matter, really. I look hot either way.” He sends a wink your way which you hope looks like you blatantly disregarded it—because your mind certainly didn’t.

“Don’t get too cocky, Dameron.”

Making your way down to the cantina, you can’t help but let your mind wander a little because of how flirtatious Poe is being. Sure, he was always flirty little shit, but something about this was… different.

Probably just the weight of the war off his shoulders, you tell yourself.

But that couldn't be the only thing. There had to be something else.

This. This is what you hated about being a rebel—were you still a rebel if the war was over? That’s beside the point—the hope. The hope is what you hated. Rebellions were built on hope. As long as there was hope, a rebel would keep fighting. No matter how improbable or impossible, even, the situation was, a rebel wouldn’t give up on it. It’s the only reason the Rebellion won the war, really.

And you’ve told yourself more times than you can count that work’s ideology should stay in work’s life. A motto that outrageous doesn’t just transfer over to a, well, to any love life. You’ve talked yourself down in your quarters, the hangar, your X-Wing, a fucking dreadnought, and even this cantina where you’re sitting right now.

Your heart just wouldn’t listen.

“This song—hell yes!” Poe’s excited yells pull you out of your thoughts, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that Alderaanian Tragedy is playing. “C’mon flygirl, get up! Let’s dance!”

“Flygirl?” you don’t hesitate to question the nickname—not that you were complaining, no. The opposite, really. “Since when has that been my thing?”

“Since I said so.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm. I practically own the brand. I say what goes.” You nod teasingly but don’t budge, earning a groan from him. “Fine. You made me do this, then.” He grabs your hand and pulls you out of the booth with a surprised yelp from you. You reach a hand out to Finn and Rey but Finn just waves you off and Rey blows you a kiss, winking. Sighing, you decide to accept your fate, catching up to Poe so he doesn’t have to drag you through the crowd anymore.

“We’re smashing mics in karaoke bars…”

“Are you really going to pull us into the middle?” you yell over the pumping music, barely even being able to hear yourself.

“Is this your first time meeting me?”

“You’re running late with half your makeup on…”

Poe comes to a stop and grabs your other hand, beginning to sway to the music. You’re still a bit reluctant, which earns you a pout from him. Maker, not the damn pout.

“This method acting might pay our bills…”

You smile just the tiniest bit at remembering how much you loved this song—Poe’s grin when he sees that you’re having fun makes you start giggling almost uncontrollably.

“But soon enough, there’ll be a different role to fill…”

You sing along, finally starting to let yourself loosen up and have some fun, which makes Poe happier than he’s been in a long time.

“I love this feeling, but I hate this part…”

Poe sings along with you, giving you a little “Yeah!” of encouragement at the end.

“I wanted this to work so much, I drew our plans in the stars…”

You swear you see him point to you both before pointing up at the ceiling like you could see the stars—damn this dim lighting. Did you just imagine it, or did Poe really make that verse about the two of you—?

“Speeders are flipping, I’m in hot pursuit…”

He grabs your waist and twirls you into his chest—you swear your heart stops right then and there.

“My character’s strong, but my head is loose.”

He rolls his head back and sticks his tongue out at you—as stupid as it may be, you laugh. The bass of the beats start shaking the floor, and you both look at each other like you know what to do next.

“She hits like ecstasy…”

You’re jumping like crazy with your hands on Poe’s shoulders, laughing gleefully and letting your hair whip around without a care in the galaxy.

“Comes up and bangs the sense out of me…”

He’s singing along now, and as loud of the music may be, you can hear him—you’re closer and honestly? He’s louder. Like the song means something to him.

No, he’s just enjoying the night. Stop being a romantic for once.

“The tarot cards say it’s not that bad, the blades rotate there’s just no landing pad…”

Dramatically falling back with full faith that Poe will catch you—which he does—you try to stop yourself from thinking about how deep you are in your love for him. Dancing like this, it’s not… It’s not how best friends dance. There shouldn’t be this much tension, and there sure as hell shouldn’t be this much meaning.

“And better have said it, but darling you’re the best…”

You mouth the last four words—as does he—and pointedly tap his nose, as if to solidify that you were talking about him.

“I’m just tired of falling up the Penrose steps…”

He slows down a little bit and you gladly oblige, a little bit out of breath yourself as well.

“I hate this feeling, but I love this part…”

You let your arms drape over his shoulders, feeling like he was trying to tell you something. You look into his eyes but you can’t read them because of the lack of light—you swear you see a shimmer or a sparkle somewhere in there, though…

“She really wants to make it work, and I clearly want to let it start…”

One of his hands travels up your back while the other tucks a loose strand of your hair back in place—the simple motion setting off that Maker-damned fizzing feeling in your stomach again.

“We’ll build a podracer as soon as I get home…”

Your hands switch positions from over his shoulders to holding his face—were you two getting closer? You honestly couldn’t handle the suspense.

Fuck it.

“Oh and she hits like ecstasy…”

Your veins throb and you swear your heart explodes as your lips crash into his, which he gladly welcomes. He’s everywhere, up your back, your neck, your hair, and suddenly, he’s kissing you harder, deeper, with some sort of urge that you’ve never known before. It’s dizzying, because you feel the same thing—you’ve never wanted anyone like this before. Ever. In this moment, all you wanted was Poe. You want him closer, closer, closer, even though he can’t get any closer. Maybe time stopped when your lips met his.

“Comes up and bangs the sense out of me…”

You don’t want to break the kiss—in fact, you want to let it go on forever—but you need a second to think without his lips on yours.

Did you really just kiss him?

Poe Dameron?

The love of your life?

And he’d kissed you back?

“It’s wrong, but surely worse to leave…”

You’re searching his face for answers and he seems to be doing the same—that is, until, you both come to the conclusion that another kiss is probably the answer.

“She hits like ecstasy…”

It still isn’t clear whether or not you’d just dreamed this moment into real life, but there was something about the way he was gripping onto you. Something that screamed “I’m never going to let you go. I’m never going to let you go. I’m never going to let you go.” And honestly? You didn’t want him to.

“So free up the cheaper seats…”

Even though you’re too out of breath for kissing, you still need to be as close to him as possible—thus being the last detail of the story as to how you ended up in the middle of a cantina on Ajan Kloss, dancing with the love of your life, foreheads pressed together while laughing, still high from the first two kisses just a mere few hours after the war of your generation ended.

“Here comes an Alderaanian Tragedy.”

Masterlist

All taglists are open! Send me an ask or a message :)

Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @browneyedhimbo, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @talk-geek-to-me, @letsmellowjello, @thescarletknight2014, @bbluespiritzuko, @brooklynsmorales, @poe-djarin, @marvelinsanity​, @softly-sad​, @yourbucky084, @mcolbz14, @houseofthirst, @arkofblake​, @asianravenpuff​

Star Wars: @kittyofalltrades​, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess​, @propertyofdindjarin​, @coldbreadbouquetworld​, @melvls​, @thedevilwearsbeskar, @agentshortstacc​

Poe Dameron: @poe-damnnn-eron​, @lapilark​, @peterhollandkait​, @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​, @twomoonstwosuns​, @lady-sloan, @poes-stardust​, @legamelo​, @xremember-me-notx​, @imtheoutgoingsidekick-baby​, @yourbucky084​, @agents-assemble​, @daydreamerinadazedworld​, @darthadeline​, @roserrys​, @fandom-addict-aesthetics​

Story Tag: @permanentmess​

[navyhyuck]

one fateful night — 1.4k words, lee donghyuck

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, reader is projected as an average singer (i so apologize if you are the unrecognized mariah carey)

a/n: this is from the prompt list! okay also fair warning, i’ve literally never gone to a karaoke place in my life so i tried to write this as best as i could! if it’s not very accurate, i’m sorry. requests are still open (does not have to be nct)!

college au; opposites attract; ‘we were all regulars at karaoke night so we always cheered each other on, but usually we’re with other people until one fateful night we all sit at the same table’

You laugh aloud as Renjun finishes belting out the last line of some old High School Musical song, your back slamming against the booth alongside Jaemin as the boy gives Jeno a cranky look, probably in response to embarrassing himself in front of the crowd. It turns out to be a mistake when Renjun walks up to you, and turns over the mic, a smirk evident as he winks. “Your turn.”

