#(and then back to >:( when his first attempt looks bad. it's okay Clip first tries always suck)

[lavenoon]

@naffeclipse Someone tell him to try fiber crafts or something. My vote is for needle felting <3

og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!

[demiec0re]

HOW SQUID GAME 2 MEN WOULD TREAT YOU!

pairings! : kang dae-ho (player 388) x fem! reader, park gyeong-seok (player 246) x fem! reader, lee myung-gi (player 333) x fem!reader, park min-su (player 125) x fem! reader and choi su-bong/ thanos (player 230) x fem! reader

warnings! : mentions of panic attacks, smut, dr*g usage, mentions of violence (fighting), a tinsy bit of angst. let me know if i forgot anything!!

will contain sfw and nsfw headcannons!!

1. KANG DAE-HO

sfw.

- this man would be the softest, cutest, most caring man when it comes to you!

- if you guys are in the games, you are his first priority and will always make sure your health is 100%. gives you his food if you’re still that finest but hungry after dinner and pretends he doesn’t want it so you don’t feel bad.

- insists you make friends with people so that you’re safe in here. drags you over to his new group who give you a warm welcome. they make sure you’re safe throughout every game which you’re extremely thankful for.

- after the riot, he comes back shaking and sweating. you can tell he’s having a panic attack due to the gunshots reminding him of his time in the marines. you’ve have experience with this so you instantly leave your conversation with hyun-ju and jun-hee.

- you comb your fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm him down which works. you also rub his back and clear the sweat from his forehead whilst telling him it’s okay and you have him.

- it works and he’s calm.

nsfw.

- soft dom. wants you to feel as calm and comfortable as possible.

-deffo likes missionary and when you ride him so he can look at your face and wipe sweat from your forehead. he praises you like crazyyyyy and you would never hear anything degrading fall from his lips. ever.

-gives you little pecks on your neck which get more light and feather-y when leading down to your chest.

- when your legs get tired he can tell and flips you over to help you finish the job. makes sure you’ve came and you feel good before he does. just like he prioritises your safety in the games, he prioritises your enjoyment in the bedroom.

-he’s big with aftercare. wether you want a bath ran with rose petals and wine plus his company or just a wipe down and a massage you’ll get what you want because he loves you sosososo much.

-will make sure you’ve drifted off before he has. cuddles you from behind like a big bear!

2. PARK GYEON-SEOK

sfw.

- also prioritises your safety in the games. he’s gentle with you and you stick with him the whole time.

- he tells you about nayeon and his unfortunate position which you completely understand and you want to help him when the pair of you get out.

- will peck you before bed which the other guys think is soooo cute. he gets a little shy when they mention it. if anything occurs during the night, he’ll rush by your side and protect you at all costs.

- when the riot occurs you had preferred him not to go in case anything happened, only thinking of nayeon. when he’s not back for a while and eveyonr else is, you panic, big time.

- with tears escaping your eyes and several of the girls comforting you, a figure runs towards you. it’s none other than him! you’re super relived and you calm down when he convinces you that he’s completely fine.

- when you guys get out, you meet nayeon who’s absolutely adores you and gets all smiley when you’re around. she looks up to you as a motherly figure. when she’s better due to the money you both earned from the gruelling games, her hair grows back which you braid and style with clips everyday.

nswf.

- he fucks you slowly so you can feel every last drop of intimacy and love his man is pouring into your experience with him. also likes positions where he can admire your face.

- is vocal but not too vocal so you’ll hear a grunt and or a deep moan every now and again.

- another soft dom. doesn’t use toys or anything like that and likes it pure and simple. he’s a bit old fashioned so if you want anything like that he wouldn’t be too sure about it.

- eats you out with so much care and stops every few minutes to kiss your clit. this sends shivers down your spine. you grip his hair which spurs him on a little.

- makes sure you clean and happy after sex and sometimes falls asleep before you if he’s had a long day due to work or taking care of his daughter. you don’t mind bescuse you get to admire his beautiful face whilst he gets some rest.

3. LEE MYUNG-GI

sfw.

- makes sure you stick with him the whole time because he doesn’t want to have encounters with the wrong people like thanos who’s had his eye on you a couple times.

- gets into fights all the time, some of which revolve around you and his relationship with you. after he comes back with new bruises, you kiss them and urge him to stop getting into silly cat fights to which he rolls his eyes but agrees

- he has a soft spot for you and doesn’t really care about anyone else. always has an eye on you and during the mingle game you never. ever. leave his side.

- protects you and himself in fights during the night. will fight off anyone who even looks at you during them.

- during the riot, assures you all is okay and you’ll be fine. he was right. and when you guys get out, he takes care of you so well after you force him to pay off his debts to others which he didn’t really want to do.

nsfw.

- is more rough with you but still a soft dom. will degrade you from time to time with names like slut but nothing too heavy.

- will draw multiple orgasms from within you which leaves you seeing stars. he makes sure your always okay though.

- always comes in you and likes when you pull his hair or scratch his back while you’re getting off. he is much more vocal than the other guys and you guys’ moans combine to make a beautiful symphony.

- will wipe you down after sex but doesn’t do too much aftercare for you. he will run his fingers through your hair or massages you. makes sure you pee straight after because he read somewhere that you can get a UTI if you don’t which worries him.

-makes sure you fall asleep before him because he’s a gentleman.

4. PARK MIN-SU

sfw.

- is extremely sweet to you and loves you so much. initially didn’t want you to join the games with him but didn’t stop you.

- unfortunately he cannot protect you very well so most of the time during the night you’re the one fending for both of you but it’s okay because you love him.

- doesn’t speak up when thanos or any of his other leeches makes comments about you purely because he’s too timid to do anything. you stick up for yourself which he’s proud of you for.

- you comfort eachother during the riot

- when you guys get out you live a pretty peaceful and calm life which he enjoys and he pays for you guys’ meals out and pays for stuff he thinks you’d like which you find very sweet.

i didn’t write anything nsfw for min-su because i just can’t think of him doing anything like that 😭 sorry.

5. CHOI SU-BONG (thanos)

sfw.

- will call you names like señorita which you weren’t too fond of at first but the more he said it the more it grew on you.

-offers you his silly pills which you sternly reject. he doesn’t say anything more of them to you. you hate the fast that he takes them but you don’t want to nag him about it.

- during mingle, he physically kicks people away in order to secure a room for you guys which you think is wrong but you don’t say anything. after he notices you crying he quickly hugs you and tells you you’ll be fine which doesn’t really work but you stop crying anyway.

- drags you everywhere with him and makes you sit with his group who you don’t like at all besides se-mi who you grow fond of. when she changes her mind to X you knew it wouldn’t end well for her. you were correct.

- during night fights, you’re 100% safe because no- one would dare to do anything to you because they know what a nut job thanos is.

nswf.

- will fuck you rough and hard.

- also makes you come several times and might even make you squirt! doesn’t care where you guys are, sex is sex and he’s willing to get off if you are

- doesn’t really matter to him wether you come or not because all long as he has, eveything is good. pops a pill during it to increase him stamina which is already high enough.

- several rounds with him and you get overstimulated by the third one. he wants to go for a forth but you have to make it extremely clear that your body can’t handle it anymore.

- he likes doggy because then he can get nice and deep within your velvety walls. quite vocal and groans loudly, many even louder than you. degrading, toys and tears are alll his stimulants and will drive him on further.

- doesn’t have a clue about aftercare and will simply let out a loud and deep sigh after tying up the rubber and flop straight onto his back. he’s out like a light and is already sleeping deeply.

- your used to it so you just mirror his loud sigh and turn over and fall asleep aswell.

- hope you guys enjoyed this! if you want a version for the squid game girls (both s1 +2) lmk!!

[iannmin]

What kinks do you think San would have? <3

KINKS SAN WOULD HAVE ⁺₊❆⋆ 최산

🏷️ ⋆ smut, drabble, intentional lowercase, size kink, praise kink, breeding kink (serious), lingerie play, somnophilia, cum play (LOTS of cum)

🗒️ ⋆ RAHHHHHH WTF I’ve been wanting to write this SO BAD!!! thank you thank you so much for the opportunity skjdkskdksk i hope both sides of your pillow are nice and fluffy every time you sleep <3333 also i just couldn’t help but put the edit of long haired san hehe

୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆ ⁺₊❅⋆

PRAISE KINK ⋆

no offence but sannie would be on the number one priority list for those who have praise kink. like can you see how he folds and gets absolutely all squishy and subby when wooyoung praises him? like his cheeks gets all flushed and hot,, he’ll probably desire the same with his s/o, whether it’s him giving or receiving. and to be honest san is more of a soft dom, so he’ll love reassurance. just imagine every time when he’s about to enter you he will most definitely whisper softly “you can take it baby, it’s gonna open up so well for me, your pussy’s gonna feel so good, hm?” (and I’ve noticed that san loves to say ‘hm?’ after his sentence a lot in his voice lives and it drives me absolutely crazy)

SIZE KINK ⋆

sannie is a total sucker for size differences and he absolutely builds his ego off of watching his s/o squirm under his huge frame. like just picture him headlocking his s/o from behind, broad chest sticking to his s/o’s back while just absolutely pounding the fuck out of them and whispering dirty things into their ear ughh. and do you remember that one fanmeeting clip of san’s back facing the audience and wooyoung is literally holding his neck attempting to kiss him??? he’ll probably look like that coming home to his s/o from a long day of work,, kissing them at the entrance as a ‘I’m home’ type of gesture. and also,, that’s probably why san hits the gym sososo much, it’s really just to assert dominance and feel big

BREEDING KINK ⋆

don’t even get me started with this once :,) like do you guys realise how traditional san is? like in terms of family and stuff he seemed to have grown up in a very traditional household where his father was strict on him and all that. like just look at how much respect he has for his parents and how well-mannered he is,, and especially do you remember when san mentioned that if he had a daughter he would raise her in a very princess way but if he had a son he would raise him like his father did in a strict way? so anyways,, the whole point I’m making is that san would probably want to start a family early with his s/o so that they can have cute little family outings together, and he can be a dad. so that’s where the feral breeding kink comes in. like he just goes absolutely bonkers the first time his s/o let’s him hit it raw after their marriage, or even better, when he learns that his s/o wants to try for a baby, so he makes sure to absolutely fill their cunt to the fullest, even going beyond his usual stamina of two rounds because for some reason he keeps getting hard after watching his white cum seep out of their hole and dripping onto their thighs :( P.S. he might even have a sex marathon with his s/o on the week their ovulating just to maximise his chances of becoming a dad

FINGERING ⋆

okay okay, I know sannie is a clean type of person and he doesn’t really like making a huge mess, especially when you see how clean and minimalistic his dorm room is but when it comes to his s/o, all morality just gets thrown off out the window. he goes pussy drunk and fingers them until they’re making an absolute mess. and I’ve seen some people commenting that he has chubby hands like cheese-stick fingers but won’t they feel so fucking good when their up in his s/o’s hole? i bet the stretch is a whole lot better with thick fingers like his and it’s definitely enough to get his s/o squirming and whimpering, even squirting.

SOMNOPHILIA ⋆

sannie treats women with so much respect and probably hates non-con stuff which is a great turn-off for him. but somnophilia? that’s his jam right there. the first time his s/o told him up front that they like being fucked awake no matter when, he was slightly hesitant, but he probably discovered a whole new world right there and then when he slid his dick into their unprepped cunt, the raw feeling being absolutely addictive. so even on days when his s/o looked absolutely unsexy, wearing a pair of kiddy-looking pajamas, he will still have a great urge to pull down those cartooned pants and fuck them. he just can’t get enough of the moment when their brows finally knit together and their eyes flutter open, raising their head from the pillow just to see him wrecking their pussy open, and that’s when all senses and feelings process in their brain and they start moaning and squealing.

LINGERIE ⋆

just a bonus kink here hehe,, and not to mention sannie is not the type to rip open the lingeries because he respects how expensive they are, but he’s more of the type to push their panties to the side and fuck them <3

[sweetheartsofpanem]

Paper Spine - Soft Things Survive

Previous Part

i am a thief of joy😔 must keep the story on brand with Y/N being traumatized. i sleep now, post another part tomorrow😗

warnings: refer to series masterlist

pairing(s): refer to series masterlist

word count: 2.65k

series masterlist | main masterlist

The day starts out quiet.

You wake with the soft gray light of morning slipping through your curtains and the scent of damp earth from the night’s rain still clinging to the windows. You get dressed slowly. Eat half a piece of toast you don’t remember making. It’s one of those days where your head feels a little too loud and a little too empty all at once, but you tell yourself it’ll pass. You’ve had worse.

By late afternoon, you’re sitting on Haymitch’s couch.

It’s nothing new. You’ve been here a thousand times by now. Sometimes you read while he mutters over his latest attempt at cleaning up the place. Sometimes you both sit in silence. Sometimes he starts a conversation and you fall into your usual rhythm—sharp words, softer looks, elbows nudged and insults traded like currency. It’s familiar. Safe, in its own strange way.

But today is different.

Today, something’s off.

You notice it the second he walks into the room—his shoulders tight, jaw set, eyes just a little too dark. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just grabs a stack of books from the floor and sets them down harder than necessary on the table beside you.

You glance up from the page you’ve been pretending to read. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t look at you. “Fine.”

That’s the first warning.

You try again. “You want help with anything?”

“I said I’m fine.”

His tone is clipped. Sharper than it needs to be. You blink, lips parting, confused. You weren’t even pushing. You were just—asking. You watch him move across the room, setting down another stack like it’s full of glass, but his hands are anything but gentle.

He doesn’t look at you once.

You press your lips together, trying to ignore the cold creeping down your spine. You don’t want to push. Maybe he’s just tired. Maybe it’s just one of his bad days.

You set the book down and reach for the empty cup beside you. “I can take this to the sink for you—”

“I said I don’t need anything, alright?”

His voice is piercing, bitter. It lands like a slap.

Your hand freezes mid-reach. Your breath stutters.

And all you can say—so quiet it barely exists—is, “Oh.”

The sound of it turns something in the air. Haymitch looks up then, but it’s too late.

Your shoulders curl inward like a reflex. You stare at the cup. At your hands. At the floor. Anywhere but at him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, already standing, already moving toward the door before he can speak again. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Wait—”

But you’re already halfway down the porch steps, not looking back.

Your house is too quiet.

You lie in bed, fully dressed, arms folded tight against your stomach like that might hold everything in. Your eyes don’t sting, but your throat does. You don’t cry. You don’t even blink hard enough to try.

All you can hear is your mother’s voice.

Always too much. Always in the way. Always trying too hard.

The words crawl in like smoke, thick and choking, coiling through the cracks in your ribs until you feel them settle in the hollow spaces you thought had started to close.

You don’t move. You just stare at the ceiling, motionless.

It wasn’t a big thing. It wasn’t screaming. It wasn’t cruel. It was just—too sharp. Too close to home. Too familiar. And it was from him.

And somehow that hurts the most.

You stay like that for a long time. Hours, maybe. Time folds in on itself.

Every little sound in the house feels too loud. Every silence feels worse.

He’s going to leave.

You know it with a sick kind of certainty, the way you know the sun’s going to rise or your heart’s going to beat or that when people get tired of you, they always, always go.

You were too much. You knew it. You were getting too close, too comfortable, too obvious.

You pushed too hard. He didn’t want your help. He didn’t even want you there.

He sounded like her.

And you—you just stood there like a kid again, hoping that maybe this time would be different, like an idiot. Like you didn’t already know how this always ends.

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper into the dark. “Why did I ever think it’d be different?”

Your hand curls into the edge of your blanket. Your chest feels too tight. Your skin feels wrong. Your thoughts keep spiraling like water down a drain.

“Why do I even have this stupid crush?” you mutter, voice breaking on the word. “He’s never going to love me.”

You swallow hard, but it doesn’t go down.

And then her voice comes again, soft and poisonous and etched so deep into your bones you can’t separate it from your own anymore.

The only people stupid enough to love you are dead.

You shut your eyes. Shake your head. Try to stop hearing it, but it echoes anyway, bouncing around the hollow parts of your skull until it makes your stomach twist.

Your heart stutters, flips. And then your brain does what it always does—it goes further.

Katniss and Peeta.

You think of them. Of Peeta’s steady kindness, the way he always knows how to pull you out of your spirals. Of Katniss’s quiet comfort, the way she just exists beside you without asking for anything.

They’ve known him longer. Trusted him longer.

If he goes, they’ll go too.

Why would they stay, if he’s done with you?

You were doing so well. You were getting better. You were okay.

But if Haymitch is tired of you—if he sees you like she did—then it was never real. None of it. Not the puzzle pieces, not the porch swing, not the lake, not the way his voice went soft just for you.

It was nothing.

You curl tighter around yourself, barely breathing now.

And the voice—hers, yours, both—doesn’t stop.

You’re too much.

You’re nothing.

They’re going to leave.

And for the first time in weeks, you believe it.

You turn your face into the pillow, like maybe the quiet will swallow you whole if you press hard enough.

It doesn’t.

The silence just stretches.

You were so stupid. You let yourself believe in this. In him. In them. In this stupid, fragile little version of a life you thought maybe—maybe—you could have.

You press your palms to your eyes. Try to stop the burning. But it’s too late.

The tears come anyway.

And the worst part is that it’s been so long since you cried like this. So long since you let yourself fall apart. Not since Peeta, someone you’d started to see as a best friend. Not since he found you and pulled you up out of the dark with soft words and lemon cake and the kind of safety you didn’t know how to ask for.

