#<- using just his first name for posts that I don’t want to break containment

[coco-loco-nut]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

Pairing: None

Summary: Being a woman in F1 has it's challenges, especially when you are constantly seen as a threat

A/n: McLaren history revision, actually, a lot of it might not make complete logical sense, just ignore that. i’m not great at angst

requests open masterlist ttpd masterlist

_________

You've scared everyone in the F1 world since you started driving in 2014 for McLaren, more dominant than Max Verstappen, the only driver other than Lewis Hamilton to challenge you. Your aggressive driving style and ability to get the most out of your car has lead you to three championships. Men don’t like that.

You are in a bit of a slump this year after moving to Mercedes, not having won one of the first three races, but you are poised for attack, ready to take your place at the top.

“Daddy, who’s that?” you hear a little girl ask as you walk to the paddock.

“Y/n L/n, we don’t like her,” his fragile masculinity practically yells the comment into your ears. With a smirk you look at the pair, walking over and bending to the little girls level.

“What’s your name?” you ask, your voice bordering on being sickly sweet.

“Sarah,” she squeaks, eyes wide with fascination. You remove your team hat and pull out a sharpie from your pocket, signing your hat.

“Don’t let any man tell you you can’t be better than the boys. You can do anything, you’re a girl,” you smile, putting the hat on her head. You wave over your assistant. “Get her sizes and buy her some team gear, charge it to me,” you tell the assistant, who eagerly nods. Of course, the F1 social team caught the incident and posted it.

“Y/n! How does it feel to be in a slump, as some are calling it? Some fans are even calling you washed. Quite sad isn’t it,” one reporter asks.

“You guys keep saying I am in a slump, or I’m being replaced by younger drivers. My bare hands paved their paths, you don’t get to tell me about sad. If you wanted my career to be dead so bad, you should’ve just said so,” you roll your eyes. Nothing makes you feel more alive than driving, but annoying the media is a close second.

“What about your move to Mercedes next year? Why switch?” another reporter asks. Couldn’t you just get to your motorhome without being hounded by reporters for once?

“It was a mutual decision, it was time for us to part,” you walk away, reflecting on the last few months.

You hadn’t planned your exit from McLaren to Mercedes, the scandal regarding your exit being contained by NDAs. You had punched one of the engineers who made a sexist joke at your expense. You promptly decided you didn’t want to be there anymore, especially when they didn’t fire the engineer.

“I feel bad that this is how it has to happen,” Zak said at the end of last season.

“You don’t get to tell me you feel bad, if you actually did he would’ve been fired and I wouldn’t have to leave,” You told him, visibly upset.

“It was one joke and he was reprimanded. You don’t have to leave,” Zak says, you sharply inhale.

“It wasn’t one joke. It had been ongoing for years, it’s a wonder it took me this long to break. What did you want me to do? Laugh until I cry?” you asked Zak, who seemed shocked.

“Then I truly am sorry, I’ll launch an investigation to see why it wasn’t reported to me before. You will have always have a friend here,” Zak tells you, a small comfort.

“Thank you,” you give him a small smile. You spend the whole offseason steeling yourself and working to be the best driver you can be. You stayed longer at the gym and sent more time on the sim.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Daniel asked one day over a glass of wine, he’s known you since you both were karting, and he’s watched you spiral the past few years. Daniel is your best, and one your few friends.

“It’s so hard being a woman in F1. I am a completely different person than I was before I joined,” Daniel doesn’t comment, he knows you felt like a caged animal so you acted like one.

“Why did you leave McLaren?” Daniel asks, knowing you wouldn’t leave unless there was a good reason.

“I signed an NDA, so you can’t share any of this. After I started at McLaren, an engineer was hired who would say sexist remarks all the time. Over time I stopped being nice and just got mean back, and I finally snapped. I gave him a nice right hook to his face,” you sip the wine, giving the shortened version. “Zak didn’t know, no one had reported the engineers behavior, so we signed NDAs and I left.”

“I’m sorry, That plus the media circus of being a woman in F1 can’t be easy,” Daniel sympathizes.

“That’s why I forced myself to be like this. If I can make myself seem untouchable, it doesn’t hurt as much. Being the villain is easier,” you tell him.

“So how will you approach Mercedes?” Daniel keeps you talking, knowing you need a good trauma dump.

“Lay low for the first couple weeks, let the drivers think they took out my claws, hung me to dry. It won’t be enough to ruin my season, but enough to catch them off guard. During the fourth or fifth race, I’ll leap from my gallows and crash their party, exposing the sexism within Formula One,” you smirk.

“The old ‘who’s afraid of little old me’ tactic,” he smiles, enjoying your plan.

“They should be afraid,” you say, explaining your interview with Suzie that is going to break the internet, after all, the NDA only kept you from talking about the punch.

Just like you predicted, the media and fans were divided. Some called for a public apology from McLaren and the FIA for the treatment of female drivers, most called you over dramatic, and said you only wanted to attention to distract from your poor performance and waning stardom. They said not everything is about you and the people who hurt you didn’t do it to hurt you.

You wanted nothing more than to argue back and show the media and fans just how disturbed they had made you, but Toto told you to let your driving do the talking. That race you said one thing to the media, “you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.”

“Chills, your interview was phenomenal. Thanks for citing me as one of your biggest supporters by the way. Scooch over, let’s see what insecure men are tweeting,” Daniel hands you a glass of wine and sits beside you on your couch, air playing his phone screen.

“I like that one, I’m always drunk on my own tears,” you laugh. Daniel logged into his spam account, letting himself reply to the haters.

“I like this one. Y/n L/n is the kind of person to sue you for stepping on her lawn,” Daniel laughs.

“The reply is better: she’s fearsome, wretched, and most importantly, wrong,” you both think of a funny reply.

You show up to the track and win, and win, and win, until you are holding the trophy for your fourth world championship.

In your post-championship interview with the F1 media team, you make what may be your biggest announcement yet.

“In the wake of people calling me crazy after sharing my experiences as a woman in motorsport, I’d like to make a very special announcement. I am who I am because you trained me to be like this, so to make sure no other girl has to go through what I did, I will be sponsoring two F1 Academy drivers with added mentorship and sponsorship opportunities. I’ve seen the work that Susie Wolff has done, and I cannot wait to help grow the presence of women in motorsport,” you say, sitting beside Susie.

“We will make sure she doesn’t terrorize the girls too much,” she jokes at your request.

“Who’s afraid of little old me?”

[graceshouldwrite]

The Most Powerful Hack to Make Your Readers Cry

You’ve seen it all: show, don’t tell, plant a visceral image in the reader’s brain of the environment/character, write a complex character arc with lots of growth and setbacks, establish deep relationships, high stakes, etc. 

All the advice for making readers cry I’ve seen so far is basically that list. But, while those things are absolutely important, I find that the thing that always does the trick, whether as a tipping point or in and of itself, is this: 

THE CALLBACK! 

Before we move on, this is an ANALYSIS heavy post, so all the book + show examples contain spoilers!!

So, what do I mean by a “callback?” Think of Chekhov’s gun, but, here, you use the gun to pierce your reader’s heart. As a refresher for anyone who needs it, Chekhov’s gun is just a rule in writing that anything you introduce in the book should play some role in the plot.

Specifically, the name comes from the example that if a reader introduces a gun in the first act, it MUST go off later, (maybe, say, in the third act). For example, in the TV show Breaking Bad, the protagonist Walter White prepares a vial of poison (ricin) that he wanted to use to eliminate an opponent early on in the series. After the assassination attempt falls through, the ricin makes an appearance again in the very last episode of the show, when Walt finally uses it to kill another opponent. 

Got that? Alright, onto the examples of successful, tearjerking callbacks: 

1. The Last Olympian (Rick Riordan); “Family, Luke, you promised.” 

Context: The character Annabeth says this line. Years ago, Annabeth had run away from home, and Luke had effectively adopted her into a found family with another kid named Thalia. Common reason for leaving home = parental trauma! Yay! He promised Annabeth that they would be each other’s “family” from now on. 

Now: Kronos, the antagonist titan, has possessed the demigod Luke and uses his body to strike Annabeth, injuring her. She’s also holding a dagger that Luke had given her when she joined his “family.”

Significance: her words + the dagger are a mental + physical reminder to Luke of his promise. They force him to recognize the sheer degree of his current betrayal by bringing him back to a different time. The fact that their found family only happened because of parental trauma bringing them together makes it worse—Luke felt abandoned by his Olympian father, Hermes. Now, he realizes that he basically did the equivalent to Annabeth by joining the titans. 

2. Les Miserables (Victor Hugo); Jean Valjean’s death 

Context:  At the beginning of the book, the bishop had caught Valjean trying to steal candlesticks to sell. Instead of handing him over to the police, the bishop told the police that he had given them to Valjean, saving him from arrest and showing him mercy. This changed his life forever, kickstarting his character redemption arc. 

Now: Jean Valjean dies surrounded by his loved ones, remembered as a benevolent man who bettered thousands of lives. He’s surrounded by light from candlesticks that once belonged to a bishop.

Context: Valjean had once taken in an impoverished woman named Fantine, showing her mercy and promising to take care of her daughter, Cosette, after Fantine died. Valjean then rescued Cosette from abusive quasi-foster parents (it’s a long story), raising her as his own daughter. This furthered his arc by allowing him to finally understand how unconditionally loving someone feels. 

Now: Valjean describes Fantine to Cosette, who never knew her mother. 

Significance: Both examples throw readers back to much earlier points in the story before the completion of Valjean’s character arc. In a way, this final scene feels like an external manifestation of his kindness paying off; both he and the reader feels a sense of accomplishment, relief, and just a general “OMG WE MADE IT.” Readers don’t feel cheated, because they were with Valjean every step of his 1,400 page arc. The weight of it all just crashes down on you...

3. Your Lie in April (anime); Kaori’s letter after she dies

Context: Kaori’s entire plot significance is that she helps Kousei, a piano prodigy who can’t play piano anymore due to traumatic parental memories associated with it, play again—but also, just to help him enjoy life again after a turbulent upbringing. She meets him a year before she dies of a medical condition, and her free spirit + confidence influences him to find beauty in life and music again. They basically do a crap ton of crazy funny stuff together lol

Now: Kaori has died, and she leaves a letter to him. Among other general confessions and thoughts, she references things they did and memories they shared: she says, “sorry we couldn’t eat all those canelés,” reminisces about  jumping with him off a small bridge into the stream below, “racing each other alongside the train,” singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star as they rode the bike together, etc.

Significance: Yes, the nature of the letter is just sad because she’s revealing that she loved him all along, apologizing for not being able to spend more time with him, lying that she didn’t like him (to spare his feelings b/c she knew she would die soon), etc. BUT, these small details highlight exactly how many experiences they shared, and the depth of their relationship. Thus, they emphasize the significance of her death and the emptiness it leaves behind. 

4. Arcane (show); “I thought, maybe you could love me like you used to, even though I’m different.” 

Context: Character Jinx says this in the last episode to her now estranged older sister, Vi. Without going into the crazy complex plot, basically, orphans Vi and Jinx used to care for each other before a bunch of crap went down that got them separated. They then grew up on opposite political sides; Jinx grows up on the side of the underbelly city rebellion, and Vi grows up working on the side of the richer city that essentially oppresses the undercity. Thus begins the development of their opposing viewpoints and work environments, to the point where they always meet on opposite sides of a political battle, never able to come together as a family or understand each other again. 

Now: After a super dramatic confrontation, Jinx reveals that although she wants Vi to love her like she did before their separation, she knows it’s not possible because “[Vi] changed too.” She finishes with, “so, here’s to the new us” before blowing up a political council meeting a few blocks down filled with people Vi sides with. Oops! This cleanly seals the fate of their relationship as something basically irreparable.  

Significance: This callback isn’t through literal flashbacks or items like in the previous examples. Jinx’ lines are enough to bring back images of their childhood to the audience’s mind. Now, the audience subconsciously places this image of: 1) two sisters so different, hurt, and torn apart, right next to 2) the image of two sisters as innocent children who loved each other and would care for each other no matter what. 

Why do callbacks work so well? 

If you’ve noticed something in common with all of them, you’re right: they remind audience of a time BEFORE the characters have come so far on their arcs, developed, and put on so much more emotional baggage. 

Callbacks force the audience to SUDDENLY and IMMEDIATELY feel the weight of everything that’s happened. The character’s anguish and overwhelming emotions become the audience’s in this moment. Callbacks are a vehicle for the juxtaposition of worlds, before and after significant development. 

This works because we, as mortals, fear IMPERMANENCE the most. We fear LOSS. For us, time gone is time we will never get back; callbacks make us face that exact fact through a fictional character. A lost moment, time period, or even part of oneself may hurt as much as losing a loved one, and nothing makes humans grieve more than the realization of a loss. A callback slaps the audience in the face with the fact that something was lost; loss hurts so much because almost 99% of the time, what’s gone is gone forever. 

Of course, a good callback requires good previous character development, stakes, imagery, and all that jazz, but I thought I’d highlight this specifically because of how under covered it is. 

∘₊✧────── ☾☼☽ ──────✧₊∘

instagram: @ grace_should_write

I’ve been binging general media lately: I finished Death Note, Your Lie in April, and Tokyo Ghoul all within like a month (FIRST ANIMES I”VE EVER WATCHED!!), reread lots of Les Miserables, analyzed a bunch of past shows like Breaking Bad, watched a bunch of My Little Pony, worked to fix up my old writing... and that’s not even all! The amount of times I’ve CRIED while enjoying the above media and so much more honestly just inspired this post. 

Like, no joke, my eyes were almost always swollen during this period whenever I hung out with my friends and it was so embarrassing help 

Personally, I just find that this method works super well for me, and I watched a bunch of reaction videos to these above scenes (and read book reviews on the book scenes I mentioned), and it seemed that just about everyone cried during these parts. That’s when I realizes that the callback might also just be a universal thing. 

Anyway, this post is long and dense enough as is. SORRY! As always, hope this was helpful, and let me know if you have any questions by commenting, re-blogging, or DMing me on IG. Any and all engagement is appreciated <3333

Happy writing, and have a great day,

- grace <3

[gekkohs]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝒩𝒮𝐹𝒲 𝒜𝐿𝒫𝐻𝒜𝐵𝐸𝒯 — j.slaughter

warnings + tags — MINORS / AGELESS BLOGS DNI, female reader, mentions of sex, dacryphilia, blood kink, non-con kink, knife play, johnny slaughter being johnny slaughter, typical nsfw things

authors notes — I’ve been wanting to do an alphabet for some of the tcm characters forever, so why not kick it off with a dirty little johnny post? this is all for fun and games, so if you don’t agree w anything, that’s okay <3 I might make some more n/sfw alphabets if people want, too (also let’s pretend I’m not uploading this at 6am).

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

at first he wasn’t exactly understanding of aftercare, he was used to just fucking and leaving, you know, the whole family business. but once he got with you, you taught him what aftercare actually was and it became one of him favourite things — he’d actually look forward to it, not that he’d tell you that. the idea of holding you close to him, all sweaty and panting, both of you more relaxed than you ever could be, enjoying the silence and the come down from your shared high. what could be better?

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favourite body part of yours is definitely your ass and thighs, doesn’t matter whether they’re big or small, he just loves the soft parts of your body. he loves squeezing them, slapping them, biting them, laying on them — whatever, he is just borderline obsessed with them. but in all honesty, every single part of your body is his favourite, he’s just so into you that he can barely contain himself.

his favourite part of himself is his arms and hands, his muscular biceps and large hands make him feel manly and give him extra confidence, plus when he’s choking someone, seeing his hands or arms cover them completely kinda gets him going. plus he knows how much you love those parts of him, and that makes him like himself just that little bit more.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he’s filthy when it comes to his cum, he’ll have it everywhere — he’ll cum on your face, your ass, in your mouth, and even forcing it into your cunt and breeding you like you deserve. he claims you as his and him having his cum in you or all over you just cements that fact. it tastes a little salty but mostly just normal, he likes to think he has a “good” diet just for your taste.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

johnny is a dirty little panty stealer, especially dirty panties. any time you’re showering or have gotten changed, he’ll pick up a pretty pair and shove it into his pocket, and he’ll act completely innocent when you ask if he’s seen them anywhere — he’ll just claim he probably ripped them to shreds when he fucked you, or threw them behind something accidentally. he loves smelling them while he’s masturbating (which isn’t often) but when he really misses you, then it just brings him that much closer to you. he has a secret little stash of them in his shack, tucked away in the back of a drawer, all different colours and styles just for his pleasure.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

no surprise but he is pretty damn experienced, but in the beginning he only really fucked for his own pleasure, not really caring about the other person. but when he got you, then all he wanted was to hear you moaning, to hear his name tumbling from your pretty lips. so he focused on and used everything he knew best, and of course he listened and learnt what you enjoyed — he basically became a god of fucking you, knowing everything that made you break, the things that made you quiver and come without him barely touching you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

surprisingly, missionary is his favourite, mostly because he likes seeing your face while he’s fucking you, having his hands wrapped around your throat or pinning your hands above your head. there’s something intimate about the simplicity of missionary and he loves that. but he enjoys mixing it up a little, missionary that turns into a mating press, and whatnot.

his second favorite is doggy, but because he loves ass, and it makes it easy to wrap his arm around your neck and pull you back into his chest. a secret favourite as well is forcing you into the full nelson, because what wouldn’t be enjoyable about that?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s more serious but it’s because he gets lost in the moment, he’s so concentrated on making you come that he doesn’t really take the moment to be more relaxed. but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to laugh and joke on during it, he’ll often say things that makes you chuckle, especially when he’s being “sweet” — but he doesn’t make a habit to go out of his way to make a joke unless it’s to lighten the mood after an intense session.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

johnny is pretty well groomed, he often shaves his armpits and trims his pubes, mostly because of the hot weather so he likes to keep it shorter but also because he feels more comfortable. he definitely leaves hair down there though, and grows out his happy trail because he knows he looks good with it. and of course he leaves the little bit of chest hair he has. all of his hair is jet black, and pretty thick and straight.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he can sometimes be nice and loving, slow and romantic. whispering sweet nothings into your ear, pumping in and out of you deeply, just showing how he loves you. but of course he has the moments, which is more likely, where he fucks you hard and rough, using you for his own pleasures. it all depends on the moment, the day, and his mood, but expect a bit of everything from him. but johnny has his own ways of intimacy, his own way of showing his love and being what he thinks is romantic, even if he is being rough the entire time.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he rarely jacks off, instead he prefers having sex with you to relieve himself, but on the off times he does need to jack off, then he has specific things he’ll do. like stated he’ll sniff your panties or look at polaroids of naked pictures you took for him, picturing you riding him and moaning for him. he’ll edge himself a lot, too, your name always rolling off his tongue when he moves his hand nice and slow up and down his cock. other times he wants it over quickly, locking himself in the bathroom and fucking his hand hard and fast, just needing to come and get it over with so he can get back to his busy schedule.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

blood kink — need I say more? he loves eating and tasting people, and your blood is something that he loves tasting, especially when he’s balls deep inside of you. there’s something so intimate about licking the blood trickling down your neck and making love to you at the same time, something so intimate about sharing something like blood with each other. he also loves having you taste his, whether it’s from biting his lip or even just licking his wound when he accidentally cuts himself.

knife kink — again, a pretty obvious one, the man who walks around with a knife and cuts people up basically for a living? he likes the way you flinch under the cool steel of his blade, cutting your clothes off your body with it, leaving lines and marks on you. he’ll cut you if you let him, not deep enough to scar, but enough to get a little blood from you, two kinks for the price of one.

non-con kink — he loves having his way with you, especially when you’re begging him to stop or when you’re whimpering and crying. of course he doesn’t hurt you, instead he pleasures until you can’t take it anymore, until you want it to stop but he just won’t. sometimes he’ll grab you from behind when you least expect it, blindfold and gag you, tie you up and fuck you senseless.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

he’s a simple man with simple pleasures, taking you on a bed or the sofa in his shack is good enough for him, anything with soft padding for him and you to be comfortable. but sometimes he likes to mix it up, fucking you in a victims car or bending you over a table in his mothers house and having his way with you. it depends on his mood like usual, it doesn’t matter where it is as long as he gets to cum in you — but he does have a preference for the risky areas, the outdoor places where you have the chance to be caught, or even just places where he didn’t bother locking the door.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

he’s a pretty simple man so a lot of things you do turn him on, it can be as simple as seeing you all warm and bothered on a hot summers day or seeing you bend over picking something up off the floor. but some other things are a little meaner, like seeing you cry when you’re upset or when you’re annoyed with him and you pout all cute like. his favourite thing though, is when you’re angry or really upset, shouting at him, pushing him away or pounding on his chest to get him away — that instantly sends the blood to his cock.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

there isn’t much he wouldn’t do, or at least there isn’t really any hard no’s. but he isn’t a fan of threesomes, he doesn’t like the idea of anyone else touching you, pleasing you — he knows he’s enough for you and you’re enough for him, so why would you want to invite someone else into the bedroom? as for turn offs, there isn’t really many, something might turn his off once because of his mood or just how he’s feeling on that day but then it might not the next time.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

just like most people, he loves recieving and seeing you on your knees, especially when you’re choking and gagging on him. but he absolutely loves going down on you, he loves to pleasure you and anything that gets you moaning his name, he loves. he’s really good at it too, he was already good before he met you but he’s learnt exactly what gets you going, and god knows he can work miracles with that tongue of his. there are times he’ll go down on you for the sake of it, not even expecting it to be foreplay for sex. he’ll just push you up against something and drop to his knees, pushing your panties to the side and eating you out, then he’ll just go about the rest of his day like normal after making you come on his face.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he goes between fast and rough and slow and sensual, but most of the time he likes it fast and rough. throwing you about and using you as a glorified fleshlight and making you come at his will is just too much to pass up. when he’s been more romantic or sensual, he likes to have you in missionary, his head buried in the crook of your neck where his moans and sighs are slightly muffled, and he can just push his cock into you nice and slowly.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

as much as he loves taking his time with you, he loves a good old fashioned quickie, bending you over some car or throwing you up against a wall when he needs to relieve himself. he’s worse with it when he’s had a bad day and something has annoyed him, he’ll practically hunt you down just to fuck you. he doesn’t have quickies every day, but it’ll be at least one or twice every couple of days.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

johnny is completely down for taking risks, fucking you in easily caught places and places that are pretty dangerous — the most noticeable place being near his mothers house, or even inside, he’ll drag you off somewhere when you’re visiting her and have his way with you then act like nothing happened when you can barely walk. he loves to experiment with you, too, after all he has some pretty out there kinks that you didn’t exactly like or ever think about trying, but he respects if you have hard no’s — he’s a lot more caring than he pretends to be.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

not so surprisingly, he has a lot of stamina, and can go a whole bunch of rounds, but usually he’ll tap out after two, or a very long session. he enjoys having multiple sessions throughout the day rather than all at once, because then he can burn off all that energy and anger he gets during the day. during a usual session, foreplay included, it’ll last around 45 minutes to an hour — after all, he really loves taking his time with you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

so he’s pretty hit and miss with toys, he didn’t exactly like them at first. he was kinda insulted when you brought up the idea of having a vibrator / when he found yours, because he took it that he wasn’t good enough for you and that you clearly needed to have something else make you come. after you finally convinced him to just use it on you during sex, his entire world lit up. watching how easy it was to have you a quivering, blubbering, sniveling mess sent blood rushing straight to his cock — and now a lot of the time, especially during longer sessions, he’ll use it on you to tease or give his hand a little bit of a break if he needs it. he also loves making you use it on yourself while he watches, sometimes wanking himself off while you make yourself come.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’s a huuuuge tease, loves to edge you for as long as he can, it’s even better if he gets you to the edge of coming on a morning then he can leave for the day — but he tells you not to touch yourself, because he’ll know — sometimes he’ll even “check” during the day to make sure you haven’t made yourself come. if you’ve been good for him then he won’t tease you for too long, but it’s rare he goes a day without teasing you just a little bit. he just loves hearing you whimper and beg for him, and he gets off on being the only one that can make you come.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

johnny grunts and cusses a lot during sex, or even when you’re just teasing / going down on him. he has no issue being vocal anymore, although he was a lot quieter when you first got together. now he’s completely fine with moaning into your ear, and he actually loves moaning your name, he doesn’t even care who hears — he likes you knowing how good you make him feel, plus he knows how much it turns you on having him moaning and cussing when he’s deep inside you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

okay I’ve said it a million times, and I’ll say it a million more, he’s actually really sweet to you, and treats you like an angel. at first he’d be a little mean, still saying things that would hurt your feelings or just scaring you by him being him — but once you’d been dating awhile, he’s the “hurt them and I kill you” type guy, the one that’ll kill for you, the one that’ll die for you. he’s so wrapped around your little finger it’s almost unbelievable, he’s so in love that he’d do nearly anything you ask — but he’s only like that when you’re alone, for the most part. when you’re around other people he’s super possessive and lets others know who you belong to, always having a hand around your waist or yanking you into the most sexually fuelled kiss when someone talks to you for too long. nonetheless, he’d protect you with his life and is actually really sweet, in his own way, of course.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

okay he’s got a pretty huge dick, it’s 7”-7.5”, and it’s girthy as all hell, to the point he needs to warm you up a lot before even thinking about trying to push himself into you. he’s not cut, and he’s got a big fat vein that runs along the underside of his cock and it’s super sensitive around there, too. the closer to the tip of his cock, the more reddish purple it turns, especially when he’s hard. oh and let’s not forget, he’s got big, heavy balls as well.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he’s ridiculously horny, that man has a crazy sex drive and it was kinda hard to keep up with at first. he has a naturally high one anyway but it’s made worse by his obsession with you — he needs to be in you constantly, filling you, making you his. as soon as he wakes up he’s there being needy, he’s the exact same at night when you’re going to bed. and don’t be surprised if he doesn’t pull you round the back of a shack to fuck you during the day, too.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

johnny falls asleep instantly, there’s not a single thought behind that man’s eyes. and it’s made even worse when he tires himself out fucking you senseless a good few rounds before finishing — he’s the type that as soon as his head hits the pillow, he’s passed out snoring, mouth open, twitching and kicking you all night. or sometimes he’s just so still that you’re not sure he’s alive anymore, just perfectly motionless, couldn’t even be woken up by the end of the world.