Rolling your eyes, you stand up, maneuvering around Jaemin and snatching the mic from his hands, scowling. Everyone and everyone’s mother knows that you’re not completely fit to singing for a whole crowd, but you throw up your hands anyway, getting ready to immerse yourself into whatever Britney Spears song your friend chose for you. Right as the music is about to start, everyone’s eyes falter from yours, focusing behind you momentarily. You raise an eyebrow to ask why but when you hear someone clear their throat, you whirl around, meeting eyes with a somewhat familiar figure.

If you and the rest of your friends belonged to the famously nationally recognized chemistry program, you’re currently facing the heads of what you’ve known as the equally competitive biology major. Lee Donghyuck stands in front of you, staring at you before scanning you up and down, and then grinning. “Mind if we join? The rest of the tables are taken.” You take a peek behind him, seeing a few more people; it hits you then that you’re used to seeing them from the table across from you, belting out songs in the same manner (perhaps the two of you had unspoken battles between each other; notably between Renjun and a notable Kim Doyoung), but they had been absent the entire night until now. Until now, where they’re currently asking to join your karaoke night.

“Yeah! Of course you guys can join!” Jaemin exclaims, and you glance back in surprise, seeing his enthusiastic expression on his face. He scoots over, nearly knocking Jeno off the cushions, and pats the seat next to him. “We’d love to have more friends with us, right? And you guys go to the same uni as us, I think! C’mon.”

You want to slap a palm to your face at his words, but you resort to giving him a deep glare to his ignorance. It’s not that Jaemin is careless, but sometimes his forgetfulness was a handful, especially if you introduce someone to him one day and he completely loses all memory five seconds later. He shoots you back a confused look, his smile widening even more as he insists further.

“Is it alright if we join?” Donghyuck asks again, training on you as you finally turn back, clearly awaiting your acceptance. You stutter, glancing around helplessly before opening your mouth to say something; nothing comes out, unfortunately, and you gulp. 

“Yeah, sure.”

“Great!” He smiles brightly. You tell yourself internally to calm down, to stop overreacting over a mildly attractive boy standing in front of you right now. It’s hard to tell if you even paid heed to him earlier, because you’re sure you would’ve exploded on the spot if you had ever gone this close to him before. Just as your blood pressure falls from its sudden rise, you feel Donghyuck brush closer to you, planting a chaste kiss to your cheek before moving past you, yelling incoherently. Everyone responds cheerfully except for you, as you’re now touching your skin in disbelief. 

The song starts a mere few seconds later, catching you off guard and making you turn towards the anticipating crowd. Everyone has their eyes on you as you begin to sing. Your heart still beats rapidly as you continue through the song, even swaying as comfortably as you can when Jaemin shoots from his seat to dance with you. Though you’re still tense, you manage to laugh when he snatches the mic from your hand, dramatically starting to lip sync incorrectly. The song ends with yours and Jaemin’s finale, with everyone cheering and clapping enough to make your face heat up. As you make your way back to your seat, your head down in shame, you hear a hearty chuckle from beside you, making you look up. 

“You’re good at singing,” Donghyuck comments, his pupils growing almost two times in size as before, something that doesn’t go unnoticed to you. You know he’s lying and you swear you hear Renjun snort from a distance at the clear attempt at a compliment, but you ignore it, offering a gentle smile. “I’m probably an amateur compared to you.”

At that moment, you had blushed ridiculously, shaking your head vehemently in refusal. You assume he was just being nice, because your heart drops to your feet when he takes the mic into his own hands, directing a song to be played and opening his mouth. Jaws drop as he starts to sing, his voice painting a picture of a story that you could barely imagine in your mind. The crowd goes insane, with (of course) a drunk Jaemin hyping up ‘Longchuck’ with his five remaining brain cells and the rest of the lot swaying peacefully. Even as the songs continue and the drinks disappear, you still remain in shock for the rest of the evening.

“Get home safe,” Renjun pokes hard at your shoulder, scrunching his eyebrows when he meets your eyes. “And, and, and don’t be unsafe! Being unsafe is bad because you’re not being safe! Being safe is...being not unsafe. Listen Y/N, I’m homing go with Jaemin, yeah? Yeah.” He pats the side of your arm firmly, almost about to latch his hands back onto you until Jeno comes up behind him, flashing you a brief smile and dragging the other boy along with him.

“Looks like your friend’s wasted,” a voice sounds from your side, and you nearly gasp in surprise before you realize who it is. Donghyuck sits on the stairs, a water bottle hanging from his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Do you have a ride home?” He pats beside him, gesturing for you to sit, and you follow.

“I do. They’re late though.”

“Mine too,” he responds, glancing over to see you fiddling with your fingers. “What a coincidence. Must be fate or something.”

You perk up, raising an eyebrow to that. “Fate?”

“Yeah, fate. It’s fate that I get to sit here with a pretty girl like you, waiting for our rides home because we’re both a little tipsy from singing too much.” Donghyuck has this lazy smirk spread across his face when you finally pluck up the courage to look at him. “Don’t you think so? It’s fate that brought us here.”

“I’m pretty sure it was the alcohol,” you joke softly, and he laughs breathlessly, unscrewing the cap to his water bottle and taking a sip. “It’s not that much of a coincidence. You and your department are regulars here anyway, just like us. I even remember that Mark guy cheering us on a few weeks ago. Plus, we go to the same school.”

“Okay, fine, it wasn't a coincidence.”

You chuckle at the sulking sound of his voice, suddenly feeling a bit more confident around him; you’re not sure if it’s the minimal alcohol in your bloodstream or the adrenaline rush you feel just sitting next to an extremely attractive boy that allows you to do so. You pull out your phone, tapping away to your roommate to ask whether she’d arrived yet when you vaguely remember what happened earlier that night. Turning to Donghyuck, you cross your arms over your chest. “Oh, and by the way, do you just kiss everyone you see or something?”

There’s a bit of eerie silence before he shakes his head. “No. I only kiss people I want to hold hands with.” He holds out his hand expectantly at that, and you slip yours in hesitantly, heart thumping in your chest. His fingers twist into yours perfectly, offering the genuine comfort that has you laughing nervously at. “And you know what holding hands means, right?”

“No? What does it mean?”

He leans in, his lips almost brushing your ear. “It means I want to take you out.”

(Bonus: 

Your face is millimeters away from his when a sharp yell pierces through the air, the sound of Donghyuck’s name engulfing your eardrums. When you turn around, you see a tall man waving in your direction, presumably at the boy you were oh-so-close to kissing. “Hyuck, what the fuck, dude? I’ve been waiting for ten minutes! How long does it take to go to the bathroom?!”