But he’s not here.

No one is.

And maybe that’s for the best. You’ll have to get used to this again. Might as well start now.

You press a hand to your mouth to muffle the sound as a sob slips out anyway, sharp and sudden and humiliating.

It doesn’t stop there.

You curl in tighter, as small as you can make yourself, shaking with it now���whole body trembling like it’s trying to collapse in on itself, trying to disappear. The ache in your chest is unbearable, like something’s caving in from the inside.

Your breath stutters. Catches.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, choking on it. “I’m fine. I’m—fine.”

You’re not.

They’re all going to leave.

It gets louder every time you think it. Louder and truer.

You shouldn’t have let yourself get used to being held up by other people. You shouldn’t have believed you could trust someone and not end up here.

You can almost hear your mother laughing.

Look at you now. Just like always. Falling apart. Alone.

You let out a strangled sound—half sob, half scream muffled into your pillow—and it still doesn’t make anything stop.

You curl in tighter.

The room is dark now. You didn’t notice when the sun went down.

And the worst part is… you don’t want anyone to come fix it.

Because you’re sure—so sure—that no one will.

You don’t know how long you stay there, curled up and sobbing into your pillow. At some point, the tears slow—not because it hurts any less, but because your body is too tired to keep up.

But your mind doesn’t stop.

It only gets worse.

You sit up with a gasp, hands shaking, chest tight like something’s pressing down on it from all sides. You try to suck in a breath and it feels like your lungs won’t stretch far enough.

Your feet hit the floor without thinking. You start pacing. One side of the room to the other. Again. Again.

You press your hands into your chest like maybe that’ll help, maybe it’ll hold everything in place.

It doesn’t.

Your breathing’s too fast now. Shallow. Your fingers tremble where they curl into the hem of your shirt.

You want to scream.

You want to disappear.

You want to go across the way and bang on the door until Peeta opens it and pulls you into a hug and tells you it’s going to be okay even if it isn’t.

But you can’t.

You’re right back where you started. Barely able to breathe. Terrified of being too much. Too needy. Too loud.

You promised yourself you’d never put that on them again. That you’d be better.

But you’re not better.

You’re a mess. Just like always.

You sink down to the floor beside your bed, knees drawn to your chest, rocking slightly without realizing you’re doing it.

And all you can think, over and over, is:

I ruined everything.

I ruined it and now he’s going to leave and they’ll leave too.

And I’ll be alone again. And it’ll be my fault.

You’re still on the floor, trembling, arms tight around your knees, your chest caving inward with every broken breath that won’t quite make it all the way in. You’re gasping, but the air feels too thin. The walls feel too close. The silence feels like it’s screaming.

And then—

“Honey?”

It’s barely a whisper. Soft. Rough around the edges, like it hurts him to say it. Like maybe it’s not the first time he’s tried to call your name and failed.

Your head jerks up.

You hadn’t heard the door. Hadn’t heard the stairs. Hadn’t heard anything over the sound of your own spiraling.

But he’s there.

He’s in the doorway to your bedroom, standing still—shoulders tense, brow furrowed, eyes wide in that way you rarely see.

Not angry.

Not annoyed.

Worried.

Sad.

Your breath catches again, but for a different reason this time. Something sharper. Something that feels almost like shame.

You wipe at your face quickly, though it doesn’t do much. Your hands are shaking too hard.

You can’t get a single word out. Just stare at him, chest still heaving, tears still slipping silently down your cheeks.

He takes a slow step forward, voice even softer now.

“Can I come in?”

He sees the nod—small, shaky—and that’s all he needs.

He moves carefully. No sudden steps. No sharp sounds. Just crosses the room like he’s afraid you might break if he gets too close too fast.

When he reaches you, he crouches down without a word, his knees creaking with the movement. His eyes flick to your hands, still fisted tight in the fabric over your chest, like you’re trying to hold yourself together by sheer force.

Your breath is coming in shallow gasps. Too fast. Too thin. You can’t stop.

Haymitch doesn’t touch you.

He just sits there, eye-level, and says, quiet as anything, “Alright. In and out. With me now. Just like before.”

Then he inhales—slow, deliberate.

“In.”

You try. Your lungs stutter, catch on the inhale.

He nods, patient. “That’s it. Doesn’t have to be perfect, honey. Just try again.”

He breathes out through his nose.

“Out.”

You copy him, or at least try to. It comes out more like a gasp, but it’s something.

His voice stays steady. “Good. Again.”

And again.

And again.

He never rushes you. Never tells you to calm down. Just sits there, breathing with you like it’s the only thing that matters.

Like you’re not broken. Like this is okay. Like you’re okay—even if you don’t feel it.

Even if you’re not sure you ever will.

Your breathing slows—gradually, painfully. The gasps become uneven shudders, and the shudders finally give way to silence. Not peace, but quiet. The kind that feels raw, like it’s all that’s left after something breaks.

You don’t say anything. Just hide your face in your knees, hands still gripping your shirt.

You feel the heat of him still sitting there, close enough to touch, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

You can’t look at him.

Shame settles heavy in your throat. Your fingers dig into your sleeves.

You swallow hard, trying to force the tears back down. They burn anyway.

You stay curled in on yourself, still too afraid to meet his eyes.

Still waiting for the moment he leaves.

You flinch when the floor creaks beside you, but he doesn’t say anything. Just shifts closer—slow, deliberate—and then you feel it.

His hands, steady. One at your back, the other at your knees.

He gathers you gently into his arms, pulling you into his lap like it’s nothing. Like it’s easy. Like he’s done it a thousand times before. Your side rests against his chest, your legs curled beside him. You melt into him, almost instinctively, placing your head on his shoulder.

He holds you so tightly you can barely breathe—but not in the way that hurts. It’s the kind of tight that says I’ve got you. The kind that doesn’t let go.

His chin rests lightly on the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice low and rough. “Honey, I’m so damn sorry.”

Your hands are still clutching your shirt, but you don’t pull away. You can’t. You wouldn’t even know how.

“I shouldn’t’ve snapped,” he murmurs. “Wasn’t about you. None of it was about you.”

You nod once, barely.

He presses his palm between your shoulder blades, grounding. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A beat. Then another.

“And I’m not going anywhere.”

You press your face into his shoulder, a quiet, shaking breath escaping.

“You hear me?” he says, firmer now. “You don’t get rid of me that easy. I’m too damn stubborn for that.”

His grip tightens, like he means to anchor you.

“You’re stuck with me, honey.”

“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out soft, broken. 

His breath catches like he hadn’t expected you to speak at all.

You feel it in his chest, the way it stills beneath your cheek. Then—

“No,” he says, gently but without room for argument. “You don’t apologize for this.”

You don’t move. Don’t lift your head. The quiet sits between you like something fragile.

“I messed up,” he adds, voice lower now. “You were trying to help. I—” He exhales through his nose, like the words are hard to get out. “That wasn’t about you, and I still made it your problem.”

You shake your head, but you still can’t look at him.

“It’s not your fault I’m broken,” you whisper.

Haymitch huffs softly, something between a laugh and a breath. “Then we make a fine pair.”

His hand rubs slow circles against your back. You stay curled into him, small and silent, until your fingers unclench slightly at the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t let go. Doesn’t even ease his grip. Just keeps holding you like you’re something worth holding on to.

Next Part

[earlysunshines]

like you used to

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; angst

synopsis: it’s raining it’s pouring no old man is snoring and you've run into your ex-girlfriend (aka the love of your life) after a year.

warnings: reader used to have bad habits (smoking, alcohol) ; sana is a sweetheart ; reader is avoidant ; ex's to...? ; my attempt at angst, not my forte... ; anything else I didn't mention

a/n: hey! so all i do is lie (change my mind too often) anyways this one is short I just had a random burst of motivation :-p feeling edgy, don’t expect more this is spontaneous;-;

one thing about where you live is that there’s always unexpected surprises — in this case, the weather went from partly cloudy at 5pm to sudden thunder and lightning.

great.

no umbrella, a drenched shoulder bag, and soaked clothes cling to you as you dash for cover. when you finally find refuge at the bus stop, there’s another surprise waiting for you.

light brown hair dampened by the rain, a side profile more beautiful than flowers in bloom, and a soft smile that could captivate you for centuries: minatozaki sana.

“shit,” you mutter under your breath, running under the roof of the stop. 

patting down your blazer and pleated pants, sana turns and widens her eyes slightly. you meet her halfway, meeting her gaze and shrinking despite being a few centimeters taller. 

she gasps – almost. “y/n?”

“sana,” you tighten your jaw, feeling a knot in your stomach. “hi.”

“you’re drenched.” she points out the obvious, rushing to pull out a handkerchief in her purse. “come here.” she says, stepping closer. 

you flinch, stepping back a bit and sana frowns.

“it’s fine, it’s nothing.” you assure, feeling stiff in your place. “use it for yourself.”

“i’m not as soaked as you are.”

“it’s fine, sana.” you add firmly, clutching the strap of your bag and wiping water off your cheeks. 

even when you turn back to face the road, attempting to dry yourself with your wet blazer, sana continues to stare. you feel her eyes piercing through you, the same sweet eyes that would look at you like you were her world before you messed up. you want to shrivel up and disappear, every second beside her is grueling.

you make the mistake of glancing back at her again, she’s somehow prettier than two seconds ago – and after a year of avoiding her. 

sana’s wearing a white dress with a white cardigan on top; everything she has on is pretty damp, so you assume she got luckier and found cover quicker than you. she has on light makeup, nothing too crazy, but either way, she’d still have you staring. her hair – now slightly wet – is clipped up with a bow, making her look like some sort of princess. a small sigh leaves your lips as you break away from her.

“the rain won’t stop anytime soon, how will you get home?” she asks you, voice sweet and careful. 

“bus.”

“i heard they’re delayed for thirty minutes.”

“i can wait.” you reply, staring at the ground. “it’s nothing.”

she sighs, then steps closer to you and holds your wrist. she grabs your attention again, both your eyes meeting in eye contact that makes your heartache; she has that effect.

“y/n,” she stays sternly, “i called an uber ten minutes ago, you’re coming with me.”

“no i’m not sana.”

“yes you are.” her grip on your forearm tightens, making you gulp lightly. 

you stare at her through your overgrown, wet bangs that cling to your forehead, sighing softly. the handkerchief she had in her hand now draws closer to your face. she gently uses it to wipe away the water from your forehead, cheeks, and nose. her touch is tender, and her eyes focus intently on you, making your heart flutter in your chest.

surrender is your first option – your only option. 

“okay.”

–

sana’s apartment is as homey as you remember, the same couch you’d talk and makeout for hours on is still clean and fresh. 

she steps in first, kicking off her loafers and walking towards the kitchen island. 

“come.” she says, and you follow without a word, taking off your own shoes and hanging your bag up on the rack you used to.

you follow and sit down at the chair she’d used to sit at when you cooked for her, playing chef and cracking stupid jokes as you fixed her a simple pasta. her place used to be a haven from whatever you had going on, but now it’s dissolving you with every second passing by.

sana disappears for a moment, giving you a brief respite. you take this time to try and recompose yourself, staring at the marble counter in front of you. despite your efforts to push them down, memories you tried so hard to lock away from the light resurface, flooding your mind and making your heart ache with their intensity.

“here,” you jump at the soft sound of sana’s voice, looking up to see her handing you a towel – your towel.

“thank you.” grabbing it, you pat yourself down. sana hands you shorts and a t-shirt, also yours. 

“you never came back to get them.” she mumbles, sitting down next to you and searching for something in your eyes. “you know that?”

“i do.”

“mhm.” she looks even deeper, twisting you from the inside and out. “you should change.”

you nod.

–

by the time you finish changing, you find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror for a moment too long, lost in a brief moment of reminiscing. shaking off the memories, you finally return to the kitchen, feeling all too much at once.

there’s a candle lit and hot ginger tea on the counter in sana’s favorite mug. she’s leaning against the counter near the stove, staring at her own cup.

you sit down and place both hands on either side of the mug. sana hums softly, “you should drink some, you’ll get sick.”

“it’s fine, i’ll get going soon anyway.”

“no you won’t.”

“and you’re the one who’s in charge of that?”

“stay the night, it’s not like you haven’t before y/n.” she sighs, looking at you with hurt in her features. “besides, i won’t let you go back. if you do, i know just seeing me will prompt you to drink and drink, maybe you’ll even light a cigarette or two if you’re sober enough to pull them out the pack.” she spits, sending a dagger through your chest.

you try to respond, but your throat dries up in the process. instead, you take a sip of the tea, not uttering a single word.

the air is weighed down with a palpable tension, like the elephant in the room sits on top of you two.

she sets her mug down, then walks over to lean against the counter in front of you, watching your head hang lower and hands run to the back of your neck.

“i’m sorry.”

“you should be.”

leaving with nothing but a note, a text, and then blocking her? sana deserves more than a sorry, but she’s grateful that you’re muttering it at all.

“i couldn’t face you.” you feel your throat closing in on itself again. “i don’t want you to be stuck on me.”

“y/n, i love you, nothing is ever going to change that even after you ghosted me.”

the whole reason you did all of that was simple: you’re an insecure, avoidant coward.

sana was and still is set up on a pedestal, one that would take lightyears to climb. she's beautiful, cunning, charming, and caring. you had never known anyone as loving as her. it was dangerous having a person so cozy and warm jump into your life when you've always been so cold and uneasy.

two years with sana were enough to create memories that would make you smile just thinking about them, but they could also send you into a spiral.

lingering in your mind were thoughts screaming for you to leave her, insisting you weren't enough and that she would be better off without you. it wasn’t jealousy of anyone else, you were too clouded with your flaws to care about that; it was the belief that you should dig yourself into a ditch so sana would realize she shouldn’t waste her time on someone like you.

she witnessed your moments of weakness. once a month, you'd drink until you couldn’t formulate a thought, and smoke to avoid confronting your problems and the personal hassles you hid from her. the monthly occurrence turned into a bimonthly thing, and then weekly nearing the end of your relationship. and still, sana would be by your side each time, making sure you were okay.

you were an asshole, and you had to pry yourself away from her somehow.

“just give up sana.”

“y/n,” you feel hands on your cheeks, cupping them and tilting your head up to meet her face sculpted by the angels above. “stop that.”

your brows upturn. “you stop that.”

“i’m not doing anything.”

“that’s the problem.”

sana rubs your cheeks like she used to, her long nail just barely grazing your skin in the process. you sink in your place, eyes avoiding hers.

“we don’t have to talk about it now, but stay. i want you safe, even if it’s just for tonight.”

“don’t do this to yourself, you’ll only hurt more.”

“there’s nothing that hurts more than knowing you’ll have a fever, it’s okay.”

without warning, she leans in, hugging you softly. sana’s warmth and softness envelop you, and you feel like you’ll freeze her, turning her rigid with your coldness.

sana feels your body go stiff, but when she rubs her back, you’re already sinking into her. she’s spent time to take care of herself, but nothing beats the way she cares for you, or just the feeling of being with you.

you had your flaws, but sana saw right past them and into your heart.

even if you didn’t think it, you were sana’s rock. sweet and caring, a sight for sore eyes, and the warmth she needed after a long day. she could talk to you about anything, and you’d be there to listen and soothe her worries, your smile easily easing the tension in her shoulders.

after countless tries (well, two, because sana couldn’t see anyone but you after that setup with momo’s friend on a whim), she had accepted that no one else could fill your spot in her life.

she feels tears soaking the material of her t-shirt, hearing you sniffle lightly into her.

sana pulls away, holding your face again. she looks at you with a mix of pity, regret, anger, and sorrow, maybe a little relief too. you’re back with her, she’s unsure of whether or not you’re still as vulnerable, but it doesn’t matter.

“it’s okay.”

“i’m an asshole.”

“you are,” she agrees, then wipes a tear from your eye. “but everyone has their reasons.”

she lets you stain her shirt with a few more tears before gently coaxing you to join her on the couch. it will take a long time to rebuild what you once had, but sana is willing to try, and you are too—especially when she holds you close, her hand rubbing your back comfortingly.

you’ve always thought you didn’t deserve her. 

but sana won’t let you let go so easily. she refuses to back down without a fight, and neither will you – not this time.

[alilobsessive]

I have probably sent you an ask before about this but idk I NEED someone to make something from this idea:

Neglected!Wayne as Bob Belcher inspired

The early season crashouts, the struggling to pay the bills….it’s glorious

OR OR for a more like ‘different’ au:

Bruce Wayne falls in love with a struggling single parent with three kids, a burger shop that SHOULD be renowned worldwide, and a shitload of debt

🎤

Omg omg, okay, so I admittedly never watched Bob’s burgers I have seen clips, obviously. So I can’t in good conscience write this. I will never be able to do it justice, not until I binge watch at least a season or two or more, maybe the movie. But you’re definitely on to something.

If we’re going for option A

Neglected Wayne is probably about the same age as Dick, maybe older. None of there kids are that old 6 at the oldest. There desperately trying to keep the Restaurant going, this has been there dream since they were young! Not the running a Burger Place part but running a Restaurant, beggars can’t be choosers and you picked a Burger Place solely to spite the chain restaurants and Batburger’s that keep popping up. They desperately don’t want to contact there family for financial help. There relationship with them is awful and Reader would rather die then contact them. But one night during an attempted robbery at the restaurant all of that changes. You’re back on Bats radar, not just you but your whole family and that is not a good thing.