[cre8inghavoc]

What are friends for?

PT. 8

Status: ongoing!!

Updates: no set date.

WC: 4154

Pairing: megumi fushiguro x FEM!reader

Genre/Warnings:[18+] Characters are aged up. This story contains toxic boyfriend, cursing, name calling, self-doubt/hate, angst, breaking up, post-breakup, alcohol, drug use, drunk moments, new friends, dating!au, college!au, no curses!au, dark humour, dark jokes. SMAU.

Recap:

"Where the hell is this stupid class?" you mutter under your breath, frustration mounting with each passing second.

With your mind solely focused on finding your class, you fail to notice the person standing directly in your path. Before you can react, you run right into them, the impact jolting you back to reality.

Stumbling backward, he reaches out to steady you, his hands gently settling on your waist, you look up to apologize, only to freeze in shock as you lock eyes with the person before you.

"Megumi?" you blurt out, unable to hide your surprise as you take in his familiar features and all-black attire.

His expression remains impassive at first, but as his gaze meets yours, recognition flashes in his eyes.

“Y/n?”

You become acutely aware of the situation: his hand on your waist, yours resting on his chest. If anyone stumbled upon this scene, they'd undoubtedly mistake you for a couple practically about to kiss. Stepping back, you clear your throat, trying to shake off the embarrassment that flushes your cheeks. Thankfully, he can't see your face, so you're spared from the embarrassment of him witnessing your cheeks turn bright red.

Despite the inner voice telling you otherwise, you can't help but feel drawn to gaze at him, captivated by his undeniable charm. Dressed in black sweatpants and a snug shirt that highlights his physique, he looks like he just walked out of the gym — with tousled hair, toned arms, and abs peeking through the fabric. And don’t even get me started on his arms and how his veins pop out- What the fuck y/n! Snap out of it! What am I even thinking? I can't let myself indulge in these feelings anymore. He's made it crystal clear he's not interested. It's time to move on.

"What are you doing here?" he questions, a hint of confusion in his tone.

"I go here... Why, are you following me?" you retort, mirroring his confusion.

"How could I be following you if you're the one who ran into me? You stalking me?" He teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

"What? No! Don't flatter yourself," you reply, your tone sharper than intended. His joke strikes a nerve, perhaps because you're still upset and disappointed about him not showing up at the park. It feels like a sign that whatever you two had is now over, yet here he is, acting as if nothing happened.

"Well, I go here too and I've never seen you around, so..." he counters.

"Whatever, Megumi, I'm gonna be late for class, so can you please piss off," you reply, frustration evident in your tone. You don't want to be mean to him, but anger seems to be consuming you. You walk past him, only for him to turn around and gently grab your wrist.

"Y/n, wait..." he says, concern lacing his voice.

"What do you want?" you retort sharply.

"Why are you being like that?"

"Like what?" You take offense to his question. What does he mean by "why am I being like that"?

"I don't know... cold? upset? I didn't mean to offend you if I did... I just didn't realize you went here..." he explains, his tone softening.

"If you must know, I just transferred here from my other school. Now, can I go back to finding my class?" you say, pulling your hand away and continuing to walk.

"Wait!" he says, grabbing your wrist again. "What room number is it? I can help you."

"Megumi, can you please just stop," you say, a little annoyed.

"Stop what?" he says, confused.

"This," you reply.

"This what? I don't get it..."

"Stop trying to pretend like you care or be nice to me because you feel bad."

"Pretend? Feed bad? What the hell are you talking about?"

"See, you're doing it right now. You made it quite clear you want nothing to do with me, so just leave me alone, okay?" Your tone is angrier than before.

"Y/n, no—“

"She said leave her alone, bro." A tall man with a deep voice appears, cutting Megumi off. He's probably just as tall as Megumi, but a little more buff. Megumi lets go of your wrist, and you back up a little, watching the two boys walk towards each other, staring one another down. You stare at Megumi, knowing his intention but hoping he doesn't do anything stupid. As you glance at the other man, he seems somewhat familiar... You examine his face, and just based on the way they're both looking at each other, it's obvious what's about to go down.

"Guys, it's okay, please—” you begin, attempting to separate them before they escalate the situation further.

"Get behind me," Megumi interrupts, his hand gently pushing you back and you comply, even though you're not sure why you're still listening to him.

"What are you gonna do, huh?" He spits back.

"Watch who you talk to," Megumi smirks.

"Guys, please... I said it's okay, can you two please stop!" you plead desperately.

Their voices start to draw attention as this unfolds in front of a few classrooms, with students peeking out from the doorways. Among them is Todo, one of Itadori’s best friends who also happens to be friends with Yuta and Toge. He quickly realizes what's happening and storms out of his class to help stop the situation before the teachers intervene.

"Y/N?" Todo shouts out, rushing towards you.

"Todo?" You look at him as he catches up to where you're standing.

"What the hell is going on?" Todo asks you, clearly perplexed.

"Y/n?" the other man says with confusion and shock, peeking behind Megumi's shoulder to see you. Stepping off to the side from behind Megumi, you stare at him in confusion.

Todo's attention is suddenly drawn to the familiar voice, and he looks at the person in front of Megumi.

The way he said your name feels incredibly familiar, as if you've heard this person's voice before. He just seems so familiar... with his low, deep voice, long black hair, heavy eyebags, and low eyes. And that line tattoo on the bridge of his nose down to the middle of his cheek.

"Choso?" Todo looks at him, baffled, and Choso returns the look with a smile.

"C-Choso?" you question, walking up to him.

"Long time no see, huh?" he says, smiling at you. You smile back and rush in for a hug, which he returns, resting his chin on your head.

As Megumi and Todo stand there, perplexed by the unexpected reunion between you and Choso, you're too engrossed in catching up with Choso to notice the tension building around you. If you were to glance at Megumi now, you'd see the anger in his eyes, the way he's glaring at Choso with increasing intensity. It's evident that he despises the way Choso is holding you close, resting his chin on your head. Perhaps it's out of jealousy, but you're too focused on Choso to realize Megumi's "death" glare.

Meanwhile, Choso takes a step back, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he gazes at you, then briefly glances up at Megumi. He notices the furrowed eyebrows and the intense glare directed at both of you. With a smirk at Megumi's expression, Choso turns his attention back to you, locking eyes once more.

“You've grown so much, I almost couldn’t recognize you. You look so beautiful.” Choso says looking you up and down.

“Oh.. thanks cho! I could say the same for you… you’ve been working out?” you point out his physique which only makes Choso smirk more. 

“Yup, like what you see” He winks at you.

“Omg shut up” you say, rolling your eyes playfully and giggling. 

Megumi couldn't bear continue to witness the apparent flirtation between you and Choso any longer. Something inside him boils, and he kicks himself off the wall, striding up to you and wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. You're aware of what he's doing, and you know you should be angry with him, especially after he didn't show up at the park, leaving you to believe he didn't want you. But when you feel his body pressed against yours and his hand around your waist, you can't help but feel flustered, melting into his touch. Does he actually want you? Was the park situation just a misunderstanding? Is he jealous, or are you just being delusional? Would he be doing this if things were good between you two? God, why does this have to be so difficult and messy... You notice the way Choso and Todo look at you and Megumi, and you can't help but feel embarrassed by the situation.

"What are you doing here?" Todo walks up to Choso, ready to greet him.

"Just passing through the area for a few hours, so I wanted to come by and see old friends," Choso responds.

"Didn't know Y/n went here," Todo says, glancing at you as you're still in Megumi's arms.

"I just transferred; today's actually my first day," you explain.

"How do you two know each other?" Megumi asks, annoyance evident in his tone.

"We were childhood best friends, haven’t seen him in years!" You smile at Choso, and he returns the smile.

Megumi responds with only a hum and a nod before a teacher steps outside and instructs you all to get back to class.

The grip around your waist loosens, then completely disappears as Megumi takes a step back. All you can think about is how you already miss his touch, yearning for more, wishing you could stay in his presence just a little bit longer. But you have to get to your class, and so does everyone else, except Choso, who's heading out anyways. You say your goodbyes to him and hug him one last time, but when you turn back around, Megumi's already gone, leaving you with only Todo.

"Where's Megumi?" you ask, scanning the area.

"Went to class, I guess. What happened, by the way?" Todo inquires.

"I'll be honest, I don't even know... One minute I'm trying to find my class, the next Choso and Megumi practically get into a fight, and for what? No idea. What a great way to start my day, right?!" you respond, feeling stressed.

"Well, I can tell you what it seemed like to me," Todo begins.

"And how's that, Todo?"

"Looked like Megumi was jealous of the way you were close to Choso, and it seemed like Choso realized that and tried to piss him off more."

"Why would Megumi be jealous?!" You ask, thoroughly confused.

"Is it not obvious?" Todo responds, clearly shocked.

"What do you mean?" you press.

"Damn, Y/n, anyone could see it from a mile away."

"The hell does that even mean?" you respond, feeling even more confused.

He facepalms, then starts to walk away.

"Todo! .... Todo!!!" you shout after him, but he just keeps walking.

"TODO!" you call out again, but he slips back into class.

"UGH! Can this day just get any worse?" you mutter to yourself, feeling frustrated.

After a few minutes of searching, you finally found your class, only being five minutes late. The teacher didn't mind at all since he understood how confusing it could be to find classrooms on your first day. He was a pretty cool teacher, very nice and calm. You finished your first two classes and had a two-hour break until your next one, just like your friends. Obviously, you made your schedules similar to theirs so you could all go out for lunch.

You finally met up with your friends, and you all decided to go to a nearby cafe just down the street from the school. It had recently opened up, and you were all excited to try it out. Laughing and talking, you walked there together, and upon stepping inside, you were all amazed by the decor and how beautiful it looked. Choosing a booth to sit in, you all ordered croissants. You opted for a vanilla iced latte, as did Maki. Yuta and Toge couldn't decide between regular lattes, cappuccinos, or iced lattes, so they ended up getting the same thing as you and Maki, and they were not disappointed. 

You all sat at the booth, chilling and enjoying your drinks, until you noticed Maki's girlfriend, Nobara, walking up to the counter to order. You waved at her, and she smiled back, coming over to join your group. Maki turned around, noticing your attention on someone, and when she saw Nobara, she got up, happy to see her, and hugged her, then kissed her.

"What are you doing here, baby?" Maki said, pulling Nobara in by her waist and holding her close.

"We just wanted to check out this new cafe!" Nobara replied, looking behind her as Megumi and Itadori walked towards her. However, they both didn't notice your friend group, as they were too distracted arguing with each other about who knows what.

You hadn't noticed Megumi and Itadori coming in; you were too focused on enjoying your food. However, when you finally glanced up and saw Megumi, your face dropped. He looked away from Itadori and locked eyes with you, both of you visibly shocked. Everyone around you couldn't help but notice the tension between you both, their gazes darting back and forth between you.

Little did you know, Nobara and Maki had actually arranged this whole situation. They planned for you to go out to a cafe, and then Nobara would join along with her friends, just to see how you and Megumi would act towards each other. Feeling the awkwardness intensify, you quickly stood up from your seat. Looking back at your group, you both simultaneously said, "Nope, I gotta go." Then, as if on cue, you both looked back at each other and repeated, "No, I'm gonna go." Itadori looked at you both in complete shock.

"What the hell is going on with you two?" he said, clearly confused.

"What do you mean? Nothing is going on!" you say to Itadori, though it's clear you're lying to him.

"Course there isn't," Megumi says with his regular grumpy voice. You glare at him, and he glares back. 

"Uh... yeah, sure, totally believable," Itadori says, rolling his eyes.

 "Can you just spit it out already?" Maki says, hinting at Megumi to apologize to you for not showing up at the park.

Megumi shifts uncomfortably under Maki's gaze, then lets out a heavy sigh. "Fine. I'm sorry for not showing up on time at the park," he grumbles, still looking somewhat annoyed.

You nod, acknowledging his apology, but the tension between you two remains palpable. Everyone knows about the park situation, but they also sense that there's more to the tension between you and Megumi. After all, there wouldn't be this level of anger if it were just about the park.

"Cool! Can I leave now?" you ask, looking back at Maki with your arms crossed, clearly not forgiving Megumi.

"No, not until this is resolved," Itadori says firmly.

"Megumi, what type of apology is that?" Maki responds, her tone slightly scolding.

"Do I have to apologize in front of you guys?" Megumi retorts, his frustration evident in his voice.

"Uhm, yeah? How else are we going to even know if you actually are?" Itadori responds, his tone firm. Nobara, Toge, and Yuta watch with amusement, clearly intrigued by the unfolding drama.

"Right," Megumi says, annoyed, pinching his eyebrows together. "Look, Y/n, I didn’t see your message on time. I was out running errands, and my phone was on 'do not disturb.' When I finally saw it, it was already 6:55 pm. I tried calling you a few times, but your phone was off. I did go to the park, but I got there at 7:15, and I guess you had already left by then. I tried calling you again after that, but I guess you blocked me... I'm really sorry I didn’t make it on time. If I had seen your message earlier, I would’ve been there on time. I’m sorry." Megumi's apology sounds genuine.

"Oh..." was all you were able to say. After hearing what Megumi said, you were baffled. Honestly, you didn't expect that response at all. It made you feel... important again. It kind of made you happy to realize that he actually did come to the park. But it seemed like something was still bothering him, because after apologizing, he just sat down beside Itadori and didn’t look at you again. You glanced up at him a few times while you were all out, but he never once looked at you. It felt like he was trying to avoid you, but for what reason? The tension between you two lingered, and it was clear that there was still more to be resolved.

Everyone talked and shared laughs while you were in the cafe, except Megumi, who barely said a word. Apparently, that was normal for him, but you had never seen him like that before. And you, usually the happy person who always talks to everyone, were quieter than normal. Yuta and Toge picked up on it pretty fast, but they figured it was because of the whole situation with Megumi. They weren't wrong though… but they hated seeing this side of you. 

It's been two months since you all went to that cafe together, meaning it's been two months of you and Megumi not talking to each other. You'd see each other in the halls from time to time, but it just felt... weird. Like it seems as if he is avoiding you. No, he is avoiding you. 

Within those two months, you've gotten super close to Itadori. You found out that the two of you actually have a lot in common, and you'd both hang out a few times a week. Sometimes Yuta and Toge would come to hang out too, while Maki and Nobara are always together. It makes you happy that you're all friends, except the one thing that upsets you is that Megumi isn't there. He isn't talking to you, and every time you're over at their house hanging out with Itadori and Megumi comes home, he just heads straight upstairs and locks his door, completely ignoring your presence. And you don't even know what to do anymore. You don’t understand why he's avoiding you, but it hurts so damn bad.

This time, the sting of rejection cut a little deeper. You, Itadori, and Toge were all hanging out at Itadori's place when Megumi arrived home from his last class. As he entered the house, his gaze swept over the living room where you three were engrossed in video games. Gaining courage, you decided to greet him, but Megumi simply glanced at you all before retreating upstairs to his room, as if you were invisible. It was a small gesture, but it weighed heavily on your heart, making you roll your eyes in annoyance.

Sensing the tension, Itadori and Toge exchanged a concerned glance before swiftly diverting the conversation.

"I'm starving, you guys wanna grab some pizza?" Itadori's stomach growled audibly, prompting laughter from you and Toge.

"Yeah, I'm down for some pizza too!" Toge chimed in.

"You ordering, Itadori?" you asked.

"Nah, let's go pick it up. I'm too hungry to wait," Itadori replied eagerly.

"Ugh, can I just stay here and wait for you guys to come back? I'm feeling lazy," you grumbled, feeling drained.

"That's cool. Oh, and ask Megumi if he wants anything too," Itadori said, shooting you a pointed look.

"Why me?" you protested, taken aback.

"Because you're the one staying behind!" Itadori replied with a mischievous grin, while Toge chuckled.

"Why can't Toge do it?" you countered.

"Because we're leaving now, and you can let us know when he responds. Bye!" Toge said, already halfway out the door with Itadori.

"Fuck you’ve gotta be kidding me.” you mutter to yourself, as you walk up the familiar staircase. Reaching Megumi's door, you knock, feeling a mix of nerves and frustration bubbling inside.

You hear Megumi open the door from his bathroom and approach. As he opens the door, you see he's holding a towel, ruffling it through his hair. At first, you're looking down, but your gaze slowly moves up, and your face turns bright red as your eyes widen. Holy shit-

He's standing there shirtless, wearing only shorts, with his wet hair indicating he just got out of the shower. Water droplets glisten on his chest, and even though you knew he was in good shape, seeing him actually shirtless makes you feel flustered. You quickly look away, embarrassed for staring for so long.

"Uhm... sorry, I didn’t mean to-I mean, I didn’t know-”

"All good," Megumi cuts you off, his expression nonchalant and his tone cold, which catches you by surprise. Lost in thought, you're interrupted as Megumi asks again, "What’s up? You need something?" He throws his towel over his shoulder and he leans against the door frame.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Itadori and Toge are on their way to get pizza. They were wondering if you wanted any..." you say, feeling a bit awkward.

"Oh, nah, I'm good, thanks," he replies.

"Okay..." You stare at him for a moment, and he notices, prompting him to ask, "Anything else?"

"No..."

"Doesn’t really seem like that..." he observes, noting your lingering presence.

"I just... why are you being like that...?" you ask him, feeling a little sad.

"Like what? I didn’t do anything," he retorts.

"Like cold..."

"What do you mean? I’m always like this," he replies.

"No, you're not. Not to me... I thought we were okay after the apology, but you just kept trying to avoid me... We haven’t talked in two months... Why, Megumi?" you say, your voice tinged with sadness.

"Why don’t you just go talk to Choso?" he suggests.

"What?! Is that what this is about?" you scoff.

"No clue what you’re talking about," he says, clearly annoyed.

"Megumi..." you start, but he hums in response.

"Are you jealous?" you ask, a little surprised, teasing him.

"No, I’m not," he says, his face serious as always.

"Don’t lie to me. You are jealous!"

"What do you want, y/n?" he says, attempting to change the subject, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"I want you to admit it and tell me why you’ve been avoiding me," you say back, crossing your arms.

"What are you trying to get at? There’s nothing to admit," he says tersely.

"So you’re telling me the reason you’ve been avoiding me has nothing to do with Choso," you question him.

"Mhm," he replies, rolling his eyes.

"I just don’t believe you," you tease him further.

"Alright, fine. Yeah, I was jealous. You happy now?" he says angrily, stepping back into his room, about to close the door. But you quickly take a step forward, putting one hand out to keep his door open, and you step into his room, closing the door behind you.

"Why? I don’t understand what there is to be jealous of..." you say, genuinely oblivious to the situation.

"God, Y/N, did you just come here to just fucking argue?" he spits back.

"No, Megumi, I just don’t understand you! I don’t understand why the fuck you’re avoiding me and why the fuck you’re acting like an asshole right now!" you snap back, now angry yourself.

"Don’t you get it?" he retorts.

"Get what? I don’t fucking get shit," you reply, your tone escalating.

"Are you that oblivious?" he challenges.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? What are—" you start, but he cuts you off mid-sentence.

"I fucking like you," he confesses, his words leaving you stunned. It's not what you were expecting. You thought he was going to tell you he no longer wanted to be friends, but this... This was definitely better than anything you could’ve imagined.

"What—“ Your mouth drops, speechless at the unexpected revelation. 

"I have since the day I took you home from the club..." he adds.

Flooded with so many emotions, you’re unsure of what’s happening, but one thing is clear: you want him. You want him more than ever. You’ve missed his touch, craved it, longed for him. And before you know it, your legs move on their own, as if you have no control over your body. Without hesitation, you rush to him and lean in, kissing him desperately. One hand finds its place on his cheek as you press your lips against his, to which he responds with a groan. At first, he’s stiff, clearly not expecting your bold move, but then he starts to kiss you back with hunger, and you reciprocate, matching his intensity.

Suddenly, you feel his hands on your waist, pulling you closer and pressing you against the wall behind you, the kiss unbroken. A soft moan escapes your lips as your back meets the cool wall, sending shivers down your spine. Your free hand finds its way to his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, stirring a sensation you can’t quite explain… The heat between your legs intensifies with each passing moment of the kiss, a fire burning within you. 

Megumi’s grip on your waist tightens slightly, eliciting yet another moan from you, making him smirk against your lips. “Missed that fucking voice of yours,” he murmurs in a deeper tone, sending a wave of heat coursing through your body once again. His words, dripping with desire, only serves to fuel the flames of passion between you, leaving you both consumed by the intoxicating heat of the moment.

finally they apologized 🙄

this lowkey might be one of fav parts bc it was so fun to write…

but i’m so excited to write the next part 😗🤭

TAGLIST <3

@lavender-hvze @xbarrjallenx @atinymonbebestay @1l-ynn @chilichopsticks @dr-fluff-meow @lost-resonance @maya-maya-56 @ichorstainedskin @luciiferslover @madaqueue @vanitywoo

[areislol]

he looks just like a dream..

neteyam, lo’ak, tsu’tey x human! reader

ft— neteyam, lo’ak, tsu’tey warnings— tsu’tey is still alive. them being (maybe) OOC, (not a warning but it contains playing with tails, touching their ears and marks, admiring them.) reader’s height is 5′ foot and taller, established relationship!! whole lot of fluff. the glowing leaves/plants are still alive. a/n— first avatar post soooo... i need me some tall, blue alien catboy in my life ykwim? also no recommended songs for this :( !!! a new format for the avatar series/hcs so yea. hope you enjoy! synopsis— bored, you want to see your lover, so with the help of a little girl you find them, and they let you do whatever you want to them.

today was just like the other days since you’ve arrived at Pandora, staying at a unit where grace and norm used to be at then moving to the metkayina clan. you’d go out with your mask on just to see the kids and of course, them.

but today it felt, boring. like the other half of you was missing, even with all the children around you couldn’t help but feel half empty.

well, that was because they weren’t there with you in the morning AND afternoon.

they had gone out hunting, leaving you alone with the others.

you were pouting there and then, sometimes zoning out, thinking about them.

then, while you were zoning out a little girl came up to you, alwey. that was her name

“y/n? are you okay?” alwey spoke, putting her hand on your thigh, giving you a look of concern.

“hm? oh! yes, yes im fine. don’t worry about me alwey. shouldn’t you be with the others?” you answer while giving her a small smile.

alwey stares at you, she shyly looks away before looking at you again, “i.. i wanted to see you..” alwey muttered.

you smile softly at her before lifting her up and setting her on your leg

“is that so?” you say while grinning before ticking her, a fit of squeals and giggles break out of her mouth.

you puts her hand on your arm which prompts you to stop, her laughter dies down.

“y/n.. i wanted to say, when i saw you, you looked sad. i called your name two times and you weren’t responding to me! what’s wrong?” alwey mentioned.

you stare at alwey for a good few seconds before sighing in defeat, “i really can’t keep secrets with you can i?”

you tell alwey about how you feel lonely, you feel like you’re selfish, wanting to see them everyday, every hour, minute and second.

alwey listens to you ranting, when you stop, she speaks.