You whip your head back to Donghyuck, now watching a sheepish expression start to form on his face. “Did you just lie so you could talk to me?”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t want him cockblocking my pick-up lines.”)

[criticofallthings]

Hi it’s 4:43 AM and I’m back with another t h i ng. AKA apparently I write Destiny 2 fan fics at at the pre ass crack of dawn now.

Presage mission + “another one for the trauma jar D2 meme” + a love for all things Drifter related bc this poor insufferable soft man is a total fucking gem and I will never, NEVER EVER forget about those tapes that he made for our guardian to find = this stuff below

no beta, so don’t come at me for grammar issues unless you’re gonna be nice about it.

WARMTH

Drifter saw the flashing notification before he heard it, the chime muted beneath the Gambit livestream. His ghost had marked it as a priority message, something important to get at. On screen a massive Taken ogre quivers into existence. Nice. Team A was doing great and unless Team B pulled off one Hell of an invade two times over he doubted they’d catch up in time to challenge Team A. His hand hovers over the message, but his eyes flick back up to the stream. Team A’s coordination has been top notch all match and now was no exception. Drifter watched as two of them casted their supers on the Primeval ogre and it’s envoys. Orbs of power litter the field. Moments later Team A’s titan flies from off-screen in one of the most electrifying thundercrashes he’s ever seen. Globs of exploded ogre cover his hidden cams, soon to dissolve into nothingness. Gambit sirens wail and Team B’s Taken are reigned back into their cages. “Alright alright alright, last match of the day and it was a good one for Team A. Team B? Not so much.” Drifter pauses speaking into the mic, a little drama, before continuing in his showman’s tone. “Ay, but that’s what tomorrow’s for! Come on back and queue right in. Drifter’s always hungry.” He ends with a chuckle that doesn’t rise to his eyes and as soon as the guardians transmat to their ships he closes everything down. A message alert pops up on his console again, marked red for priority and sent almost half an hour ago. Damn, he thinks to himself and runs a weary hand over his face. Drifter’s other hand is on the edge of the console, index finger tapping it anxiously. Fuck it, how bad can it be? Drifter opens the message, tension rising to his shoulders, but then he freezes and his shoulders drop. He traces a few words of the message, forlorn sadness easing the laugh lines and crinkles at his eyes away. A few taps and the console goes dark. Drifter turns away and stands for a moment at the door. He lets out a sigh before starting again, yanking off his gloves before trudging towards his cargo container room.

There’s a lantern hung on the hook outside of his cargo container, the interior dark. Across the snow that never seemed to leave the Derelict, he sees whispered hints of someone carefully walking or rather, half-gliding over it. Through the gloom he spies a small pile of stuff he doesn’t remember making and an obvious lump in his bed. As he draws closer Drifter sees that the pile is actually carefully stacked warlock armor and the sleeping lump in his bed, is The Guardian. Yet again. Drifter’s lost count how many times it has been since he first offered the Guardian refuge aboard the Derelict. The first time they took him up on his offer he found them later, sleeping in a corridor standing against a bulkhead. He let them be since it was an out of the way spot. Eventually he showed them his bed, the Derelict’s only functional bed and told them to make use of it. Until now they hadn’t and he would still find them sleeping in various places aboard his ship. Sometimes with or without some pieces of armor, but also never like this. In plain clothes, more or less, sleeping bag haphazardly pulled over them. So vulnerable. And so tortured.

In sleep, Drifter found that the Guardian was an almost entirely open book. Nightmares haunted them more often than not. Sometimes so strongly that the Guardian would thrash about while asleep, murmuring feverdly, occasionally coherently about what they relived in their dreams. Tonight seemed to be one of the Guardian’s more silent nightmares. No thrashing, no murmuring, but the tight grimace of their lips and furrowing of their brow betrayed the Guardian's silence, showed their distress. Drifter steps to the cot, gently pulling the sleeping bag over to cover them better. Task done, he sits at their side and tentatively brushes a few stray strands of hair from their face. As he does so, the Guardian visibly relaxes, some tension dispelled from their face. It pulls at him more than he thought, making his chest tighten uncomfortably.

“Don’t take your armor off around me, kid...I’m not someone you oughta get comfortable around.” Drifter can’t help but let the whispered words fall from his lips at the sight before him. It was all too tragic. Too fucked up. So much pinned upon one guardian. One person. His hand moves before he realizes it and softly he cups their face, thumb tracing their jawline. Beneath his hand he can feel the muscles twitch and then slowly relax from the strained clenching of their jaw. Another measure of stress slips from their sleeping face. Drifter lets out a breath he was unconsciously holding. For a moment he thought the Guardian was going to wake up. Another trace over their jawline and Drifter takes his hand from their face. Quietly he murmurs, “why are you here…” as the tips of his fingertips trail over their cheek. He pauses, feeling impulsive and...something else...when he glances at their lips. Drifter lets his fingers ghost over their skin, tenderly coming to a rest below the Guardian’s cupid’s bow. He lightly traces the shape of their lips, feeling it out. Soft and a bit dry. There’s a thin crease of dried blood where they must’ve split their lip during combat. Or maybe bit it open themself on a previous restless night. He’s seen it happen before. Once even their tongue.

Drifter closes his eyes at that memory, a faint tremble visible only in his hands. He just about had a heart attack when he saw the Guardian slouched over with blood streaming from their mouth, sitting just outside the Gambit transmat room. He had shaken them awake, and his shock only grew when he saw them open bleary eyes and wipe the blood off of their chin as if it was normal and summon Ghost. The usually talkative bot didn’t say anything, but the way it healed them instantly and then bumped their forehead before leaving —he knew. Drifter knew that this must have happened several times before. “Mind if I...sleep s’more...here?” Their sleep-heavy voice caught his attention again and Drifter lifted his hands from their shoulders. “Nah, kid.” Drifter stood up and half turned, waiting for them to do the same. “C’mon, hurry up! I ain’t so mean to not lend you a spot to sleep.” The Guardian rose slowly to their feet, eyes unfocused and mind miles away from here. Something in him stabs at the sight and Drifter can’t face them looking so...worn. He turns away. Shoving hands deep into his pockets he starts walking, pausing only once to confirm the Guardian was shuffling along behind him. He shows them how to get to the sole cot on the Derelict.

A hand on his wrist snaps Drifter out of the memory. He looks down to see the Guardian awake, eyes somewhat clear. There’s confusion in their expression and he feels their lips move beneath his fingertips. Ah. Hastily, he pulls his hand away, clearing his throat. “ ‘m, sorry...about that.” Heat flushes his face as he turns to avoid eye contact. It’s silent for a while. Drifter stares at the rivets holding a seam of the cargo container together when he hears the crinkle of the sleeping bag being moved. He does his best to look discreetly out of the corner of his eye, but is caught. Drifter holds the Guardian’s gaze until they break off to shift towards the wall. Lifting the sleeping bag they look at him directly and motion for him to lie down. “It’s too cold.”