B though, I think it would be hilarious to see Bruce is kid and the medias reaction to him falling in love with this stressed and sarcastic single parent. Like

Reader: *Drenched in sweat, eye bags under eye bags, makeup? Don’t know her. Trying to stuff one of there kids into a hamburger costume in some big to gain more visitors or the restaurant will close for the 5th time. Another one is trying to blackmail and guilt trip a customer into tipping extra. The oldest is aggressively typing away at there phone writing 100 wpm, creating what can only be described as a 2010 pre-teen fanfiction. That in realty is mid at best but looks like high art to her.*

Bruce Wayne: *pining aggressively*

Bat kids: Really? You have women that could become supermodels if they wanted at your beck and call. Man that could revile gods swooning like teenager girl when you just glance at them? And you want that? That’s why to normal for you are you feeling okay?

The Media: Really? You have women that could become supermodels if they wanted at your beck and call. Man that could revile gods swooning like teenager girl when you just glance at them? And you want that?

Maybe instead of Bruce coming over as well Bruce Wayne it’s as Batman.

Picture this, your a single parent running a family owned Burger place in Gotham City. It’s a miracle you aren’t secretly a front for something. One of your kids is at the cash register, the other two doing homework, it almost completely empty. Then suddenly you hear it “HOLY SHIT!” One of them screams as the bell jingles signaling another customer. Instantly you’re on edge unsure of its a bad holy shit or a good one then they continue “ITS FUCKING BATMAN!” And instantly there’s a stampede if tiny footsteps. You look out of the kitchen and see your kids crowding around Batman who is still at the door. “What are you doing here?!” “Why are you here” “Baba didn’t commit any crimes did they??” “Baba’s not cool enough to commit crimes idiot!” “When did Baba get cool!” You’re youngest snaps her head to look at you. “You committed crimes and didn’t include me!?” She says both shocked and offended, Batman, the Dark Knight, someone who was nothing more then a cryptid when you and your Ex Partner first started this business, slowly turns his head to look at you. You feel nothing but fear, a primal fear you thought was long forgotten as you make eye contact.

Without a word he orders enough food for a small army, making sense judging by the amount of protégés and coworkers he has. He then pays solely in hundred dollar bills, leaves a hundred dollar tip and then disappears into the dead of night not taking his change. To your horror and your kids glee not just the Batman but his entire posse become regulars.

We’re cooking! We’re cooking here!

And remember kids! Always support your local businesses! Steeling from large companies is not a crime! And if you’ve never been to a Burger place before that isn’t fast food, go to one ASAP it will change your life a swear!

[htaesan]

　ᅠ 💬　ᅠ EGG-TUALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU 　　───　ᅠ ( han taesan )

　　　ᅠ 한태산 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 2.3k ⠀ genre smau fluff attempted crack secret admirer university au ⠀ contains mentions of food profanities some ocs etc ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net , @onedoornet

　　　ᅠ 05. i’m not good with words, but i’m good at songs and dribbling

A long exhale escapes Dongmin’s lips, the breeze swaying the trees around him. It’s like nature is sighing with him too—as everyone’s beloved autumn, the season of love, is going to be replaced by winter anytime soon. The dried leaves crunch underneath each step, heavy and therapeutic in some way. 

He was taking a walk after his Sound Design midterm, hoping that the winds will blow away the thoughts that have been clogging his mind. It was nothing bad, Dongmin was just worried. 

What if everything goes wrong, and you don’t like him at all? 

What if he doesn’t meet your expectations?

What if he’s not good enough for you?

It’s hilarious, and Dongmin finds himself chuckling a bit. His past self wouldn’t ever feel this way—he wouldn’t allow it. But now, college had changed him, made him into someone who wasn’t at all afraid to achieve his dreams: his principles on love changed too. 

“Dongmin?” your voice rings in his ears, and he immediately looks left and right, searching for the source of the voice. 

You’re standing in front of him, bag saddled snugly by your shoulders. By the way your hair is clipped back, and the half empty coffee cup in your hand, it’s obvious that you had just completed a study session. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask, and it makes Dongmin confused. 

“I was taking a walk, seonbae.” 

You laugh sheepishly. “Ahh, I see!”

Dongmin glances at the library behind you. “Did you just finish studying, seonbae?” 

“Mhm,” you nod, and the rest of your words go unheard by Dongmin—too blinded by the beauty adorned by the soft smile on your lips. 

He doesn’t get it—you’re barely doing anything, just talking about your study session, the corner of your eyes crinkling a little bit due to your smile pushing up your cheeks. But he’s mesmerised by your beauty more than anything else. Flowers of feelings bloom in his chest, and he finds himself smiling. 

He doesn’t know what it is about you. Maybe it’s the way your smile doesn’t feel rehearsed and perfected, or the way you look at someone like you’re genuinely listening to each and every word they utter. 

It’s weird—it’s rare for him to find someone that made him comfortable that easily, whether in a full-fledged conversation of teasing and laughter, or in silence. With you, none of these moments feel like he failed. Instead, it makes him feel full. 

You’re talking, ranting about a psychology course that Dongmin has no idea about. But he watches you. He looks at you chuckling between your words, soft but unfiltered. You’re not loud, not too quiet either—you’re not the type of person that fills up every second with noise, but when you talk, people listen. 

Dongmin listens. 

Most of the time. 

His chest tightens with some kind of feeling. He’s standing close to you—not exactly in front or beside you. Your presence makes him feel strangely at ease, like never before. 

Your shadows collide into each other, and it reminds him of the line he’s been afraid to cross. 

“Dongmin?” you say, waving a hand in front of his face. “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the clinic?”

Dongmin widens his eyes. “No! No, not at all, I’m not sick.”

“You weren’t listening, so I figured something was wrong,” you shrug. 

“Wait– I’m sorry, seonbae! I got distracted—what were you saying…?” Dongmin rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. 

You shake your head slightly. “It doesn’t matter, just me ranting about the midterm I have tomorrow for Abnormal Psychology. Why were you distracted, anyway?”

Your question hits Dongmin like a splash of cold water to the face, and immediately, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Pretty.”

“What?”

“You’re… pretty, seonbae.”

Your smile grows against your efforts of biting it back. “Really? Me?” 

Dongmin nods firmly. “Yeah, of course.”

You chuckle, consciously aware of the way your cheeks are getting warmer. “You’re exaggerating.”

Dongmin looks like you’ve cursed him and his entire lineage. 

“Exaggerating? Seonbae! Okay, let me list out the things that I find pretty about you. First–” 

“Okay, okay!” you shriek, covering his mouth with your hands. His eyes widen, and once he gets quiet, you slowly remove your hands away. “Fine.”

Dongmin smiles cheekily. “I won, seonbae.”

Your face flushes, and the both of you erupt into harmonious laughter. Dongmin’s eyes naturally find yours, and once your gazes lock together, he’s at a loss of words. 

Then, he feels it—a tug. That unfamiliar rush of adrenaline urging him to do something. It’s ridiculous and relentless, tugging at his chest. 

It’s familiar in a way, he’s felt it during the countless times he picked up his phone to text you, and the times he ran over to the other side of campus just to give you some snacks he bought. But this time, it’s stronger. Sharper, more urgent. Like he has to do something now. For once, the fear of losing this chance with you outweighs the fear of being with someone new. 

“Seonbae,” Dongmin begins, his voice quieter than he expected. 

You turn to him, the look in your eyes warm and hopeful. A little scared, but you’re waiting. 

“I-I’m not good at this. You know, the whole expressing myself thing?”

He pauses, but you don’t say anything. You smile softly, encouraging him to continue. 

“I’m not good at saying the things I mean. Letting myself feel a lot of emotions,” he presses his hand against his heart, his pulse racing, “...here.”

A beat of silence settles between the two of you, but it doesn’t feel awkward. Instead, it’s gentle and golden, like the world is holding its breath with you both. 

“But I’ll try my best with you, seonbae. I want to give you the best, even if I don’t know what I’m doing sometimes,” Dongmin concludes, his voice firm at the end. He looks at you directly in the eye now, determination blazing through his expression. 

Slowly, you nod. “Okay,” you exhale, “sure, I like that.” 

Your smile grows wider as you lock eye contact with the junior towering in front of you. Dongmin mirrors your smile, shy. 

It makes your heart somersault. 

“Hey, please don’t smile like that,” you joke, lightly smacking his arm. 

Dongmin tilts his head a little. “Why, seonbae?”

You open your mouth to say the answer, but your heart is loud in your ears. Your words get stuck in your throat. “I-”

Another wave of courage washes through Dongmin. He leans towards you, grinning. “Seonbae, let’s go get dinner?”

You laugh. “You’re so brave, aren’t you?”

Dongmin stands up straight again, clearing his throat. “So…?”

“Of course. Let’s go.”

THE walk towards the restaurant Dongmin suggested is mostly tranquil. He swallows—he’s never felt relieved but terrified at the same time. But here he is, walking beside you under the orange glow of the sunset sky, towards a place that he passed by a million times but never thought it’d hold a meaning close to his heart.

It’s not a fancy spot—just a hotpot place that also happens to sell side dishes like tteokbokki, one of your favourite foods. No one’s taking pictures there, no candlelit dinners or dimmed chandeliers. Just rice bowls packed to the brim, warm broth, and the kind of food that you always loved. 

It’s perfect. 

On the other hand, you’re quite nervous yourself. You couldn’t look at Dongmin, so you did what your mind first thought of—talking to him about the most random things you could think of. You keep it lighthearted and simple; the kind of talk that flowed easily and made you feel less timid. 

Dongmin’s responses are as random as the things you talk about too—an observation, nods and hums here and there, a question, and a dry comment that when you laughed, he looked guilty about it. 

It’s odd that it’s easy. Somehow, being with this guy—who all your friends say has been your secret admirer for almost three years—is not as complicated as you thought it’d be. 

When the two of you arrive there, Dongmin lets you take the lead. He merely observes and listens, letting you order whatever you want. 

“Oh, Dongmin, what would you like to eat?” you ask. 

Dongmin replies, almost too naturally. “Whatever you want, seonbae.”

The soft, just about shy smile that blooms instantly on your face makes his heart dance. He gives you a smile, trying to mirror your expression but awkwardly stopping halfway. 

He can’t stop thinking about it, and you don’t even know. 

You don’t know what he’s been quietly working on these past few weeks, cooped up in his room every chance he gets. How every note, every lyric, every single thing that he sees reminds him of you. Of every single moment he’s had with you, from the first day he saw you during his first day of freshman orientation. 

Dongmin knows, he’s always best spoken in silence. Through actions, not through words. Through cords and lyrics he’s never let anyone hear. 

Now, he wants you to hear.

“Seonbae,” he begins as soon as the waiter leaves. He catches your attention, causing you to look directly at him. 

“Yeah?” you respond, your words more like a whisper. 

You don’t know what to expect. 

Dongmin reaches into his pocket, pulling out his earphones. You watch as he untangles the wire and plugs it into his phone. He searches through it for a second, before meeting your eyes once again. 

He extends his hand, offering you the other end of his earphone. 

Reluctant, you take it from him. 

“What’s this?” you ask, putting the earphone in. 

Dongmin places his phone on a table, thudding stiffly. “I’m not good with words, but I’m good with songs… and dribbling.”

He grins, and you break out of the nervous bubble too, unable to hold back a smile. 

Silence. 

“This is kinda embarrassing, but… seonbae, this… is for you.”

Then, he presses play. 

“Don’t wither like a flower and be pretty forever, 

Be my first and last forever, 

So that I can always feel the heart flutter due to first love

So I can always tell you you’re beautiful

even after years have passed.”

You gulp, stealing a glance at Dongmin. He’s listening to the song too, eyes staring emptily down at the table, his fingers playing with the edge of his sleeves. 

But from the corner of his eyes, unbeknownst to you, he’s observing you. He sees your stillness—not frozen, but you’re listening. Thoroughly listening, just like you always do. 

“Your world doesn’t have a sense of reality, 

Like the main character of a youth movie. 

So I don’t even expect anything, 

You just shine wherever you go, yeah

Everyday in my memory.”

The lyrics don’t dance around the feeling—they are the feeling.

Your heart beats loud in your ears, along with the melody of the song Dongmin wrote especially for you. You look up again, only realising now how close your face is to him. 

You can’t pull away, despite how flushed you feel. 

“Don’t wither like a flower and be pretty forever, 

Be my first and last forever, 

So that I can always feel the heart flutter due to first love

So I can always tell you you’re beautiful

even after years have passed.”

Dongmin meets your eyes, and the world comes to a stop. 

It’s just you, him, and the song playing into your ears. 

You don’t even realise how close the wired earphones bring the two of you together. 

“So that I can say you’re beautiful, 

So that I can say you’re beautiful.”

The song comes to an end, and silence envelops you both. It’s filled with something heavy. Something more. Something real. 

“You… don’t have to say anything to this, seonbae,” Dongmin says, his voice quiet, “I just wanted to let you know, for once, what I truly feel about you.”

You smile—not the polite one you give to everyone else, not the polished, bubbly smile that you display to your friends and followers. You smile, and it comes from your heart. Genuine. Real. a sign that you’re finally taking the leap that you’ve been scared of. 

“You wrote that for me, Dongmin?” you ask, breathy. 

He nods slowly, uncertain of what to expect. “Yeah. I didn’t know… how else I’d say it.”

A pause comes in between his words, and you decide to slip in a tease to ease the mood. “Say what?” you jest, cheeky. 

A small smile creeps up on Dongmin’s face, but it quickly dies down. He’s serious now. “I like you, Y/N seonbae.” 

Hearing those words come from his own mouth, your grin immediately drops. 

This is real. 

“I know I’m younger, and probably the most awkward person you’ve ever met,” Dongmin continues his ramble, “but with you, I want to be the best. I want to be real with you, seonbae.”

Another pause. 

You’re sure now, all of your doubts disappearing into thin air. 

“Thank you, Dongmin,” you say, and your hand finds his across the table, gentle but certain. He freezes under the unexpected contact, but it takes him not long to melt under your touch. “And I’m glad you didn’t stay quiet, because I feel the same.”

Dongmin’s breath catches. 

For once, he doesn’t need to analyze, overthink, or plan his next move.

He just sits there, the warmth of your hand grounding him, knowing he said what mattered—and that you heard him. You’re with him, and you truly, deeply understood him.

He returns your gesture, giving your hand a firm squeeze. 

― © htaesan, 2025.

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ YEAH HEHEYYY GUYSS HOW DO WE FEEL ABOUT THIS CHAPTER >< i wrote this in one sitting so pls tell me if it is good or not ^^ i hope you guys enjoy this chapter and the smau so far!! also, here is the link to the song mentioned heheh. I LOVE IT SM!!!! and p.s. do NOT forget to stream no genre!!! i love this album(?) and my boys so much dont play

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀back to the the 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part seven//t.c.

Warnings:yearning, sexual tension, flirting undertones, kissing, cursing

The following week leading up to the Golden Globes, Timmy took every opportunity to get close to you.

You got a paper cut, resulting in the tiniest little cut on your hand, but he insisted on being your little nurse. “Come here let me see.” he said, taking your hand to the sink to run it under some cold water. He held your hand, pretending to examine the cut. You tried to hold in a giggle while this was happening. It was hard.

He even put a bandaid on your hand. “Timmy there’s not even any blood and the bandage will be in the way when I do things.” you laughed.

“I don’t care. I have to take care of you.” he asserted. Once he got the bandaid adhered to his liking, he pressed a kiss to the barely-there wound. “All better.” he grinned.

It seemed every other time he had to stand next to you, his hand nonchalantly found its way to rest on your lower back.

There was one time when he brushed your hair off of your shoulder, and let the pads of his fingers trickle along the side of your neck, slowly, giving you shivers.

“Timothée.” you warned in that moment, but you were weak in the attempt.

“I know.” he answered. There was melancholy in his voice. But he perked back up after a moment, saying, “Hey, I got you something to wear to the Globes.” He moved quickly to his coat closet nearby.

“Oh? That’s not necessary Timmy, I’m sure I have something.” you insisted, following him.

“Shhh.” he hushed you, grabbing a garment bag off the rod in the closet. He handed it over to you, that damn grin all over his face.

“Timmy, I-I’m just an assistant.” you reluctantly took the dress from him, “I don’t need anything special.”

“You are much more than just an assistant to me. Anyway, it’s nothing crazy, but I thought the color would nice on you. Try it on and show me.”

You winced, “Ugh, this is silly. I don’t need this kind of attention.”

“Go, bathroom, now.” he demanded.

You mumbled a protest on your way to the bathroom to change.

………

You were surprised that he knew your size. The dress fit really well. It was almost as if you picked it out yourself.

Timmy was right: the color did suit you, and the length wasn’t too short or anything.

“I told you to come back out so I can see it.” he called from the other room.

You sighed. This was not something you did;parade in front of a man. But it was Timmy, so maybe it would be okay. And anyway, he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer right now.

You exited the bathroom, feeling a little shy, being so dressed up in front him.

“Whoa.” he said, his eyes widened.

“Does it look bad? I think it’s kinda nice. I like the color and the flowers, and the sleeves.” you rambled a bit, thinking he hated the way you looked.

He cleared his throat, nodding, “Yeah, it looks perfect. You’re so beautiful.” He came over to you, looking at you up and down.

You blushed.