“you’re not selfish y/n!! i like someone and i want to see them all the time but my dad doesn’t want me too.. wait.. you said he went to go hunting?”

you nod, her eyes light up and a grin appears on her lips, “my big bro went hunting too!! maybe he’s with them? they went... i think that way!”, alwey points to your left.

you sit up, but not before setting down alwey, you hug her tightly and give her a kiss on her temple, “oh thank you alwey! i owe you.” you say before running off to the direction alwey pointed to.

you finally reached the area where you see him and his friends/hunting partners talking

you wait until he is sort of alone and go up to him.

tapping him on his shoulder, he turns around, surprised to see you.

neteyam x human! reader

“Y/n? what are you doing here?” neteyam mutters before ushering you more into the forest, looking right and left to make sure nobody saw you. You give him a smile in return, “guys! im going to go uh, go somewhere okay?” neteyam shouts, when he hears a confirmative he turns you around and making you walk to a place further from where you two are, him following right behind you. After walking for a bit, neteyam puts his hand on your shoulder, “y/n? you still haven’t answered my question you know.” you turn around and look up to face neteyam, he sighs. “nothing bad happened right? everyone’s fine?” he questions, looking you up and down to make sure that you weren’t injured or anything. “I’m fine neteyam, just wanted to see you is all.” you reply, giving him a big smile before hugging him. god you’re so adorable! you’re killing him you know? he looks down at you, his arms are awkwardly right beside where your chest is. his arms are slightly splayed out, but upon you hugging him more tightly he wraps his arms around your shoulders. You two have hugged many times but neteyam is still always so nervous, shy and awkward when it comes to physical touch. But he doesn’t mind giving. Neteyam could feel you smiling once he hugged you back, “so you came out here, all on your own, just to hug me?” he asks, a grin appearing on his face. You tilt your head up a little bit to face neteyam before nodding, “think we could maybe rest somewhere.. where there’s no one? only us?” you ask, neteyam cocks his head to the side, “you’ve been out for hours today, i know this might sound selfish but i want to hang out with you everyday. i want to see your face, to hug you, to play with you,” you pause for a second but resume once he gives you a nod. “And today i.. well, like i said, you’ve been gone for too long!!” you blurt out, placing your head on his abdomen as let out a sigh, this was embarrassing. A few hard second passes by, suddenly you hear neteyam chuckling. You look up and see him laughing, he squeezes you even more tightly. You pout, “What’s so funny?” you ask, still staring at neteyam, waiting for an answer. Neteyam was still laughing, but once he sees you staring right at him, he immediately stops laughing, “okay okay! listen, we can go to a place with nobody..”, satisfied with your response, you let go of his body. “But why?” neteyam questions, you shrug your shoulders—”why not?” you answer, he rolls his eyes playfully and out of nowhere he picks you up quickly bridal style and starts to run, you shriek and demanded to why he picked you up out of nowhere. “You wanted to go somewhere with nobody right? im bringing you to that place!” neteyam answers, you see him grinning, you then turn your attention to trying not to fall, your arms were around his neck and his hands were on your back and legs, you screamed that if he dropped you he was going to “pay!!”, as if neteyam would ever let you fall. Only an idiot would let someone like you fall. After a few minutes neteyam stops, you’re aware he has stopped but you don’t let go. Not yet anyways. “You can let go of me now, you know that right?” and with that you’re left flustered and let go of neteyam, he slowly and carefully helps you by lowering you down, his hands still on your back. Once you got down you took in your view, bright fluorescent colors on the leaves and ground. Each step you took, it looked like stepping into the ocean, ripples would appear. You’ve seen them before, but you can help but gasp in amazement and awe at your sight, You also noticed that it was getting dark, no wonder why the fluorescent lights on the leaves were illuminating and glowing brightly. You turned around and see neteyam just standing there, admiring you, when you noticed that he was just there, standing, looking at you, you gave him a shy smile and turned back, touching the leaves, it lit up, you started to slap all of the leaves (just like what jake did) and giggled. It was one of those things that even though you’ve experienced it before, felt it or had it, you would never get enough of it. Neteyam still stood there, watching your every move, how the lights shined just as bright as the leaves, you looked gorgeous. beautiful, ethereal. You still wanted to look at the lights more but you forgot that a special someone was also with you, you turn around but suddenly your head bumps something, like a wall. It was neteyam. He was standing right behind you, you almost fell from the hit but neteyam was quick to catch you. You rubbed your head, groaning in pain. “Are you okay y/n? Oh im so sorry!” he cried out, putting his hand over yours which was on your forehead, you give him a small smile and mutter a “i’m okay”, his eyebrows were furrowed, he looked tense. You reassured him that you were okay but insisted that you weren’t and how your forehead was quite red, redder than usual. he sits down and sets you down on his lap, you’re facing towards him, occasionally he stares at your forehead, making sure that it’s not swelling or anything, and to say the least... he felt guilty. I mean, his job is to protect you and make sure you’re not harmed! even if it’s just a scratch. And no matter how many times you reassure him, he’s always insisting that he go hunt something for you or do something for you. And as always, he’s doing it right now. “Y/n, im really sorry, i’ll be more careful next time and i won’t stand right behind you.” neteyam mumbles, “for the last time neteyam, im fine! it doesn’t hurt anymore i swear.” you place your hand on his chest, staring at him. Neteyam is unsure, but sooner or later he gives in, he didn’t want to make you mad or annoyed. You lay on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. You and neteyam didn’t speak, not yet. It was a comfortable silence, when, you had a thought. You quickly sat up and looked at neteyam. Neteyam was quietly and peacefully thinking, when he felt a sudden movement, he opened his eyes and looked down at you. You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it once you realized how stupid your request was. Neteyam noticed this and tapped your arm, which of course caught your attention, he cocks his head to the side, you sigh. “Can i... can i touch your ears?” you ask, “I know it’s a stupid question but i’ve always wanted to..”, no reply. You took his silence for a no and pout, but before you could say anything he cut you off with a “sure,”, you perk up. “But why?”, honestly, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right there and then. It would be embarrassing to tell the truth of why you wanted to touch his ears, it’s like asking another human being if they could touch their ears. But that’s the thing, Neteyam isn’t, your kind. The na’vi’s ears are different, you’ve always been intrigued. “It’s just.. different from my kind. And im curious.” you quickly say before straddling his lap and getting a bit more closer, personal space? never heard of it. You tell neteyam to slink back a bit, just so his face was meeting yours, once that was done you started to poke and touch his ears, you touched the point of his ears. It was a bit weird at first, neteyam was tense. You noticed this and told him that you’d be quick, neteyam shook his head “it’s fine.” Neteyam kept his eyes on your face, you didn’t mind. You could feel his gaze but didn’t say anything or do anything, and again, is was silent. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, rather, it was comfortable. After touching his ears, you asked him if you could touch his marks, without even thinking he immediately said “sure”, you didn’t pay any mind to this, you just gave him a smile and a peck on his cheek. Your fingers lightly graze the darker blue marks on his face, arms and chest. When your finger first touched his mark he shivered. Not because he was ticklish or anything, it was because of the intimacy, sure you two have touched each other there and then (not like that.) but not like this, this was on purpose. The other times it was just by accident or by instinct, this however, was on purpose. He watched as your mouth curved into an “O” when you first touched his arm(mark), a brief “ooo”’ will occasionally come out there and then. You’re so cute. For neteyam, these markings were normal, everybody had them, but for you, they were unique, humans didn’t have these marks. His eyes softened, his gaze was tender and gentle. His yellow eyes never leaving your face. First it was his ears, then markings, then it was his fangs, then tail. He wondered why you’d want to touch his tail but then again, you weren’t like his kind, so he obliged happily. You went to his side where his tail was and grabbed it, it was soft, really, really soft. You brought it to where you were and observed it up and down, you stroked his tail, Neteyam still had his eyes on you, While stroking his tail you heard a low grumbling sound, it came from neteyam. He was... purring. He’s so cute!! you thought. He looked like he was in peace, his eyes were closed, and while the tail was in your hold it started to waver up and down, it slapped the ground and went up (like a lion’s tail), it did so for a few seconds. You let out an “eep!” when the tail slaps your hand, it wasn’t a very harsh slap so you didn’t mind. “Neteyam?” you called, no reply. You poke and prod at his cheeks but nothing, then you realize he’s sleeping. Little snores escape his mouth, you chuckle and moved yourself into a position where you’re right next to him on his side, you leaned your head next to neteyam’s and drifted off to sleep. His tail occasionally slapping the floor and flicking up before stopping to curl around your waist.

lo’ak x human! reader

“What are you doing here y/n?” lo’ak asks while eyeing you and looking behind you, seeing if maybe someone was following you, making you feel unsafe. “Just wanted to see you.” you say, looking behind lo’ak your eyes land on a couple of his hunting friends, that’s when you remember he went hunting. “hm.. how was the hunt? catch anything?” you question, looking up at him. Lo’ak breaks eye contact with you and looks to his side. Although he doesn’t say anything, you knew that it meant ‘no’, his face drooped once you asked that question so you don’t any other questions relating to hunting. But, without saying anything you gesture lo’ak to kneel down so that both of your faces meet. You cup his cheeks with your hands and make him look at you, “listen lo’ak, it’s fine if you haven’t caught anything yet. You’re still you know.. new to hunting. It’ll take some time and practice but i know that you’ll do it. I know you’ll catch something.” you said encouragingly, staring deep into his eyes. Lo’ak stared at you, taking in all the things you said to him. you know that he’ll do it. When he replays that sentence in his mind a smile slowly creeps onto his face, Your hands are still cupping his cheeks, you notice how he’s staring at you, he’s smiling like a mad man. He’s zoning out. Not only that, lo’ak is also thinking about when you gestured him to kneel down, you did that just to cup his face, to encourage him, to tell him that you had faith in him. Oh how he was so grateful that he had you in his life. But he snapped out of his trance after you shook him lightly (at first) and then shook him a bit more harder. Lo’ak blinked a few times before realizing that your face is extremely close to his. His eyes widen and pulls back a bit, “you okay lo’ak?” you ask, lo’ak nods and apologizes. After hearing him apologize, you pull him in for a kiss. It was a small and gentle kiss, nothing rough and deep. No way. “Lo’ak! you ready?” one of lo’ak’s hunting partner yell out, instinctively he swiftly places himself in front of you to cover your figure. Lo’ak turns around and gives him a nod. “You guys go first, i need to do something!” lo’ak yelled before rushing you deeper into the forest but not too far from the reef. You two were probably a few feet away from the reef. You and lo’ak sit down, using the tree’s trunk to lean on, “so, you just came here to see me? that’s it?” lo’ak says, turning his head to stare at you, feeling his gaze you turned your head to look at him, you nod, “yea of course, why not?”. “You wanted to see me that bad?” he says jokingly, a smirk appearing on his face. Lo’ak expects you to shy away, what he doesn’t expect is your response which is nothing like what he thought you’d say or react like. “I want to see you everyday.” you mumble. Lo’ak pauses for a second, taking that in. It’s normal for “mates” or, lovers in your term, to miss their loved one. He never knew if you truly loved/missed him or not, he’d never doubt you though, sometimes his insecurities creep around. But with your words it seemed like all his insecurities and worries disappeared. A light red hue appears on his cheeks, his ears tilted downwards, his tail started to sway side to side. Adorable. You suddenly perk up, almost snapping lo’ak out of whatever he was in, you stare intently at his features, his ears, tail, markings, fangs(when he yawned), but mainly his tail. It’s not everyday you see another kind that’s kind of like a cat. Lo’ak notices how you seem to be focusing on his ears, tails and his... mouth? “Y/n?” lo’ak says, you stop admiring his features and look up, you quirk your eyebrows and ask ‘what’s wrong’. Lo’ak is hesitant to ask you at first but reluctantly gives in. “What.. what are you staring at? i know you’re looking at my ears and tail, my mouth and my.. arms.” upon hearing this your eyes widen, were you that obvious? But it made sense at the same time, it was just you and him so he’d be distracted by nothing but you and well... there is a thing where people can sense when others are looking at them. You avoid eye contact with lo’ak due to embarrassment at first but after a few seconds and thinking, you maintain your eye contact again. “lo’ak, i was wondering if it was okay if i could touch.. them? touch your ears and tail and you know?” you say, looking at his face to see any signs that he’s weirded out or just a plain ‘no.” But nothing changes. His face remains the same other than him blinking, lo’ak smiles and gives you a nod. You’re surprised but say no more!! Lo’ak absolutely loves the idea of you playing with the features that humans don’t have, it makes him feel special, like he’s not the others even though he’s the same kind just like everyone on Pandora. You chose him, and he chose you. So why not allow you to touch him? He remains still, letting you touch his ears, letting you admire the way it points, and when you start to graze and touch his marks on his arm he jolts. Your touch is so gentle, you’ve always been so nice and caring to lo’ak, never touching him roughly, never raising your voice at him and guiding him during hard times. You look at lo’ak, you ask if everything’s fine, he nods and tells you to go on. And with that answer you resume to tracing his marks, you were hesitant to trace the marks on his chest but with a nod you continue on. You then moved onto his tail. He wasn’t so hesitant about letting you touch his tail, he didn’t mind, he grew up with one just like everybody, so, he was unfazed when you asked him if you could stroke his tail, and was confused when you were ecstatic when he said ‘yes’. When you told him about how if you just touched someone’s tail or an animals tail they would freak out and bite you. Depends on their background, aggressiveness and hospitalities. Sometimes, he still wonders if you ask permission to the animals if you could touch their tails. Still confused. You were like a child, playing with his tail, softly touching his tail, playing with the ball like fluff on the tip of the tail. Lo’ak was smiling the entire time you touched his tail and traced his marks. It felt intimate, not sexually. He found it adorable how you were so amused by just a tail, it was as if you’ve seen them, and wanted to touch them but felt that it would be too weird to ask or weird in general(the “as if” was very true..). Slowly but surely, it started to get darker, after yawning a couple of times lo’ak got up and picked you up, you were shocked at first from the sudden movement but when questioning where he was taking you two, you eased up. He was taking you two to the reef, where you two could sit down and admire the view. “this would be the perfect way to end the day.” lo’ak added at the end. Once you and lo’ak reach the reef he sets you down carefully and sits down, you too, sit down. There were still some others around but they weren’t too close to you two. Your feet splayed out on the sun, looking at the sun setting, the glistening water was breathtaking. That was one of the best things about moving with the metkayina clan. Their ocean, was gorgeous, the aquatic animals that live in the ocean were beautiful in nature. Lo’ak was right, this was the best way to end the day, it will always be when your leaning on his arm, and his tail hugging you closely.

tsu’tey x human! reader

“Y/n why are you... what are you doing here?” tsu’tey mumbles, looking down at you, who’s smiling brightly. “Nothing!” you reply, still smiling ever so brightly, you were just happy to see tsu’tey. Tsu’tey eyes you and stops for a second, thinking about what he was going to do now. Tsu’tey doesn’t bother to hide you, he was training some of the new hunters and was leading them, helping them track some of the local animals, giving them tips and tactics. He stops thinking though, when he sees you looking at someone or something behind him to the side, it was one of the boys he was training. You’re still looking behind him, but once he sees you giving whom he thought was one of the boys he was training, a smile, he turns around and yep, he was right. It was ru’ko. Ru’ko was returning your smile when he saw tsu’tey staring daggers at him, his smile faded but it was still there, it was like an awkward smile now. Before ru’ko turned around tsu’tey had given him a nod of direction to set the boys off for the day. Ru’ko saw and yelled out to the rest of the hunters to go now, he then ran off to supposedly to his friends and walked off. Now it was just you and tsu’tey. Once the boys were out of sight tsu’tey turned his head and looked back down. You were already looking up at him. Tsu’tey observed you once again, but this time asking if you were okay and if anything happened to the people or you. You shook your head to indicate that you and the people were fine and weren’t hurt, he sighed in relief. “I just wanted to see you.” you say out of the blue. You stare at tsu’tey, wanting to get a reaction out of him you go on about how you felt today, how you were so bored and wanted to see him, hang out with him. Every time you spoke about how you wanted to see him, how you wanted to talk to him and embrace him, how you missed him so much made his heart pound faster and faster. Once you were done with your rambling you looked up at him, he was staring right back at you and you noticed how his expressions looked soft, a small, soft smile was on his face, his pupils were dilated, he truly looked like he was in love. To say the least, it’s true, he is in love. Terribly in love. His ears were tilted downwards, his tail was swaying side to side, was he happy? but that was beside the point. He looked so adorable right now. Out of nowhere, tsu’tey kneels down and places his much larger hand on your shoulder and kisses your forehead, “I missed you as well, my love.” Upon hearing tsu’tey say “my love” your knees buckled and felt like jelly, you almost fell but luckily tsu’tey caught you quickly. Although you were looking down, you could feel that tsu’tey was grinning, he knew what he was doing to you. From the corner of your eye you see something swishing, it’s what you assume is his tail. You turn to your right to see more clearly if it’s tail, and it is. You already knew it was (kind of) since you see his tail everyday, swishing when he’s near you. You never really paid much attention to their tails, it was apart of them and you never dared to ask them questions about their tails. It was only now that you realized how soft it looked. Sure you’ve felt it curl around your body or waist when sleeping next to him but you never actually touched it on purpose, even when dating, you felt that it was too weird to ask if you touch his tail. Well, that was until now. You couldn’t hold in the feeling of wanting to grab that tail and smother your face with it. Once you stood straight tsu’tey followed where you eyes stared at only to see that you’re staring at his tail. His tail swiftly flicks to the other side, where you couldn’t see it. When his tail is out of your sight you look up and see that tsu’tey is glaring at you, but really he’s just inspecting your face. You pout and whine, wanting to look at his tail, tsu’tey takes notice of this, “you, want to see my tail?” he questions, and that stops your whining. In all honesty, this was most likely your one and only chance to ask him that one question you’ve always longed to ask for. You nod. At first, tsu’tey is hesitant, your eyes observe his face, looking for any signs of discomfort. You and tsu’tey are lovers mates, But not once did you ever ask him any questions like this. He pauses, thinking if he should let you, but then again, it wouldn’t hurt him or anybody so.. he allows you to do so!! You’re smiling ear to ear when he gives you an “okay :)”, it was certainly an odd request, but seeing how happy you looked when he gave you a confirmative, made his decision to allow you to touch his tail make him not regret it. Tsu’tey found you cute how you were so mesmerized by something that was normal for him and the others. He loved how curious you were about him, he knew that gradually you would be touching his tail, presumably his ears, markings, fangs(since the “sky people” don’t really have sharp fangs), and his necklace. There were trees everywhere, and if you looked beyond the trees you could see the reef, it was a beautiful sight. Your eyes were still focusing on his tail, it was still. “Sit down y/n” tsu’tey spoke, you nodded. You and tsu’tey sat down in front of a thick tree, you sat beside him, moving to your side to start playing with his tail, tsu’tey’s tail flicked up and down, tickling your arm and thighs which made you giggle. If only you could see how love struck tsu’tey looked right now. What a shame. You stroked his tail softly, afraid of hurting him. You absolutely loved the fluffy part at the tip of the tail, it was fluffy and felt like silk but a bit rougher, it felt nice to the touch. Tsu’tey was staring at you the entire time, how you were extremely close to him, your smaller hands grazing his tail, seeing your smile on your face made him smile, it always happens when you smile, when you smile, he smiles. Whilst playing with his tail you brought it up to inspect it closely, you looked to the side of the fluffy tip part of the tail where you saw his marking on his shoulder and chest. That caught your attention, everything you’ve always wanted to feel, touch or see up close from the very first time you saw the na’vi’s now all came into your brain. “Tsu’tey.. can i touch your markings?” you say while pointing at the markings on his shoulder. Tsu’tey follows where your finger is pointing at and realizes what you’re talking about, he looks back at you and gives you a small nod. You thank him and this time you’re on your knees, tracing the marks on his shoulder, down to his arm and some on his chest. Tsu’tey would be lying if he told you that it didn’t felt nice. It felt.. way too intimate, but he loved every second of it. What you don’t notice is how he has a small yet noticeable smile appearing on his face. Sooner or later you tell tsu’tey to go down a bit, he’s confused but complies, he then feels your hands prodding at his ears, tracing every curve of his ear, Seeing the small tear on his right ear you ask him how that happened. “An arrow. Luckily their aim was bad.” he says nonchalantly, with that answer you giggled, continuing to touch his ear. You occasionally peck his nose or cheek to give him some attention even though you already were. You stopped pecking him for a second, you were looking at his necklace now, you point at the bones on his necklace and question about how he got them, in return, tsu’tey gives you a smile and tells you how those were the bones of his first animal that he hunted. Letting out an “oooo” you ask more questions, how old was he when he first hunted his first animal? what was his first animal? tsu’tey answered every single one of them. The first animal he hunted was a hexapede, and the bones of the hexapede are the very ones on his necklace. How he was 14 when he was first taught to hunt. You pointing at the bones prompted him to talk more about his necklace. What is was made out of, the significance, the meaning, and why. Tsu’tey points and explains about everything you need to know, he loves it when you’re really interested in what he’s speaking about and how you ask questions after he’s doing speaking. Tsu’tey pointing and explaining goes on for a bit, But after seeing that the sun was setting and the sky was getting darker, you both agreed on going home now, so you and tsu’tey got up and started to make your way to the others. In the middle of your walk you’re suddenly being picked up by tsu’tey in bridal style, you instinctively squeal and wrap your arms around his neck, tsu’tey chuckles and keeps on walking. You were thankful he did that though, your legs were much more nimble and smaller than his, you turned your head to look at the sunset. It was beautiful. You turn your head back around and bury your head in his chest. After walking for a bit you were getting tired, yawning there and then. The sky was almost dark now. Your sleepiness and heavy eyelids soon took over, Your body went limp, your arms were still around his neck but he could feel it loosening. Tsu’tey’s eyes widen and he looked at your face, he was terrified, did you just die? but upon seeing your closed eyelids and your mouth agape, small and low snores escaping your mouth. His heart stopped pounding rapidly. It gradually went back to its normal state. When you woke up, You were inside your marui, Laying on its material. You could feel someone’s arm wrapped around you, turning around you see tsu’tey fast asleep. Your lips curve into a small smile, brushing your thumbs on his cheeks, you took off your mask and quickly gave him a kiss on his lips while cupping his cheeks, you put your mask back on and fall asleep in his arms, warm and comfortable, waiting for another day with tsu’tey.

note: if you would like to be added to the avatar taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy <3

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liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!

another note: i actually feel so motivated to write probably because im writing something other than genshin lmao, finished this in a day and like a few hours. and as i said before, this is my very first avatar post!! so i hope you guys enjoys this. i haven’t wrote in this format since like ages so im sorry if it doesn’t make sense or if it jumps to one thing to another very quickly. i updated my fandom/future works post so check that out. and idc what you say tsu’tey and neteyam are still alive. ALSO HAPPY NEW YEARS!!! p.s send in some avatar asks pls i need ideas!! also i have another one coming up [an idea] but i haven’t written it yet so stay tuned...??

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

[blueywrites]

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, angst, hurt/no comfort (there will be a happy ending!)

chapter ten : overcome (10k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the songs for this chapter are #29-#33. Eddie's two songs aren't mentioned by name, but the others are. #34 is a good add-on at the end if you want to cry harder.

Do you ever wonder what it’s like 

Losing what you cannot be without? 

I’ll keep running

Overcome — Skott

You’re staring down at the kaleidoscope of color that makes up your salad. The green of crisp cucumbers, delicate arugula, and soft, fragrant mint. The deep purple of olives. The burnt gold of rich chickpeas and toasty pine nuts. The pale cream of fluffy quinoa and the bright white of tart feta. Your gaze lingers longest on the oven-roasted tomatoes scattered like gashes of red amongst the roughage. 

It's a Mediterranean salad your sister kindly prepared for your first lunch at work post-breakup, and it looks delicious— vibrant and fresh, promising a palate of savory flavors that will dance on your tongue. Yet since you sat down in the staff lounge to break for a late lunch, not one bite of salad has made it past your lips. Your elbow is planted on the table, fork listlessly poking around in the glass container as you slump, leaning your chin heavily in your hand. Your mind is far from the allure of color. It's distracted, just as it has been since the moment you woke.

You’re thinking about Eddie.

Now that your relationship with Steve is over and you’ve had the weekend to process it, your relationship with Eddie— whatever it is, whatever it could be— has been all you can think about. Longing, fear, hope, and guilt mix into a tempest while you chart patient records and call names into the waiting room. By your two-thirty lunch break, the storm has accumulated into a vague feeling of nausea that overwhelms your hunger. Your thoughts are relentless, swirling around in a looping pattern that seems never to resolve.

You dwell on Eddie’s gentle brown eyes, the softness of his kisses, and the rough pads of his fingers wiping your tears. You think about his manic smiles and his playfulness, his unapologetic dramatics and his frenetic energy. You remember the smoke words that still swirl around in behind your ribs even now. ‘I want you, y/n. I don’t want to hurt you; I really care about you. Anything for you.’ Wings flutter, your flowers bloom, and red fruit yearns to spill from your tongue. 