Drifter freezes. His mind hitting a brick wall too thick to just power through. He’s stunned into a very rare silence. Uncertainty and confusion write themselves out upon his face. Seeing him be so still, the Guardian drops the sleeping bag to place a hand on his knee. “You asked...why I come here.” They speak slowly, as if unsure about what they’re saying and are figuring it out as they say it. “You...you don’t use me like everyone else.” They look away from him, cheeks faintly pink. “Zavala, Ikora, the Vanguard...they mean well, but...they don’t get to treat everyone as people. They need a killer? I kill. Answers? I seek. Someone who might survive the impossible? I survive. Unconditionally. Righteous things and unspeakable things... Because I am a guardian. I don’t have a name. Many ghosts just go by Ghost...I’m the only guardian without a name. There was just...never time for one, and…always so much to do. Lives to save. Futures to fight for…” They trail off, eyes slightly unfocused, perhaps lost in nightmares they haven’t escaped yet. “You bring Gambit, but it’s never a real pressure to join.” Their hand slips from his knee, becoming a loose fist on the cot.

The coiling thing in Drifter’s chest squeezes painfully. He shifts, almost stands, but then changes his mind. To Hell with it all. Shucking off his pauldrons, he shrugs out of his duster and kicks off his boots. Awkwardly, Drifter lays down on the cot —it’s made only for one after all— but gives up on trying to leave space between him and the Guardian. Laying on his side, he shoves an arm under the pillow and motions for the Guardian to come closer. They move over slowly, a little unsure now. Drifter grabs the sleeping bag and covers them both with it. He’s left that arm out, unsure on how much contact would be wanted. When he feels the Guardian shivering, Drifter almost stops himself from draping that arm over them. But he doesn’t stop himself. Instead he gently pulls them close to him until their back presses against his chest. They feel oddly cold despite being recently asleep. Drifter summons a measure of solar light over his skin, just enough to let soothing heat roll off. He feels the Guardian relax, shoulders dropping the tension that had remained.

Minutes pass and just as Drifter thinks they’ve fallen asleep, the Guardian quietly speaks. “It was so cold there...and twisted…” His arm around them tightens protectively for a moment. “Where did you go? Recent mission?” The Guardian nods slowly, voice a little louder, but twice as worn out as before. “Presage...the Glykon.” Drifter hums a short acknowledgement, turning over their words in his head. He was aware of the Vanguard operation, already heard snippets of Osiris live on comms reporting tidbits back to the Vanguard. The Cabal ship was a house of horrors. Thinking on what he knew of it, Drifter came to a sudden, sinking thought. “Did you…?” He isn’t able to finish his question, half knowing what the answer would likely be. Again, the Guardian slowly nods. The tightness in his chest returned with a sting before the Guardian spoke their confirmation, a small tremor rolling through them at the memory. “...alone.” Drifter holds them close, knowing no words could ease the turmoil in the Guardian’s mind. He holds them and keeps his Light near and solar-filled to stave off the Derelict’s iciness. Eventually the Guardian’s breathing levels out and Drifter can tell they’re sleeping. Several hours later he drifts off to sleep as well. When he wakes in the early morning, Drifter opens his eyes to see the Guardian’s face next to his, still asleep. It’s the first time he’s seen them look so at peace.

[drethanramslay]

High

Pairing: M! Sam Dalton x MC( Malaika Agarwal)

Word count: 4.7 K words

Masterlist

WARNING: DIRTY TALK, SMUT AND NS*W!! IF YOU CLICK ON THE READ MORE TAG,THEN YOU ARE CONSENTING THAT YOU ARE 18+ AND ARE CAN VIEW SUCH WORKS 

Permanent Tag list: @trappedinfandoms​ @oofchoices​ @agent-breakdance​ @dailydoseofchoices​ @colossalpainintheass​ @siaramsey​ @theeccentricbibliophile​ @ac27dj​ @ramseysno1rookie​ @justanotherrookie​ @openheart12​ @jamespotterthefirst​ @checkurwindow​ @chasingrobbie​  @junggoku​

Sam x MC Taglist: @lulaortega @hatescapsicum @theodorepjames4 @noboundariesplease @datynasuha @sanchita012 @choices-addict @the-trash-bandito @peregrinaflor @drakewalkerfantasy @itsmechoicesfanaf @crazynutella @rookiemarsswiftie @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor @ethandaddyramsey @mvalentine @the-pale-goddess @pixelberryownsme @lucy-268 @ohramsey @fleur-de-jasmin-fdj​ @edgiestwinter​

Songs: I see red by Everybody Loves an Outlaw and High by Dua Lipa and Whethan

forgive me if there are any mistakes

Coming to the engagement party was a bad idea.

Malaika knew from the very beginning that working for one of the hottest and most elligible CEO would have been a disaster. She knew that kissing him against the kitchen counter of his own home would have been catastrophic. His deft fingers running and teasing against the heat of her pussy in the backseat of the limo was problematic.

Don't even get her started on the blunder that happened on the dancefloor. She still remembered the way they were close to each other in borderline obscene ways.

But lately, these series of bad decisions have been one of the happiest moments of her life.

Yes you can call me boo boo the fool. Malaika thought to herself as she emptied the contents of another glass of champagne, to drown her misery and boredom.

The soft waltz music died down and she heard the feedback from the mic. She looked up and saw barbie doll standing there with her perfect nails and her perfect life.

"Thanks for coming to our fabulous party. This night is a dream come true for us. Sam is a dream come true for me." She raised her flute towards Sam's direction and fluttered her eyelashes.

Malaika scoffed. Is she for real? Did her fake eyelash poke her eyeballs that she if fluttering them like that?

Malaika was never one to be a bitch, hell she wouldn't even hurt a fly unintentionally, but the sexual frustration, her own feelings and the smooth champagne is not a good combination.

"This is so boring." Robin piqued as he took a sip of his whiskey.

"Ugh... Hard same. Is she always like this?"

"Yep. This is very serious business for Sofia. I heard that she even hired a ghost writer for the toast."

"Wow. That's pathetic. I mean how hard is it to write a toast for the person you 'love'?" Malaika asked, making air quotes with her free hand on the word love.

Especially when that person is Sam Dalton.

"It's only easy if you remotely like the person."

Sophia continued her monologue. " Same and I have been dating for only..." She proceeded to check her notes.

"Are you kidding me? Who the hell forgets when you start dating?"

"I know right? She even has her 'I love you' written down too. Imagine what we could've tricked her into saying if we'd swapped out her cards." Robin said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Malaika giggled. "I can definitely see that happening."

As Sofia continued to drone on about how much she loved him and yada yada, Robin provided her with whispered commentary which had her laughing so hard that tears streamed down her face.

Thank god for waterproof mascara.

They continued bullshiting each other when from the corner of her eye, she saw Sam step up near Sofia and kiss her cheek before proceeding to give his speech.

"Thank you Sofia and thank you to all of you for coming here to join us in celebrating our love."

Robin turned around to see him and scoffed, not even lowering his voice. "More like an arrangement."

Malaika's eyes widened. "Shhh Robin. I am not getting into trouble because of you."

"But you wouldn't mind getting in trouble for other reasons?" He asked cheekily.

A smirk danced on her lips. "Maybe..?"

Sam continued his speech, tears glinting in his eyes. "As you all know, I lost my first wife about five years ago... and for a long time, didn't think I would ever meet someone else who made me feel the way she did."

His eyes locked with hers and Malaika's breath hitched in her throat.

"But now I feel like I have a second chance at happiness again. I finally met someone who gets me. Someone I can't stop thinking about. Someone who lights up the whole room with her passion."

Sam... Are you even talking about Sofia at this point?

Malaika was frustrated by the 'hot and cold' behaviour Sam showed. One moment he is all over her saying things like 'I want to taste you' and then the next moment say that 'we can't'.