“Here,” he began, reaching behind your head, unclamping the claw clip that held all of your hair up, “you should wear your hair down. That will look best.”

You shook your head a bit, letting your hair loose on your shoulders. “Okay, whatever you say, boss.”

“Hm.” he grinned, “I really wanna kiss you right now.”

“Is it the dress? Maybe I should change back into my other clothes.” you joked.

Timmy shook his head, “No, no, it’s just you.” He put his hands on your hips, sliding them across your back.

Your bodies touched, your hands went to his chest.

“Can I kiss you?”

“You didn’t ask permission before.” you pointed out, referring to the night he came over to your place.

With that, his lips met yours in a brief, longing kiss. He pulled away after a moment, saying, “We should stop now, because I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself if I kiss you again.”

………

The morning of the Globes came and he texted you first thing: ‘can u spend the day with me?’

‘I can if you need me to.’ you replied.

‘please🥺’

You showered, got ready and brought your dress inside of its garment bag, and your hair and makeup stuff along to Timmy’s house.

You let yourself in with all of your things.

“Hey, you’re here.” you heard him say, and his footsteps drew near.

“Yeah. Are you by yourself? I figured Aidan and your friends would be here.”

“Nope, just me and you for a while.” he said, taking your makeup bag from you.

“Oh, why is that?” you asked, following him further inside.

He helped you set your things down on the table, turning to you, he said, “Stop it, you know why.”

“Your girlfriend could have kept you company.”

“You are more my girlfriend than she is.” he took your hand, looking down at it, slowly running his thumb over your fingers.

“Don’t get used to saying things like that out loud.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out, grabbing you, “I just want you.” he placed you against the wall.

You moaned softly as you felt his body on yours and his lips met your neck.

His hands swept up your thighs, up your hips to rest there. He slid his palms toward your lower back, then lower.

You gasped as you felt him give your ass a squeeze.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“Shit, the guys are early.” Timmy cursed.

January 19, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive @timhalchala

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter Three

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months sooner than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. Afterall, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plans brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down, but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tags: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut 

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

____________________________________________

Author note: Okay Hoteliers, this was my first attempt at some spice. I'm open to constructive criticism! I am a published author but spice is something I am new to and not confident in. Any suggestions are welcome :)

<3 Stay smutty.

Chapter Three - Care for a Drink?

Content warning: mentions of blood, mentions of abuse

You were late. 

“Not me! I have to go home and study!" Sir Pentious’ voice echoed through the foyer as you stepped in, nearly missing the first few drops of acid rain. 

You were at the Clocktower when the clouds rolled in and threatened to melt your skin off. Unclipping your Mary Jane’s, you took off down the street, doing your best to avoid the trash piling outside the Doomsday District. Out of breath and, with mere seconds to spare, you finally rolled up to the Hotel only to find that Charlie had started without you. 

Well, you did say one and it was now twenty minutes past. 

“Come on kid, it'll make you cool like me …the crackhead." Angel did not sound amused. 

You rounded the corner to find Angel and Sir Pentious reading from scripts and dressed in… Costumes? 

"The only cool thing here is to say no to drugs! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to not have sexual intercourse before marriage!" Sir Pentious chimed. 

You snorted into your hand at the sight of Sir Pentious in his sailor-like child costume, complete with large lollipop in hand. 

“Hey, Hair clip,” Angel frowned, clearly irritated with his current situation. 

You couldn’t blame him. If these were the exercises Charlie had in mind, you don’t know how long you would last either. 

Then he eyed your feet and your dress. “What the fuck happened to you?” 

“Huh! You made it!” Charlie jumped to her feet and slammed into you with a hug so powerful it knocked you backwards. 

“Ouch!” You rolled back on your heels, pushing your blisters into the hardwood flooring. 

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry! What’s wrong! I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt you. Did I hurt you?” Her eyes begin to fill with tears, her pupils growing big. 

Before you had a chance to deny vehemently, Vaggie cut in. “I think it’s her feet, babe.” 

She took a step back, giving everyone a view of your blistered toes. Your feet were normal - human shaped, that is - and although you had the same ashen complexion as Charlie, your limbs blackened at the ends, beginning at your elbows and knees. The dark fur hid the grime now encasing your toes, but not the blisters rubbed raw and bleeding red.

“Yeah, that doesn’t look so good, toots,” Angel frowned. 

It had to be the heels. Rosie was right, you did need new shoes. 

“It’s not that bad,” you waved them off, heading for the stools at the bar. 

“Your wincing,” Charlie motioned to you. “She’s wincing.” 

“Oh no! You are in pain,” Sir Pentious cried. 

“Guys, seriously. I don’t… Ah!” Angel scooped you up into his arms, carrying you to the stairs. 

You tried to protest but he interrupted you. “I got a first aid kit in my room. It’s not a big deal.” His voice was stern, his jaw set. You took this not as a rescue for yourself but a rescue for him. He needed an excuse to get away. 

“Wait! Wait!” Nifty sprinted around, taking a photo of the two of you before heading back for the couch. 

“What the fuck was that?” You asked Angel.

“Charlie put Nifty in charge of the Hotel’s Sinstagram,” the spider demon rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at it. It’s a clusterfuck of a whole lot of nothin’. Mostly bugs and shit she’s found around the joint.”

“Great,” you mumbled, letting the spider demon whisk you away. 

____________________________________________

“I seriously don’t know how you walk in shoes like that every day!” You motioned to his ridiculously high heeled boots. 

“Practice, toots. You don’t get as good as me by lyin’ on your back… Wait.” 

You laughed as you pulled your other sock on, careful not to ruin the bandages Angel oh-so delicately wrapped around your feet. For a Porn Star he sure knew his first aide. You knew it was because of Val, of course, but he didn’t know that you knew… 

Never in your years of working have you ever thought about the victim. At least not with sympathy. You enjoyed the chaos, you enjoyed the killing, you enjoyed the fear. Now, something in your chest was twisting itself at the thought of Val placing his hands on Angel. 

Angel was such a soft and adorable person, you couldn't fathom Val hurting…

Stop! 

You flinched, covering up the action with a cough. You got to your feet, testing their durability. “You, uh, wanna head back down?” 

His smile faded. “Nah, I’m gonna lay low for a bit.” Turning to the pig, he collected him in his arms, side glancing the pink phone laying on the bed. “I’m sure Charlie is just dyin’ to dress you up next.” 

You paused. “Okay.” That thing in your chest twisted again, rooting you in place before the door.

You sighed. 

Fuck. 

“I have to change before I head to the bar, but I have some lemon sweets in my room that I know Fat Nuggets would love if you wanna join me.” You ran your hand down the pig’s snout, earning a squeal from the little ball of squish. 

You could tell he was debating it by the look on his face, but wasn’t convinced. 

“And chocolate,” you sang.

That caught his attention. 

“Alright,” you helped him off the bed. “But only a piece, Fat Nuggets is watching his figure.” 

You laughed as you headed for the room next to his humble abode, pulling the door wide and gesturing to the couch for him to take a seat. 

“Wow, nice place ya’ got here,” he let the pig loose to sniff about the room. 

It was. Your room was almost double the size of Angel’s and included a small sitting area. Wonder why he got the short end of the stick? 

Then you wondered who else might have seen your room… perhaps without you knowing? You set a mental reminder to place some runes later - keep Alastor and his shadow out. Not that you had anything alarming in here. All the important stuff was kept in your personal Void. 

You grabbed the leftovers from the club you got stuck with and moved them to the coffee table. Grabbing a lemon square, you let Fat Nuggets crawl onto your lap as you sat cross-legged on the ground. The small creature squirmed in your lap till you finally handed him the sweet. 

Angel helped himself to your pile of chocolates - you hated chocolate, but didn’t want them to go to waste. Thankfully, he left his phone in his room. 

“You know,” you started, unsure of where you were going with this. “I’m new here, but sometimes new people observe things others might not notice - a third party perspective if you will.” 

“A-ha,” he eyes you suspiciously. 

“Sometimes they notice things others may be trying to hide…” You were hoping he would get the point and pick up where you were leading him.

“What are you tryin’ to say, Hair clip?” He ignores the chocolates completely, turning to you with irritation sprawled across his face. 

“Ugh,” you huff. “I’m sorry I’m not good at this stuff - feelings and trying to comfort others.” You clear your throat, resisting the urge to rub the back of your neck. “It seems like something is wrong and I was wondering if you wanted to talk about it?” You avoided eye contact, this was uncomfortable enough. 

“I’m fine,” he shot you down, tossing a chocolate into the air and catching it in his mouth. 

“I know what it’s like to come from a place of… neglect.” You continue anyway. “To be trapped in a situation you cannot control. To be a victim with no power, forced to do things you didn’t wanna do…” Your voice cracked. When had you started tearing up? “And when you try to speak up, to refuse to do something that would harm others…”

“Hey, hey,” Angel was on his knees before you, cupping your cheeks, soothing you with shushes. He smiled when you finally looked up at him. 

“You’re gonna ruin all your beautiful makeup, Hair clip.” 

You giggled into his hands, your heart warming just a bit. 

God, what was it about this Hotel that made you so emotional? 

“Look,” Angel huffed. “My boss has just been gettin’ on my nerves lately. He doesn’t like that I moved out. He’s pissed actually. Been blowing up my phone for days, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle.” He rubbed your cheek with his thumb. “I’m managing, I just need some time to work through some things ‘tis all. Alright, toots?” 

You knew it wasn’t alright. You’ve heard some pretty infamous stories of the moth demon - yet another reason you have steered clear of the Vees - but Angel was at a point that if you kept prodding, he’d most likely just flip you off and disappear for the rest of the day. Pushing him would be a step back and you needed to take a step forward. 

“Okay,” you pouted, wiping your face with your sleeves. God this dress needed to be thrown away.

“Now let’s get changed because I need a drink!” He pulls you to your feet before heading for your clothes. Pulling open your closet door he was shocked to find it empty. Your drawers were no better. 

“Seriously?” He waved to the black abyss. 

“I’ve been low on cash lately… but I just got paid and new clothes are on the way.” 

He held up a pair of black slacks. “Please tell me they’re from this century?” 

You ripped the pants from his hands. “I happen to like my clothes, okay.”

“Okay, grandma,” he shrugs. “One of these days, you gotta let me take you shopping. Your closet is an insult to closets.” 

“Ha, ha very funny.” You grab a blouse and head for the bathroom. 

“Do you even own a pair of sweatpants?” He asks through the door. 

“I have silk pajama bottoms?” 

He pauses. “Okay, actually impressed by that, but I think I’ve made my point.” 

“Whatever,” you emerge from the bathroom, shoving the gray blouse into your pants, giving you that hourglass figure. 

Actually, now that you had Angel’s attention maybe he could help with some of your wardrobe problems. Starting with your feet. 

“Do you know where I can get a new set of heels?”

————————————————————————

“Hey, whiskers! Pour me something strong, daddy needs a drink!” Angel took the stool next to you. 

Husk huffed, rolling his eyes, the bar cat grabbed a random bottle and just started pouring. “Feeling better?” He asked you.

You nodded, twirling in circles on the barstool. You dangled your toes as you spun, smiling at the fact that your feet didn’t touch the ground. 

That was probably the one thing you got from Dad you didn’t mind - your height. You and your brothers were short as fuck, but mightier than you looked: fierce beings in tiny packages. Yet, despite the roughhousing between siblings, you were always obedient - Dad wouldn’t have it any other way. 

As for Mom? Well, you didn’t have one. You and your siblings never did. You didn’t know the story but then again you never asked. It didn’t seem like something you asked your father. He wasn’t the type to… share certain things with you. He wasn’t closed off, he just didn’t treat you like kids. Dad treated you like soldiers. He commanded and you obeyed. 

And at one point in time you were okay with it. Dad said jump, you said how high? Now… After everything that happened on Earth, you promised yourself you’d never let anyone tell you what to do again. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon behind that bar of yours would you? It’s my favorite.” You beamed. 

“Wine?” Angel scoffs. “Come on toots, I thought you were a lot harder than that.” The spider demon downed half his drink before Husk had even finished pouring it. 

“Watch it!” Husk snaps. 

“I’m not a hard liquor kinda gal,” you shrugged, watching Husk wipe up the spilled alcohol. “I like to sip and enjoy.”

“Fuck that,” Angel scoffed, examining the new stain on his shirt. “Damn, this is my favorite top.” He grumbled, getting to his feet. “I’ll be back. I gotta spray it before it sets.” The spider demon made his way back upstairs. 

Husk waited till Angel was gone before he made your drink next. A glass of red wine in a metal red wine glass - how on the nose. Maybe your lipstick smear won't look as gross.

“I thought I’d give you a heads up, the Princess and her girlfriend went out shopping this morning and got ya’ a little something. Syrups and flavoring for the coffee machine. She’s gonna surprise you at breakfast. Just thought I’d let ya know. You don’t seem the kind who enjoys surprises,” he finishes pouring your glass. 

You sniffed before you tasted, letting the smell of currants and oak swim in your nostrils. It was smokier than you expected, but the tannins made your taste buds sing. 

God, you missed the wine from before Hell, before your entire world flipped on end… 

“Thanks, Husk.” 

He leans back against the counter behind the bar, a look of hesitancy on his face that said he wasn’t done talking yet. You sensed giving you a heads up about breakfast tomorrow wasn’t the reason why he asked to speak with you. 

“What?” You asked, after his silent gaze became uncomfortable. 

“Look. No one gives a shit what you did before you got down here. You’re down here, same as the rest of us, but you gotta watch what you say in… mixed company.” 

“What does that mean?” You scrunched your nose in confusion. 

“This mornin’, at breakfast.” 

He was referring to your small nugget of honesty at the table - your slip of suggested murderer status topside. He was referring to Alastor. 

Rosie told you the stories - things only she knew about the Radio Demon. He was a serial killer turned cannibal during his days amongst the living - wasn’t caught either. He died in some sort of hunting accident - explains the deer form. After his death, he rose to power faster than anyone had ever seen, took down some big important Overlords too, projecting their screams over his radio broadcasts. 

God, what a sight that would have been.

He showed up out the blue a few weeks ago after disappearing for seven years. Uprooted Husk and Nifty and planted them at the Hotel - he owned their souls, they had to obey. 

He had business with the Princess, but no one knew what - mere rumors, but nothing good. Whatever it was, you needed to find out. 

If his plans got in the way of yours, you were going to need to do something. You didn’t know what it was you were going to do, but eliminating him wasn’t going to be simple. 

“So?” You took a longer sip, needing the alcohol for yet another emotional conversation. 

“You’re not stupid kid.” He crosses his arms over his chest, ignoring the glass of whiskey before him. That’s how you knew he was serious. 

“Look,” you took the stem of the metal cup between your first two fingers and twirled it about. The glass danced on the edge of its base, twirling like a ballerina on a stage. Husk watched the movement, eyeing the liquid as it spun. “This place is about redemption, correct? So, shouldn’t I be a little honest about my sins, that way I can atone for what I’ve done?” 

His eyes were glued to the glass as he responded, “There’s a difference between honesty and painting a target on your back.” 

“You mean painting a target on my back in front of him,” you corrected. 

He finally met your eyeline, “He’s dangerous, kid…”

You hold up a hand, interrupting him, “You can save your lecture, Husk. I already got it from Rosie this morning.”

His eyes grow a few sizes. “Rosie? The Overlord?” 

“No, Rosie the tailor. It seems the Radio Demon and I have similar tastes in fashion.” Another sip - no, a gulp. The glass was practically empty already. You continued your twirl. 

So much for slowly enjoying it…

Husk drained his glass, “I’m not gonna bullshit you, kid.” He pours himself another. “He asked me to keep an eye on you.”

You freeze, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. “What?” You bite. 

“I suspect it’s not because he’s concerned for your well-being, either.” The cat demon adds. 

So, Alastor the Overlord had his suspicions - going not only to Rosie but Husk as well. It appears poking and prodding during his battle with Sir Pentious was enough to raise his alarms. You were going to have to be very careful from here on out. Alastor was a ticking time bomb without a timer and you were going to have to do something to prevent him from exploding. 

Perhaps you should do something to throw him off. Make yourself appear weaker than he expects. Get into a fight which you lose on purpose to a demon far weaker than yourself. Would that be enough or would he know Husk had warned you? Would he expect you to do something to completely negate his suspicions only to make him look at you even more closely? 

Fuck - you didn’t know what to do. 

“So, he didn’t say why,” you finished the glass, gritting your teeth in frustration. 

Husk laughs. “He doesn’t explain anything to me and he ain’t about to start.” 

Great, so Rosie was going to be your only insight into the red demon. 

Unless… 

Unless, you befriended him yourself. Now that would really throw him for a loop.

“Hey, where did you learn to do that with the glass…?” Husk begins to ask but is interrupted. 

“Get your aggressively average body OFF OF ME!” Sir Pentious’ scream echoes throughout the foyer. 

You and Husk fly to the library to find Angel wrestling the snake demon to the ground. Charlie and Vaggie followed soon after. 

“What’s going on?” Charlie asks, concern flitting between the two demons. 

“This little bitch is a traitor!” Angel moves aside a pile of books to reveal a video camera.

Vox.

Sir Pentious flies into a panic, summoning the media demon on his watch, demanding evacuation.

Pathetic honestly. You’re not sure you would have responded any better to the snake demon than Vox had. Not that you wanted to agree on anything with the leader of the Vees, you detested the sore excuse for an Overlord and wanted nothing to do with him.