But then the guilt resurges, sticky and insistent, mixing with the freezing bite of fear. You know you care for Eddie deeply, but how can you expect to compete with Chrissy? Saccharine-sweet Chrissy, with her powdery-soft skin, bright blue eyes, lithe arms, and delicate waist? How can you compare to high school sweethearts, to five years of history, to plans for engagement and talks of children? Five years versus five months. That’s all you’ve known him for. How could you expect Eddie to throw all of that away? You’ve told one another that you care. But when the allure of desiring what he can’t have is gone— now that you’re well and truly split from Steve— when it comes down to it, would Eddie balk at the reality of what that means?

And even if he doesn’t balk, you can’t stop hearing Steve’s words echo in your head. 

‘I just feel bad for Chris.’

Despair slinks back, drool dripping from its maw to hiss as it contacts the tender growth of your green, singeing the leaves with bitter poison. Yet light and smoky charcoal— Eddie’s black and white— chase it away, nourishing the damaged leaves until all are new again, and the cycle repeats.

It circles over and over until you’re left with a final thought: Wanting Eddie to be with me… asking him to… it—

“Y/n?”

You startle, wide eyes darting to the doorway where Denise leans half-inside, stethoscope swaying. “Yeah?”

“Dr. Nichols is looking for you.”

You nod quickly, snapping the lid back on your uneaten salad. “Thanks, Denise. I’ll be right out.” You shoot her a quick smile, and she smiles back before leaving you with only the refrigerator's hum to accompany the swirling of your thoughts. 

You know the loop can’t last forever; it must resolve somehow. And as you remember the hurt in Eddie’s eyes when he’d asked whether you were too busy to listen to his song, you also know you can’t leave him waiting. You need to talk to him.

So you find yourself seated at Penny’s kitchen island later that evening, facing an empty wine glass placed carefully beside the black screen of your phone. The wine bottle stares at you, and you stare back until you give in, pouring another half-glass of deep red liquid with slightly shaky fingers. The two in your stomach are already spreading warm from your belly to fuzz in your head, taking the edge off your nerves as you direct your stare down at your inactive phone. 

The loop has been resolved, your decision has been made, and now, you’re just mentally preparing to ask Eddie if you can see him. The sooner, the better, you think, though the squirmy, tight nervousness has kept you from actually going through with it.

Finally, your nerves are numbed enough by the fuzz of the wine for you to make your move. You down your final half-glass of wine, dry and tart as it clings to your tongue and the roof of your mouth; the glass clinks definitively against the marble countertop, and you fix determined eyes on your phone. Before the courage can leave you, you swipe it open and find your text message chain with Eddie.

The last message is still Eddie’s song, and you try to ignore the pang it conjures as you type quickly and hit send before you can overthink it. 

‘Can I see you?’

Straight to the point, no preamble. A little bald, truthfully, but it’s the best you can do. 

Your fingers tap against the edge of the countertop as your eyes dart compulsively. They flick to the empty wineglass and the drop of burgundy clinging to its lip, then back to your phone, to the plants on the sill above the kitchen sink, then back to your phone. Back and forth as if you’re desperate to escape but can’t pull your eyes away from those four words for too long.

And then one more dart, from the shine of the stainless steel fridge to the screen, and Eddie’s reply is suddenly there.

‘Now?’

Your heart skips and thuds as you surge with nerves. You’d thought the sooner, the better, but you weren’t ready for that soon. You type with fingers unsteady from adrenaline. ‘Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow?’

His answer comes quickly. ‘I have a show tomorrow night. Come. We can do something after.’

You suck in a tremulous breath, stomach sinking even as you flutter with anticipation. Going out alone isn’t something you like to do; you tend to feel even more self-conscious without the buffer of a friend or partner to shelter behind. And considering the private conversation you’re planning to have with Eddie, inviting a friend only to ditch them as soon as the show is over seems selfish and inconsiderate. You chew on your thumbnail, debating for a tense moment. In the end, you think of the first time you met Eddie, how his brown eyes had crinkled with his wide, genuine smile when you told him you liked his music. 

You know you can’t deny him.

‘Same place as last time?’ you ask.

‘Yes,’ he answers. 

The loop has been resolved, but you’re slowly spinning as your fingers tap your final reply. ‘I’ll be there.’

–

The crumbling brick facade and fissures in the asphalt are the same as the first time you’d visited this bar, but the dry, brittle skeletons of weeds are now plush with green flesh and butter-yellow heads. When in February, the winter wind had cut through your puffy coat, your arms are now bare, skin dewy in the June heat that ushers you from your car to the front door. There are no frozen puddles for Steve to guide you around; you aren’t dressed in skin-tight white. Instead, your blue dress swishes against your thighs, and your sandals take you straight up to the front door. 

You’d showered and changed after work before going out for the night, wanting to both feel fresh and use the ritual of preparing to help the time pass quicker. You opted for something light, a comfortable dusty blue summer dress with short sleeves that will hopefully keep you cool in the sticky humidity you anticipate will fill the bar during the show. Fumbling for your driver’s license in your crossbody bag, you approach one of the bouncers. He eyes you shrewdly as you finally wrench it from your wallet and pass it over. You stand with your hands clasped sheepishly until he gives it back to you, his face now impassive. Timid steps carry you inside.

You freeze at the threshold of the main room. It’s brighter inside this time; the lights have not yet dimmed for the performance, and rock music plays through tinny speakers, hushed slightly under the light buzz of conversation. It’s also much less crowded tonight since it's a Tuesday, though you are surprised by the disproportionate number of girls in the place. Generally, you’d expect to see more men than women on a Tuesday night in a seedy establishment like this. You spot the chalkboard sign beside the bar: ‘Tuesdays are for the Ladies! $6 well drinks and $3 shots.’ You suppose only ladies in college or young enough to be reckless with their Wednesday morning workdays would be willing to stay out late for cheap drinks, which explains the girlish squeals and tiny skirts lingering near the bar. They’re all clustered in little groups, pairs at the very least; a quick glance and you can already tell you’re the only girl here alone. 

You inhale slowly through your nose, fighting against roiling nerves as your eyes scan the room for another reason. Luckily, not many tables are currently occupied, and you cut a direct path to the center of the room, hopping easily onto the stool and pulling your small purse into your lap. You take out your phone to check the time: it’s a quarter to eight, so you only have about fifteen minutes to wait before Eddie’s band comes out. 

A peal of laughter has your eyes darting toward the bar, where many of the young women are still loitering, though some have wandered toward the front of the stage to wait for the show to begin. You turn pointedly from the bar, settling your elbows against the bartop as your knee begins to jolt. Though you know a drink would help to calm your nerves, you don’t want to be anything but sober for this conversation. It’s too important. So you weather your nerves, distracting yourself with your muted Tiktok feed until the lights suddenly dim, drawing your eyes to the stage. 

Your breath quickens as the darkened forms of four masculine bodies trail out amid grinding ambient sounds, illuminated from behind by piercing red light. Feminine chatter crests like a wave as a crush of silky heads crowd together around the base of the stage. Though your view remains hazy, obscured by the harsh red backlighting, three bodies slowly materialize, gaining shape in the haze. And then, the final form takes center stage. It’s a familiar silhouette you would recognize anywhere.

A crowd of heads tips up to watch as the grinding ambient sounds fade, voices hushing until the entire room seems silent, as if put under a spell. After a lingering moment of tense quiet, two snappy drum hits cut through the air, and the front lights finally flash on as Eddie strums the first notes of the opening song. 

He’s a study in black and white with a gash of red, and just like the first time, the sight of him consumes you entirely. 

His legs are splayed wide, clad in tight dark jeans slung low on narrow hips. His long dark curls kiss his strong shoulders, wild and beautiful as they frame his pale quartz face. A white tank, near thread-bare and ripped, barely conceals his torso, which is branded with a tapestry of dark ink that smatters across his chest and travels down his arms like body armor. His deft pale fingers are adorned with those chunky silver rings, fingers that strum his sleek blood-red guitar with intent ease as he gazes out at the crowd. From this distance, you can see Eddie’s face clearly: sharp jaw, full lips, soft nose. Dark eyes that, despite the enthusiastic feminine squeals and reaching fingers of the women at his feet, scan restlessly until they skim yours, only to return and catch, holding fast once he realizes it’s you. You see the instantaneous shift— the way the dark umber of Eddie’s eyes lightens to honey and a corner of his lips tugs up in a crooked smile. He presses them against the mic to croon the song’s opening words: “Hey you.”

Your moth wings flutter at the intimacy of knowing that despite the multitude of women at his feet, Eddie Munson is singing to you.

As you watch Eddie perform for you, he watches you watch him. When his fingers shift on the frets, you feel those calloused pads rasp along the doughy flesh of your thighs. When his plush lips kiss the mic, you feel them brush warm along the shell of your ear. When those curls dampen with sweat, you feel them drag and tickle your soft stomach as he travels down, down, down your body. And when Eddie sings— when he drawls and croons and shouts til grit roughens and breaks the timbre— you inhale every ounce of smoke he exhales until it settles deep within you, heady and more intoxicating than alcohol could ever be. 

Yet despite the charisma of Eddie’s performance, underneath it all, the writhing nerves never leave you, like you can’t allow yourself to forget the conversation that looms ever larger with each passing song.

After an extended set of seven consecutive songs, Eddie’s white shirt has gone near translucent from exertion and the humidity you’d predicted would accumulate in the room. That pale chest inked with armor is heaving, but his brown eyes are bright, lips split in a manic smile as he addresses the crowd with a hoarsened voice. “How’re we doing tonight?” He doesn’t shout; instead, he smolders, that amplified murmur almost a purr as the crowd shrieks their enthusiasm. You can feel how much they love him, and it doesn’t make you jealous; instead, beneath your nerves, you feel pleased for Eddie, warm with the knowledge that others appreciate him just as much as you do. 

He continues, “We’re Corroded Coffin—” 

A surge of more shrieking, and Eddie chuckles, husky and full, as his eyes flash to yours. He sees your broad smile, the pleasure in your flushed cheeks, and his smirk softens. “That’s Gareth on the drums—” Eddie gestures behind him, and it almost feels like he’s introducing you as Gareth tosses his brown hair and lifts his sticks before beating out a short, frenetic fill. “Jeff is on rhythm guitar—” The dark of his skin is broken by a flash of white teeth as he salutes before strumming a short chord, bending the strings so they whammy. “Brian’s on bass—” The larger guy with the bristly hair walks a baseline with thick, capable fingers. “And I’m Eddie.” Another round of cheers and clapping, and he grins again when you clap enthusiastically like one of his groupies. 

Eddie’s grin fades, and he pulls off the mic; he says something inaudible to Jeff, who nods, communicating to the others. Before you can wonder about it, Eddie murmurs again into the mic, smoke voice low and close to intimate. “Wrote this one this weekend. Came together pretty quick.” And then he looks at you, and the expression on his face makes your throat go thick. “This is for someone sweet.”

Immediately you can tell that the mood of this song is very different from the ones that came before. Delicate and atmospheric, pensive, but not quite melancholic. You watch Eddie’s pale fingers pick the strings, knuckles ruddy above chunky silver rings as the notes ring out in the silence of the bar. And you feel it: the quiver of your roots, the stretch of your green as it strives for him. A deep, poignant yearning that mixes with a somber sort of weight as he starts to sing.

“Floating on the water, ever-changing. Picture hours out from that in tune with all our dreams.”

Eddie’s voice is always beautiful, and you told him that. But there’s something different about the smoke that flows from him now. As it rakes down your spine, its touch is gentle. As it enters your mouth, its taste is sweeter. You think it must be written all over your face, how it’s making you feel— how your white flowers open their faces even as a deep ache blooms behind your sternum, pricking at your eyes. Yet you don’t look away. You can’t look away because Eddie is singing to you. 

But he isn’t just singing to you. He’s singing about you.

“The ocean takes me into watch your shaking. Watch you weigh your powers, tempt with hours of pleasure.” The intensity of your feeling increases as Eddie presses close to the mic, eyes scrunching closed as his voice goes higher, almost a caress. “Take me one more time; take me one more wave; take me for one last ride; I’m out of my head—” 

He gasps a ragged breath, and your heart squeezes as the passion leaks through in that one word. “—tonight!”

The music intensifies, and the girls clumped around the stage are swaying, reaching their dainty fingers towards Eddie’s feet, hopping in their high heels to the beat. Because despite never having heard this song before, they love it. And, of course, they love it; the song is good. But you think even if the song wasn’t good, even if it was nothing more than clumsy notes spilling from trembling fingers and a cracked smoke voice, you would feel exactly as you do now.

Hearing how Eddie has interpreted and translated moments of your time together— holding each other in the ocean, trembling beneath him as you orgasmed for the first time, driving you home in his van, the only time you’d been alone together since the first night you’d met— is nearly overwhelming. It’s breathtaking; it caresses your green and pierces you at the same time. 

Eddie sings about you, and as a watery smile blooms on your face, you watch him answer it with a gentle spread of heartbreaking pink.

–

When the show finally ends, the crowd at the front of the stage disperses. You remain seated on your barstool, your purse cradled in your lap, only stirring when you feel the vibration of your phone.

‘Come backstage. Use the unmarked door near the bathrooms.’

You suck in a shaky breath, trying to calm the immediate pounding of your heart. Here goes.

You venture in that direction, hugging your arms close as you skirt around bodies, following Eddie’s instruction. You duck into a narrow hallway and tentatively push open the door beyond the bathrooms, eyes darting down the darkened corridor until they catch on black and white at the end of the hall.

Eddie’s leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, the toe of one black boot planted against the concrete. Behind him, the door is open, and the warmth of the summer air rushes in with the chirping of crickets, soothing against your cheeks and neck as it blows back your hair. He’s cast in the glow of a floodlight just outside, which illuminates the darkness of his curls with warm light. As you approach him, fingers worrying the hem of your dress at your side, his features sharpen, growing clearer until you can see him fully.

He still looks incredibly overheated— the white of his ripped tank sticks like tissue to his abdomen and chest, and his curls are damp with sweat, corkscrewed at his hairline and hanging limp at the ends where they trail against the charcoal ink on his shoulders. You can see the visible rise and fall of his chest as he drops his arms, still panting from his exertions on stage. But his brown eyes are bright, and his pink lips are split in a manic grin. And as you get closer, you notice the wet spot on the front of his shirt, like he’d sloppily guzzled a water bottle and rushed right outside to see you. 

Your heart lurches as you realize he probably did just that.

The poignancy of your yearning swiftly overtakes you. As you reach the threshold, Eddie steps forward, brown eyes warm. “Hey—”

You fall into him, arms crushing around his back, squishing your face to his sweaty chest. Eddie staggers slightly with an audible ‘oof,’ clearly not expecting the suddenness of your hug, but his arms circle you unhesitantly, holding you as you press yourself to him. You relish the warmth of his body despite its dampness; the tattoo of his steady heartbeat under your cheek; his scent in your nose, musky from exertion above notes of smoke and delicate apple. He chuckles as you cling to him, warm and husky. You sigh as his breath fans against the top of your head, and his chest vibrates under your cheek with his laughter. You hold on until you feel his chuckles subside, until the moment has lingered too long for the hug just to be a hug hello, but you can’t wrench yourself away. Eddie quiets, arms simultaneously softening and holding you tighter, and one palm settles heavily on the back of your head. It’s a comforting weight, giving you the strength to shudder a breath against his chest and finally pull away.

Eddie seems to have picked up on your nerves, and his brow is furrowed slightly even as you smile at him. “You were incredible,” you say sincerely, and a corner of his lips quirks. His fingers run lightly along the length of your hair, brushing it back from your face. 

“Thanks,” he says, though the warmth is dampened by the question clearly pressing behind his teeth. You scrape your teeth against your bottom lip, taking one tiny step back. Nerves wriggle up from the pit of your stomach to squirm in your chest, and you fight against the urge to fidget under Eddie’s stare.

“Can we sit in your van?” you ask, voice small as you look up at him. “I have to talk to you about something.”

“Sure.” Eddie's reply is immediate despite the concern creasing his face, and he ushers you forward with a warm palm on your back, kicking aside the brick that was propping the door open. It thumps closed behind you.

The slight breeze is gone now, and the air is warm and stagnant, thick with humidity as if a summer storm is soon to come. Eddie’s boots crunch on gravel as he silently leads you to his van, parked alongside crumbling brick, waiting to be loaded after the show. He opens the passenger door for you, and you take his proffered hand, relishing the rasp of his callouses against your soft palm as he helps you up.

When Eddie clicks the door shut, the muffled silence— the sudden cut in the rhythmic chirping of the outdoors— leaves you feeling almost bereft. The chirping returns as he opens his door, stretching his lanky legs under the steering wheel as he settles into the driver’s seat. Sharply, he pulls the door closed, plunging you into silence again.

Words don’t come easy to you; you often don’t know what to say. And though you’d practiced it, these words are no different. It takes you a moment to struggle against the nerves and fear because you really don’t know how Eddie is going to react to this. It feels even harder than breaking up with Steve. Your fingers are trembling, and you clench them tightly in your lap as you push yourself to meet his eye. 

Eddie still looks concerned, but his expression is open and accepting; his white is on display, and it helps you part your lips. Your voice is quiet but perfectly audible in the hush of the van. “On Saturday morning, I—” 

Your words choke in your throat as your nerves spike. You push through, though you can’t stop your voice from wavering. “I ended things with Steve.”

Eddie’s shock is clear. His eyebrows jerk violently; his brown eyes widen as his face goes slack. Your eyes dart between his, anxiousness leaping into your throat to curdle there. You almost don’t want to examine his reaction, but you can’t help yourself. You watch Eddie attempt to school his features: brows resetting, adam’s apple bobbing in a thick swallow. The silence is becoming oppressive, and you almost feel the need to break it yourself, to fill it with babbling or tell him exactly what happened, every sordid detail. Anything to disrupt the overwhelming silence.

Finally, Eddie’s tongue darts out to lick his lips; they part, and he just asks one question. “Are you okay?”

His voice is such sweet relief from the tension that you release a sigh, but it’s the question itself— the fact that Eddie’s first thought is to ask you if you’re all right— that has your eyes stinging. There’s a sudden lump in your throat not borne of nerves, but it doesn’t stop you from speaking. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You take a deep breath, eyes darting around the cabin as you attempt to explain. “Something was always missing, I think, in our relationship. I just didn’t know any better. Steve was really my first boyfriend. I’d dated guys casually before him, but nothing was ever as serious as it was with Steve. And I thought things were good, and I guess they were for awhile. But….” Your eyes dart to Eddie almost shyly, darting away again from the intensity there. “These last few months changed how I saw the relationship, and I couldn’t pretend like everything was okay when it wasn’t.” 

The flow of words slows to a drip until you feel you’ve finally released them all. You fall quiet, watching your thumb run against your fingernail for a moment until you hazard a glance up at Eddie again. When you make contact, he nods, expression open and accepting again, and his dark curls sway around his face. You want to tuck them behind his ear, but this next part is important, and you don’t want to distract from it. You hold his gaze as you add, “And you should know… I didn’t tell Steve about Friday. What we did. I couldn’t do that to him after Nancy; it would’ve hurt him so badly.”

Eddie nods again. “I get it,” he says. “I do.” And you think he does. His brown eyes flick away as he licks his lips again. “Was he… upset?” 

He sounds careful, almost hesitant. You wonder if Eddie wants to ask whether he came up in the conversation, but you suspect, from the look on his face, that he already knows he did. You think of the dullness of Steve’s hazel eyes, the briny mud. You think of his mirthless chuckle, of the words he’d spit at you. ‘‘Cause then it means you can have Eddie. And you can convince yourself you don't have to feel bad about what you've done.’

You nod, and it comes out shaky and weak, just like the words do. “Yeah, he was upset.”

Eddie’s face creases further, and you think it could be guilt, that ooze you’re so familiar with. “Are you upset?”

You don’t have to wait for your answer to well up; you feel the words pooling on your tongue already. You marvel over how it should be awkward to talk about this with Eddie, but somehow it isn’t. “There is a part of me that’s sad it’s over. We were together for three years, you know? And sometimes it was really good. But after what he told me about Nancy and about—” You shake your head, interrupting yourself. “I don’t really wanna get into it, but… I don’t think Steve ever really healed after what happened. And it seeped into us. I think he did love me, and I loved him, but he was never able to be fully open and honest. And I don’t know if he ever would have gotten there with me.”

The familiar weight of sorrow coats your skin as you mourn what you’ve lost, but it isn’t as heavy as it had been on Saturday night. And you find that as you speak the words to Eddie, it makes you realize that the problem with your relationship with Steve was always as simple as that— that he wasn’t able to tend to you the way you tended to him. 

Eddie nods again. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet this entire time, though you suppose it isn’t out of place for the circumstances. And then he’s tilting toward you to reach over the armrest. 

Your breath catches as you realize his intent; you untangle your hands in your lap in time for him to take one. His hold is soft, skin warm and rough as he anchors you with it, offering silent support. His thumb rubs slowly over the back of your hand, and the feeling makes your wings stir. When he finally speaks, Eddie’s smoke voice is quiet, still hoarse from his performance. “I’m sorry, y/n.” 

You let out a shaky breath, feeling both comforted and nervous. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “I’ll be okay.” You lean your head back against the headrest, allowing yourself a moment to indulge in Eddie’s touch before your nerves get the better of you. Gently, you pull your hand away, smiling to reassure him that you welcomed his comfort. Eddie answers the tilt of your lips with a little smile of his own. 

Your eyes wander as you sit quietly in the interior of Eddie’s van, which smells like stale cigarettes and soapy, artificial pine. There’s a new pack of Twizzlers in his cupholder, not yet opened. You stare at it as you gather your courage, breath trembling in your freezing chest. 

The conversation isn’t over yet.

“So—”

“Eddie, I—”

You snap your mouth shut as your voices overlap, and so does Eddie; your eyes catch, and he laughs. Though it’s a little awkward, the husky sound still hits you in that same spot inside, deep at the bottom of you. “You first,” he offers easily, brown eyes warm and glinting in the warm light of the van’s cabin. 

You’re nearly shivering with the freeze that spreads along your sternum, and your heart races desperately behind your frosted ribs as if trying to escape its cage. Because it’s finally here: the moment you’ve been fearing. Dreading. 

The conclusion of your loop.

“Eddie,” you say, “I need to be honest with you.” The impact of your words is immediate; the lingering smile slides from his lips. Despite yourself, you pause for a moment to memorize the way he looks before everything changes. 

Eddie Munson is beautiful. His eyes are deep like warm honey, wide and framed by long, dark lashes. You remember how they crinkle when he smiles. His nose is soft, soft like the dark bangs that feather across his forehead. You remember how he buries it against your skin when his face finds the crook of your neck. His lips are pink, so plush and full. You remember how they feel trailing tenderly across your skin. His jaw is strong and sharp, and his neck is pale and corded. You remember how his throat rumbles against your lips when he hums contentedly. Eddie’s curls are wild and dark, and they skim the ink that darkens the pale quartz of his skin. You remember the black and white that has always drawn you in, the smoke of his voice that, from the first moment you heard it, called to something deep inside you.

Your eyes want to dart away, but you keep them on beautiful brown. “Part of why I broke up with Steve is because….” Your voice wobbles, but you steady it. “Because of how I feel about you.” 

Your words fill the space between you, and you watch that beautiful brown go wide. And when it transforms— when it starts to melt, to spread gentleness onto the tops of Eddie’s cheeks— you hurry yourself along. Choking out the next word. 

“But—”

The freeze of Eddie’s expression, the sudden arresting of his features, pierces you. But it doesn’t change what you realized. What you’ve decided.

You think of the loop: the poison of doubt dripping from despair’s maw, the hope of Eddie’s light and charcoal repairing its damage. But Eddie isn’t the only person that matters.

Chrissy matters, too. 

When you pictured the beloved face of your friend, the charmingly crooked teeth in her broad smile, the sound of her giggle and her sweet voice… it wasn’t the sourness of jealousy that resolved you. It wasn’t the fear that you can’t compete with five years and talks of girls and boys or the insecurity that you’ll never be as beautiful as she is. Instead, it was the injury you knew you would inflict, the haunting question you couldn’t dismiss. You’d finally realized the indisputable truth.

Wanting Eddie to be with me, asking him to… 

It isn’t right. 

It’s nothing but selfish. 

Selfish to want to take this man from your friend, a person who has never been anything but good to you. Selfish to break her heart for the sake of yours.

So you finish your sentence.