Malaika understood where he was coming from. She understood that this game they were playing was forbidden and dangerous but Malaika was never one to shy away from the adrenaline rush.

And on top of it, he is so possesive about me that he goes wild like a rogue buffalo when he sees me with another guy. Malaika snorted rolling her eyes.

"Awww I love you too boo-bear." Sofia squealed as she hugged him. Sam picked her up and twirled her around not letting go of her.

"Passion is not a word I would use for Sofia." Robin mused turning back to look at Malaika.

"...right." A frown tugged on her lips and and the longer she stared at her arms around Sam, the dizzier she felt.

If he thinks I am some weak bitch who will just sit on the sidelines and cry, then he is wrong.

She turned to Robin, who starts to make another snide remark but stopped short when he saw the determined look on her face.

A small smirk made its way on to his lips. "What? Finally want to join in on the fun? 'Cause you know I am down for anything."

The adrenaline, anger and alcohol surged through her as she came up with a plan.

Was it stupid? Yes.

Was that going to stop her? Nope.

As Sam continued his toast, Malaika turned her full attention to Robin. She placed her hand on Robin's chest and his eyes widened.

"What would you say to upping the ante on your little game with Sam? See how far we can really push him? All in good fun of course."

Robin gave her a thoughtful side-eye while poking his tongue against the inside of his lip. Finally, he chuckled.

"Consequences be damned. Let's do it."

In a fluid motion, he wrapped his hand around her waist and she leaned into him, which did not go unnoticed by Sam.

"As I was saying, Sofia is an incredible woman..."

Robin gave a grin. "Forget Sofia, you're the easiest woman to pretend-flirt with I've ever met."

"Back at ya, my partner-in-crime."

"I am hurt. I thought we could be partners and mor-"

"Shhh Robin, we are on a mission." She lightly slapped his chest.

Robin rolled his eyes. "And pray tell me what is the name of the mission?"

Without thinking Malaika blurted out. "Salty Sam."

Both of them snickered and Malaika punched him playfully. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sam struggling to get a visual on what was happening between the two.

Sam continued his speech. "But, uh, what I like most about Sofia is... ugh, move, you big oaf."

"What?!" Sofia's smile melted into a scowl.

"Whoops." Robin said with zero guilt.

Realisation dawned on Sam, as he struggled to fix the mess he made. "I said... 'you're smooth as merlot'? Because you've always had such sophisticated taste in everything...? Except men, I suppose."

The crowd chuckled at the joke and Robin shakes his head. "Always manages to stick the landing."

"Let's take it up a notch, shall we?" Malaika asked with a wicked grin.

"I like the sound of that. Didn't know you were so bad."

Malaika opened her mouth to reply when Sam tapped on the mic and sent a death glare Robin's way which sent a shiver down her spine.

"A-hem. I know some of you are busy smooth-talking your 'flavor of the week', but all eyes need to be up here, thanks."

Malaika's eyes narrowed. How fucking dare he, that entitled jackass?

Robin raised a hand in apology as he shifted to face the couple again, but his lips found her ear.

"Uh-oh we are making the boss mad."

"Oops we did it again." Malaika chuckled under her breath.

"But do you know what will make Sam go completely berserk with jealousy?"

"Enlighten me, O' wise one."

"If he saw us leave together."

"Damn Robin... You really went for the throat, huh?"

"That's how we prey Malaika."

"As much as that fulfills your wet dreams, I actually have thought out what we need to do." Malaika reached and smoothly snatched the glass out of Robin's hand.

"Hey! Give it back." Robin reached for it again and he was dangerously close, his cologne surrounding her. Her eyes darted and met furious hazel ones, staring back at her. Sam's speech was long forgotten and his eyes were solely focused on her... And Robin.

That might teach you not to fuck around with me.

"Now for the winning stroke... Kiss me."

Robin's eyes widened and his jaw was on the ground. "Seriously? Now?" He whispered back.

"Don't you want to?"

"Hell yeah." With that he pulled her body flush against his and crashed his lips to hers. Malaika grabbed his shoulders to steady herself.

Damn... Robin is a good kisser. Malaika thoughts as he deepened the kiss.

They pulled back and Malaika expected Sam to be on the verge of an exploding, ready to bark at them for the unsolicited PDA, but he wasn't.

He just smirked and the glint in his brown orbs making her wary. He reached for Sofia and pulled her into a passionate kiss, his eyes not leaving Malaika's shocked ones.

Oh...

Robin was calling her name but it sounded far away, as if her head was dunked in a bucket of cold water, the reality chilling into her bones.

She should look away or close her eyes to stop the pain, but she just could not. He could see the pink of his tongue entering Sofia's mouth and she saw red.

"I think I had enough excitement for the night." She mumbled as she got out of Robin's embrace and reached for her champagne flute, and raised it towards Sam's direction, an indication that he won.

Congratulations asshole, you stomped all over the remains of my dignity and heart.

She set the glass down and headed towards the bathroom so that she could have a breakdown in peace.

"Hey you okay?" Robin asked, catching her by the elbow. Malaika managed to out on a smile and patted his hands. "Just peachy. I will just go and get fresh." She turned on her heels and walked.

But even as she walked away, she could feel a pair of eyes staring at her leaving form.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She found the restroom like a oasis in the desert. It was completely empty and she finally was alone after hours of torture.

"It's okay.... You are going to be fine... Breathe in, breathe out." Her manicured nails were clutching the counter, trying to recentre herself. She looked up to see her reflection staring back at herself.

She was greatful for her russet brown skin for it could hide the bags underneath her eyes. Her onyx brown eyes looked tired due to the juggling between her work and her feelings. The only thing which had survived the entire ordeal was her dark hair with light brown undertones.

Under the soft lights of the restroom, her short baby blue dress popped against the deep bronze of her skin.

My life maybe falling apart but at least I look hot.

In midst of her washing her hands she saw Sofia strut in and stand in front of the basin beside her.

There are literally six other basins she could stand and do her gaudy makeup but no. Ever learnt of personal space lady? Malaika rolled her eyes as she continued washing her hands.

The quicker I finish, the faster I can yeet myself out of her highness' presence. Malaika chanted in her head as she reached for the tissue paper.

"He isn't going to love you."

Huh?

Malaika turned towards Sofia, with an incredulous expression in her face.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I think you are reading too much into this."

"Please. You don't become the most successful heiress to a Multi-Million dollar Company by being an airhead." Sofia said as she reached for her face powder.

"I think the spotlight under which you stand has blinded you." Malaika said as she reached for her lipstick, coating a nice layer of Burgundy on her lips.

Sofia stopped what she was doing and turned towards her, a patronizing smile on her face. "Aw, aren't you cute. You think I didn't see that little game you had going on?"

"I was with Robin, what the hell are you talking about?" Malaika clenched her hand around the lipstick, annoyed by the fact that this bitch could see through her intentions. She maybe fuming on the inside but she had the perfect poker face on the outside.

"Oh naive Malaika. You both were so obvious that even the paparazzi noticed it. But, if you want to be a petulant child and continue living in the state of denial, then okay."

Malaika clenched her jaw. I am so close to yanking of her hair extensions. 

Sofia capped her lipstick and placed it in her clutch. She turned towards Malaika. "See, I don't give a damn about what's going on between you and Sam. But, I have known Sam for a long time and I have known that you are nothing but a momentary infatuation."

Sofia placed her left hand on her waist and the diamond ring glittered an underlying threat.