Yes, you fixed his bowtie earlier today, but he looked so… pathetic standing in that alleyway. It actually kind of irritated you now that you think of it. A demon of that caliber throwing tantrums in a random back alley? Come on man, get yourself together.  

Vaggie pulls out her spear, prepared to skewer the snake, before Charlie interrupts. “It starts with sorry…”

Ah, fucking kill me. Little Ms. Bleeding Heart everyone. 

As you watched the events unfold, you felt static zip down your spine. Almost as if you were being watched. 

You spun and searched the shadows but there was no one there. Wait, no one you could see. Rosie told you of Alastor’s shadow, how it could hide him in darkness, how it could detach from his form and do his bidding elsewhere. You were going to have to take that into account when sneaking out at night - double check every shadow and second guess every dark corner. 

“Good first day! Let’s get some rest.” Charlie guided him back to his room. 

You waited until the hallways were empty before taking a step towards the abandoned watch. 

“Would you like to do the honors or shall I?” You ask the darkness. 

There’s a pop of static before the Overlord melts from the floor, scooping up the electronic device. He crushes it beneath his fingers in a burst of electricity. You watch as Vox’s image blurs before dying. 

Alastor drops the plastic and metal to the floor before addressing you. “You knew I was there,” he purrs, his radio a silent static, his back to you. 

“Saw the shadows move,” you answer coolly. Technically a lie, but you weren’t about to tell him that you could feel his presence before he entered a room, that you could feel his shadow follow you. 

Alastor spun, his eyes narrowing on your form, kicking the butterflies in your stomach into a flurry. God, his eyes. They glowed red, like crystals in a fire. A fire that ignited something foreign within you.

The double doors behind you slammed shut causing you to jump.

And then they locked. 

You were alone, alone, and trapped with the Radio Demon and one of Hell’s finest Overlords. 

He takes a step towards you, his microphone slipping into the Void as his eyes, half-lidded, slowly slide over your form. The gesture, so simple, had you frozen in place where you stood. His pupils constricted, his smile curling, you watched as Alastor transformed into the predator he was born to be. Like a prey before its kill, he honed in on you, identifying you as prey.

You pull your hands behind your back, threading your fingers so he doesn’t see them shake so he can’t see just how much power his gaze alone had over you.

He takes another step, still ten feet away yet so, so close. 

You take an imperceptibly small step back.

Why are you so nervous right now? It’s just the Radio Demon. This man is not a threat. He’s just a Human Sinner. 

He takes another. 

Shit. 

His smile deepens, sensing the hesitation, the worry, the anxiety building in your chest. 

Was it getting harder to breathe in here? 

You force your lips into a thin line, force your body to stand ramrod straight. You will not back down. Overlord or not, you will not let him win this game of intimidation. You were a fucking god down here in Hell. The Radio Demon didn’t know it, couldn’t know it, your entire plan rode on him never knowing it, so why was every instinct in your body screaming at you to not back down? To not play the powerless victim you were supposed to be?

Alastor thought you a mouse and he a cat, but he was oh-so wrong. You were a fucking lion. You were an…

In one breath the Radio Demon closes the distance, stopping a foot away from you, your toes barely brushing his shoes. The demon was close enough that you could smell the rye on his breath; the liquor washed over you and made your toes curl. Of course, he drank something so sophisticated. Not vodka; not rum; but a dark liquor that burned on the way down. Like the fire in your veins.

He wasn’t drunk, perhaps just a nightcap? He didn’t seem like the type who ever got drunk. Getting drunk would leave one vulnerable and would leave one weak. Alastor would never allow that. He cared too much for his appearance. 

You go very very still as he reaches a hand out to you, his eyes suddenly captivated with your cheek. The tip of his claw tickles your skin, drawing a gasp from your lips, sucking the breath from your lungs and kicking your heart into a beat so loud you couldn’t hear anything else but its pounding in your ears. 

Crimson fire ignites behind Alastor’s eyes, his smile curling at the tips as his hand dances to a stray strand of hair. Shivers explode down your spine as he tucks it behind your ear, pausing to appreciate your neck. His eyes hone in on your jugular, almost as if he could see the blood rushing through your veins, almost as if he could taste it.  

The demon licks his lips drawing your eyes to his perfectly shaped mouth, to the sharp teeth behind it. What would it feel like to have those razor-sharp canines sink into your flesh? To allow Alastor a taste of the blood pumping through your veins?

A moment of clarity suddenly hit you at the sudden realization of just how much control you had lost. To allow Alastor to taste you? What were you doing? 

Swat his hand away. Bite his head off. Stab him in the gut. Eviscerate him where he stands. Kill...

The demon pulls you away from your thoughts as his finger moves south to your collarbone, eliciting a blush across your cheeks and igniting a warmth in your belly that traveled down, pooling between your legs. 

There it was again, that scent wafting through the room. The same scent you smelled off of Vox in the alley. You had never smelled something so sweet from a demon before - like warm vanilla heating on a stove. Yet now, it was coming from you.  

Something at the periphery of your power shifts. Like a second presence has joined yours, you try to think but your mind grows numb as Alastor’s dances across your collarbone. Delicately, so as not to draw blood, he follows it to the dip at the base of your neck. You swallow dryly and watch as Alastor’s eyes follow your throat’s bob. 

The demon pauses, a question swimming behind his eyes before he slowly - oh-so painfully slowly - wraps his hand around your throat. 

God-be-damned, you have never had another creature’s hand at your throat, and God-be-damned if you didn’t enjoy it. 

The demon squeezed, not enough to cut off your air supply, but just enough to send your mind spinning. A small moan escapes your lips. Alastor’s eyes shot to yours, a look of surprise filled them before they darkened. His smile shifted into that of a lopsided grin, a smirk of satisfaction. 

And then you feel it. 

You shove Alastor away from you, your mind sobering at the realization of what the Radio Demon was trying to do. 

You both pause for a moment, trying to catch your breath, before the demon takes a bow. “Goodnight, Ms. Thestral.” The shadows swallow him whole. 

You wait until you can't feel his presence anymore before you bang your head against the wall and scream. “Fuck!” 

It was all a big FUCKING distraction! He was prodding you to read your soul - to read your power. Just like you had tried to do that day he battled Sir Pentious. And you had caught him. He didn’t get far, but your reaction confirmed everything for him. 

He knew you had power. 

He knew you were a threat. 

And he knew you wouldn’t back down easily. 

You were fucked.

Link to Chapter Four

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

[storiesabouteli]

Eli's Gurls // Elijah Hewson X SingleMom!Reader

prompt: Vee (your girl) calling Eli Dad for the first time! Since Lily and Lea said it'd be a great idea 🫶

words: 2,4k

 Eli had spent the morning with Violet. She was always so happy to have him around, and you loved seeing that. Your day, however, had been far less pleasant. El noticed it right away—your slouched shoulders and the hint of a frown gave you away. Without a word, he walked over and kissed your forehead, pulling you into a slightly awkward hug. The familiar warmth of his embrace, his scent, and the soothing strokes of his hand on your back made your chest feel lighter. Somehow, it always felt like everything would be okay when he was there.

 "We made pasta. Are you hungry? Have you eaten, love?" His voice was soft, his accent velvety and as affectionate as always. You let go of him and looked at him briefly, picturing the scene in the small kitchen. Violet must have been asking if she could help while Eli let her spread sauce everywhere, keeping his calm demeanor and gently guiding her in the same sweet tone he now used with you.

 "Did you two already eat?" you asked. He nodded, confirming they had. You planned to sit with them, even though you weren’t really hungry.

 Vee must have heard your voice from her room because soon you heard her little feet padding toward you. She came running into your arms, hugging you tightly. "How was it, Mommy?" she asked, her cheek resting on your shoulder. Her words were slow, her voice sleepy. She smelled freshly bathed and wore her pajamas, and her messy ponytail told you it had been Eli's attempt to fix her hair—it was adorable.

 "It was good, pumpkin," you said with a smile. It hadn’t been good at all, but she didn’t need to know that.

 Eli placed a comforting hand on your back and rubbed it gently. "I bet you did amazing. You’re the best," he said, kissing her head as she wrapped her small arms around you even tighter.

 "Do you want me to read to you before bed?" you asked. It was part of her nightly routine, and skipping it often led to restless nights or bad dreams. Violet had grown accustomed to it, and you always made sure to be decent for this part of her day.

 But tonight, Eli stepped in before she could answer. "Would you mind if I did it tonight instead of Mommy, Vee?" He was low, gentle, but unwavering.

 You glanced at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. You would’ve done it for her without a second thought, but he could see you weren’t in the right headspace. Violet nodded sleepily, and you gave him a small, relieved smile. Eli always knew exactly when to step in and help, and tonight, you couldn’t have been more grateful.

 She stretched her arms toward him, her tired body nestling into his as Eli kissed the top of her head. She let out a muffled laugh and blew you a kiss. You smiled back at her.

"Can we listen to music while we do it, Dad?" Her eyebrow arched slightly, mirroring the way Eli’s eyes lit up and his smile stretched wide. You thought about correcting her, but her words were so soft, her eyes struggling to stay open, and the way she called him that—so deliberate—made you hesitate. She knew he wasn’t her dad in that sense, but there was no denying that Eli had stepped into the role with ease.

 "We can, can’t we?" Eli’s voice was a bit unsteady, his arms tightening around her as his cheeks flushed. The question was directed at you, and you noticed the faint nervousness in his expression as you watched them both. There was a subtle unease within you. Eli was young, just like you, but with different responsibilities and choices. It wasn’t exactly expected for him to be here on a Friday night.

 "Of course," you replied, your tone clipped but not unkind.

 He nodded, brushing her small hand as it clung to his fingers. Then he whispered, "I’ll be back in a bit. Try to eat something, okay?" He was calm, but the way he looked at you—pleading yet warm—made it seem like he understood what was on your mind.

 "Please," he added softly, and you weren’t entirely sure what he was asking for.

…

 It didn’t take you long to shower and slip into one of Eli’s old Bob Marley shirts, the soft fabric bringing a small measure of comfort. Your head was pounding a little. The apartment wasn’t big, and the walls were far from soundproof. It was cozy, though, and you could hear Violet and Eli whispering while Bob Dylan played softly in the background. She liked the music, already familiar with the style since it was similar to what you often listened to, but it made you smile to think of all the new things Eli might introduce her to.

 You stared at the ceiling for a while, letting your thoughts drift, until the whispers faded into silence. A few moments later, Eli appeared at the doorway, smiling cautiously as if he didn’t want to disturb you. You bit your lip, avoiding the obvious topic, though there was no escaping it.

 "Want me to put you to bed too?" he teased, sliding onto the bed beside you. His fingers threaded gently through your hair, coaxing your eyes closed. His touch was soothing, and as the quiet settled between you, his fingers brushed your cheek, tracing the curve of your smile.

 "Does it bother you that she calls me that?" he asked softly, his voice calm but curious. "Is it a problem, lil’ one?"

 He pushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, and when you opened your eyes, you saw his. They were warm and steady, framed by his tousled hair and flushed lips. He looked genuinely happy.

 "Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?" you replied, biting your lip. He smiled, showing his teeth, a gesture more candid than his usual expressions.

 "I don’t mind," he said, his tone light. "I think it’s sweet. Can you believe she trusts me like that?"

 You nodded, the thought bringing you a quiet kind of joy. It was good to see them getting along so well.

 But then reality crept back in. “They picked someone else, Eli. I’m stuck in this awful job.” You pressed your forearm against your forehead, trying to mask the frustration that threatened to spill over. Eli had stayed with Violet so you could attend the interview, but your current job was a drain, both mentally and physically, and it had been keeping you from spending time with her. If it weren’t for him being here, especially during her break, the balancing act would have been impossible.

 "You’ll get it next time," he said confidently, his hand sliding to your waist as he pulled you closer. "It’s okay. I’ll help you look for new jobs." His lips brushed against your cheek, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he was always this optimistic or if it came easier for him because his life was so different from yours. The thought stung, and guilt followed quickly, making your throat tighten. You wanted to hide your face, but he kissed it again, soft and deliberate.

 "It’s okay," he murmured. You let him wrap you in a full embrace, his warmth settling over you like a protective blanket. But as your mind grew heavier, the comfort of seeing Eli happy—of hearing Violet call him "Dad"—was overshadowed by the weight of everything else.

 "Does your mom know about me, El?" The question slipped out before you could stop it. There was no discomfort in his response, no hesitation. He looked at you, his expression steady, his eyes still bright.

 "She does," he said simply.

 "And about Vee?"

 He laughed, not unkindly. He might not fully understand the layers of your protectiveness, but he was empathetic. He couldn’t grasp the depth of everything you’d been through, but he admired your strength.

 "She knows. She knows I’m dating a woman who has a daughter, and she’d love to meet you both."

 Your cheeks burned at the thought. You wondered how he’d described you to her. You’d heard plenty about Ali, thought she sounded amazing, and wanted to meet her too. But this felt different.

 "And what does she think?" you asked, turning to face him. As a mother, you understood that you might not be the best for him, even if the decision wasn't yours to make. On some level, you couldn’t help but feel there was a weight to being with you. Your relationship revolved around Violet’s needs and schedule, and she only had you. 

 Your hands rested against his back as he pressed deeper into your chest, his breath catching in a deep sniffle. “I don’t think she believes you’d be a bad experience for me. Besides, I’m an adult.” His grip on your waist stayed firm, grounding. That truth settled uneasily in your mind, drawing a bitter feeling down your throat. It made you realize the problem was more about your own insecurities than any tangible reality—but that didn’t make it easier.

 “Look, I get why you’re worried. I respect it, and I respect you. A lot. But I don’t see what makes you feel like this, you see?” His cheek remained against your chest, his breathing calm. You traced your fingers through his hair, silently reminding yourself that he wasn’t a threat. Avoiding his gaze made it easier.

 “I don’t want you to regret this—me or Vee. I don’t want you to feel like this time spent with us is something you’ll never get back...” Your voice faltered.

 “Like he did, right?” His arms tightened around you, his embrace warm and steady.

 You whispered your agreement. Eli knew about Vee’s father, how he had chosen not to be involved, and how your relationship before the positive test wasn't bad. Life doesn’t always flow fairly.

 “I won’t hurt her,” he said, lifting his face to meet yours. His eyes locked with yours as he took your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to it. There was care in the gesture, though you could tell he meant it to distract from the weight of his words.

 “El,” you started, needing a moment to steady yourself. When you finally looked at him, you saw the rawness in his gaze. Eli wore his emotions plainly, the edges of his eyes glistening as though his feelings might spill over. He didn’t need to say anything; the unspoken words were there, and you knew how deeply it hurt him to see you like this.

 “I just think I’m not used to this.” You gestured between the two of you, your finger tracing an invisible line. And it was true—you weren’t used to being chosen, let alone prioritized.

 “That’s okay,” he said, ever hopeful. “I’ve never taken care of a kid before either, but you can keep teaching me. We can figure it out together.”

…

 Violet was perched on the marble countertop, nibbling on her scrambled eggs. Interpol played softly in the background, and you found yourself humming along to parts of the song as you rinsed last night's pasta dish—Eli had insisted you eat something before going to bed.

 "He made me eat too. I wasn’t very hungry yesterday," she whispered like she was sharing a secret.

 "That’s just how Eli is," you said, laughing softly. She giggled with you. "I think it’s sweet. I’m glad you ate."

 She nodded thoughtfully, letting the idea settle.      "Do we make the people we love eat?"

 Her words came out a little jumbled, in that endearing way kids sometimes speak, reminding you how small her world still was—and how much of yourself you saw in her. Her conclusion made your heart melt.

 "Maybe we do," you said. "When we love someone, we want them to be okay, healthier, uh, so we do things like that."

 She nodded again, absorbing the answer. "Can we make eggs for him too?"

 Her eyebrows lifted, and you smiled, lifting the lid off the pan so she could see you’d already made extra eggs. You’d eaten some too.

 "Oh!" she exclaimed, her tiny hand flying to her mouth in surprise. "You love him?"

 You laughed, your cheeks warming as you nodded.

 "And you love him too, Vee," you reminded her.

 She agreed easily, her little pause before speaking full of that earnest determination children have when they want to be part of something. "He talks about you," she added, like it was another secret.

 "Does he?" You raised an eyebrow, curious.

 She nodded vigorously. "Last night, he said that you are one of the strongest women he knows and a great mom."

 The rehearsed way she repeated it made you sure Eli had used those exact words. The thought warmed your chest, a little glow settling there.

 "Am I?" you asked her.

 Her grin widened as she stretched her arms out toward you, waiting for a hug. You pulled her close, smiling into her hair.

 She quickly switched gears, singing along to the music in the background. Even the lyrics with swear words slipped out, but you'd agreed she could say them in songs. Your mind stayed on her earlier words, though.

 "Dad, Mom made scrambled eggs for you too," she called brightly when she spotted Eli, his hair messy, face flushed, and freckles more pronounced.

 In her own way, you thought, she was shouting to the world how much you loved him. And he seemed to hear it, his eyes lighting up as his smile spread across his face. Vee had used the word "Dad" again.

 He scooped her up into a hug, holding her tightly while she beamed, his kiss landing on her head.

 "There’s black coffee too, Dad," you teased, leaning in as he pulled you into his arms, your mouth near his ear.