You look into Eddie Munson’s gentle eyes and whisper, “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Eddie’s head jerks back; he recoils as if you’ve slapped him. His voice is no longer hoarse from the exertion of his performance. Now, it’s dry and cracked. “What? But—”

You rush to cover the cracks of his voice with your own. You know you can’t give Eddie a chance to say anything that might change your mind; this is already too hard. You picture bright blue eyes pierced with hurt. “What we did… it wasn’t right. Not to Steve, and not to Chrissy. We should never have betrayed them like that.”

Eddie’s mouth works soundlessly before he stammers, “I, I mean, I don’t… y/n, I don’t regret what we did. I’m—”

You cut him off again, pleading for him to understand. “I can’t get in between you and Chrissy, Eddie. You’ve been together for five years. You’re high school sweethearts!” Your chin begins to tremble. Earnestness becomes tinged with desperation as you admit your selfishness. Your shame. “She told me how— how you’re gonna propose to her soon. How excited she is to be your wife. How she wants a boy, and you want a girl. You’ve made plans for the future, and she was so excited, so happy.”

The impact of your betrayal hits you fully, and your lips press tight to contain a dismayed whimper. Horrible guilt oozes, crawling up, up, up to press against your teeth, to coat the back of your tongue until you feel ill with it.

Eddie looks pained. He looks nearly as ill as you feel. And you suppose it's finally hitting him, too— what the two of you have done. The realization only resolves you in your decision, and you let the ooze of your guilt leak from your lips, dribbling out to coat the center console that separates you. Your voice is thick with it. “She told me all of that, and then I still—” 

You choke on the viscous ooze, unable to voice it: that you knew how much your friend loves Eddie, and you fucked him behind her back anyway. Your eyes sting with tears more insistently than before. “I know— I know you think you want me, Eddie, but we can’t do this to Chrissy. I can’t—” 

You break off, shuddering a breath as you fight against your tears. You blink up at the ceiling, and as you wait for the tears to recede, your eyes are drawn to the warm light above. The one that glints off Eddie’s dark curls, haloing them in a bright glow. It burns into your retinas, darkening a rectangle in your vision, but you can’t tilt your chin back down. You can’t look away. Not until you feel the caress of smoke from Eddie’s quiet voice against your cheek. 

“Is this what you want?”

Almost by instinct, you breathe the question in; almost by instinct, your eyes seek beautiful brown. Your growth quivers, reaching, striving. Your ripe fruit trembles on the vine, begging you to let it fall from your lips.

You want to say, No, Eddie. I just want you. 

Instead, you say, “Yes. It’s what I want.” 

And then he’s nodding like he had before. Accepting your words; never pushing for too much. Tending to you always. "I understand," Eddie tells you, and the lack of resistance brings relief and pain.

After all, it’s what he said. 'Anything for you.'

Eddie splays his fingers, holding out his hand palm up to you. A silent offering. 

Lip wobbling, your eyes run over the callouses on Eddie’s fingertips, the glint of chunky silver on his fingers. His touch calls to you, and you give in. You allow yourself this last thing. 

You take Eddie’s hand.

You weave your fingers with his, slowly, slowly, relishing the rasp against your soft skin, the warmth of his broad palm. And then, when your eyes turn from your clasped hands to his face, Eddie squeezes your hand. And he doesn’t release his grip; he keeps your hand squeezed tight. And so do you; you squeeze Eddie’s hand, and you keep it squeezed until the pain of your grief and yearning burns like a deep ache in your chest. Until it’s so unbearable that you can’t stand it anymore.

Only then do you break the silence. “I should go,” you whisper.

Your hand slips from his, and Eddie loosens his grip. You wrench your eyes from beautiful, glossy brown, and Eddie blinks and looks away. You find the door handle, and when you push it open, the chirp of crickets floods the silence. Eddie’s voice doesn’t join them. You breathe the balmy summer air and it chases the scent of smoke and apples from your lungs. 

You shut the van door, and Eddie doesn’t stop you.

As you cross the cracked asphalt, leaving black and white behind, your leaves droop. The vines that hug your ribs sag as if shuddering a heavy sigh. Your blooms close their faces; your petals wilt, turning down toward the earth. Roots curl into themselves, seeking respite from peat now sapped of nutrients.

Because the source of your light has gone, and in its place, a full moon rises.

–

You don’t see Eddie Munson again for four months.

By the time summer’s heat has cooled and fat yellow dandelion heads have puffed white and blown away, you’ve grown used to the moon. But it wasn’t always so. The loss of those two men who once were so important in your life stirred up your dirt, leaving spaces needing to be filled; the earth within you shifted, groaning as it adapted to its new normal. It had been difficult at first. Their absence, the disruption of your daily life, was felt keenly. No longer did you reach for your bedside table upon waking at one in the morning to see the screen lit with a song. No longer did you exchange soft giggles with a dear close friend. No longer did you know exactly what you’d be doing on Friday nights— week after week spent tangled pleasurably with expensive perfume, citrus and sea salt, and smoke and apples. No longer did you stretch against the cool sheets of a king-sized bed; instead, the cheery window in Penny’s old office cast thick stripes of morning sun across your twin comforter. But the change of scenery did help. You established a new routine; there wasn’t even any reason to venture into the city aside from the weekends you’d spend leaning into old friendships you renewed with vigorous attention. Gradually, you eased into your new normal, and soon, the absences were no longer keenly felt. By fall, your moth wings have settled, adapting to the deep twilight that bathes you in a cool glow. You’d spent the first twenty-four years of your life illuminated by the moon, and you’d been content. You would be so again.

Never mind that contentment means cold. It means frost on sluggish wings. It means dormant growth, leaves curled towards stems, and fruit desiccated on the vine. Never mind that, because at least the ache has been numbed until it can no longer be felt. There’s a kind of peace in the coldness of the full moon.

And you’d just grown content with living without the light when it returns suddenly and without warning one innocuous Friday evening in late October. 

The dusk casts deepening shadows over the couch in Penny’s living room, and the curtains stir in the crisp breeze where you’ve thrown open the windows. You’re seated at the kitchen island. A bouquet of flowers rests in a glass vase in its center, faded just slightly now, bought last week at the market on 28th Street. Paper plates form a ring around your cutting board, holding mounds of chopped carrots, red bell pepper, and onion that will be added to your stir fry. Your sharp knife raps rhythmically against worn wood, shearing broccoli into little crowns as your speaker cycles through your Liked songs on Spotify. Air So Sweet by dodie complements the peace of the moment— the smell of autumn leaves seeping into the deep mahogany of Penny’s kitchen cabinets, the rhythmic thumping of your knife, the words falling from your lips as you sing quietly under your breath, your voice high and delicate. “The air so sweet, I gulp and gasp for more—”

Three sharp raps cut through the peace, and your eyes snap to the locked front door. 

You balance your knife against the edge of the cutting board, sliding off the barstool with a fond if exasperated sigh as dodie eases into Before the Fall. You pull your loose flannel tighter around you, gliding in your socks and worn, stretchy leggings toward the front door. Penny has been a wonderful sister for these last four months of living together, but sometimes, she can be a difficult roommate. For one, she is very particular about the organization of the fridge, and she has a strict and somewhat complex schedule for laundry and dishwashing that you have struggled to get used to. Despite her meticulousness in other areas, this wouldn’t be the first time she’d left her house key behind and needed you to let her in. Not a shoe is out of place in the rack near the front door, and yet Penny can’t be bothered to hook the key back to the keyring after getting a copy made for you. 

You reach for the handle, huffing your tease through the wood. “Again, Pen? You know, I could just leave you out here. How much do you love me—?”

Your words die in your throat as the door swings open to black and white.

Eddie is standing stiffly at your door, hands jammed deep in the pockets of his tight black jeans, his wallet chain caught on his pale wrist. He’s wearing short sleeves despite the weather, the ink of his armor on full display, arms pimpled with gooseflesh in the autumn chill. You’re staring at the deep burgundy of his band tee, the first color you’ve ever seen him wear. His chest expands with a deep breath, and at the motion, your eyes flit to his almost by instinct.

Eddie’s dark curls frame his pale quartz face like a wild stormcloud. The softness of his nose, the plush pink of his lips, the brown of his eyes— they’re all exactly how you remember. A gust hits him in the back, and as his shoulders scrunch toward his ears, it carries the scent of smoke and apples. 

When you look at him, Eddie’s mouth stretches in a twitchy, crooked smile. One booted foot taps out a frenetic pattern against the brick of your front stoop. When you look at him, moth wings twitch, awakening. They stir powdery snow, which falls silently to frozen earth.

And then Eddie speaks, voice like smoke incarnate. “Hi.”

You tip your chin up, and the smoke passes through your parted lips, sinking into the frozen earth at the bottom of you. Four months, and that’s all it takes: one glimpse of light in brown eyes, one caress of smoke against your mouth. 

You thaw. You yearn.

You swallow down the surge of feeling inside you to hush a greeting back. “Hi.” 

As you stare at each other, Eddie’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. He seems hesitant, unsteady, shifting his weight as if he’s uncomfortable in his skin. Another gust of wind wracks his lanky form, and his sudden shiver draws you out of your daze. You nearly trip over your words to ask, “Do you wanna come in? Come in—”

You step back, and he ducks inside, long limbs jerky like a newborn colt. You close the door against the wind, pausing in the tiny foyer that connects branching rooms. The paper plate vegetable mounds peek from the hallway in front of you; the kitchen speaker is muted by distance, but you can tell that Before the Fall’s acoustic guitar has subsided into the lonely piano and haunting vocals of Overcome by Skott. It’s exactly as you left it, that room, but when you glance back, the man now inside is suddenly sucking in all the light, standing like a gash of black and white stained red in the foyer of your sister’s condominium. 

You don’t know what to do with him.

Your voice is a soft hum, almost sounding hesitant to draw his attention. “Um—” He’d been glancing around inside, but at the sound, Eddie’s brown eyes flick right to yours. “I was just making dinner—”

“Oh,” he says, face creasing ruefully, “shit, did I interrupt you?”

You rush to assure him, melting further as he winces. “No, no, it’s fine….” You edge toward the hallway to the kitchen, and thankfully, Eddie gets the hint without you needing to say more. He follows you, bootsteps heavy as you shuffle on your socks back into the kitchen. He’s behind you, but every sense is honed to his presence— the swish of his clothing as he walks, the hush of his breath. The hair on your arms stands on end as you gingerly pull your kitchen stool out, intending to sit back in your spot before second-guessing it immediately. You’re melting, you’re yearning, but nerves begin to squirm low; your fingers twist as you cast for something to say. 

What would Penny do?

You find yourself blurting, “Do you want a drink?” Your brows pinch at the sudden shrillness of your voice overtop the soft vocals from the speaker. ‘Some lights are a different kind, never burning out,’ she sings; your gaze darts to Eddie’s eyes and away again.

“No, I’m okay.” Eddie’s typical confidence seems dampened; his voice is stilted, and his posture is stiff. He hovers somewhere between your fridge and the island. His awkwardness— the thought that he feels just as tense as you— is the only thing that keeps your nerves from becoming overwhelming. 

Eddie speaks suddenly, and it nearly startles you. “How’s your car been?”

“...It’s fine,” you say, wondering if that’s why he’s here— to check in on your car, which broke down four months ago. Penny had picked it up for you; when you’d explained what you’d done, tears of shame pricking your eyes as you told your sister why you didn't want to go yourself, she hadn’t hesitated to act in your stead. Mercifully, though you know she hadn’t approved of how you’d betrayed your friend, she’d held her tongue. She could tell that any criticism of your selfishness from her would be nothing compared to your own. 

You keep following this precedent of asking questions. "How did you find me?" 

Eddie shrugs, a jagged little thing. Grinning now, casual— but his eyes say something different. "Just asked around." 

You nod slowly. "So, how are you?" you try, pulling your flannel sleeves over your hands. “How's…?" 

Her name sticks in your throat, conjuring imaginings of strawberry-blonde waves and soft smiles. Imaginings of dainty fingers painted red, a diamond glinting from her ring finger, brilliant as it shines in the light. Your eyes scan the rings beneath Eddie’s ruddy knuckles. All are the same, but then again, they would be. 

Men don’t wear engagement rings.

There'd been a time you and Chrissy had shared part of life together, and now you haven't talked to her in months. You wonder if she'd been confused about the distance between you, how one day you’d just never spoken to her again. But she'd never reached out to you, either. You assume she must know you’d broken up with Steve by now; it must be old news— 

"Y/n." 

It stalls your train of thought entirely. The way Eddie says your name— like a tortured sigh, like rain after a drought, like the whisper of eyelashes against your cheek— makes you instantly silent. Your heart skips in your chest as you register the look on his face.

Eddie’s jaw is twitching. The cords of his neck are stretched taut, dark brows knitted over honey-brown eyes. Not angry, but bothered. Maybe anguished. He licks his lips, and despite the moisture, his voice still comes out hoarse. "I've been trying to do what you said. I've tried for the last four months."

Your breath catches, but the smoke sinks right through your flannel and into your chest, settling rich and heady behind your sternum. You’re standing beside the barstool, and you search for it with your fingers without moving your eyes from Eddie’s face. As he continues, your fingertips brush wood; you clutch tight to anchor yourself, each word cracking your ice to shards.

Eddie stares intently into your eyes as if his words don’t communicate enough. “I missed you. Every day, I missed you. And I tried to forget, to bury it, but I can’t….” He sounds so earnest that your brow crumples and your eyes sting. Eddie sees it and steps closer around the island, narrowing the gap between you. Honey brown holds you fast as he rasps, “Y/n, I can’t stop thinking about you. I care about you so much. So fucking much it hurts.”

Eddie looks down into your face, and he’s so close you can almost feel the tickle of his curls against your cheek, the brush of his plush lips against your forehead. You can almost taste the smoke and apples, the spice of his mouth. His hands outstretch, hovering near the softness of your flannel as if he wants to clutch at the curve of your waist. You nearly press forward to feel them, but you can’t. Not until there aren’t any diamonds in your mind’s eye.

Yet you can’t stop your ice from melting. And as it dissolves into water, roots absorb it greedily. Leaves perk, deepening to verdant green. The water surges through them, through stems and along vines, flooding into desiccated fruit. Red flesh plumps, growing sweet again. Waiting to be tended by calloused fingers. It bends, seeking him. And so do you; as if by instinct, you lean towards the light, swaying on your feet until you feel the heat from Eddie’s calloused fingers against your waist, urging him with your body, with your eyes, with your heart to touch you. 

But Eddie doesn't touch. Instead, he speaks. “That’s why I…” He swallows thickly, eyes flicking between yours imploringly. “I wanna break up with Chrissy.” 

I wanna break up with Chrissy.

I wanna break up with Chrissy.

I wanna break up with Chrissy. 

The words echo in your head, and you blink. Your confusion is clear; your questions are simple, like a child’s would be, asked in a small voice. “You want to? Why haven’t you, then?” 

“I—” Eddie scratches the back of his hair, all frustration and sharp edges. All flashing eyes that dart from yours. “She’s— she’s just got a lot going on right now, with her mom, and… next week is finals for her classes, and I’ve just… I’ve been working overtime—” 

Your heart shrinks from every word until it’s cowering behind your ribs. Eddie pulls roughly at the neck of his shirt as if it’s too tight for him, and you see the truth behind the tar of guilt oozing beneath his collar. Eddie does want you, but not enough to forsake five years. Not enough to crush plans made for boy or girl. Not enough to rend his flesh, to wrench the claws from his back by force. Claws that will never retract on their own.

You force a weak smile to cover the wobble of your bottom lip. A smile of understanding. Quietly, you say, “You don’t need to explain, Eddie.” You nod, bobbing your head as if you’re agreeing to something he’d said. “Thanks for coming over to talk.” 

Eddie must see the conclusion written all over your face; his contorts with distress, with urgency. He’s pleading with his eyes for you to understand. “No, y/n, I—” 

Each word makes you shrink further. You try to force your voice to raise, to be firm, but it comes out wobbly anyway. “You should go, Eddie,” you tell him, eyes darting from that pleading expression. From the light in brown eyes. Because if you look too long, you’re afraid your moths will disregard the danger, flutter up, and chase it forever. 

Eddie’s hands are still hovering near your waist, extended as if in entreaty; he dips them, and your breath catches as he boldly grasps your hands, squeezing tight. “Please, I really do.” His voice is a husky whisper, the timbre thick with yearning. “I wanna be with you.” 

A flick of wings; a flutter, and then another. You look into Eddie's eyes and tell him the truth, even though your chin wobbles. “You can’t have us both,” you whisper, and he looks even more pained. 

“No, I know,” he says, squeezing your hands so tight it’s almost painful. “I know. I don't…” He breaks off, voice trembling. “Can I please just… can I just hold you right now?” 

It's so tender, the sound of his voice. It’s so poignant, his request. It’s so hard to resist the promise of Eddie’s warm body against yours, his arms holding you close, his heart thumping against your breast, his plush lips skimming your brow, his hand cradling your head as you dig your nose into his neck, breathing him in. And you could let him hold you; you could pretend, for a moment, that there is no Chrissy Cunningham.

You could pretend, but you don’t. It’s hard to resist Eddie, but you do. 

“No, Eddie,” you whisper, pulling your hands from his. He lets you go, but reluctantly; when your hands drop to your sides, and you step back, his fingers outstretch as if by impulse. “I can’t,” you choke. “Not if—” not if I can't have you. But you can’t say that; you would crumble under the weight of those words. “We can’t,” you say instead, entreating him to understand. 

You look up into Eddie Munson’s face, and every fiber of your being yearns for him. Your green quivers, reaching. Your wings flutter, seeking. The fruit of your soul is on your tongue. 

You want to say, Please, Eddie. Touch me. Hold me.

You want to say, Please, Eddie. Love me.

Love me.

But you don't.

"Go home, Eddie," you say, and you try to be strong, but you can't help it; you never can when it comes to him. All the water within you— in your leaves and stems, in your flowers and fruit— rushes up to flood your eyes. It spills over, and with a tiny whimper, you start to cry. 

Eddie’s instant distress is hard to endure. His broken voice begs, “No, no—” He closes the gap you’d widened easily, and you sniffle, inhaling smoke and apples as, in his haste, he misjudges the distance and brushes against you. Calloused fingers reach for you; they wipe your face tenderly, trembling thumbs swiping tears that fall and fall and fall with no reprieve.

And you shouldn’t, but goddamn you, you let him. 

“Please don’t cry,” Eddie whispers, sounding utterly distraught.

But you can’t obey because everything inside you is crying out. The smoke is leaking from your pores— you're surprised Eddie can't see it clinging to you. It's condensing into fat drops of charcoal tears, running tracks down your face. Because you want him so desperately, but not like this. 

It's not enough— to be with Eddie, but know he isn't yours. 

You back away, and Eddie’s hands fall from your face. Three big steps, a gulf of distance between you. Words are hard for you, and there are none you can say right now.

Eddie’s face is creased. Those beautiful brown eyes are big and glassy, and there’s misery in the corners of his lips. 

You’ve never seen him like this, but then again, he’s never seen you like this, either. He's never sounded like this— smoke voice thick and tight as if he’s barely keeping himself at bay. “Don’t cry, sweet girl.” 

The sound of Eddie’s name for you fractures you further. You shake your head as if trying to shake the name free from your ears. Your tears still flow silently; your body trembles as you try to keep from losing control. You feel it pushing up your throat— a desperate cry. Despair. Not a hound, but a snarling wolf, growing fat off the verdancy of your green, now reawakened in the presence of beloved light.

As you shake, breath hitching, tears dripping from your chin, Eddie must finally realize the futility of it all. Abruptly, he fists his fingers in his hair. “Fuck,” he yelps, frustrated, helpless. Afraid. 

He stalks away and back again, pacing restlessly as you hug yourself, trying to press the despair back in. No words to say. Just thick drops of charcoal tears. 

And then, you hear a tortured sigh, like the way he’d said your name. You glance up, and Eddie’s smoke voice whisps from his plush lips, tight and thick and high, lingering in the gulf between you. “Fuck, I’m— y/n, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” 

Your face screws up, breath hitching and catching. Words finally come; you push them out. Firm, loud, and clear. “Just leave, Eddie. I can’t see you anymore. Just go—!”

As soon as you say the words, you feel it. The growl, the gnashing of teeth. You grit your jaw against it, nostrils flaring as you avert your eyes to your socks. You listen, and you wait.

Slowly, so slowly, Eddie’s heavy, slumping footsteps retreat down the hall. You’re fighting, nearly whimpering with your effort. The doorknob jiggles, and you suck in a desperate breath. The door creaks, and then softly, so softly, it closes.

Finally, you're alone, and finally, you release it. The wolf howls; its cry explodes from you in a ragged sob. And once you start, you can’t stop. Not until Penny tries the door handle and finds it unlocked, eyes widening as she hears the anguished sounds echoing down the hall. She finds the vase of flowers, the plates of carrots and bell peppers and onions, the mound of broccoli, and the sharp knife. She finds you collapsed on the kitchen floor, red-faced and howling in a puddle of your charcoal tears.

Eddie’s visit was cruel, but it was cruelty unintended. Eddie could never be cruel to you, and you know that. And you know something else. Something you didn't want to acknowledge, something you'd been trying desperately to numb in the cold of twilight, though seeing him tonight confirms it.

Eddie Munson planted the seed in that dark place at the bottom of you, the one you didn’t know existed. He tended it with his gentle touches and his quiet words. And now, your growth is firmly rooted. It has grown tall, weaving around your sternum, vining through your ribs, sprouting through your center. And it’s not just at the center of you. It is the center of you. The fruit of your soul, budded and ready to thrive; the source of your love, one and the same. Under the full moon, it had gone dormant, but it could not be uprooted. 

And perhaps, in time, your green will cleave from the one who’d cared for it. But it’s clear to you now. 

It will take much longer than four months for your love for Eddie Munson to wither.  

[alsktudy]

— warmth

paring. soonyoung x reader genre. angst, exes to lovers, fluff at the end wc. 1.5k warning. mention of skipping meals and swearing

synopsis. you thought breaking up with soonyoung would make you more focused at your job. you couldn't be more wrong.

his sharp, angular eyes were filling with tears, you hate seeing him cry, you hate it even more that it was you making him cry.

“what?” his voice shaky and struggling to produce a coherent sound, “i- i don’t understand.”

“let’s break up.”

he shakes his head in disbelief, the tears which had been collecting over the past few moments finally beginning to trickle down his cheeks.

“you don’t actually mean it, you aren’t being serious.”

“i wouldn’t joke around about something like this soonyoung.”

soonyoung furrows his eyebrows at his full name being spoken, his ears had gotten used to you calling him ‘soonie’.

you swallow the thick lump forming in your throat, “i really mean it, let’s break up.”

—

you convinced yourself were fine.

the attention which he constantly bathed you in ultimately made you unproductive at work. your supervisor got annoyed at you for entering the wrong numbers and decided to force your whole section have to work over time to fix your mistake.

you wanted focus on your work, that was the whole reason why you broke up with him in the first place, so why you can’t you focus on entering any of the data into the stupid glowing screen in front of you?

it’s a simple task, punch a few numbers into the computer and you’re done. you’ve done this for 7 months already that it feels like muscle memory, yet your hands are unable to move, currently occupied with the task of holding tightly onto the thoughts of your past relationship.

your eyes gaze shift to the phone resting on the table.

a part of you wishes soonyoung would call you or even send a message. he didn’t block you on social media, heck, he didn’t even unfollow you. that means he wants to keep in touch… right? you think it’s safe to assume he didn’t have the heart to press the unfollow button and honestly, you’re secretly glad he didn’t becuase you didn’t have the heart to unfollow him either.

but a part of you also wishes that you could shelf your pride away and text him first. ask him how work’s going, if he’s found any good music lately, after all, thats what friends on facebook do, right? or possibly the monstrous task of apologising.

with a sigh you reach for your phone and search up his instagram for what seems like 17th time today. all the posts which contained you disappeared 2 weeks ago – you really hope he archived them and didn’t delete them.

your thumb shifts to click on his most recent post: a video of him dancing. the shadow from his black adidas cap obscuring most of his face, making it hard to make out his eyes.

maybe it was for the best that you couldn’t see his eyes. they’d probably remind you of how desperate his sharp, glossy eyes yearned to find a single glimpse of remorse in your gaze that night.

you analyse the way his body effortlessly moves to the rhythm of the song until a loud thud on your desk snaps you out of your trance.

“didn’t you break up with that kid?” nayeon asks as she looks over your shoulder, her eyes gazing at the replaying video.

“yeah,” slightly embarassed that nayeon had caught you looking at his profile, “why?”

“then why do you keep watching him dance?” you gulp audibly and reach for your phone and turn it off, “you’ve checked that thing,” she points at your phone, “countless times over the past hour. i keep hearing the same song over and over again.”

rolling your eyes you shove your phone into a drawer, “i was just checking up on him.” you retort, crossing your arms.