"Bask in the attention all you want, I am not saying no. But at the end of the day he is marrying me and it's my bed he going to be sleeping in."

Sofia walked up to Malaika and stared her down. Malaika matched the intensity of her stare, her height giving her the advantage of matching the intimidating glare.

"I usually get what I want, be it the good way or the crook's way. Nothing will ever stop me from getting what I want. So go, do your job of a nanny because that's all you will ever be. Ciao!"

Sofia turned on her heels and she walked out of the bathroom, leaving Malaika pissed to another level.

That bitch...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Wow... Pardon my language but that bitch!" Robin exclaimed as they stood near the window, in the hallway talking.

"That's exactly what I said!! See, I fucking topped in biochemistry in NYU. I'm financially independent- I mean as independent as I can be. I already have job offer but it starts after six months and that too, in LA. So that's why I took up this job of a nanny so that I could save up enough money to move, pay off my student loans and have time to work on my thesis."

Robin put his hand on Malaika's shoulder. "I know it's hard M. Hell, I am called Sam's assistant when I am literally the Chief operating officer."

"Fuck the rich. Fuck capitalism. I hate this. I’m sorry for being such a Debbie downer," Malaika grumbled as she crossed her arms and stared at her feet.

"No its okay... I understand. If you need to talk, I'm here okay?"

"What would I do without my partner-in-crime?"

"Probably die of boredom?" They both chuckled. Robin put an arm around Malaika and squeezed her into a side hug. Malaika returned the gesture and laid her head on his shoulder as they stared out of the 40th floor.

"Things will get better M."

"You don't know that." Pessimism ringing clear in her voice.

"But I know you and I know that you are hell of a fighter... And that's why I know you'd be great in bed."

Malaika groaned and pushed him. "Dude, read the room."

Robin laughed and something caught his eye, causing the laughter to die down. "Malaika, Sam is here."

"A'ight, that's my cue to leave. Once again, thank you Robin." Malaika started fast walking down the hallway. There was a deserted service elevator which she could use to get away undetected.

"Malaika!" Sam called out.

Fuck my luck. Malaika cursed as she stopped in her tracks.

"Back off Sam." Robin spoke up stepping in his way.

"Robin, can you kindly fuck off. You are the last person I want to talk to after the stunt you pulled. What the hell were you doing with Malaika?"

"Why does it matter to you?!"

"She is not one of your dates. I won't let you take advantage of her just because she is vulnerable."

Is he on crack?

"Who said he is taking advantage of me?" Malaika angrily spoke up, her eyes blazing with anger.

That seem to motivate Robin because he stood up taller and spoke back. "Yeah, calm down, Mr Big Shot. I'm cleaning up your mess."

Shock coloured his face which infuriated her further. "What is that supposed to mean?"

The sheer audacity to pull the Pikachu face...

"Sam I- I just can't with you. Robin, good bye! I had a lovely time." She threw a smile Robin's way and he waved back at her.

"Malaika, wait up!"

This time she rushed into the open lift and pressed the close button multiple times before it started closing. Sam was still pretty far away so she let out a sigh of relief.

Thank fuc-

The door opened and Sam entered.

Malaika dragged a hand down her face, groaning internally. She was already in a bad mood and she didn't have the bandwidth to deal with mixed signals at the moment.

The next time I meet like luck character, she and I are going to have a nice chat.

"Malaika." Sam said, his eyes focused on her.

"That's my name."

Sam clenched his jaw in annoyance, and Malaika crossed her arms stubbornly. She looked the other way but from the corner of her eye, she saw how the lights of the lift casted shadows on his face, making him look sharp and angular, as if he was cut from granite.

"See Malaika I just wanted to know if you are okay."

"I am in the utmost state of bliss." The words sarcastically dripped of her lips and Sam's eyes narrowed.

"Oh. So is this how we are going to go about this?"

"What's there to go about? I am fucking done and I need to sleep."

"Fine." Sam tuned around and pressed the emergency stop button on the lift and it smoothly came to a stop.

Malaika gripped on to the railing out of surprised and threw a dirty look towards Sam.

"We are not leaving until we talk." Sam said as he stood opposite her. The lift was four feet wide, and the fact that they were in a metal cage, all alone was really distracting Malaika.

"You want to talk? Fine. Let's talk about how I don't need you to protect me. It's a party, and I'm a young, single woman. I could be up to anything or fucking anyone, and it wouldn't be any of your business!"

"I know that but-" Sam said in a perplexed voice.

"Do you though? You hired me to be your nanny, not a girlfriend. That's Sofia's job."

Sam winced. "I..I know that too."

Malaika stepped forward and poked a finger into his chest. "One minute, you pull me onto the dance floor, then the next, I'm watching your engagement speech!"

Sam stood to his towering height, glaring down at her. "And I can't stop thinking about that dance or about the way you were grinding that ass on my dick. Do you know how long it took me to cool down?"

If it were any other day, Malaika’s brain would have short-circuited with the words he spoke, but not today. Today she was pissed, hurt and ready to beat the hell out of someone.

She grew up in fucking Brooklyn, she isn't some weak bitch you can trample on.

Another jab.

"Here is your big fucking chance to talk so go ahead and let me have it! Tell me how ‘sorry’ you are or how ‘wrong’ this is."

"Don't provoke me, Malaika." Sam spoke through clenched teeth.

She didn't care. Another step closer, another jab to the chest.

"Why did you really want me here tonight? Did you want me to be here and see her all over you? To see you playing tonsil hockey game with her? Sorry sir, but that is not covered in my pay-check."

She raised her finger to jab him again but this time Sam grabbed her finger tightly.

Wonder how would that feel aro-

Not the time brain. Malaika chided her inner thot.

"No of course not! I just- I just wanted you to stay. For once in my life, I wasn't thinking ahead."

The alcohol and the day's frustration had caught up to her and she didn't care if she sounded snarky and rude. He already deals with Sofia’s jabs, so how could I be any worse? "Wow, what an earth shattering revelation. Yeah well, let me make it easy for you and quit."

"Don't fucking do that." Sam rushed.

Malaika sighed, leaning her head in his broad strong shoulders. She looked up and spoke. "Face the facts. It'd be a lot easier for both of us if we don't have to see each other every day."

"I'm trying Malaika..." He said as his touch ran down her arms, changing from hard restraint to a gentle caress, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Even though I am angry, how does this man manage to get butterflies in my stomach.

"Every day, I'm fighting not to let myself get carried away. I'm fighting not to touch you. I'm fighting not to do this..." He buried his head into her neck and placed a hot, wet kiss at her jugular, knowing that it's the one spot that drives her absolutely mad.

"...or do this..." His hands slid from her waist to her ass, groping them. A gasp left her lips and her eyes fluttered shut, feeling the sensation of his lips kissing the crook of her neck, his hands wandering and sqeezing and his growing erection against her stomach.

"...and I definitely missed doing this." He pulled her hair, forcing her to look at him as he crashed his lips against hers, an avalanche of desire unleashed.

Malaika returned the kiss with equal fervour. She reached to loop her hands around his neck to pull him so close that she was literally painted on him.

But that wasn't enough for Sam.

He pushed her against the wall, his broad and sculpted body completely covering her frame. His hands unhooked her dainty ones and pushed them against the wall, locking them in place.

"I want to fuck you until I can feel that sweet little pussy clenching around my cock." He whispered in her ear, before catching her earlobe in his teeth and tugging.

Malaika let out a moan her stomach involuntarily clenched, desire lighting up each inch of her body, as if a matchstick was thrown into a pool of gasoline.