 He squeezed you tighter, his gaze locking onto yours for a quick kiss.

 “It’ll be okay,” he whispered.

 And you knew it would.

 Vee and Eli fell into an easy conversation, her excitement matching his as they got caught up in the music. He kept glancing at you, his fingers brushing your arm or pulling you closer whenever he could. Vee watched it all, the happiness radiating from her.

 She was content—content with you both by her side. And you let yourself think that you really were a family. Because you were.

[purehypnotic]

🪩 💿 look at what the light did now 💿 🪩

din djarin x reader

the origin of mando saying “wizard”, aka, what happens when din gives you the aux cord.

sfw, gender neutral

☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚

He’s not a taxi service.

He insists on this, with one hand on his hip and the other pointing straight between your eyes, while dragging you from your hiding spot. His grip on your forearm isn’t harsh enough to hurt, but you know you can’t wiggle your way out.

“How did you get in?” the Mandalorian drills and you release a full body sigh. You’d found yourself in a little situation back at the space port. A little predicament, you might say. A little tussle that needed a quick getaway, so you darted through the Coruscant spaceport and threw yourself into the belly of the first ship you saw. You planned to lay low and sneak out on the next stop, but apparently not much can get past this Mandalorian.

“I uh came in through there,” you lamely pointed at the hatch. His helmet followed your finger to the door and swiveled back, unimpressed. You’d successfully avoided his attention for two days before he’d glanced at the cargo container you tucked yourself behind. Now here you were, awkwardly trapped between the container and the tin man, ready to convince him to let you couch surf.

“It’s honestly a miracle that I hid for this long, thought I would’ve sneezed or something to give me away,” you attempted at a conversation.

Silence.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

Silence.

“Okay, alright, that’s fine. I really am sorry about sneaking in. I’ll stay out of the way or organize to make up for it,” you offered. His silence was starting to creep you out, but he squeezed your arm tighter and dragged you to the latter in the center of the hold.

“I’m not a taxi. You’re getting off in Nevarro. Stay in the cockpit where I can see you,” his clipped tone left no room to argue.

That was fine with you. Just dandy, actually, a real chair sounds pretty nice right now. The steel walls of the hold were hell on your back. As the Mandalorian stalks through the sliding doors and settles in the pilot’s chair, you stop in your tracks. You’d seen space only a couple times in your life, but hyperspace? The watercolor of starlight streaked past the windshield like neon rain, taking the breath right from your ribs. The dull thrum of lightspeed resonated through the cockpit, buzzing through your bones like an amplified bass. Glancing at the Mandalorian, you gasped. Soft blues and lilacs streaked across his reflective armor, haloing him, strangely beautiful, like an iridescent statue.

“Sit and buckle in; the Crest likes to stall,” he gestured to the seat at his right, not caring for your slack jaw. Was he not aware of the universe revealing all it had to offer in front of your faces? You took the copilot’s chair, but leaned your elbows on your knees to shift closer to the glass.

“Wizard,” you mumbled, stunned by the beauty of hyperspace.

“Wizard?” The Mandalorian deadpanned. What a killjoy.

“Space. It’s wizard,” you rolled your eyes. His wet blanket aura got in the way of your whimsy.

The Mandalorian puffed out an exhale that was a little stronger than the rest. Was that how he laughed? Is he serious? Is this what you were working with?

Giving up on entertainment from the buckethead, you reached into your pack for your earplugs and music player. A little archaic, but that was part of the charm. Fixing the little cushion into your left ear, you clicked at your vintage player and leaned back into the co-pilot’s chair as the intro to your favorite song started up. Sure, you were half-captive to a metal man with no name, but as you melted into the music with the gorgeous view of hyperspace, your situation didn’t seem so bad. It was almost peaceful.

“What is that?” The Mandalorian pressed.

Nevermind.

“Music, good music. You want some?” you offered the other earbud to the bounty hunter. He tilted his helmet in a way you were starting to suspect was how he showed emotion. He lifted one finger to point at the edge of his helm as if to say the earbud won’t fit. Awkward silence fell upon the two of you as you figured out a way to share your music with him.

“It’s alright. I’m sure you hear plenty of it while flying this thing,” you gestured to the control panel, happy that he’s at least communicating with you.

“I don’t,” Mando flatly confessed and you raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Music isn’t big in my culture. Unless it’s a war chant or a song for the kids, we don’t sing,” he continued. Briefly, you felt some sort of understanding for him. Robotic and sterile as he seemed, there was a person with a culture and an upbringing beneath the beskar.

“Plug it into here,” the Mandalorian pointed to an audio jack with an auxiliary cord cleanly coiled underneath, as if never used.

“I’d like to hear some,” he said softly. You caught something secret in his tone, as if he was asking for something he shouldn’t be having. Was his culture so strict that he never learned to enjoy music? You had a hard time imagining the Mandalorian dancing or humming under his breath. Your time as an accidental stowaway would’ve been less tense if you caught him tapping his fingers to a tune he can’t get out of his head. Only, he’s never been granted the mundane freedom of music. Fidgeting with the aux cord, a little nervous to show him your tastes, you were giddy to share this with him. Here is a warrior, who was absolutely ready to manhandle you off his ship minutes ago, gently asking you to share your favorite songs with him. His curiosity was endearing, no matter how nonchalant he tried to seem.

As the melody of the first track twanged through the cockpit, the Mandalorian leaned forward in his seat, as if chasing the song for more. His helmet tilted to face the glow of hyperspace, and you guessed he was feeling the wonder you experienced in seeing the stars up close. You slouched in your seat once more, half doubtful of how the hell you upgraded from stowaway to personal DJ, but also entranced by the mystery of the bounty hunter before you. How was he so intimidating when he found you, but so careful, almost bashful, when asking to share your music? Why were you so willing to give him more?

Snapping out of your stupor as the song crescendoed, you realized the Mandalorian’s visor was already pinned on you. A shiver ran through you under his intense gaze, and your wide eyes blinked at your reflection in his shimmering Beskar.

“This is a beautiful song. It suits you,” he murmured lowly. You felt a triumphant smile spread across your face, oddly proud that you were putting him onto good music.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, shiny. Track six is gonna blow your mind,” you leaned an elbow on the console as he puffed out another breathy laugh.

-

True to his word, the Mandalorian dropped you off at the first spaceport he docked in. Without complaining or looking back (except maybe a couple glances), you hightailed it from the bounty hunter’s ship. While you ended up with a soft spot for the tin can, you didn’t want to push his patience and overstay your welcome. Admittedly, you wished you had spoken with him more, asked about his culture, or asked him for stories about the galaxy. Hell, you hadn’t even gotten a name.

As you perched under the veranda of a small restaurant, you fished through your pack to ensure all your belongings stayed inside. Digging between a thin blanket and an extra pair of socks, your fingers brushed by a cool, metallic object you didn’t recognize. Pulling out the pocket-sized cylinder, you turned it over in your hands as you unraveled a note coiled around it. The silver trinket was a commlink, you figured, and the note read:

“Let me know when I can hear that song again. It was wizard.” - Din Djarin.

☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚⊹☆ ☄︎₊˚

theyre listening to champagne coast btw

with love, katie 💌

[faireyhouses]

— princess and the frog (reg!mel + reg!mari)

Summary: While hunting frogs, Mel stumbles upon a surprising sight: Mari alone, crying (like a baby, which she is not.)

Contents: frogs if that bothers anyone 𓈒 shauna being mean 𓈒 past teasing 𓈒 crying 𓈒 it's not serious & just a silly fic, kids being kids, etc!!

WC: 1600+

A/N: Okay, full disclosure, I have only fully seen s1 of YJ and have only seen clips of these two, but they both fascinate me and through reading others works I have decided I love them and want them to have a weird little friendship so here you go!! Please enjoy :3 — also apart of my au ig

Mel crouches in the grass, intently staring at the small frog just a few feet away in the dirt.

She'd been following him for a bit, shuffling after his small hops from the patio all the way to the bushes at the edge of the yard.

And although she knows the rules about not going into the woods alone (and personally the idea of going in them alone seemed very bad to her), the frog hadn't yet made it far enough for her to pause her hunt.

And so she inches forward, trying her very best to be quiet as she nears the amphibian resting between the leaves.

Once she's close enough she lunges, her hands gently wrapping around its body as she beams, lifting him from the ground.

She isn't sure what kind of frog he is, but that doesn't matter as she stumbles up, ready to present him to Nat and Van.

They were gonna think she was so cool for catching him on her own, however, she pauses her trek towards the house when she hears a soft noise, lightly tilting her head towards the sound.

At first she gets hopeful it's another frog, but as she turns and takes a few steps towards the bushes she realizes it's in fact not a frog, but a person.

And not just a person. It's Mari.

She's hunched over, precariously balancing on the balls of her feet as she slowly drags a stick through the soft dirt in front of her.

Mel stares at her, even though she knows staring is bad, because why of all people would Mari be out at the back of the yard, especially with a very serious sounding game of princesses and castles unfolding up by the patio?

But before she can voice her confusion, Mari glances up, her shoulders jumping slightly in shock when her eyes graze the muddy kneed blond staring at her.

“Go away.” She dully commands, and Mel almost immediately listens, but she pauses and before she can stop herself she blurts out, “Are you crying?”

Because Mari doesn't cry. She has made this fact clear on many, many occasions. How crying is for babies and how she is not a baby, in fact she has made a point multiple times to say this to Mel's face as tears had fallen down her own cheeks.

So it's no surprise when she quickly snaps back, “What? No, leave me alone.” as her hand comes up to quickly brush at her face.

Now, in any other situation Mel would have happily turned her heel and left Mari alone when asked, but there's something that makes her feet stay planted in the dirt.

It's the very real and present tears slowly making their way down her cheeks and dripping from her chin, and to Mel the sight feels wrong, uncanny even.

And despite the lie and repeated command, she stays.

Because Mel has always been someone who likes to observe the weird and unbelievable, and if anything is unbelievable it's Mari Ibarra crouched in the back of the yard sniffling all alone.

So she doesn't leave, instead she shuffles her faded converse through the dirt and plops herself down in front of the other girl, forgoing any attempt to keep herself clean due to her already dirt stained knees and hands.

Mari briefly glares at her, but after a moment she gives up, looking away as she continues her pointless scribbles with her stick.

But she does speak after a moment, her eyes casually bouncing between the stick and Mel. “Is that a frog?” she asks with little genuine curiosity in her voice.

“Yeah!” Mel responds with a little too much excitement, extending her hands slightly as the amphibian lightly wiggles its legs hanging from her clasped palms.

“Ew.” She frowns as Mari makes a face, shifting back slightly. “And you're just holding it? With your hands?”

Mel thinks that's a stupid question (what else would she be holding him with?) but the tone Mari uses tells her that it's one of those questions you're not actually supposed to answer that Shauna loves to use.

So instead she shrugs. “I'm gonna go show Van and Nat. I caught him all by myself.”

She tacks on the last comment with a little pride in her voice, shifting her grip on the surprisingly calm frog.

Catching frogs is hard, but she had done it all by herself, and maybe deep down Mari is impressed because she doesn't make another mean comment, instead she continues to drag her stick around in the dirt in large circles.

“Why were you crying?” Mel finally asks after a good few moments of watching her in silence, and Mari's eyes flick back up to her.

The glare present in them makes Mel fear she'll be shooed away again and this weird moment between the two of them will be ruined, but after a second they soften and Mari's shoulders sag slightly.

“Shauna was being mean to me.” She murmurs.

Ah.

Shauna had a habit of saying or doing things without really thinking, especially when she got caught up in a game or activity.

For the most part she didn't mean to come off as hurtful, and Tai had mentioned that she needed to work on her tone once, but it made sense that in a game taken so seriously amongst most of the girls, she would make a remark that stung a little more than needed.

Especially with Mari, the two of them were similar in that way, not nice tones and full of snarky remarks. And they often butted heads, but enough to bring Mari to tears? It had to be bad, and now Mel was really curious.

“What'd she say?” Mel prompts as casually as she can, her fingers gently brushing over the frog's green back, and after a moment Mari mumbles a response.

“I wanted to be the princess. But stupid Shauna insisted she had to be it even though I was already holding the crown.”

This didn't seem like much of a problem to Mel, who had run off as soon as the others had decided to play princesses, much less something to cry over, but she also knows that sometimes when people are having bad days, small things can feel really big.

Like last week when she had gone to bed late, so the next day she had been extra pouty, to the point of crying when her usual cereal bowl was in use.

Which Mari had promptly told her was baby behavior, but that doesn't matter as she studies the girl in front of her, the dried tears on her cheeks and the slight pout of her lips.

She's surprised to realize that she wants to make it better. She wants to be nice to Mari even though she can't recall her doing the same to her.

It's weird, but Melissa has always identified closely with that word anyways.

“Well,” she eventually says, drawing Mari's eyes upwards in curiosity, “don't princesses have to kiss frogs or something?”

Mel had never been a fan of princesses like some of the other girls, tuning out the movies and story books over the far superior (in her opinion at least) dinosaur and superhero related things.

But she could've sworn kissing frogs was a weird detail she recalled from something, most definitely followed by squeals of disgust.

Mari studies her for a moment before she gets a look on her face, almost like a smile but not quite there. “Yeah, sometimes they do.”

“Maybe,” Mel offers, “Shauna needs to kiss them to turn them back into a person.”

The Princess and The Frog, she remembered now. In that story it was about a prince, but Mel wasn't too interested in all that romance-y stuff so she settles for the frog being a generic person in need of aid.

But this change doesn't deter Mari, and her face brightens into a rarely seen, genuine smile, and Mel feels a little proud of herself for being the cause.

And so after some brief plans sketched into the dirt, the two stand from their spots and start back towards the front of the house.

Mari insists Mel continues to hold the frog as they walk, which she isn't bothered by at all, following the other girls lead as she stalks with confidence towards the giggles of the others.

Once in view Mari beelines for Shauna, and in a swift movement she pulls her shoulder to get her attention, pointing to the still unnoticed frog in Mel's hands.

“You gotta kiss it.” She blunty, yet slyly, states. “They need to be a person and only princess kisses can do it.”

There's a beat, and then Jackie who is sitting closest to Mel looks up, seemingly just noticing the slimy frog cupped in her hands.

She squeals loudly, hopping up in a movement that makes everyone else turn to look in confusion.

“Shauna’s gotta kiss the frog!” Mel isn't sure who says it as multiple others jump up, squealing and running around as if she's offering Shauna a poisoned apple or something, but Shauna reacts immediately, pulling away from Mari with a disgusted face.

“Nuh uh!” And look, Mel wasn't actually gonna make her kiss the frog, even she knows that's gross.

But the moment of joy she gets from the brief look of horror on the usually smug, jerky Shauna's face is worth whatever comes next, and the look she shares with Mari confirms it, even as Misty runs inside screaming for Tai.

And so even though Tai makes them take the frog back to the woods and monitors them as they scrub their hands before sending them to time-out, Mel is happy to catch Mari's eyes again and share a small smile from their chairs placed in a corner, hopeful in the back of her mind that there will be more to come from their new, kinda friendship.

[yeoosaangg]

៹ TAP OUT || KINKTOBER ─ DAY 11

➛ PAIRING:: YANG JEONGIN × FEM!READER

➛ NOW PLAYING:: TAP OUT — DANIEL DI ANGELO

⤷ ❝GIRL, I'M GONNA BEAT THAT PUSSY 'TIL YOU BLACKOUT.❞

➛ GENRE:: BROTHER'S!BESTFRIEND, COLLEGE!AU, SMUT

➛ WARNINGS:: SENSORY DEPRIVATION, BREEDING KINK, CHOKING, DEGRADATION, MULTIPLE ORGASMS, NIPPLE PLAY, OVERSTIMULATION, TONGUE FUCKING

── ⋆ ⋆ ── 𔘓 ── ⋆ ⋆ ──

You whine as the rope tightens around your wrists. You were currently bound to a table in your brother's best friend's apartment.

Well, more accurately, bound to his kitchen table.

It started as a joke.

You never expected him to reciprocate your little crush.

Jeongin: Look at you. So helpless with that gag in your mouth.

You initiated the flirting once again when he offered to help you study for your final exams.

Your hands grazed his, leg pressed against him, even hands gently gripping his thighs.

You never expected him to grab you by the neck and kiss you so dominantly and literally take your breath away.

He shoved his hand down your pants and started to play with your pussy until you creamed all over his fingers.

Then he picked you up and placed you on the table, stripping you of your clothes. He asked you if you're open to anything, and you nodded.

Big mistake.

He came back from his room with a box - a wicked smile on his face.

Jeongin: Lay on your back.

You comply, rubbing your thighs together to get some sort of friction. That proved to be useless when he spread your legs open and tied your feet to the legs of the table.

Which brings you to now, gag in your mouth, clips clamping down on your nipples, a blindfold in his hands.

Jeongin: Think you can just flirt with me, get me hard, and get away with it? What would Hyunjin think about his little sister pining after me like a bitch in heat, hm?

You whine again, wanting him to touch you already. You need him to touch you or else you'll go insane.

And for a second, his eyes turn soft as he looks up and down your body.

Jeongin: Think you'll be okay without being able to see?

You nod. He smiles and wraps the blindfold gently around you eyes.

Jeongin: Will it be too much if I take away your hearing? We don't have to do that if it sounds uncomfortable.

You hum, the gag making it difficult for you to speak. You nod, hoping he understands what you mean by the gesture.