“checking up on him every 7 minutes?” she scoffs.

“well…” you exhale shakily, “i haven’t seen him in a while, i was just curious…”

“wait! lemme check your screentime real quick.” she exclaims.

“what?”

“just… pass me the damn phone.”

you comply, opening the drawer, handing her the phone after unlocking it.

shit, you didn’t realise that you checked up on him that much.

“9 hours… 9 hours!?” nayeon’s eyes go wide as she reads your average daily screentime. “do i have to confiscate your phone?!” she jokes with a light slap on your shoulder.

“well.. i like watching youtube.”

“most used app… instagram.”

well shit. thanks apple.

“what the hell is wrong with you!?”

“could you keep it down?!” you say in a whisper-shout, lightly slapping her arm.

“you gotta fix that.”

“are you my mum or something?”

“no, i’m a good friend.” her thumbs rapidly tap at the glowing screen.

“what the hell are you doing?”

“setting you a damn limit since you obviously can’t control yourself.” she says grinning at the screen, “gave you one minute allowed on insta, you’re welcome.” she places the phone back into your hands and walks away chuckling.

“i can just disable it when i get home!”

and disable it you did.

—

it had been 2 months since you last saw him in person and fuck, you were missing him like crazy.

your life became a grey scene devoid of all colour, but you can’t really blame anyone but yourself. you pushed away the man who brought a range of beautiful colours that you couldn’t even imagine before you met him.

yeah sure, you slowly regained your focus on work and even got a promotion, but did it really mean anything if soonyoung didn’t attempt to make a congratulations cake and somehow burn it? or pepper your face with a multitude of kisses saying that your his smart, pretty girl until you beg him to stop with a shy giggle? you didn’t fucking think so.

“soonyoung?” you say smiling, “what a coincidence to see you here! it’s so nice to see you again.”

you couldn’t help it, you had to see him. soonyoung taught lessons at a dance studio nearby, you were bound to run into him sooner or later if you continued to lurk around the area.

he flashes you a feign smile, “oh! oh- uh it’s nice to see you too.” well that sounded like a lie. he looks down and hesitates before looking up to meet your eyes once more, “how have you been?”

“im just living life, i guess.” you say, fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt, the confidence (and the adrenaline) which pumped throughout your body moments ago disolving in a instant after hearing his voice, “how have you been, soonie?”

soonyoung breath hitches at the old nickname but continues to keep his composure.

“well, i’ve been...” he takes a breath, “living my life too.”

you look up to meet his gaze, his cold gaze. no warmth behind those pupils, the glimmer of passion which once used to call his eyes home had disappeared.

an uncomfortable silence fell between you two as you stared at each other feeling an obvious tension blanketing the atmosphere.

“i guess… i guess i should go.” you say, knowing that this interaction wouldn’t lead to anything other than more tension, “see you around.” you give him wave accompanied by a small smile.

as you awkwardly turn around and begin to walk away, soonyoung shaky voice rings through out your ears, “are you taking care of yourself? you’ve been eating well right? i hope you have, i always told you not to skip your meals.”

you spin around to meet his glossy eyes staring at you, “what?” you ask breathlessly.

“you’ve skipped meals right? you always do that when you-”

you run into him, wrapping your arms around his waist, in response he cloaks with his own warmth with an embrace. “soonyoung,” you sob into his shirt.

he exhales, “i know, i missed you too.”

you peel your face off his chest and look at him – his gaze full of love as he looks down at you with his tears threatening to fall with one simple blink.

your heart shatters as the thought of all of the emotions he probably went through the past 2 months rapidly fly throughout your mind. all you can say is a pathetic ‘i’m so sorry.’ repeatedly into his chest.

all he does is slowly caress your hair and press kisses onto the top of your head as you continue to sob your apologises.

you hate that your the one who’s crying the most out of the two of you, shouldn’t he be crying more? you’re the one who broke up with him. but it’s like soonyoung can basically read your mind, after all, you were together for 1.5 years. he immediately comforts you and all of your worrying thoughts, “it’s okay, let it all out, i forgive you.”

it takes a while before theres silence bewteen you two. his scent is comforting, his soft whispers into your hair make you giggle and tighten your arms around him and his warm, loving gaze makes you never want to leave him again.

thank you for reading until the end!!

a/n. requested by @kwonshiho, heres the ask! its loosely based on screentime by epik high ft soonyoung and a tad inspired by our beloved summer. i used this to practice for my english exam LOL. also this took long to write LOL

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tags:

@aaniag @dkswife @kokoiinuts @nishloves @joshuashna @sofix-hc7 @mekuiikore

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Hiii

I remember when you were posting about your Kim/Wik Twins AU and I was so hooked! There’s so much potential for angst in this AU😩🤌 I always wondered if there was anything new going on with this WIP.

PS: I’ve been following your blog for a little while (I don’t interact bc im shyy) and I love all your Kimchay WIPS and little excerpts you’ve blessed us with (they make my day everytime I see one). So I want to personally thank your brain for all these wonderful ideas and just thank you for being you 😊

send me an ask and I'll tell you about one of these WIPs!

Oh anon, you're a darling! This was so nice to wake up to <3 I actually haven't worked much on that AU since originally posting it, but you're right, there is so much angst potential in this AU between Wik and Kim. One of the inspirations from it actually came from World of Warcraft, and how the character Varian was split into two people, the other one being Lo'Gosh. I really loved how it wasn't just "this is the good side vs. the bad/feral side." Varian was polite and charming and good at socializing, but he was also vain and easy to manipulate (which was the point of splitting him), whereas Lo'Gosh was definitely a barbarian, but he was also all of Varian's strong will and ambition/motivation, and passion. I hadn't seen that kind of character splitting before, because it's usually an easy shorthand for doing a good/evil thing.

So for the purposes of this fic, Kim isn't just all the evil mafia while Wik is the sweetheart singer. Wik is very driven and tbh a little selfish, he's kind to his fans but ultimately very cold, because he grew up in a world where anything he cared about could be used against him. Both of them are still calculating in clever, but it's Wik that begins investigating Chay, intentionally using his stardom as an in, and purposefully manipulating him to get more information. He takes it to a stronger degree than we actually see from Kim in the show.

Whereas Kim is the quieter, more contained side. They both love music but Kim prefers guitar/piano over singing because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself the way Wik does, although he does write a lot of poetry/lyrics. One of the betrayals from Wik leaving is that he stole Kim's songs. The other is that he left Kim behind. He loves his brother more than anything, and Wik leaving him without so much as a goodbye was devastating for him.

Here's your slightly less than 500 words!

“You left me!” “Would you have even come with me?” Kim’s voice breaks on a desperate, “Yes!” He wants to take it back as soon as the word leaves his mouth, too honest in the heat of his moment, chest heaving with the weight of it. The only good thing about the admission is that his brother is too stunned to reply; Kim takes satisfaction in that, in the implication of it, as Wik realizes the depth of his own selfishness.  “Kim…” “I would…” Kim swallows. Days of captivity have left his throat dry. It hurts, speaking these words aloud, tearing them out of his chest to release them after all these years. “I would have. If you asked me to, I would have.”  He would have followed his brother anywhere. They were always meant to be together. Kim and Wik, two halves of the same whole, mirror images down to their names. Until Wik decided he couldn’t bear his own reflection anymore.  “Kim, I’m sorry, I didn’t know—” “How could you? You only ever think about yourself.” Kim laughs. It’s wet. It hurts, like everything else about this damned conversation. Maybe Wik was right; they were better off alone. “I thought you knew me better than anyone, but you don’t know me at all.” Maybe Wik never did. What a horrible time to realize how truly alone he really is.  Wik doesn’t speak for a long time. Neither does Kim, keeping his head bowed and his breaths measured, cracked ribs aching with every rise and fall of his chest. What a cruel joke that the first time they’re sharing a space in years, something Kim has longed for since the day Wik left, and it’s only because someone else has forced them together.  “I don’t think you would ever leave the family,” Wik eventually says, his voice quieter than Kim has ever heard it. “You’re not like me, Kim, you never wanted to leave.” Of course he didn’t. Why would Kim ever want to leave his brothers? But at least if he had, Kinn and Tankhun would have had each other. They wouldn’t have been alone, not like Wik is now. Not like Kim is, forever missing his other half. Neither of them were meant to be alone. "It doesn't matter anymore." "Yes it does. Kim. I never meant to hurt you. I—" But there's no more time to talk because their captors are walking in, and Wik is throwing himself in front of Kim, both of them bound and unable to put of any kind of fight. Not that it would have mattered; Wik already got himself kidnapped. Too nosy to stay out of the family completely, but apparently the idealistic fool didn't bother to keep up with his martial arts. Still. Despite blaming him for the current predicament, Kim is a little bit touched that Wik is trying to protect him now. Too late to matter, maybe, but it's something.

[writethrough]

The Diviner (Part III)

(Morpheus x Prophetess Reader)

Synopsis: Warrens orders you to summon Morpheus. When you don't, he takes matters into his own hands.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, consumption of blood (in a potion)

Word Count: 896

A/N: I know this is a shorty, but maybe I'll post the next chapter sooner if anyone wants that. Just let me know!

Series Masterlist | Part IV

“He doesn’t even know I’m here,” you seethe, the cuffs cutting into your skin. “Your plan already failed.”  

He raises a single brow and straightens. “You think I didn’t account for uncooperativeness?” He walks to where a bag lays and takes out a tome. “Let’s not forget that Roderick Burgess summoned Morpheus accidentally. Do you think he didn’t write everything down?”

“It still won’t work,” you say. “You really think Dream of the Endless can be trapped again? You think he’s that weak—that stupid?”  

Warrens sighs. “You don’t seem to grasp what I’m saying.” He moves toward a tarp on the ground. “Stupidity or weakness doesn’t matter.” He grips it. “Not when I have his precious little prophetess.”  

He yanks it away, and your heart stops.  

Sigils and symbols cover the asphalt. You recognize them immediately. They’re the same ones that will summon Morpheus—ones to trap him within that circle—just like Burgess did.  

Warrens’ words finally settle within your bones.  

You’re leverage.  

“No,” you whisper.  

There must be a way to stop this. There’s no way Warrens has the power to summon Morpheus at all. He’d need the abilities of a being far stronger; someone touched by an Endless, someone—  

Someone like you.  

Warrens regards you slowly. “Seems you finally realized just how crucial you are.”  

He steps toward you, and all you can do is push back against the pipe to try and stay away.  

He grabs your cheeks roughly, squeezing the cut on your face, your blood oozing into a small bowl he retrieved.  

A small whimper slips from your mouth as you desperately try to contain it.  

“You’re really quite versatile,” he muses. “If you think about it. You’ll be the reason Morpheus dies.”  

It's dizzying. But Warrens keeps droning on.  

“First, you told him he’s going to die, then you’re bait, then he hears your voice summon him,” he drinks the contents of the bowl after mixing your blood with other ingredients, “Morpheus stays put ‘cause I’ll kill you if he doesn’t, Morpheus dies, and then,” he glances over his shoulder, “you die.”  

You fight with the cuffs as Warrens begins the spell. And you’re nauseous when your voice comes out of his throat.  

He’s accounted for everything. You’d call him crazy if his plan wasn’t about to work.  

You have to stop him before Morpheus appears.  

The pipe’s too steady, and the cuffs won't break.  

Bracing yourself, you push the base of your thumb until pain radiates up your arm.  

After slipping out, you clutch your hand to your chest and sprint to Warrens.

He stops chanting. 

You can't react before he plunges the knife into your stomach.  

Your scream intensifies when he wraps an arm around you to hold you upright. You aren’t sure why he’s gripping you so tightly until your name's called.  

Your eyes trail from the drawn circle to the person standing in it.  

Morpheus. Fury in every feature.  

“You’d be wise to stay where you are, Dream King,” Warrens says. “Unless you want me to activate the ruins on this dagger and inject her with cyanide.”  

“He’ll kill me anyways—”  

You let out another yell when he pushes the knife deeper.  

“He won’t risk it, will you?” He directs the question to Morpheus, who stands there, hate burning in his gaze. “I thought not.”  

He lets go of you, and you crumple to the ground. 

He eyes Morpheus carefully.  

“Remember, all it takes is one word, and she’s dead.”  

You want to tell Morpheus to run, use whatever powers he has, and save himself. You urge him to flee through your eyes, but he is steady on you.  

“Let her go, and I will do as you wish.” Morpheus finally speaks.  

“No can do,” Warrens says. “You being my puppet isn’t what I had in mind.”  

“And what is it you desire?” Morpheus asks, glancing between you and Warrens.  

Warrens opens his book. “A lot of things, but right now?” He meets Morpheus' gaze head-on. “I want to finish what started all that time ago.”  

As soon as the first words of the spell spill from Warrens’ mouth, Morpheus hunches over and collapses.  

The symbols glow white, and Warrens' voice rises.  

You can’t focus on much, your sight blurs.

The world won’t survive more time without Morpheus. But maybe there’s still something you can do.  

You studied enough magic and learned your powers inside and out—one little modification and Morpheus would survive.   

You reach out to him, fingers stained red.  

Warrens is too far into the ritual to stop but isn't concerned with you. Morpheus’ crumpled form holds his attention as the sigils shine.   

You rub your finger across the asphalt, new blood drawn the harder you press.  

The magic ignites your addition, pouring into that one sign, and shoots up your arm.  

You never felt pain quite like it. Like you’re burning from the inside.  

“What have you done!” Warrens shouts, storming toward you.  

Then he freezes.  

Morpheus is behind him, shadows stretching from his body.  

“Please.” Warrens trembles, darkness winding up his legs. “Please!”  

“You do not deserve mercy.”  

The shadows swallow him whole, the beginning of Warrens’ screams snuffed out.  

And then Morpheus is kneeling beside you, cradling your head.  

There’s that fear.  

But it isn’t for his own demise.  

It’s for yours. 

Taglist: @sayumiht, @hatterripper31, @snowsatsu, @1950schick, @navs-bhat, @bookshelf-dust, @sapphireonline, @fictional-hooman, @steph-speaks, @ladyredstar1991, @secretdreamlandmentality, @ababycakes, @morpheuss1mp, @boofy1998, @alice-the-nerd, @herfantasyworldd

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on.

[xbraveheartx]

WARNING !! Contains spoilers for Lies of P! If you haven't beaten the game, be warned! This is just a first draft !! I might change it... I might not. I'm just testing the waters and seeing how far I'll get. I think I'll just post the prologue for now and then proceed solo in google docs after. But I wanted to see how people are feeling about the idea ♡ I'll upload the rest most likely on AO3 A "I don't care what canon gave us, I'm bringing Romeo back" fic that'll end up in a romance between our favorite real boy and his bestie ♡ It takes place post-canon!

Prologue

The sun had barely risen when they set off on their mission, a gentle shower coating the city of Krat in sleek rain that took little time to drench every stone and tile. Only once they had reached their destination did the skies suddenly open, a hint of blue smiling down on the otherwise desolate buildings. One couldn’t avoid puddles under such conditions, but there wasn’t any true concern to be had over them.

There were far greater things to worry over. He only hoped they were still there.

“Jeepers. It sure is creepy being back here again.” Gemini chirped, effectively breaking the silence that blanketed Krat Central Station. “Now that the monsters aren’t as much of a problem, everything just feels kinda…” He trailed off, causing the boy’s head to turn just slightly in an effort to toss back a glance in the lamp’s direction. “... Spooky? Haunted is the word, maybe? Almost like something is hiding just around the corner, ready to just– Jump out at you!”

“You’re being dramatic.” Slender digits rose to tuck a long, grey lock behind an ear, palm rubbing a stray droplet of water from a freckled cheek.

“And you’re being careless, pal!” Gemini countered, ignoring the eye roll given in retaliation. “I’m just saying, even if we can’t see the monsters all around like we used to, I’m sure there’s bound to be some still lurking around! Just be more careful, okay, Carlo?”

There was a pause in his steps, the echo of the last dying out shortly after as nothing but the dripping of water and creaking of pipes met their ears.

Carlo… it was still strange, hearing that name, and while he felt it was just right, it felt strange in the same breath. It was familiar yet foreign; He was still learning.

He felt his heart beat.

“Did I say something wrong?” Came Gemini’s chirps once more, the sound coming off as one of concern. Carlo shook his head, lashes fluttering rapidly as he came back to himself whilst lips tugged into a slight smile.

“No, no. Sorry, just… Thinking.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. Gemini seemed to accept the excuse regardless, trilling gently in a way that Carlo could just picture a real cricket practically vibrating with eagerness.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go! Er– b-but! … Y’know!... Carefully.” The guide seemed to beam, and Carlo couldn’t help but beam right back, hopeful that their journey would be fruitful in the end.

There, in the dimly lit station, was their target. Track C, train number three– The Blue Fairy. It was funny, looking back on it now, but there was no stopping to admire any form of happenstance. The train itself had been subjected to all manner of bile and questionable fluids, but otherwise, remained intact. The boy hesitated just before entering, hand rising to touch the door frame as he stood at the entrance and listened. When nothing but silence rose to greet him, he pressed onward, stepping over forgotten luggages and shattered glass.

“You really think something like this’ll work?” Gemini spoke again, chirps blending with the crunching of a wineglass underfoot.

There was no immediate response, not until they had made it to the back of the train where a familiar chair sat in the middle of the aisle. He stepped around it, choosing instead, to make his way into the hidden workshop behind.

“I don’t know.” Carlo confessed, fingers trailing across abandoned notes and papers left atop a messy desk. Blueprints were among the litter, notes bookmarking heavily written pages of journals, their fine leather covers worn and frayed. He gathered it all, leaving nothing he deemed important behind. One of many discarded suitcases was chosen among the piles, and with its original contents discarded, was used to house the very legacy his father had left behind. “But I have to try.”

Venigni thumbed through the blueprints, eyes roaming through Geppetto's old notes that had been laid out before him. It was a daunting task, to say the least, and they both knew it. 

"This is... beyond my field of expertise."

The moment of silence to follow after felt far too long, seconds seemingly to stretch into hours that didn't exist. Finally, the boy's lips parted, voice heavy with newly gained emotion that unashamedly manifested as a beg.

"I believe you can do it." Came the quiet encouragement, brows drawing together to further accentuate his plea. "Please?" Yet another pause followed after whilst muted blues fell for but a moment, until finally, they resettled on Venigni. "For... a friend?"

The sigh of defeat to follow the request said enough.

"I shall do what I can, but I make no promises, compagno!" As if a switch was flipped, suddenly a black gloved hand rose with a snap. “Pulcinella! Some fresh parchment, if you would! I must get started immediately! And you!” Once more did the man’s head snap in Carlo’s direction, a finger dramatically being pointed all the while. “You still carry the most important component, do you not? All that’s left is the body– Go and bring it back here. I will give it my all, for I am the Incredible Lorenzini Venigni, and I will settle for no less than my one-hundred percent!... But again, no promises.” 

The emotion to grip at his heart was almost overwhelming, the heavy THUD THUD of the organ pounding against his chest in a mixture of anticipation, joy, and above all else, hope.

“I’ll be back.” He announced with a nod, though he made no move to leave just yet. Instead, he gave the man a smile, brighter than any he had expressed in the past. “Thank you, Venigni. I appreciate your help.” The words were met with a nod and something akin to that of a mutter and a hum. Already was the other absorbed by the notes before him, ink meeting paper in rapid scribbles from the very moment Pulcinella had provided the writing tools.

“Let’s go get your pal… pal!” Gemini chimed in, spurring the boy into motion with a nod. “Leave the technical stuff to the professionals! Rosa Isabella Street awaits!” A trip that would surely be a bit more eventful than their visit to the train station, knowing full well that the puppets would still be prowling around their fallen king’s domain.  Please let this work… The silent prayer was sent skyward.

[cheetahsprints]

Prompt #10: Ghost

Inspired by this post

• Sonadow Prompt Fills •

• Ambience Music •

Content Warning: Implied Major Character Death (of a sort)

*

Green Hill is restored, but Shadow feels like the luscious greenery all around and clear blue skies above are mocking him. He skates from one end to the other day to day without aim. He does what he can to watch over the island, the planet, its life. He promised.

He promised Sonic he would take care of them.

Time blends into a shapeless, colorless blur, empty and sullen. The days turn to weeks that lack a certain spirit. They no longer experience intense, fiery rivalry between a remarkable pair of hedgehogs. Sonic’s friends try to go on to the best of their ability. Tails hasn’t given up, not entirely, but Shadow can see that it’s wearing him down. He practically has to bully the young fox into eating and sleeping some days.

Shadow should tell them that he’s still… seeing him.

He shouldn’t burden them.

They would just think he is insane.

Shadow uses Chaos Control each night to secretly enter the locked up obscured structure where the Paradox Prism is contained. He has to be near it. The night that he found out, he told Sonic’s friends… but for some reason it hadn’t worked for them. Though they didn’t express it in so many words, he could tell they believed he was just dreaming.

Maybe he is deluding himself, maybe has cracked.

It doesn’t stop him.

He rolls into a tight ball and clears his mind. The Prism energy seems to prickle through his quills. It took him a while to actually calm himself enough to sleep after the first time, where he had been unusually exhausted and had practically passed out. He exercises extensively, then drinks relaxing tea before evening. He avoids caffeine and sugar, and he meditates whenever he gets the chance.

The void materializes before him, and he rockets toward Sonic’s usual spot. Sonic immediately perks and smiles when he notices Shadow’s arrival.

“Shadow!”

The enthusiastic cry of his name is pleasing for his ears.

If Shadow doesn’t examine him too closely, Sonic looks completely solid. He isn’t a dream, he isn’t a ghost. He’s real, and Shadow can definitely still smell a mix of coconut and sweat on him. He would be able to hear his heartbeat and feel his breath, if he tried.

Shadow lands next to him at a reasonable distance. He can’t risk brushing against him… because he has an aversion, he tells himself, per usual. No other reason. Nevermind that touching Sonic recently became easier… before the disaster found its costly conclusion.

“Sonic.”

“How is everyone?”

“Well enough. I made sure Tails took a break.”

“Good… good.” Sonic taps his foot. “Um… so what have you been up to? Besides keeping an eye on the team.”

“Your team,” Shadow points out. “I… just run around, I guess, or brood, as you’d call it.”

Sonic scoffs and wags a disapproving finger at him. “Mister Diligence. Workaholic. Don’t you have any hobbies? I know you like music. Make sure to jam to your favorite tunes. Wait, I know! You should try gardening. You could grow your own veggies or flowers and bring me some - uh, forget that last part. Hey, you’ve been eating plenty of chili dogs for me, right?”

“When I can tolerate them,” Shadow admits.

“I’ll take it!” After a moment of silence, Sonic says in a low, gentle tone, “Thanks.”

Shadow briefly pushes his black and red quills back. “Yeah. You’re welcome.”

“Not just for… but for visiting me as well.”

Dread sinks into his stomach as Sonic darts forward and tries to hug him. He slips through Shadow, and Shadow shivers. It doesn’t feel like anything, and that’s what makes his fur stand on end. Sonic gives an awkward chuckle.

“Sonic…”

“I - man - I forgot.”

“You’re not real,” Shadow mumbles. “You’re a figment of my mind to make me feel like… I’m honoring your memory. Like I didn’t fucking fail.”

Sonic crosses his arms and frowns. Shadow hates it… he wants him to only smile… Why’d he have to ruin that? Shadow looks away. Whatever fucked up part of his brain keeps this charade going, it doesn’t allow him to manipulate Sonic to his preferences. Sonic’s pose is too reminiscent of his own tendencies.

It makes him feel even more like this specter is simply an extension of his broken mind and aching heart. It’s a twisted reflection created by his guilty subconscious to torture him.

“That’s not true. I am real. Don’t be so hard on yourself, asshole. You didn’t fail, you did your best. It’s not your fault! It was my choice. What happened, happened. You could’ve just… not bothered. Left the island or something. You’re a good friend, Shadow.”

“Friend… I’m no friend.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Sonic places a hand on his hip. “We’re pals. Buddies. Amigos. Good old regular chums. Confidants, even. Face it. After everything, you can’t deny that.”

Shadow roars, “You’re dead or worse, a ghost trapped in an eternal void, you damn self-sacrificing hedgehog! I didn’t give myself a chance to appreciate what I had, what we could’ve had, until you were gone!!!”

You’re one to talk about sacrifice, a little voice in the back of his mind reminds him.

Sonic’s ears droop, and he flinches back. Shadow balls his hands into fists, wishing he could dig his claws into his palms through the gloves. He wishes he could actually hug Sonic, or at least punch him, whether he’s actually there or not. He wishes, not for the first time, to trade places with someone he loved.

He wants to remove his inhibitors and Chaos Blast this stupid, horrible limbo until he is totally drained.