"Keep making those noises. Can't wait to make you scream my name until your throat is sore." Sam spoke in a husky voice, his hand letting her go and reaching for the zip on the back of her dress.

Malaika reached to help him but he just pushed her hand away. "Just relax and let me do what I'm good at." Sam started kneeling down, and that sent her imagination into overdrive.

"And what would that be?" Malaika asked, her eyes wanton as he unclasped her bra, showing off her plump breasts.

Sam then proceeded to remove her soaked panties, and holding them near his nose to inhale her scent before snapping his dark eyes towards her.

"To devour you. To worship you. To make you come hard."

Malaika clenched her thighs and Sam stood up, smirking at the effect his dirty talk had on her. He stood back up, his hand running along her smooth calf, thighs and stopped to rest on her hipbone, gently massaging it.

His other hand cupped her face, his thumb running along the cushion of her bottom lip. "Is that what you want, baby girl?"

Malaika was an outgoing woman and rarely found herself tongue tied but here she was, at a complete loss of words.

Oh god...

So instead of saying, she showed. Her hand reached for his erection, and palmed him through his trousers. Sam's eyes darkened and he descended on her mouth with such passion which had her breathless.

And as if that wasn't enough, his fingers found their way to her pussy, which was throbbing with a heartbeat of it own.

It was a fight for dominance. A fight to see who could get the other to bend at their will. Malaika's hand flew through the buttons of his tacky suit, exposing his strong, broad chest with sparse chest hair. Sam hooked her leg against his hip so that he could get better access to her, his hands running along the smooth supple skin.

Malaika's head rolled and rested on the cool surface of the elevator, lost in the pleasure of his fingers rubbing her clit. She was so wet and she knew that his hands would be dripping with her arousal.

Two digits entered her and her back arched against the wall, her breasts making contact with his naked chest.

"Do you feel it Malaika? Do you feel how wet you are for me? Do you know how sexy you look right now?" He spoke lowly, his voice husky with desire.

"Yes sir." Malaika choked out as his thumb brushed the hood of her sensitive clit.

"I'm... Gonna come." She panted out which was a mistake because he withdrew his fingers.

"Asshole." She sweated.

"And what about it? You wanted to quit didn't you? I did it-" Sam was interrupted by Malaika grabbing his ugly floral tie and pulling him towards her.

"With all due respect, fuck me, hard. Don't hold back one bit otherwise I swear to god, I won't let you come."

"Turn around, baby girl." She obeyed, almost giddy that she was finally gonna be dicked down.

He grabbed her wrists which made her yelp. He took his tie and tied it around them, securing them in their place. It was just perfect, not too tight nor too loose.

Sam moved her hair to one side placed hot fiery kissed on her neck, lapping up the moisture accumulated. "Look at you... What a delectable sight. You will forget your fucking name after I'm done with you."

"I'm holding you to it sir."

"The more you use sir, the more it feels like an insult." Sam said, his erection digging into her backside

"You do you sir."

Spreading her legs, she heard Sam's belt unbuckling, which made her excited and increase her yearning to feel him. The moment Sam saw her twitching, he slapped her ass which caused her to let out a breathless moan. He massage the spot where he spanked her leading her to get impatient.

What’s the fucking hold up?

"Stop fucking standing there with your junk in your hand you- holllyy shitt." She was interrupted as she felt Sam's dick rub against her walls, coating them with her arousal.

Grabbing her waist tightly, he entered and Sam rumbled in approval, enjoying the way her walls clenched and unclenched around him.

"You feels so good Malaika. Almost heavenly."

Malaika pressed her forehead against the cool surface and let out a moan, a flux of pain and pleasure cursing through her veins.

"Oh lord..." She moaned.

He moved slowly initially, so that she could get used to his size. But once Malaika started get fidgety and begged him to fuck him harder, it awoke something in him. Something primal and something which motivated him to snap his hips and pummel into her.

In. Out. In. out. A steady punishing rhythm was set which had Malaika crying, from ecstasy. Sam's hand reached to grab her breast and roll her nipple, making them erect and heavy with need. His other hand reached to rub her which had her screaming due to the override of stimulation.

"Please don't stop... pounding my pussy... please." Malaika begged, feeling her climax coming closer and closer as she soared above.

Sam grunted, his lower spine tingling and his abs clenching, his need to release fueling his motions further. His thrusts became shorter and faster, which was just enough to push them over the edge.

Malaika screamed, failing to be quiet while Sam moaned out loud, and sunk his teeth into her shoulder to muffle it. The bliss lasted for what seemed like eternity, both of them clutching on to each other as they slowly floated down from cloud nine. Malaika was leaning against the wall of the elevator, her legs feeling like jelly.

Sam unbound her hands and pulled put of her, causing her to wince at the sudden emptiness. He turned her towards him, hugging her in his muscular arms. He ran his fingers through her head as Malaika sought solace in his embrace, her breath becoming normal after a while.

Sam kissed her forehead. "We will try, Malaika."

"Yeah... I am not giving up on you Sam."

"Thank you for having faith in me baby girl. Its a mess but, I am not giving up on you either.” Malaika smiled, feeling some sort of peace in a very long time.

okay so um yeah... here is your flask of holy water

this would have to be the filthiest thing I have ever written sike

I hope you liked it heheheh

like, comment, reblog and let me know what you think <3

[hockey-player-jeno]

ain’t got you l.donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck x dancer!reader (minor detail tho)

word count: 1.9k

angst(ish), fluff

warnings: mild cursing

song rec while listening: lose my mind by dean lewis

~*~

This is not how you envisioned your night to go at all.

All you wanted to do was lay in bed, cuddle with your boyfriend and catch up. Instead, he thought it was a good idea to play on his Xbox, at your place, with his members on the headset. Which you didn’t mind at first. With him preparing for his next comeback, Donghyuck almost never had a free night anymore. More often than not he’d stay at the dorms because it made sense with his schedule, but you missed him. A lot.

You too have been busy with school, work, and dance practice but with him finally having a night where he could come over, you were initially excited. Yet here you were, lying in your bed without him. You were sore, tired and just wanted to be in his arms, but instead of that, he decided that it was a much better idea to play video games. Deciding enough was enough, it was time to drag his ass to bed.

Groaning as you sat up, you had to physically move your legs with your arms to swing them over the side. You rocked a little and stood up. The required workouts for your team and practices in general have been kicking your ass. For the past two days you were barely able to move. Waddling out of your room and into the living room, you stood in the door frame putting all of your body weight on the hard wood so that you didn’t have to stand upright. You watched your boyfriend with tired eyes as his darted across the screen in concentration.

You stood there for a solid two minutes, hoping he’ll feel your presence in the room. Low and behold, your boyfriend is too stupid immersed in his game to take the hint. You make a mental note to hide his Xbox the next time he comes over so that you don’t run into the same situation again. Come to think of it, you’re not even sure why he brought it over to your house in the first place.

“Hyuck?” You finally speak up.

He throws his hands up, startling you a bit, “Hyung, what are you doing? We’re losing!”

You maneuver yourself off the wall and make your way over to where he was sitting on the couch. Plopping yourself down on his left side, you let out a low grunt on impact.

“Oh hey babe, what’s up?” He says eyes not tearing from the screen but moves his left earphone away from his ear so he can hear you as well as his friends.

You shift a bit to lay your head on his shoulder, “Can you come lay down? You’ve been at this for nearly three hours now.”