Jeongin: You're okay with it, or uncomfortable?

You hold up one finger and he chuckles.

Jeongin: Alright, doll. After I put these in, I'll take good care of you. Snap your fingers twice to let me know if you need me to stop. If you can't snap, pull at the rope twice.

You nod again, feeling him place the earplugs in. You gasp at his small touch. Now that you can't hear, your touch senses have heightened times ten.

You twitch when his hot tongue laps over your folds. You can feel him chuckle against your clit.

Jeongin draws fast circles, sucking harshly to get you to attempt to scream. He shoves his tongue into your dripping cunt, loving the way you squirm under him.

It feels so intense, a knot already forming in your lower stomach. You whimper and moan, struggling against your restraints.

He smirks, tongue flicking your clit as he shoves two fingers into your gummy walls. The gag does nothing to muffle your screams as you cream all over his face and fingers.

Jeongin: So pretty and delicious. Too bad you can't hear me. Oh well!

He tugs at the nipple clips, marveling at the way your body shudders. His hands roam your body, hickeys being decorated all over your neck and chest.

Jeongin: Should've fucked you the first time you flirted with me. I probably would've turned you into my pliant little whore by now.

He pulls the clips off, eliciting a scream from you. His mouth wraps around your nipples so forcefully, his hands squeezing them.

Jeongin: Can't believe he wanted me to stay away from you. Is it so wrong to have you when you were the one following me around like a lovesick puppy?

He knows you can't hear him; that why he's being so vocal. He could say whatever the fuck he wants and you'll never know what it is.

You moan at the painful bite he gives your breasts.

Jeongin: Fuck what Hyunjin thinks. You're mine now. He'll have to accept the fact that you're not a little girl anymore. You're only a year younger than me, fucker acts like I'm 80.

He snakes an arm around you, hand smacking down on one of your ass cheeks. He laughs at your cry, moaning at the sight of your already spent face.

Jeongin: Aww, poor baby. I haven't even fucked you yet.

He lightly drums his fingers on your abdomen before discarding his own clothes. He pumps his leaking cock, climbing onto the table.

He positions himself in front of you, cock sliding in at once. You scream once he bottoms out, staying still at your heavy breathing.

His mouth attaches to your nipples again, thrusting at a brutal pace. The sounds you're making only feeding his ego.

Jeongin: You're doing so well, my pet. Taking my fucking cock like the good bitch you are. I'm going to break you, forge you into my perfect fuckdoll.

You're crying in pleasure, loving the way his cock stretches your tight cunt. You've been wanting him for months.

He knows, without a doubt, that you're going to be his for the rest of your life.

Jeongin: God, you're so good for me. My little cockslut.

You scream, feeling another orgasm building. He grabs your waist and uses you however he likes. The way his tip hits your cervix has you seeing stars.

He feels you squirt all over him, making such a hot and sticky mess. He fucking loves it.

Jeongin: Be a good girl and take my fucking cock. I'm gonna breed you so the whole world knows you're mine. I bet if you could hear me, you'd be begging for me to fill your cunt with my cum.

He uses his thumb to rub your clit, but you're already so exhausted. You lay still, choking on air as he coats your gummy walls with his cum.

You thought that was the end of it, but he continues to abuse your hole. His hips snapping against your ass, loving how he's reduced you to nothing but his personal fucktoy.

Just like how he wanted.

Jeongin: Such a pretty little thing, letting me use you like you mean nothing to me. Letting me ruin any innocence you had left.

He wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing lightly. This was mostly to ground him in the moment. He doesn't want to get too pussy drunk at the thought of corrupting you.

Jeongin: You don't know this, but I've been wanting to fuck you ever since Hyunjin first introduced us. He told me not to even think about it, that asshole.

He growls, kissing your mouth hungrily and biting your lips.

Jeongin: Why has he deprived me of your body, hm? Is it because he knows just how much of an asshole I am? How many girls I've fucked and dropped the next night?

You whimper, feeling so tired but so good.

Everything feels fuzzy, another knot of pressure building inside of you.

Jeongin: Too bad for him because it's not like that with you, sweetheart. You look gorgeous when you're at my mercy. Why would I jeopardize that for some other bitch that can't even suck my cock properly?

His thrusts become sloppy, once again cumming inside your numb pussy. You probably came too, but you couldn't tell anymore.

Everything seemed to feel like a dream.

Jeongin pulls his cock out, watching both of your fluids leak from your cunt, dripping down to your ass and onto the table.

He hums, grabbing a towel and cleaning both of you up. The fabric making you twitch, not used to how powerful the overstimulation can feel this way.

He undoes the ropes, pulling off your blindfold. He smiles down at you, giving you warm kisses as he takes out the earplugs.

Jeongin: You okay, beautiful?

You just stare at him, mind completely blank. He carefully wraps his arms around you and carries you to his bathroom.

You blink slowly, feeling like the world was spinning.

He picks you up, getting into the tub and sitting you on his lap. He massages your body, kissing your wrists when you hiss in pain.

Jeongin: I'm sorry, baby. I'll patch these up for you. The pain will go away soon.

You just lean back against his chest, enjoying his soft and intimate touches.

Jeongin: We'll just sit here for a bit, okay? The warm water will help soothe your muscles.

That was totally fine by you.

But you two forgot about one thing: your brother has your location on at all times.

═══

a/n: well... this is definitely a look into my fucked up mind, but this ain't shit compared to the vile things i've written before... thank you for reading ‹𝟹

[itsnevercasual]

RISK PART III

pairing: mafia!harry styles x singer!reader

summary: Harry is in town for some.. less than legal business, and you're a local singer trying to get your foot in the door, and also planning your wedding. And maybe Harry is a little too interested in you.

warnings: mentions of death & blood, mentions of abuse, cursing, that should be it!!

-

Almost immediately, his browser was flooded.

Y/N L/N and Mason L/N: The Internets Favorite Siblings

Y/N L/N - Youtube

Mason L/N - Youtube

Mason & Y/N - Youtube

#prayfory/n on Twitter

Y/N and Mason L/N’s Incredible Work with Band ‘The Diamonds’

Well, you two certainly had an online presence. He sighed and clicked on the first article.

Mason L/N (20) and little sister, Y/N L/N (15) have quickly become the internet’s favorite dynamic sibling duo! The duo rose to fame in 2012 when Mason began vlogging their adventures living alone in Miami.

After a near-death incident with her mother read article here, Y/N was put into her brother’s care. The two grew up in Wimberley, Texas, on a farm. Mason’s earliest videos on YouTube were in 2010, when he posted videos of 11-year-old Y/N singing onstage somewhere.

Since moving to Miami, Florida in 2012, at age 13 and 18, they formed a band called The Diamonds and started a successful YouTube career. Most of the videos, now posted on a shared account entitled Mason & Y/N, they show their day-to-day lives, backstage previews, clips of the songwriting process, and more.

Mason is the producer of his sister’s band— in which she is both the songwriter and lead singer. The band, though not as successful as their YouTube, has a decent following on both Instagram and YouTube.

Also featured on their accounts is Y/N’s childhood best friend— Jodie. There is nothing of Jodie online, so we aren’t sure of her last name. We only know the story of how Jodie moved right before Y/N’s near-death experience, and the siblings moved to Miami to see her again.

We look forward to seeing more of the iconic duo! Best of luck, L/N siblings!

Well, that gave him next to nothing.

Read More:

Smalltown Tragedy: Violet L/N attempts to murder daughter, Y/N L/N.

Jesus fucking Christ, Niall wasn’t joking about shitty.

He skimmed through the article.

Coming home from school—

Walked through the door—

Stabbed—

Authorities were quickly contacted by brother—

Violet pleads innocent in court case—

Y/N and Mason attest to their mother’s innocence—

Guilty verdict—

Sentenced to life in prison without bail or parole—

Added charges of child abuse after bruises found on both children—

Siblings go on news after the verdict was given—

Claim it was their father—

Well. He was starting to regret looking you up.

He sighed, running a hand over his face. After how nice you were tonight, he felt incredibly bad knowing this is what the result of invading your privacy was.

Yet, he didn’t shut the laptop.

He clicked back to the original search tab.

Mason & Y/N - Youtube

He pulled up the page, and his eyes widened.

925.4K Thousand Subscribers. 493 Videos.

Holy shit.

He scrolled to the last updated video—

BACKSTAGE AT THE DIAMONDS: LIVE AT DAYTONA BEACH BANDSHELL. June 1, 2016.

He didn’t want to watch it. He didn’t want to intrude anymore than he already had. That’d be wrong.

But Harry also never claimed to be a good person.

As he tapped on the video, your brother’s face filled the screen. Or.. he assumed, it was your brother. He looked similar to the articles of the two of you, only older.

“Hello, lovely people! We’re back! We are currently backstage at the biggest show yet of the best band ever—“

“Oh, my God, you’re so stupid,” a voice laughed. It was slightly familiar.

The camera turned, and he realized why. It was you.

“Y/N tries to be rude, but we all know I’m her favorite here.”

“Uh, no, bitch. I’m her favorite. Back off.”

Jodie.

“Dude, you have a boyfriend. You back off!”

“Yeah, but Ni’s not here yet, so… I win.”

“How does that even— okay. Anyway, my lovely sister is currently shoving food down her face—“

“Mason! Shut up, oh, my God! I’m literally curling my hair, you ass!”

“Hey, language!”

“Oh, boo-hoo. You taught me how to cuss when I was, like… seven.”

“.. Yeah, I did do that. Alright. Whatever. We’re gonna give the camera to Y/N so she can give y’all a sneak peak at the set list!”

The camera was now sitting in front of you. Younger you.

“Hello! It’s the better sibling—“

“Hey!”

You grinned at him, “And this is the setlist for tonight, which is super-duper top secret. So… shh! Okay! We’re opening with my personal favorite, Girl I’ve Always Been! And then we’re gonna transition that… somehow… into Vicious. And then.. I Should Hate You, little break to introduce the other Diamonds, Should’ve Said No, Picture to Burn, All-American Bitch, Stranger, another little.. break thingy.. Florida, Happier Than Ever, and then we close with.. Better than Revenge! But we have an encore, so we come back for one song, which is Nothing You Can Take!”

He skipped ahead in the video.

“Jodie, where are we?”

“Backstage!”

“Ni, what are we about to do?”

“You’re about to kill it onstage!”

He skipped a bit.

It was a circle of you and a bunch of girls, and one of two guys, that he recognized. The same people who’d played with you tonight.

“We worked our asses of for this, and we’re gonna make it count, right?”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Okay, Diamonds on three. On.. two.. three.. Diamonds!”

Skip.

“Y/N, how you feelin’?”

Harry could hear the crowd and music in the background, and he assumed that you were about to run onstage.

“I’m gonna puke!” You laughed.

“Ew. Don’t.”

“Gee, thanks. Real supportive.”

“I’m being honest—“

“Y/N, you got ten seconds.”

You screamed.

He skimmed the rest of the video. Some of it was clips of the show, some of it was after.

Well, that didn’t do anything except make him feel shitty. One, because he knew he shouldn’t be watching, and two… because you and your brother seemed close, and he, obviously, was dead.

He went back and clicked on the Twitter link.

#prayfory/n on Twitter.

Daytona News: Internet Star Mason L/N Fatally Shot in Robbery.

thediamondsupdates: OMG. GUYS IM ACTUALLY SOBBING WTF I FEEL SO BAD FOR Y/N. SHE WAS THERE😭😭 #prayfory/n

Bingo.

He clicked on the article.

Late last night, after The Diamond’s Only Night Only on Main Street, the internet star siblings Y/N and Mason went to a gas station for celebratory snacks. Unfortunately, while they were checking out, the gas station got robbed.

Y/N told Daytona Police that the robber had aimed for her when he shot, but her brother shoved her at the last second. Both Mason L/N and the store clerk, who is yet to be identified, died. Y/N came out with only a few scratches. Witnesses say she tried to keep her brother alive while waiting for police.

The siblings were swarmed by paparazzi as they got hauled into the ambulance, where Mason unfortunately died on the way.

Harry clicked back to the hashtag.

user001: omfg guys someone got a video of the store after the robbery where mason l/n died. ONE VIDEO LINKED.

He clicked play, knowing he’d regret it.

“Oh, my fucking God,” the person recording spoke.

You and Mason were covered in blood. You were in hysterics, holding your brother on your lap.

“Mason! Mason!” you were shouting. “Someone call an ambulance! Oh, my God! There’s so much blood— why is there so much blood? Mason, answer me! Are you okay? You have to be okay—“

The video panned away from you as you screamed, showing the store that’d been ransacked.

It ended.

Harry shut the computer and went to bed, feeling sick to his stomach.

-

When you woke up the next morning, it was to a weight on your chest.

“What the— Jodie, get the fuck off of me. I’m gonna die,” you grumble, shoving her.

She falls off the bed with a thud. She gasps, “Are you calling me fat?”

“No, you called yourself fat.”

“You’re so mean in the mornings,” she pouts.

“I’m only mean when you wake me up at ungodly hours by sitting on me.”

She shrugs, “Oh. Yeah. Well… come on, get up.”

You whine. The bed was comfy.

“Up!”

“No, I’m tired.”

She stands up and yanks your arm. You, too, fall off the bed.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“I didn’t really think that one through,” she admits.

“Clearly. Alright, I’m up now, I guess. What did you want?”

“We’re going to brunch with Harry and Ni. Get ready.”

“Brunch? Harry doesn’t seem like a brunch guy.”

“What do you mean?” her brows furrow.

“He just.. is very intimidating—“

“He was nice to you, though, right? He better have been, or I swear—“

“No, he was,” you quickly cut her off. “He just… seems like he’d rather gouge his own eyes out before her went to brunch.”

She sighs in relief, “Thank God. I like him, so I didn’t wanna kill him for being rude to you. But, yeah.. probably. But he basically does whatever I say because, as he admitted once and only once, I’m like his little sister and he feels bad saying no. That, and I’m annoying when I don’t get my way.”

You snort, “That’s… yeah, that seems more likely.”

“But.. Niall also said he likes you, too. Maybe not in the, y’know, little sister way, but you’re right. He is usually an asshole, but he was extremely friendly yesterday. Kinda threw me off, to be honest.”

“Dude, I thought he was gonna bite my head off.”

She laughs, “Yeah.. oh, well. Get dressed and dress slutty!”

“Why slutty?”

“Because we invited Asshole of the Year, and if he shows up, he’s gonna wish he was Angel of the Year.”

“Jodie..” you sigh.

“I know. You don’t wanna piss him off. But.. if you just happened to grab a slutty dress… what’s the harm?”

“Get out,” you laugh.

-

You don't wear the slutty outfit Jodie wanted you to wear, mainly because the brunch spot was a nice restaurant and you don't want the looks from grandmas.

Instead, you wear a white dress with small, green leaves. You throw on heels that were slightly dressy, but comfortable and also barely make you any taller. You put a green ribbon in your hair after tying half of it back.

You haphazardly do your makeup once Jodie began spamming your phone, urging you to hurry up.

You rush out of the room, sighing once you saw the other three sitting at the kitchen island.

"Sorry I took so long. We can go, now, though!"

“Took you long enough,” Niall teases.

“Shut up. This is why you don’t have any friends.”

“I have friends!” he protests quickly. “You! And— Harry!”

“Mhm. Got any more?” you laugh. “I don’t count because I’m friends because of association. You get one point for Harry, though. I guess.”

“No point from me,” Harry spoke up. “We’re work friends.”

“I knew I liked you.”

Harry smirks at you.

Niall glares at the two of you. “I hate you both.”

You grin, “Aw. Love you, too.”

“Aright, children. We’re gonna be late,” Jodie reminds you.

The three of you chorus agreements and head to the car. Niall drove, Jodie sat in the passenger seat, and you and Harry got into the back.

“You know, you look crazy familiar.”

“Who, me?”

“No, the ghost sitting in between us. Yes, you.”

He pauses before shrugging, “Probably just got one of those faces. I don’t remember meeting you before.”

“Yeah, that’s what’s weird. I swear I know you, but I’d remember if I met you.”

He smirks, and you regret phrasing it like that. “Oh, really? What’s that supposed to mean, lovie?”

Lovie? What the hell? Is he a psycho? Are you a psycho?

Connor. Engaged to Connor. Can’t break up with him.

“Nothing. I just meant I have, like, a good memory,” you huff. “You’re right. You’ve probably just got one of those faces.”

One of those faces.

One of those faces.

One of those faces you know you recognize.

-

Brunch was short, but sweet. The food was good, and it was fun. Connor didn’t show.

You and Jodie made Niall and Harry wait in the car while the two of you ran into Sephora to restock your respective makeup collections.

“I kinda wanna try a new perfume..”

“I thought you always got that.. whatever one it is, because it’s Connor’s favorite?”

“I do. But.. the smell has been giving me migraines. Plus, he’ll get over it. He can hardly stand to be around me for longer than, like, twenty seconds, so… I doubt he’ll even notice.”

“Seriously, I still don’t get why you’re getting married. To him, of all people.”

“Because. I do love him, even if he’s an ass. And it’s.. safe. He’s safe.”

“Safe from what?”

You huff, “If music doesn’t take off. He has a good, stable job.”

“The band will never take off if you get married, babe. He hates the band. He’ll make you quit, and you know it.”

“Then maybe it wasn’t mean to be,” you shrug.