“Never too late,” Sonic whispers, looking down and scuffing his shoe on the rock. “Plus it’s not so bad here really, since I get to see you, and I have plenty of time to think about how to be a better friend to everyone when I get back.”

“But it is. It is too late. It’s too late for me to love you like I should have,” Shadow insists.

Sonic’s head jerks up and his mouth falls open, his eyes searching Shadow’s hard stare. Shadow closes his eyes as Sonic steps forward, reaching as though to rest a hand on his face.

Shadow wakes up, chilly and alone in the dark cave. The world may not have truly ended, but it feels even more like a ghost in the shadows than it had when the Prism was shattered. Shadow and Sonic were shattered in its place, in different ways, instead.

*

[angelst4re]

Hello babe!! I’m absolutely obsessed with your writing, I love love love your page with all my heart! I was wondering if you could do a Jamie smut, where he’s in his counterfeit era doing a tour meet and greet with fans where he meets y/n and takes interest in her, flirting with her a little as they meet for the first time. He ends up finding her with her friends after the meet and greet and at some point she ends up back on Jamies/Counterfeits tour bus after her and Jamie get to know each other better. The rest of the band meets y/n and after meeting her they all go out for a drink (or something) inviting Jamie and y/n to come with but they both decline the offer leaving Jamie and y/n in the bus alone together…and then smut. smut. smut. and smut. 🤭🖤

omg when i first saw this request i knew i was gonna love writing it... and i did!! so i hope you love it darling <3

Rockstar- Jamie Campbell Bower x Reader

summary: you go to a meet and greet with your favourite band and find yourself drawn towards one particular member...

warnings: NSFW!! contains smut, if you don't like this or feel uncomfortable then please don't read it my love!

notes: this isn't the fic about the page he follows on instagram!! that one's coming soon hehe :) i feel like i rushed this but i really wanted to post something today... so here you go! (also i'm literally 5 followers away from 600?? ILY ALL SO MUCH!!!! <33)

You have waited in the cold for 5 hours today, all for a band you have loved for three years. You didn’t mind, neither did your friends. You were all too happy about the fact that you managed to win some VIP tickets so you could meet the band in person after the show.

Your friends giggled as Sam looked over towards the three of you, he was their favourite from the group. You told them that you didn’t have a favourite, that you liked them all equally, but your mind was telling you otherwise when you locked eyes with Jamie. Jamie Bower.

“Hi sweetheart!” He grinned as you walked towards him, his arms open for you. It was as if he was meeting a friend he had not seen for years.

You squeaked out a ‘hello’ against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, his eyes still looking into yours as you pull back from the hug, “what’s your name, dear?”

You tell him your name, quickly becoming aware of how his hand was still on yours. You quickly lift it, twirling your hair to keep your hands occupied.

Suddenly, every conversation you had planned in your mind for this moment has disappeared. You worried that you created an awkward silence between the two of you, all you could think about was how hot he looked in person.

“I hear that a lot, y’know.” He smirks. Fuck. Did you say that out loud?

“So,” you begin, trying to ignore what he had just said, before asking him how long he’ll be in your town for.

“Just a few more days, we’ve got a busy month so it’s like a little break for us. Are you from here?”

“Yeah, but my friends aren’t.” You say, looking across the room to where they stood, blushing at every word Sam said.

“They seem to like my brother.” He chuckled.

“He’s their favourite, Bethany even has him as her lockscreen.”

“And who’s your favourite, darling?” He asks, tilting his head slightly, thinking he knew what the answer would be- yet you were about to surprise him.

“I don’t have a favourite. I love you all equally.”

Jamie chuckled again, shaking his head.

“Don’t lie to me sweetheart, I don’t like liars.” He said, a little quieter than before, a wide smirk on his lips as you were lost for words.

“Well, maybe there is an exception,” you say, also quietly, before realising the shift in atmosphere. Sensing the tension between the two of you, you quickly changed the conversation topic. “There’s a great bar in the town, y’know. I know you don’t drink anymore, but they do non-alcoholic cocktails. You should check it out before you leave.” You say, a sweet smile creeping on your lips as you find the place on your phone and show him.

“And will you be there?” He asks.

“Maybe I will.” You say, slipping your phone back into the pocket of your jeans.

It was time for you to leave so the next group could meet the band, so Jamie asked you for a hug- which you couldn’t refuse- before thanking you for coming out to see them and also for your recommendation of the bar.

You and your friends left with the biggest smiles on your faces, they told you about how Sam called smiled at them and called them both “sweetheart”, you wouldn’t dare to tell them about the way Jamie would look at your lips, how his hand lingered on your waist after the final hug or the way he spoke to you, creating a heavy tension that you quite enjoyed to tell the truth.

They also didn’t know that you were off to (hopefully) meet him again tonight.

When you got to the bar, you went to get a drink as you expected you would have to wait a while to see if Jamie would turn up or not. You felt stupid for not asking for his number, if you did and he didn’t give it to you then you would’ve felt even sillier.

“That’ll be 3.99 please.” The bartender said, placing the drink down in front of you.

As you reached into your bag to find your credit card, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll pay, darling.” Said a familiar voice.

Jamie!

“You came?” You said with a smile as you turned to face him.

“Don’t sound so surprised, sweetheart.” He chuckled, “I was hoping you’d turn up, I’ve had to miss an interview to come here.”

“You didn’t have to-”

“I’m only here for two more days, I’ll be doing tons of interviews whilst we’re on the road. Missing one won’t hurt.”

The two of you spent over an hour at the bar, ordering countless drinks (non-alcoholic!) and getting to know each other. You had discussed your favourite movies, bands, tv shows, albums… you had found out you have quite a few things in common, and that you were also total opposites at the same time.

There was no denying that you got along very well, there was never an awkward silence or a moment where you wished to be doing something else, unless-

“So,” Jamie said, almost hesitating before asking you, “would you maybe like to come back with me, go somewhere a bit more comfortable? Our tour bus is only about 10 minutes away?”

“That sounds fun,” you said with a grin, “will the others be there?”

“They’ll be getting back soon… Why do you ask, love?”

“No reason,” you smirk, “I’ve always wanted to see what those buses look like.”

—————————♡—————————

Jamie paid for all your drinks and you made your way back to his tour bus, you were glad to see the other guys weren’t back yet- although it would have been nice to meet them.

“There’s so much space in here!” You gasped, looking around.

“I know, our last one wasn’t as big as this. We got quite lucky this time.” He said, a smile on his face.

“So,” you begin, sitting down beside Jamie, “where else are you going-”

You were interrupted by the door opening- the others were back.

You felt quite disappointed, you hoped that you and Jamie would’ve had a chance to resolve some of that tension from earlier.

“Jamie?” Roland gave Jamie a look to say ‘who is this?!’

“Oh, this is y/n, we met at the meet and greet, I bumped into her again earlier and, well, now she’s here!” Jamie said, giving you a quick look as if to say ‘go along with it!’

You nodded your head.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You said with a smile, although the others seemed to be discussing something else now.

“We’re going out for drinks soon, do you want to join us?” Sam asked you and Jamie.

You shake your head slightly as Jamie tells him you’ll both stay here, and they were quick to leave again.

“It was nice meeting you, y/n.” Sam smiled as he left, you thought about how jealous your friends would be when you tell them all about this.

But now that you and Jamie were alone again, your mind only went to one place.

You couldn’t take your eyes away from the way his hair sat messily atop his head, or the way his muscles in his arms flexed as he stretched, his tattoo peaking through his half-buttoned up shirt. You felt your face flush, it was surely a deep pink by now. You had to get up.

“What’s this?” You ask, looking at the notebook that sat on the table.

“Our tour diary,” said Jamie, “you can look through it if you want. We always write in it when we’re on tour, and even put some pictures in there if we can be bothered.” He chuckled.

You looked through it, unaware of his presence behind you. He looked over your shoulder, watching you flip through the book.

As you turned the page over, you accidentally knocked the pencil beside it onto the floor.

You bent down to pick it up, flinching in surprise as you felt your ass press against something.

Jamie?!

Oh shit.

You didn’t know what to do, you were definitely bright red in the face now.

You felt Jamie’s hand on your hip as you got back up, placing the pencil back on the table.

Something in the air had changed at that moment. You turned around to apologise to him, but as you looked up at him you saw how his pupils had dilated, his lips slightly parted, his hand was still on your hip.

“Jamie, I’m-”

“Shh…” He placed a finger on your lips as he leaned down, placing a delicate yet needy kiss on your neck.

He then replaced his finger with his lips as he kissed you with nothing but pure desire, he needed you, almost as much as you needed him.

He had you pushed up against the table, your hand tangling in his hair as his tongue slipped into your mouth. You gave it a gentle tug and he let out a deep groan against your lips.

Jamie helped lift you onto the table as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer to you- all without breaking the kiss.

“Do you want this?” He asked between kisses.

“Yes- fuck yes.” You whined, feeling the way his hips bucked into yours.

You gasped as you felt his hand sliding down your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your jeans. He was quick to unbutton and unzip them, sliding them down your legs along with your underwear. Your hands came up to unbutton his shirt, thankfully there weren’t many to undo and the fabric soon fell to the floor. His hands grabbed the hem of your top, pulling over your head in one tug and throwing it to the side, leaving you in just a bra, and Jamie in his jeans.

Jamie’s lips trailed sloppy, wet kisses down your body, from your jaw, to your collarbone, to above your bra, your stomach, then he stopped just above where you needed him the most.

He placed his hands on your thighs, spreading them apart as he kneeled between them. He took in the sight of you- you would have usually felt quite insecure in this position, but he looked at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He ran his thumb through your slick folds, parting them slightly before teasing your clit in small circles. You bite your lip, holding back a moan as your nails dig into his shoulder.

He soon had his face buried in your cunt, his mouth working your sensitive nub as his fingertip grazed your hole, gently slipping it in. You let out a moan, followed by his name, before realising-

“Fuck- Jamie, what if anyone comes back?” You panic, getting ready to push him away, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he slips another finger into you, his eyes meet yours and he says,

“They won’t, darling. It’s okay.” He quickly reassures you before returning his lips to your messy cunt, suckling your clit with more force than before. You rake your fingers through his hair, the pleasure he gave started to become too much, you could feel it on your stomach.

“I think… Jamie, I think I’m about to-”

“That’s okay, baby. Cum all over my fingers, that’s right, good girl.” He talked you through your high, your cunt pulsed around his fingers as your thighs trembled. You threw your head back, screwing your eyes shut as you grabbed Jamie’s shoulders, the wave of euphoria rushing through your veins. “Good girl.” He repeated, placing a kiss on your thigh as his fingers slipped out of your pulsing hole.

“Oh my god.” You gasped, grinning lazily at him as he stood up.

“Was it that good?” He chuckled, if you weren’t completely blissed out in that moment then you surely would’ve slapped him (playfully of course!)

You looked down to see the tent in his jeans, you reached out to help him undress but instead he helped you up and led through to what must have been the bedroom. There were 5 beds, they all had curtains around them for privacy. Cute.

Jamie pushed you down onto one of the beds, you hoped it was his. You shuffled back a little, your head resting against the pillows as he undressed, before joining you on the bed. You instantly pulled him down, crashing your lips into his once more.

“I’m on the pill.” You say between kisses as you reach down, taking his cock into your hand.

You give him a few pumps, before he takes your wrists, pinning them above your head and whispering in your ear,

“They stay there. Understand?”

You nod your head.

“God, you’re so beautiful.��� He says, you feel the tip of his cock rub against your folds, your body shudders due to the overstimulation.

He positions himself, lining his cock up with your slick hole before beginning to push inches of himself inside.

You whimper, half from the burning stretch of your walls, half from frustration. You wanted to hold him against you, run your fingers through his hair, claw your nails at his back to relieve the pain.

He let out a groan as you feel him fully inside you, your walls clench around him involuntarily and he screws his eyes shut, you loved the way he filled you up.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, beginning to thrust his hips, fucking in and out of you, “when was the last time you were fucked like this?”

“Last year,” you gasp, “mm- but he wasn’t as good as you.”

“That’s right, darling,” he says, his hand sliding up from your waist to your throat, “no one else can fuck you like this.”

His other hand pushed down on your lower stomach, creating a delicious pleasure that made you squirm around on the bed.

“Stop moving, baby.” He said, his pace getting quicker and quicker.

“Jamie,” you whimpered, “please… I need to touch you.”

“Go on then, you can move sweetheart.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down and capturing his lips in a rough kiss. You wanted to be as close to him as possible, as if he wasn’t literally inside you.

“I’m close, darling.” He told you, although you guessed when you felt his cock twitch inside you.

“Me too,” you whimpered, feeling the pressure in your belly building, as if you were about to burst, “cum inside me, please.”

“Are you begging for my cum, love?” He chuckled, his thrusts beginning to get sloppier.

“Fuck- I am.” You grinned, your eyes screwing shut as you came undone again with a loud moan, one which sounded rather pornographic.

It didn’t take long for Jamie to finish either, not with the way your walls pulsed around him. You felt the warmth of his seed rush into you, painting your walls, leaving you feeling even fuller. It felt perfect.

Jamie moved the two of you around, so you were now on top of him, his cock still stuffed inside you as you lay on his chest. You both catch your breath, coming down from your highs together- but your heart starts to race again as you hear the sound of a door slamming shut. Followed by a,

“Jamie, what the fuck man?!” It was Tristan. “Don’t tell me you two fucked in here-”

“I think I’m going to be sick!” Roland groaned.

[hanasnx]

❝ just bad, bad decisions. ❞

── fratboy!anakin skywalker x padmé amidala

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 3.5k SUMMARY: having officially broken it off because of anakin’s stupid mistake, anakin and padmé have not seen each other since. when they lock eyes during a football game they both attend, they find their way back to each other during the game. and set aside their differences to reconnect under the bleachers. NOTES: use caution when proceeding! you are at risk for spoilers for @justadmiringanakin‘s fall for me for chapter 12: fool me once under the cut in the summary and contents of this one shot. | directly following the events of chapter 12: fool me once of fall for me by the talented @justadmiringanakin; it contains spoilers for all chapters up to chapter 12 | ava did give me permission to post this, please do not report, and please read the original material. | i need to specify, this is fanfiction for ava’s fanfiction. and is not canon to her storyline whatsoever. it is a self indulgent piece inspired by her storyline and characters. WARNINGS: explicit sex | anakin being persistent & crude | very slight angst | no explicit ask for consent | using each other | vaginal fingering | slight voyeurism/exhibitionism | penetration | anakin being nice at first until he knows he’s got her and using degrading dirty talk | sadistic anakin | anakin in denial | taking the lords name in vain | size difference | break up fantasy | break up sex | little bit o hate sex | ass slap| anakin’s toxic.

“Padmé?” Far away, PADMÉ AMIDALA eyes linger where ANAKIN SKYWALKER's empty seat resides. “Padmé…?” A comforting hand on her shoulder snaps her out of her trance and she hums in acknowledgement at the source. 

“I’m sorry. Were you trying to say something to me?” she asks, furrowing her brows from the nerves deeply rooted in her stomach, set at unease. 

“I was just asking if you could grab us some snacks. Cordé wants a soft pretzel to share with Logan and I want the same.” Dormé requests, inclining to meet Padmé’s eyes as if she needs to demand her attention during such a distracting football game. 

Distressfully, Padmé glances at the unoccupied seat, worried she’d somehow run into Anakin during her trip. She couldn’t handle a close range encounter with him right now. Especially not after how she’s been feeling with the sudden loss of someone to warm her bed late at night. 

Dormé holds up a couple bucks. “Please? I don’t wanna miss any plays, and I know you don’t really care about this sort of thing.” 

Padmé couldn't argue with that and blew air out of her mouth to redirect a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Yeah,” Mustering a brave smile, she nods, and takes Dormé’s cash. “No problem. Be right back.” It’s the least she could do after they convinced her to abandon the cowardise of her room. 

No sooner had her feet hit the grass, did the pit in her stomach grow tenfold. 

She rounds the bleacher, a hand bracing against one of the poles, and she treks to the concessions. Underneath the bleachers are eerie, and she makes out a familiar figure in the shade when the end of his cigarette lights up. 

He notices her too. “Came lookin’ for me?” His tone is uncharacteristically empathetic and Padmé gulps, gathering strength to cool and harden like stone. 

Anakin.

“No. Obviously not.” She sticks her nose in the air, and continues on her way. 

“So- you still hate me?” he asks, dropping his roach to the ground to grind it into the dirt with his shoe. 

Like a fool, she takes the bait. 

She crosses her arms with finesse, facing him. “I can’t believe you’d ask that.” Her words are like ice, emphasized by the tilt of her head and snobby huff. 

Once he starts to close in is when her facade is cracking, eyeing him cautiously. However, he stops a few feet from her, having expected her to run off by now, and he leans his back against one of the sustainers. “I know you don’t.”

Her gaze searches him for a moment, a sharp pain stabbing through her heart as she catches a whiff of his musk that once comforted her so. In hopes to derail him from this conversation, she changes the subject. “Where’s your vape? I thought you quit smoking.” the word is spat with her distaste for it. Unfortunately the smell of it coming off of him is not helping her situation. Who knew cloves could have this kind of effect on her? 

No, hate him. Hate him.

Anakin regards her thoughtfully— or more, appropriately, looks her up and down. “Vape broke. This whole… ‘scene’ has been really getting to me.” So he bought a pack to light up as soon as she found out about his lie and called him out on it? So juvenile. 

“Oh, you mean the scene you caused?” The passive aggressive comment punctuated with an accusatory finger pointed in his direction. 

He idles. Nods. “That’s right.” 

Padmé doesn’t know why she’s still here. Listening to this. She’s supposed to be strong, she told him she never wants to speak to him again. Yet here she is. 

Her silence is taken as an invitation to continue. 

“Padmé, I miss you.” The feeling that shoots through her from that statement is hot and she fights a wince. He steps closer and inversely she steps back. 

That same finger reanimates to warn him to control himself. “Don’t.” 

He doesn’t listen. “I’ve been losing my mind over this. Just ask my brothers— ask Rex—“ 

“I don’t want to ask anybody! You should be dealing with the consequences of your actions. I’m furious with you, don’t you know that?” her voice trembles, betraying her passion, and he advances on her, ready to catch her. All that halts him is her index finger jabbing into his chest. His toned, hard chest, rising and falling with breath. 

“Let me make it up to you.”  A plea. Once again, her reticence encourages him. “Tell me. I’ll do anything.” 

“You can’t. That’s the thing.” Barely able to raise her voice above a whisper, throat tightening, and tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Perhaps she’s still here because she seeks closure. Or because she misses him so much it hurts. 

His intense gaze bores into hers, unwavering, undivided. “If you’re so mad at me, you could take it out on me.” 

Her brows furrow, snapping her out of her stupor. “What?” Her first thought is his comment about liking when girls slap him. Did he expect her to hit him to release her fury on him? 

“It won’t be that easy. I told you I’ll never forgive you, and I meant that.” 

“Then don’t forgive me.” Is it her imagination or does that sentence pain him to say it? Regardless, he recovers quicker than she can dwell on it. “You don’t have to like me to use me.” 

“What?” She blinks, having to ask him to clarify a second time. 

“C’mon, I know you’re horny. Let me at least help with that.” Another plea, leaning over her arm that keeps him back with that single, thin finger. Her willpower diminishing every second longer she spends with him. 

“You’re a pig.” A correct pig. A hopelessly, and completely correct statement said by the one person she wished she could hate. 

“You miss me.”

He’s right. She clenches her jaw. 

“I love this little crop top you’re wearing.” His large hands entitle themselves as usual— just like she remembers—  grabbing hold of her hips. Warm pads of his fingers brush her exposed hips and she sucks in a breath. She slacks, letting him tug her into his intoxicating atmosphere. His eyes, once hungrily devouring her outfit, lands on the top of her head, and an endeared smile stretches onto his lips. “Dumb little hat.” he muses as one of his knuckles flicks the rim of it, backing it off her head marginally. 

Her delicate countenance twists into a defined frown, scrunching up her nose as her free hand claps and adjusts the bucket hat back onto the top of her crown. As if she finally remembered what he’s doing, how he’s drawing her in just like he always does, she arches away from him, which only makes him incline in her direction more.  

“I’m mad at you.” 

“We could fuck about it.” He tosses the words so carelessly. Like he didn’t just say what he said. She’d be appalled, if not for her mind running away with her. 

Could this be a way to get back at him? To use him like he used her? Let him pleasure her to tears once more so that she could bang one out of her system, and feel like she’s finally on top of him? 

Wait a second, she’s getting ahead of herself, shaking her head. “Do you have to be so crude? Where would that even take place?”

His expression lights up at the fact her question lacks a rejection, she’s open to his offer. “Right here, right now.” 

Swiftly, as if no time had passed, his thick arms wrap around her, and out of instinct hers encircle his neck as his lips connect with hers. The first kiss she’s had in a while, her first kiss with Anakin since before… At the memory, she protests, pushing back but he’s undeterred, merely dipping his head down to latch onto her neck. Open mouthed, fervent, kisses down the column. Once he reaches her pulse point, he sucks hard, and laps at it. The motion causes a noise to emit from her, involuntarily, and he lures her further into the shades of the bleachers, practically picking her up as if she’s light as a feather to him. He bites down onto her skin and she resists the urge to moan like before. 

To give himself more access, he palms the back of her head, cradling it to tilt as he pleases. She feels limp in his hands, putty just as she once was. 

“Anakin…” she begins, hitching when he nips her again. 

“I fucking missed my name on your lips, Padmé…” he murmurs against her skin, and her eyes roll into the back of her head. Gripping hard on her waist, he pulls her into him so she can feel how hard he’s gotten already. At this point, she had expected he’d direct her to palm his erection, but perhaps he meant what he said earlier… How it was all about her, and her pleasure, and to use him to do it. 

He doesn’t give her time to think about it when his hand slips to slot itself in between her thighs. Suddenly, the realization hit her that he really meant here and now. The cheers of the crowd overhead sounding alarms in her head. 

Oh, but his touch feels so fucking good…

“Anakin, wait, I’m supposed to be back with soft pretzels- they’re gonna wonder where I am—“

He growls, guiding her further into the depths of the underside of these bleachers. “I’ll be quick.” 

His words jelly her, especially because of his splendid ministrations against her clit through her jeans. Knees weakening, she believes he’s the only thing keeping her upright. Until he props her up against one of the studs. “Fuck, I gotta feel that pussy on my fingers again, angel,” he speaks as he practically rips open her button and zipper, adjusting it harshly to make room for shoving his hand in. Just as his digits find their home, he captures her parted lips, inviting his tongue inside unceremoniously. Melding with hers, demanding to taste whatever’s available as she’s trying not to moan directly in his mouth from his fingers circling and pinching her clit. He sucks on her tongue and releases it with a toying nip to the end of it, “You’re so fucking wet, I can’t fucking wait to stick my dick inside you.” 

As if this man couldn’t go five minutes without psychologically torturing her, choosing to phrase it that way because of their argument. Because of how she accused him of only seeing her as something to “stick his dick inside.”

“Less talking and more doing, I’m getting bored.” A lie, but she hoped to jab at him the way he just did to her. 

So he does as she asked, gaze darkening as it pierces hers, his fingers plunging themselves into her with no further warning. Daring her to cry out, daring her to try him again. To silence herself, she covers her mouth, eyebrows upturning in a pleading countenance she shares with him. He’s indomitable, barreling through as he effortlessly finds that spot inside her that turns her into the little pliable slut he wants. 

She looks up at the people she can see through the cracks of the bleachers. The clapping, the resting feet, the faces of Dormé, Cordé, and Logan watching the game. Her eyes widen. 

Did Anakin know exactly where to situate them to teeter the edge of danger? How sadistic could he be? 

Is this even for her? Is this all for him and his sick pleasure? He really is a creep. 

Anakin takes it all in, her shifts, how her body racked in rapture bends to his will, shuddering helplessly as she nears her end. “Bet they wouldn’t hear even if you did scream for me.” So he does know who’s above them. 

She frowns at him, and he yanks her hand off her mouth. 

“Are you gonna cum in your panties, Padmé? Who’s doing that to you, huh? Who’s finger blasting you under the fucking football bleachers?”

“F- fuck you…” she responds best she can, weakly, and fighting through her pleasure. Barely able to keep her eyes open. 

“We’ll get to that, baby, don’t worry.” 

Is he so sure?

Sharply inhaling through her nose, countenance skewing into an almost sneeze-like stance, is her tell. She’s close, and Anakin doesn’t let up. Curling his thick digits inside of her, and probing that spot that controls her efficiently. “Can’t believe you’re getting off where anybody can just turn the corner and see. Better yet, if anyone looked down…”

Somehow that did it, and her cum floods his hand, seeping past and dripping into the crotch of her panties he’d moved aside. 