He quickly checks his watch then moves his gaze back to the tv, “Yeah, just let me finish this round and we can go cuddle.”

There was a chorus of “aww’s” that came through the headset. His face goes red as he tries to refocus himself on the game.

All was fine, for five minutes. The only sounds you heard were the buttons on Donghyuck’s controller clicking and short mutters that came from his lips. Right as you started to doze off, he jumps off the couch in and throws his arms up in victory.

“Ha! In your face, Johnny hyung!” He celebrated.

You groan in pain startled as you lay to your left, stuffing your face into a pillow.

“Donghyuck, I swear to god.”

His eyes shoot open wide and his gaze snapped toward your figure on the couch. The victorious smile he was sporting was now gone. You never call him by his full name unless you’re royally pissed. He sets his controller down on the coffee table and crouches down next to you on the floor.

“Babe, are you okay?” He asks, carding his fingers through your hair.

“No,” you grumble into the pillow.

“What?”

You look over at him, making direct eye contact, “No, I’m not.”

You muster up all the strength you have to stand up off the couch, trying not to show any signs of pain. Wincing a bit as you hoist yourself up to stand in front of him. Tears begin to collect at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. You can’t tell if it’s because of the aching of your muscles or if it’s the treatment you’ve been receiving from your boyfriend for the past three hours. Maybe it’s a mixture of both.

He stares at you with wide eyes, his mind failing to come up with anything to say to you.

“If you didn’t want to hang with me, you could’ve just said so and stayed at the dorms. I would’ve understood. Instead here you are playing on your machine talking to your members of all people, and ignoring your tired and in pain girlfriend,” you huffed.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. We haven’t had the time-“

You laughed bitterly and cut him off, “You see your members every single waking hour of every single day! I’m lucky if I see you over FaceTime every few days! You could’ve easily just given me the night! I was hoping you and I could just relax and just catch up on everything, but instead you walk into my house, turn your Xbox on, ignore me, and have the nerve to tell me you haven’t had the time to play a fucking video game?”

You were fuming. Donghyuck can almost see the steam coming from your ears.

“I get it, you’re busy, but I’m busy too. I get you want a night to unwind with your friends but please tell me how this is fair to me when the whole point of you coming over was to spend time with me.”

He went to apologize again but you cut him off for the second time, not even caring to hear what he had to say, “You know what? Just go home. You clearly don’t want to do this tonight.”

You brushed past him and took long strides into your room. Grabbing the jacket he wore earlier, you walked back into the living room and shoved it into his chest.

“Go home.”

Donghyuck grabbed his jacket you of your grasp before you spun on your heal and walked away from him.

“Y/n, that’s not what I wanna do,” he pleaded, chasing after you to your bedroom.

Shooting him a deadly glare over your shoulder, you repeat, “Go. Home.”

Slamming the door in his face, then locking it for good measure.

You knew you were overreacting, but you were just so tired and stressed with everything. Hanging out with him was the only thing you were looking forward to all week. You sighed and walked over to your bed, trying to suppress a groan once your body hit the mattress.

~*~

He flinches when the door slams in his face and hears the lock click into place.

A few seconds later when this finally all registers, Donghyuck notices his headset was still half over his ear and can hear feedback from the mic on the other end. His members heard everything that just happened.

“Hyung?” He asks timidly.

“Yeah?” All his members apprehensively answered at the same time.

“I fucked up.”

~*~

After a stern talking to from his older brothers, via the Xbox live chat for a solid twenty minutes, they all encouraged him to suck it up and to go talk to you. Before Donghyuck disconnects the call and turns off the machine, he promised he’ll tell his hyungs in the morning how everything goes. He makes his way over to your bedroom door momentarily forgetting that you locked him out.

Unfortunately for you in the heat of the moment, you forgot that you gave him your extra room key if you ever lost yours or locked yourself out. He reaches into his jacket pocket that was still in his hand, grabbing his keys, and goes to unlock your door. Before entering, he knocks lightly getting no response. As he twists the knob and pokes his head in, he notices you in a seemingly uncomfortable position, laptop open in front of your face, cuddling the Mang plushie he gifted you for your birthday, sound asleep. He closes the door, turns out the main overhead light then quickly striding his way over to turn your bedside lamp on. He quickly tossed his jacket on your desk chair.

Once his gaze went to you, he noticed your laptop was playing an episode of one of your favorite variety shows. More importantly, the episode that all of NCT was on doing a dance challenge he absolutely killed. He inwardly smiled, pressing pause and closing your laptop. After placing it on your nightstand and turning back to you, the tear streaks on your face didn’t go unnoticed.

He felt horrible. He made you cry. He made you feel unwanted. He was the reason for it all.

Donghyuck placed himself on your bed and tried to be as careful as possible to replace the plushie with himself in your arms at the same time trying his hardest to not wake you. Placing Mang to the side and situating you and himself in a more comfortable position, he pulled you as close as humanly possible. Donghyuck was lying on his back while you were basically draped over him.

A few minutes later, you began to shift slightly in discomfort.

“Make yourself comfortable babe,” he whispered.

You slid yourself off of him and settled with you head on his chest, your right arm across his waist, and your right leg still draped over his.

You both stay there for a while, not knowing what to say to each other.

Keeping your eyes closed, you muttered out, “I’m not mad. I just missed you.”

He lets out a breathe he didn’t even know he was holding.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, love. You have every right to be mad. I’m just an idiot,” he whispered, stroking your head.

You let out a small huff as a laugh, “You’re not wrong.”

Donghyuck pursed his lips together in a line yet he knew you were only joking.

There was a short, peaceful silence.

“Can you sing to me?” You suddenly ask.

He smiled and kissed your forehead, “Anything for you.”

Silently, he racked his brain for a moment, deciding on what to sing.

He gently clears his throat and begins to sing in English,

“I see you walking through the rain

And I see the water covering your teardrops on your face”

You knew this song well. It’s one of the only songs you knew well in English. Donghyuck sang through the song, meaning every single word that escaped his perfect lips.

“'Cause I only lose my mind when I ain't got you

And how can I win when I'm always bound to lose

No, when I ain't got you”

You tapped your fingers lightly to the melody on Donghyuck’s chest as he continued. His honey vocals rang in your ears, filling the room with nothing but pure love and passion.

“'Cause I only lose my mind when I ain't got you

And how can I win when I'm always bound to lose

No, I ain't got you

No-oh

No-no, I ain't got you

Oh-oh”

He finishes the last chorus as you grow more limp in his arms.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Donghyuck whispers into your hair, planting another kiss there. “So, so, so much.”

You sigh in content as sleep overtakes you.

~*~

a/n

Hi! Okay, wow. 

Firstly, my first Haechan/ NCT fic! (Woo!) I just recently got into NCT and I am loving them! If you can’t tell my bias is Haechan haha.

Second, I am quite possibly the worst with coming up with content. And I am so sorry!! I literally posted a month ago that I’d post more but that didn’t happen because of school and I have practice. It’s just been a lot.

I also get inspired at the strangest times. Last night at like 3am I got really inspired by the song Losing My Mind by Dean Lewis (give it a listen, it’s amazing!), because my friend did a dance solo to it (hence why the reader is a dancer) I’m a dancer as well so I was just in the mood to make this fic a little more personal. Okay, I’m literally just rambling at this point lol.

But I hope you enjoyed it if you made it this far! :) 

I promise I’ll do my best to make more content.