“Oh, fuck yes, baby, just like that.” he breathes, watching in fascination in the dimness. She clenches around him involuntarily, fluttering around his fingers as he pulls them out, coated in her slick. “You came so much it’s like you haven’t fucked yourself. Being a good girl for me while we’re apart during this little spat of ours? You remembered I told you not to waste your cum.” By his tone, he sounds impressed, and she hates herself for her body responding well to his praise. His good girl. It makes her sick. 

“G- God, Anakin, you’re so fu-cking annoying. Do you ever shut up?” Minimizing their very real fight, assuming she’d been saving any of this for him, it left a sour taste in her mouth. Unfortunately, she needs him now more than ever and remains complacent as he readies her to take him. 

“I might. If your pussy is as good as I remember.” he degrades, spinning her and placing her hands for her to brace on the pole she once leant on. 

Her jaw opens to say something, any sort of rebuttal that’s as clever as she wishes it could be but she’s unable; he tugs down her pants just enough and pulls his aching cock out of the confines, and it’s just as beautiful as she pictures it in her mind. Gawking at it from over her shoulder as he gives it a few yanks, resting his splayed hand over her exposed backside, finger absentmindedly stroking one of the dimples of her lower back. 

“You have no idea how badly I need this…” he murmurs, his hand sliding down to give her ass a sharp pat, and then to her entrance, soothing her clit with gentle circles. She heard him shuffling behind her, and saw him rip a condom open with his teeth. 

It didn’t occur to him that he had one.. why didn’t it occur to her? She’s been so wrapped up in the moment. Where did he get it? Did he just have it in his wallet? Was he expecting something like this to happen?

To keep her warmed up for him, the ends of his fingers dip experimentally into her, scissoring her open and curling to help loosen her up for him— while he rolls the rubber onto his length. Once fully protected, he collects some more of her finish from previous, smearing it onto his coated length to lubricate it. He starts kissing the tip of himself against her glistening folds repeatedly, as if to warn her cunt of what’s to come. His brutalizing length isn’t to be trifled with, especially because she’s tightened and sensitive from cumming earlier. Pushing himself inside, the pleasant sting makes her hiss, easing back from the pole as he thrusts a little more of himself inside each time. 

“Did you just have that?” she managed to question. 

“The condom? I always keep one on me.” So he learned his lesson from the truck. Padmé never quite forgot the exasperated look on Rex’s face. 

“Were you expecting this?” she spoke through gritted teeth, as she continued to rock back further and further onto his dick. 

“Well, we’re here, aren’t we?”

She can practically hear his crooked grin through his cocky words, and it exacerbated her already molten feelings towards him. 

“Is your goal to piss me off?” 

“You’re hot when you’re angry. Especially at me.”

Now fully seated inside of her, his thrusts are sharper, rolling his hips in such a way that fits so well against the end of her. 

“Fuck, you really are as good as I remember.” he sighs, biting his lower lip to keep from whimpering over how perfectly she’s squeezing him. “Maybe even better…” 

“You promised me you’d shut up.” she tells him, and he obliges— surprisingly. 

His hand squeezes her hip, using it to anchor her weight into him and off, while his other snatches her hat off her head. So enraptured she doesn’t even notice. She doesn’t notice when he puts it on his head to keep it off the ground either. All that, just to safely tangle his fingers in her air, stinging her scalp. 

Forcing her back to arch for him, forcing her to see her unsuspecting friends once again. The horror that would seize her if one of them were to— God forbid— witness this. But the din of the game and the crowd drowned out the noises of their lovemaking. 

Anakin’s necessity to be as close as he possibly could be to her, causes him to abandon her hip, sliding his arm around her pelvis, nearly lifting her off the ground as he pistoned into her. Bent over her, his chest against her back, his chin over her shoulder, enveloping her with his sheer size, and spearing her on his cock. It’s all too much. He bites whatever he can get his teeth on: her neck, her shoulder, her cheek. When she turns her head, ready to kiss him, he bites her lips and her nose. Unable to think of anything to say while he’s balls deep inside of her, she wishes the weird things he did didn’t turn her on so badly. 

She’s been so good at staying quiet, but as soon as that desperate hand of his releases her hair to seek out and stimulate her clit, she lets a moan leak from her. Instantly embarrassed, heat rises to her cheeks, and when she checks to see if her friends above her heard— she’s met with only Logan’s flushed and wide-eyed expression. 

Quickly he looks ahead, and doesn’t meet her gaze again… but the damage has been done. Padmé feels like crawling into herself and dying. She hides her face in her arms against the pole. 

Anakin’s breathless and cruel laugh sounds in her ear, “Do we have an audience?” The waves of his warm breath causes her to shiver, and the squelching sounds of their union intensifies as he fucks her harder— as if intent to get her to break and moan more. 

Padmé’s thoughts are consumed by the fact she had just met her friend’s boyfriend, and now his first impression and opinion of her would be sullied forever. She whimpered, and Anakin licked the inside of her ear, probing it with his tongue and nipping the earlobe. 

“The guys were right. You really are such a slut for me.” Anakin spits, “Can’t believe you’re letting me hit when you’re so mad at me. During the fight we’re in. It’s like you can’t stay away from me.” 

Padmé couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, nearing her finish as tears pricked the corners of her eyes once more because of Anakin’s tyranny. 

“What’s more? You’re gonna keep coming back. You’re gonna bat those big lashes at me, and show off those little tits in a crop top, and I’m gonna slut you out like I’m doing right now. Mé? You’re never getting rid of me.” That nickname. That stupid fucking nickname. The only person that calls her that, that thought to call her that, claiming it to be his favorite month of the year in some sort of endearing anecdote— Mé— is Anakin. 

His barbaric pace is finally paying off, choking back sobs as her orgasm rushes through her, shuddering her entire body, clenching down onto him so he can fuck an even tighter hole. 

“God— Mé,” his voice quivers, whining as he fucks her through her orgasm and holds onto her body so she can’t escape him and fall to the ground like her body wants to do. Fall limp. Strong arm pinning her in place as he uses her like a fucktoy to get himself off. She feels the familiar warmth as it spreads, his hips stuttering as he cums into his condom. 

They breathe together, her leaning onto the pole as he leans onto her with his hand over hers, remaining comfortably sheathed. 

His sweaty forehead rests against her shoulder, and speaks before she has time to process what just happened. 

“Want me to buy you a soft pretzel?” 

“Give me back my hat, Anakin.”

[jazzystudios82]

A crazy idea for a Diabolik Lovers fanfic

Idea: A Malignant AU ⚕️

WARNING: The film Malignant contains blood, intense gore, brief moments of domestic violence, miscarriage, mentions of past miscarriages, surgical procedures, brief mention of past SA, and death. Please keep this in mind if you decided to watch the movie.

So….a few days ago, I was browsing through YouTube and I came across a Dead Meat kill count video that was dedicated to this movie called “Malignant”, which came out not too long ago. I watched it, I got interested in it, and I proceeded to watch people’s videos on the movie because I did in fact like the movie that much.

For those who are curious about it and don’t care about spoilers, feel free to continue reading. For those who want to watch it completely blind, maybe leave this post first and come back to read this if you want.

In order to explain how I imagine how this’ll play out, I need to talk about the film’s plot, so yes, that means that I’ll go into detail about what happens.

------------------------------------------------------------

The movie follows a woman named Madison Mitchell, who loses her abusive husband in a breaking and entering, but interestingly, right before, Madison had a vision of her husband's gruesome death at the killer's hand, though she thought it was just a nightmare until she herself is attacked by the killer and is sent to the hospital. As the movie continues, Madison realizes that the visions she has of people's murders happen in real life, and that the murder victims and the killer are linked to her past, as the killer also has the name name as her old imaginary 'best friend', Gabriel. . . .

Alright, so here's where the movie's insane plot twist comes in: near the end, it is revealed that the film's antagonist, Gabriel, isn't Madison's imaginary friend: he is in actuality Madison's parasitic twin brother who was connected to her back since birth, and fed off of Madison to make himself stronger. Doctors who specialized in reconstructive surgery removed most of Gabriel's body from Madison to not only save her, but also because Gabriel had become too violent and powerful for them to control. However, since they couldn't remove Gabriel from Madison's brain without the risk of leaving her brain dead, they sealed him inside of Madison's cranium where he remained dormant for almost thirty years until Madison's husband hit her head against a wall. And as soon as he was free, Gabriel would take control of Madison's body so he could commit the murders.

And here's where my AU thing comes into play:

Before Yui was adopted by Seiji, she used to live in a small orphanage that would later be shutdown due to safety issues. She’d have a parasitic twin like Madison with Gabriel, but the doctors would remove parts of him when Yui was still a baby on the orders of Richter, who knows of the twin brother’s existence but wasn’t aware that he had powers and resurface much later.

When Yui arrives at the Sakamaki mansion, things still play out as they do in the series, but when one of the brothers gets too rough with Yui (probably one of the triplets) and she hits her head, her own “Gabriel” (his name will probably be something different) is awakened and attempts to get back at the brothers for harming Yui and him, even though they weren't aware of "Gabriel's" existence.

Naturally, Yui would be unaware of this until she gets visions of "Gabriel" attacking the brothers and almost killing them, or probably even succeeding in killing them one by one if this goes along with Malignant.

Honestly, I'm not sure if I'll even write this, maybe one day in the future, but for now I'm not certain. If this attracts attention and people want me to write it, then I'll probably give it a shot. Let me know if you're interested in reading something like this.

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(This GIFs kind of give off the same vibe)

[willfulabyss]

Before the new update drops, I might as well post my feelings about the 2.2 story because unless they retcon it, I don’t think 2.3 will (or can) rectify my issues with it. I took a long break halfway through the story before coming back to finish it, and while the second half did get better, it didn’t make up for how disappointing the first half was.

Tl;dr: Why did they bait us with an incredible 2.0 and 2.1 and then fail to deliver on what they built up?

Major 2.2 main story spoilers ahead!

First off, the Misha/Mikhail story. Was anyone else seriously disappointed with it? This is the main reason I put off finishing the quest for a few weeks. I was so disappointed and underwhelmed with how it panned out. After so much buildup, it fell completely flat for a number of reasons, the biggest being all the horror buildup with no horror payoff. Himeko cheerfully walks us through the literal hellscape that is A Child’s Dream, all-knowing for whatever reason, and then we learn that Misha is just the escaped memory bubble of Mikhail’s youth, and that Mikhail largely lived a fulfilling life? Like, I suspected Misha may be Mikhail just on account of their names. But if there wasn’t something nefarious going on, why on Earth is A Child’s Dream so terrifying? Why did Firefly feel “an unwavering resolution in the face of death” or whatever while we were there? Why was “Death” (which was also kind of a letdown as a ferryman to the other side rather than the embodiment of humans’ fear of death, as it was described in the special program) lurking in there while putting on a horror show with all the TVs and lights? What’s the deal with all the text that appears in Death’s horror room—“Penacony must save itself,” “no, don’t come close,” “get him,” “help me,” “don’t let him get away,” “I don’t want to die,” etc.? Why is there a woman’s voice saying, “Mikhail said… do NOT open the box!” shortly after we open the box containing Misha’s puzzle piece? What’s so dangerous about the box and why did Mikhail say not to open it when it seems like that’s what he wanted all along? That was even a clickable textbox line, not some background flavor dialogue! Why is Misha so distressed and terrified in his disembodied voice lines in the dream, begging Mikhail not to go and to take him with him? What was he trying to finish for Mikhail in the workshop? All this for the mystery to just be that Misha is a Memory Zone Meme who was never in distress at all?

I think I set myself up for disappointment by watching a bunch of streamers play the first two acts over and over before 2.2 came out. All the details I retained and tried to fit together and theorized over ended up being only the most disappointing red herrings. I was really hoping/expecting that Misha was going to be a The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas situation where the Dreamscape was powered solely on his suffering. Sparkle called it “the real Dreamscape,” so I was sure it was the single dream sustaining the entirety of the sweet dream and that it was collapsing because Misha’s will to live was fading. Maybe Misha was Mikhail, or maybe he was his grandson, but I had the idea that Mikhail being considered a traitor by the Family led to them using him/his grandson/his extracted childhood essence in Memory Zone Meme form as the foundation for the sweet dream as punishment. And if Mikhail was Misha’s grandfather, the Nameless distress call in the invite could have been Mikhail/an aware third party like Gallagher (don’t even get me started on him) trying to draw people in to rescue the fading Misha before he disappeared forever. Maybe Misha could have been merged with a Stellaron like us in order to power the dream, and he’s been “alive” for hundreds of years, unaging and suffering just to keep the sweet dream going. It would have been an interesting way to incorporate the Stellaron rather than having it just sort of being there. Or Misha could have been kept “alive” in a dream pool a la Chadwick (which would have been great foreshadowing). And only recently, he’s started to astral project himself out of the real Dreamscape in desperation to find help, but he forgets everything except his day-to-day life as a bellboy once he’s out (which is kind of what happened anyway). Ugh, I don’t know. I just feel like there was so much potential in the plot line, only for it to end up being something so mundane and weirdly wholesome. Like, if you’re not going to make it a horror plot, don’t do the horror setup just to leave those of us who really took to that element disappointed. It felt like a team of completely different writers took over for this plot, and they only had a cursory look at what was already presented. Or someone decided they wanted to tone down the story at the last minute. Just… so disappointing.

Also not sure how I feel about Dreamflux Reef being a community you can just… enter, apparently? Conceptually, I like the idea of “unauthorized” dreamscapes in Asdana where people have created their own cities and such outside the reach of the Family. But, like, how does that work when so many people were taken there against their will? Why didn’t they leave? Can they? Surely plenty of them would want to go back to their family and friends and not start a new life in this place. How did word never get out that the “victims” of Death were alive and well? What happened to their bodies in reality? Does the Family cremate them after a certain amount of time of them being gone, thus making it impossible for them to return? Also, Mimosa in Dreamjoy Memoir says Dreamflux Reef was her home town. How is SHE, an Iris family representative, aware of SUD’s true identity, but the head of the Oak Family isn’t?? Maybe this is explored in the lore and side quests, but I haven’t done those yet, and I can’t imagine a way they could write it at this point that wouldn’t feel like a cop-out. It just felt like such a gaping hole. It would have been much cooler, imo, if the people who were “killed” ended up having to form their own city there in the hopes of being rescued, truly making it a “land of exiles.” Also, now it feels like the victims of Death have no meaning or purpose. Was Death going rogue and just grabbing people randomly? Did Gallagher, who seems to be able to control it, set it on random people? If so, why? After how tight 2.0 and 2.1 were, the whole first half of 2.2 felt like a scattered mess. I hate how any sense of trepidation and unease is shattered by how chill March and Himeko are. Like there was never anything to be afraid of at all in the Dreamscape. They even make fun of that Pepeshi who was just taken, like, “Wow, bro, you actually got scared by that many-eyed thing that murdered you, lol?” It also makes the whole plot Aventurine concocted feel pointless despite how high-stakes it was portrayed in 2.1. In the end, Aventurine getting himself killed in the dream was meaningless because he didn’t figure anything out and ended up lost in god-knows-where until Argenti—for SOME reason—finds and saves him. Why was Argenti roaming the Memory Zone wilds?? How did he save Aventurine, who apparently couldn’t save himself? I love Argenti and want to see more of him, but why was he shoehorned into this quest?? Why couldn’t we at least see his rescue of Aventurine? We’re just told it so off-handedly that it gave me whiplash. (And his EN voice didn’t even work, which made it even more anticlimactic.)

The second half of the quest was better. The stuff with Acheron and Tiernan was legitimately the highlight for me. Very well-done, great buildup, and a payoff that I didn’t expect at all yet that made so much sense. The final reveal really hit hard. The fake-out ending, as frustrating and anxiety-inducing as it was to play through when there were so many loose threads left hanging, was a nice twist with many people having theorized beforehand that we never truly left the dream after we first met Acheron. Robin was cool, and I like the role she played as a foil to Sunday. I really liked her story of getting shot while doing aid work and putting on performances for people on war-torn worlds. It was a surprising example of emotional strength portrayed as, well, strength, and it aligns with her belief that not everyone can be physically strong, but that doesn’t mean they’re weak or that their lives have no meaning. I really appreciate the focus on this type of nontraditional and stereotypically “feminine” strength, which is often denigrated as emotionalism. Despite not being a fighter, Robin is an active participant in the plot after her first appearances makes her seem like she’s going to be a damsel, and I love that she’s the one who saves her brother in the end. I’m glad I pulled for her. I loved the twist with the Order since that lore has been explored in the SimUni already. Sunday’s motivation felt sort of cliche and underdeveloped—a five-year-old could have told him that the Order’s perfect world he desired could never function the way he anticipated—but it was workable. Hopefully we’ll get to see more of him soon and learn more about how his ideals became so warped. Directly following after Aventurine’s incredibly complex mix of stakes and motivations, Sunday’s felt particularly flat. It doesn’t seem like his story is nearly over yet, so I hope MHY doesn’t fumble it. Admittedly, I’ve lost a lot of trust in their storytelling abilities with this update.

All in all, I feel let down by this chapter in a number of ways when I really wanted to love it, mainly because of the Misha stuff but also because the Dreamflux Reef and SUD reveals took a lot of the stakes and tension out of the story for me. 2.2 feels like it wanted to soften the previous two chapters, and that’s honestly a shame. I’m not quite sure how I feel about the rest of the plot elements/story as a whole yet, though. I’ll need to watch it again to refresh my memory. 2.0 and 2.1 were tough acts to follow, and maybe I shouldn’t have expected something that perfectly wove everything together, but I still feel like a lot of momentum was lost and plot threads were dropped or unsatisfactorily tied when there were so many better options with what to do with them. At least it wasn’t as devastating to me as Genshin 3.3 was? Sigh.

time to write another fix-it—or rather “destroy-it” fic?

[sparkles-oflight]

Kamila

Hi wrote this during the afternoon when I decided to steal @anxious-witch 's flower post information (thank you for the proof-reading :D) then Kris said something about therapy and all hell went loose (I did. I went insane).

Synopsis: Damon Baker asked Kris to be his model as he saw something that captivated him and he wanted to explore that raw side mixed in with beauty...

Disclaimer: Please think of these as characters and not the actual people. I don’t encourage anyone to send this to any of the actual JO members nor do I encourage people to force any type of relationship between anyone.

Damon couldn't contain his excitement... Kris was about to work with him. Alone. They would be alone in this room having a photo session.

Kris’ presence captured him...A young gorgeous Slovenian man with such beauty and personality made him melt.

He was so happy... and in love.

- Hey, man. - his model walked in - How are you doing?

- Hello, Kris. - he hugged him - I'm doing great. How are you today?

- I am little nervous. - Damon held his hand.

- I thought you had done photoshoots before. Sit here. - He took Kris to a nearby chair.

- And I have. - Kris took his jacket - But only as part of the band or with my family.

- I see. - Damon took his jacket off and set it aside - Well, lucky for you to have me as your first photographer. I'm a professional, you know.

Kris smiled. And oh God did Damon love that smile.

- Here's what we are going to do.

Damon proceeded to explain the whole project idea, which Kris was totally on board with. Damon wanted to explore Kris' raw side and beauty. He wanted to see how he would look in shades of grey and how his eyes would pop up...

- Oh, make-up too? - Kris said as he closed his eyes.

- Shades of gold for you, love. - Damon used his fingers to spread the eyeshadows on his lids - Gold, for a little sunray like you.

- I don't know why people see me as a sunray honestly.

- Because... - he pondered for a while and then he grabbed a nearby flower he had prepared for the shoot - Do you see this flower? Do you know its name?

- I don't know a lot about flowers - Kris said after softly opening his eyes.

- Ranunculus.

- A what?

- Ranunculus. It represents... - he put it behind Kris' ear - Charm and attraction.

Damon softly smiled as he saw how nicely it fit his subject.

- That's you.

Kris was a bit flustered. Charm and attraction, really? He certainly didn’t see himself like that.

- Oh, we got flowers yesterday.

- Really?

- Well...not exactly. They were for someone named Kamila and the Uber waited for about 15 minutes for someone to pick them up. I ended up taking them in so that the driver wouldn't have problems at work.

- Like the kind soul you are.

Kris and Damon took some pictures with the flower and Damon was impressed by Kris' awareness of the camera. Sure, he was surrounded by them a lot, but a photo shoot is different from a concert.

- Wait, let me fix your hair. - Damon said after he removed the headband from Kris.

He loved the sensation of touching Kris' hair as the younger looked at him straight in the eyes. Kris was just waiting for Damon to be done, but every time Damon looked at his eyes, he felt inspired by their piercing stare.

- Has anyone ever told you are beautiful?

- Yes. - he chuckled - I'm told quite often. Especially on social media.

- And how do you feel about it?

- Sometimes, I believe it's not true.

- Really? And why only sometimes?

Kris went silent.

- I don't like social media much.

- To me it's like my little journal. - he snapped a shot - It helps me document my healing journey. Could you please lift your chin a little bit.

- Uh... - Kris did as he was told - I guess you could call it a journal. - And Damon captured each moment Kris stopped - I guess that’s where all my professional journey is at. But...

He stopped talking again.

- Do you want to take a break? I mean, we are almost done, the last thing I want to do with you involves water.

- I guess I could use a break. - He said with a pout.

- Do you want to drink water?

- Yes, please.

Damon grabbed a bottle he brought and noticed Kris on his phone. His expression changed so quickly. He was smiling again.

Damon was curious and looked over Kris' shoulder. He was on social media.

- So, you say you hate social media, but you can't live without it? - Damon held his waist with one arm and gave him the bottle with the other.

- Thanks. I don't hate it, I just don't like it much. Social media reminds me of my progress and lets me talk to my friends. I just don't understand people's obsession with me. Almost no one knows me.

- And who knows you?

Kris drank some water. Damon took the hint.

- You don't want to talk about it, I get it.

- Damon... - he sighed - I really like you and I would love to get to know you more, but-

- Well, I would love to know you. No "buts". The only one I'll take is yours- Damon winked - Are we ready?

Kris nodded. Damon took him back to the workplace and set up the camera on the tripod.

- I need you to stay a bit closer to the camera.

- I was never asked to be so close to one.

- First time for everything, dear. - Damon, got a chair and climbed it. - The camera will record in 4K and 100fps then I'll go frame by frame and find out where you look best.

- That will take too long!

- Don't worry. I'm a professional. I look at pretty people all the time - he smiled - I'm going to drop some water on you. Small moves and if you want me to stop, just tell me.

- Okay.

Kris behaved so well for someone being bathed with some cold water, half naked on London's winter. Damon had the radiator on, but it was still quite chilly.

He loved seeing Kris' legs exposed and with the body hair up. Chills, a raw sensation. Exactly what Damon looked for.

- And that's a wrap. - he threw him a towel.

- A shame the make-up was ruined - he smiled as he cleaned his eyes.

- Trust me, nothing was ruined, darling. Art doesn’t do such a thing.

Kris started taking off the wet clothes and using the towel to clean himself up.

- How did it feel having your first individual photoshoot?

- Nice honestly... I’m always behind someone’s shadow. – he awkwardly pondered - Having someone’s attention all to me is just...liberating.

Damon looked at him as he dressed up, but he had to know more.

- Kris, can I ask you a question?

- Yeah.

- Who were you talking to earlier? I'm sorry if that's an intrusive question.

- Oh, I was texting Bojan.

That name...Damon adores Bojan, but the way Kris' eyes lit up when he said his name revealed everything: Bojan doesn't want to have the chance to know Kris - he already knows him. And he loves it.

- The guys are doing a Livestream of them cooking and I wished them good luck.

- I see... Are they that bad?

- Help me, I've been eating out most days they can only cook mashed potatoes.

- Haha! - Damon loved this boy's humor - I'll take you out someday.

- Thank you. Guess I have to go now. - he was finally dressed up - I have to take care of some passport things.

- I understand. Goodbye, then.

- Bye! I would love to do this again!

Kris started leaving but Damon had to call out for him once more.

- Ka-! - Damon stopped himself.

- Uh? - he turned around - What did you say?

- Ah...Kris - he got closer and kissed him on the cheek - I hope you have everything you ever wish for.

- Uh... okay? - Kris smiled softly, but was confused as Damon held his hands - Thanks?

- Tell Bojan he's the luckiest man in the world to have you.

- Thanks, I wil- wait, what? - Kris was astounded by how easy he was to read.

- Go take care of your passport because it's quite late right now. - He turned Kris around and slapped his ass - BYE, KRIS!

Kris laughed as he left and waved to Damon.

"I hope he treats you right, Kamila".

♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩

This is a BoKris fic disguised as a Damon and Kris fic

Polaroid Photos Universe | Recommended next: Traces of kisses behind closed doors