Jodie stops in her tracks. “How can you— no. Absolutely not. I do not care if you love him or if you wanna marry him. You are not throwing away your dream for some guy! Any guy! If it was— fuckin’, I dunno, Harry, who was like this—“

“Harry? Ew! I just met him—“

“He was the first person that came to mind! The point is, if anyone you dated pulled that, I’d say the same thing. It isn’t just because I don’t particularly like Connor.”

“Jodie—“ you sigh.

“No,” she cut you off. “You’ve been singing and writing songs since as long as I can remember. That was all you wanted. Since we were six, you’d tell people you’d be a singer when you’re older! You and Mason planned this for years! You can’t just quit because some stupid, no-good, ugly guy tells you to! Music is who you are. If not for yourself, then for me. For Mason. The band was meant to be, but maybe you and Connor weren’t.”

“Jodie.”

“I know. I know. But I’m serious. If Niall treated me like this, you would’ve roundhouse kicked him by now.”

“It’s complicated—“

“But it doesn’t have to be,” she argues.

“.. I don’t wanna talk about it. I don’t, okay? I won’t quit music whenever we get married, okay? He’ll get over it eventually.”

-

When the four of you return home, Connor is on the couch. He's fuming.

You roll your eyes as you walk through the door, ignoring him. The others seem to follow your lead, both not acknowledging his presence.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks, storming over to you as you set the Sephora bag on the kitchen counter.

“You’d know where I was if you bothered to show up.”

“I wasn’t invited.”

You gave him a deadpan look, turning to Jodie, Harry, and Niall.

“I did invite you, dumbass,” Jodie scoffs.

“Yep. Invited,” Niall nods.

“.. Invited,” Harry echoes, visibly confused but still going along.

“Well, excuse me if I didn’t feel welcome after my own girlfriend told me to leave my own house when she was gone—“

“Not your own house. Your name isn’t on the lease. And why is that? Oh, right. Because you don’t pay fucking rent like a grown adult.”

“I don’t got a job right now, babe. I’m not stable—“

“Oh, and I am? I sing for a living. You think that’s stable? No. But I do it because I want to, and when I’m not making enough there, I have another job. Jesus, you act like you can’t problem solve.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“Then what is your point, Connor?” you sigh, crossing your arms and leaning against the kitchen island.

“My point is that you care more about your career than me!"

"Connor, babe, that isn't true, I just-"

"It sure seems like it."

"I just.. I really love it, and it's-- it's what I wanna do with my life, y'know? I don't mean to make you feel that way. I invite you to every show, you just.. don't show up, and-- and that's fine, but I try to include you."

"Yeah, whatever. I guess I forgive you."

You smile, "I love you."

"Love you, too."

The two of you retreat to the bedroom, and it was silent for a moment.

"What the fuck?"

"Welcome to a normal day for us, Harry. Havin' fun yet?" Jodie sighs, patting his shoulder as she walks past him.

-

The next day, you and Jodie went out to look at wedding and bridesmaids dresses.

"So, what are we looking for here,?" Jodie asks you as the two of you stop for coffee in between hitting dress stores. You'd been aimlessly trying on dresses for the better half of the day, and none of them felt right. "I feel like you were just trying on everything, but you weren't happy with a lot of them. So, when you envision your wedding, what is the exact dress you want?"

"I want.. like.. flowery lace with a decent neckline. I want it tight, but kind of flowy once it hits my legs. And.. bell bottom sleeves. The rest I could adjust, but bell bottom sleeves are a must."

"Flower lace, tight top flowy bottom, halter neckline. Got it," Jodie grins. The barista calls your name and you run to go grab the drinks and snacks. The two of you began walking down the street.

"So.. how does Ni know Harry, anyhow?"

"Uh... work, I think? I can't even remember, it's been so long! I think they met before Ni moved here, and then reconnected through work. I could be wrong, though. Ni only told me once when I first met Harry, and that was years ago," she laughs. "But I think it's work, mostly. You don't mind him staying, right? Because, he's sweet, don't get me wrong, but he's also kind of... promiscuous, I guess? Not that he's.. pushy about it! He just is extremely flirty and doesn't really have boundaries sometimes."

"No! No, God, no, he's perfectly fine. I like him. I was just wondering, because I can't remember either of you mentioning him ever," you explained.

"I'm sure we have once or twice, you've just got the memory of a goldfish."

"Shut up! I do not!" you giggle as the two of you walk into the next dress shop of the day.

"Hello! How may I help you?" a woman greets the two of you.

"Hi! My friend here is getting married, and she has a very specific dress in mind! She wants flowery lace, halter top neckline... kind of tight at the top and slightly flowy at the legs? Oh, and bell bottom sleeves. That's the only ones that are non-negotiable."

The woman nods and glances at you.

"I'm pretty sure we've got something exactly like that in your size. I'll bring you a few options."

"Thank you so much!" you tell her and Jodie and you set your things down and sit on the couches by the changing rooms. The two of you talk idly about plans for the band until the woman reappears.

"Alright, love, here's a few similar to what you want. But I think this one is closest to what you want," she smiles kindly as she hands you a stack of dresses, and then one singular one.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" you gush.

"Try it on!" Jodie tells you. You laugh and walk into one of the changing rooms. Obviously, the first dress you try on is the one closest to what you'd envisioned. You couldn't help the smile on your face as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

"Hurry up!" Jodie urges.

"Calm down, woman, I'm coming!" you huff as you push the curtain aside and step onto the pedestal.

"Oh, Y/N/N... I think this one might be the one. It's gorgeous!"

"It fits you like a glove," the woman grins.

"I love it!" you squeal. "Here, get a video of me in it. I wanna show Ni whenever we get home."

"Okay. And.. recording!" Jodie tells you.

You spin around in the dress, and it has just enough train to spin with you a tiny bit. You squeal in excitement and jump up and down. "I love it! Bury me in it, honestly."

"I won't send it now just in case he's with Connor, so we'll show him when we get home. But.. and this isn't me saying don't get the dress, I think you should, but I thought Connor didn't want you to get a... revealing dress, I guess is the words?"

You pause and your smile fades, "Yeah, he doesn't. He likes the ballgown ones more, but.. it's my wedding, too, right? I should be able to get my own dress. Besides, he won't see until the day of, and then it'll be too late to be mad. And he can't be mad on our wedding day," you shrug.

"Fair enough. How much is this dress, again?"

"Oh, I forget. Turn and let me check that tag, dear."

You turn so your back is to the store owner.

"It is... three thousand dollars."

You and Jodie both pause. Three thousand? You weren't sure you had that type of money. Not yet, anyway.

"Y/N, I can-"

"Jodie, absolutely not. You can't pay for my wedding dress."

The woman looks between the two of you awkwardly.

"Um.. is it possible to put the dress on hold?" you ask after a beat. "It's just.. I wanna make sure that price is good with my fiancé."

"Oh, of course, love. What's your name?"

"Y/N L/N."

She grabs a sticky note and scribbles it down.

"It'll be on hold for about.. two weeks, does that sound good?"

"Yes, please. Thank you so much."

-

"'Eyyyy, they're back!" Niall cheers as you and Jodie walk in through the door. He and Harry were both on the couch drinking beers, watching something on the TV. "C'mon, I wanna see the dress!"

You and Jodie both laugh and move to the couch. Jodie sits between Harry and Niall while you perch on the armrest as she pulls the video of you in the dress up on her phone.

"Awwe, Y/N/N, you look gorgeous," Niall grins.

"Thank you! Took us forever, but we finally found one that is exactly what I wanted."

"Where is it? I wanna see it in person!"

You and Jodie both hesitate. "Uh.. we.. didn't get it."

"What?" Niall furrows his brows in confusion.

Harry finally chimes into the conversation, "Why the hell not?"

"It was.. um... three thousand dollars. We put it on hold, but.."

"Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you to just use our card? You know I have enough money-"

"I know. Jodie offered, but I feel bad using your money. I don't even know if Connor would like the dress, so maybe-"

"Fuck Connor. Sorry," Harry suddenly says, "excuse me if this isn't my place, but you're the one wearing the dress. If you like the dress, get the fuckin' dress, Y/N. You look great in it."

".. Thank you. I just- I don't really have three thousand dollars," you sigh.

-

At damn near four in the morning, Jodie and Niall prefer to be asleep. However, Harry didn't really seem to care all that much when he came barging in.

"What's the name of the shop?"

"What?" Jodie asks harshly.

"The dress shop. The one Y/N found that dress she likes. What's it called?"

"It's... fuck, it's, like, Wedding Dreams or some stupid shit like that."

"Why are you even asking, Harry? It's fucking four in the morning, go to sleep," Niall grumbles.

"I have to buy a three thousand dollar fucking dress."

"What?"

-

a/n: when he buys ur wedding dress cause ur broke how cute

taglist: @angeldavis777

[izanacore]

“casual” | manjiro sano x reader

chapter twelve 𓂃⋆.˚

synopsis: a no-strings-attached arrangement between a party girl and a frat boy turns messy when mikey falls first. but when (y/n) runs from love, she loses him for good—until fate brings them back together, years too late.

characters: manjiro “mikey” sano, fem!reader, emma sano, ken “draken” ryuguji, ran haitani

warnings: angst, heartbreak, fwb dynamics, explicit content, crack, fluff, jealousy, insecurities, themes of regret, alcohol use, violence, bullying, depression

notes: fun is over. pack it up. we’re going angsty now.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

chapter twelve

emma ended up staying the whole day, claiming she had to make sure y/n looked perfect for their hangout. eventually, she just texted draken and mikey to pick them up from y/n’s apartment instead.

while waiting, the two got ready together, doing each other’s makeup and hyping each other up like they were about to step onto a red carpet.

y/n slipped into a beautiful, sexy sundress that hugged her in all the right places, while emma rocked a floral-patterned off-shoulder top and a skirt. both of them looked too pretty. y/n even had small flower clips in her hair—emma’s doing, of course.

then, the sound of motorcycles pulling up outside had them both rushing to the door.

when they stepped outside, draken and mikey were already there, but… they weren’t saying anything.

draken had immediately spotted emma, a small smirk forming as he approached her. “you look nice,” he said smoothly, pulling her into a hug. emma grinned and hugged him back.

but mikey?

mikey was still sitting on his bike. staring.

y/n tilted her head. “…manjiro?”

nothing.

it was the first time he’d seen her in something like this. she usually wore mini skirts, tight long dresses that showed off her curves—but this? this was different. she looked so elegant, so soft, the delicate flower clips in her hair making her look almost unreal.

emma, watching the whole thing, smirked. “mikey, y/n’s gonna melt if you keep staring like that.”

“huh?” mikey blinked, snapping out of it.

draken snorted. “never seen you this down bad, man.”

mikey glared at him, but the damage was already done.

y/n walked up to him with a playful smile. “so… how do i look?” she did a little spin, the skirt of her dress twirling with her.

mikey just stared for a second longer before exhaling. “you look beautiful.” then, a little more serious, he added, “no. divine. you look divine.”

y/n let out a soft chuckle. “silly.”

mikey rolled his eyes but reached for the extra helmet, gently placing it over her head. “you sure you’re okay riding with a dress?”

y/n nodded. “yep, it’s fine.”

mikey smirked. “good. then let’s go, pretty girl.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

the ride to the amusement park was peaceful.

y/n had her arms wrapped around mikey’s waist, her chin resting lightly on his shoulder as the wind rushed past them.

she remembered the first time she rode his bike. how freeing it felt. how, for the first time in a long time, she had felt at peace.

she thought that would be the last time. she thought it was just a one-time thing. but no. here she was, feeling peaceful again. and it was always with mikey. just like every other night spent with him.

it was the longest stretch of peace she had felt in years.

which was weird because if there was anyone in the world who should bring her peace, she was pretty damn sure it wouldn’t have been manjiro sano.

but here she was. with him.

when they arrived at the amusement park, they went straight to the photobooth first, taking pictures together and making silly poses. each of them got a copy before tucking it away safely. it didn’t take long for y/n and emma to demand teddy bears from the prize booths. which, of course, meant sending the two to win them.

draken and mikey took on the challenge with full confidence… and then failed miserably.

emma sighed, watching another one of mikey’s failed attempts. “god, you two suck at these games.”

mikey huffed, crossing his arms. “then why don’t you do it yourself?”

emma just rolled her eyes before grabbing draken’s arm. “come on, draken.”

and just like that, she dragged him away, leaving y/n and mikey alone.

“so… what do you wanna do next?” mikey asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

y/n’s eyes lit up. “how about the roller coaster?”

mikey didn’t even hesitate. “no.”

“c’mon, please?” she pouted.

mikey sighed dramatically. “okay, but i need to get something out of this before i get on that fucking roller coaster.”

y/n narrowed her eyes. “what is it?”

mikey grinned like a damn kid. “blowjob later.”

“manjiro!?!” she gasped and immediately facepalmed.

mikey just shrugged. “okay, then no roller coaster.”

y/n groaned. “whatever.” and then she grabbed his wrist and started dragging him to the roller coaster booth.

mikey smirked. “thought so.” he won this round.

…or so he thought.

now he was really close to puking.

“god, manjiro!” y/n cackled, holding onto the railing while he tried to gather what was left of his dignity. “i didn’t know the fearless leader of toman can’t handle a little roller coaster.”

mikey glared at her. “shut up. did you see how fucking high that was?”

y/n rolled her eyes. “don’t be so dramatic.” then, before he could argue, she grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

as they walked, her eyes landed on a nearby stand. “ooh, i want cotton candy!”

mikey barely had time to react before she was already at the booth, excitedly pointing at the biggest one. he pulled out his wallet, paying for it without a second thought.

they wandered over to a quieter part of the park, y/n happily nibbling on her cotton candy.

“manjiro, have a taste! this is really good.” she held out a fluffy piece toward him.

mikey smirked, leaning in and taking a bite straight from her fingers. he chewed thoughtfully before grinning. “hmm… it tastes good.” then, leaning a little closer, he added, “but not as good as you.”

y/n smacked his arm lightly. “ugh, shut up.”

mikey just chuckled and pulled out his phone. “come here, i wanna take a pic of you.”

y/n perked up. “okay!” she struck a cute pose, holding up her cotton candy with a little smile.

mikey snapped the photo, nodding in satisfaction. “there. look, you’re so pretty.”

y/n peeked at his screen. “nooo, take another one!”

mikey sighed but did as she asked, taking a series of photos, each one capturing her different expressions—some cute, some silly, some mid-laugh.

soon, they were scrolling through his gallery, arguing over which one was best.

until—

“y/n?”

someone had just called her name.

she froze.

still not looking. still not breathing.

but that voice—that sickeningly familiar voice—sent her mind spiraling back to a time she wanted to forget.

slowly, she looked up.

ran haitani.

her ex-boyfriend.

the one who forced her to leave roppongi. forced her to leave her father behind. forced her to abandon the life she once had.

ran haitani—the man who broke her into pieces.

and she was still picking up the shards to this day.

“y/n,” ran greeted, his voice infuriatingly casual, like he wasn’t the reason she lost everything. “how have you been?”

mikey felt her tense up, her fingers gripping his shirt so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

y/n said nothing. her throat tightened, her body rigid. fear and anger clashed inside her, making her feel sick.

mikey’s eyes flickered between her and ran before he spoke. “you’re ran haitani, right? from roppongi?”

ran smirked. “uh, yes. and you’re manjiro sano? leader of toman, right?”

mikey nodded.

y/n’s gaze shifted to the girl clinging onto ran’s arm. poor thing. she was probably his next victim.

ran’s eyes returned to y/n. “didn’t know your boyfriend was manjiro sano.”

before mikey could correct him, y/n spoke first—her voice cold and cutting.

“yeah. he is.”

mikey blinked. huh?

before he could process that, y/n added, “and we were just about to go to the ferris wheel, so if you’ll excuse us…”

she grabbed mikey’s wrist and moved past ran—only to be stopped when ran grabbed hers.

“can we catch up soon?” ran asked, his grip light, almost casual, like he had every right to touch her. “i think we have a lot to talk about.”

mikey noticed.

the way ran touched her so familiarly. the way y/n froze under his grasp.

before mikey could call him out, y/n snatched her wrist back. “i’ll see if i’m free,” she muttered, then hurriedly dragged mikey away.

they reached the ferris wheel in tense silence, stepping into the cabin. the door closed.

no one spoke.

the air inside felt heavy.

mikey noticed her hands trembling slightly. without thinking, he reached out, lacing their fingers together.

her head was bowed.

“y/n?” mikey asked gently. “is something wrong? you seemed tense when you saw ran haitani. do you… know each other?”

she finally looked up at him—eyes glossy with unshed tears.

mikey’s chest tightened.

“hey,” he whispered, “why are you upset, baby?”

and then she broke.

she buried her face in his chest, her quiet sobs muffled against his shirt.

mikey held her close, running his fingers through her hair. “shh… it’s okay. i’m here.”

it took a while, but she finally calmed down. she pulled away slightly, but mikey still held her hand, keeping her grounded.

“sorry, manjiro,” she mumbled. “i ruined our hangout.”

mikey shook his head immediately. “no, no. you didn’t ruin anything.” he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “can you tell me what’s on your mind?”

he wanted to ask. he wanted to know.

but if she wasn’t ready to talk, he wouldn’t pry.

y/n hesitated, then whispered, “ran haitani… he’s my ex-boyfriend. the only boyfriend i ever had.”

mikey froze.

ran haitani? her boyfriend?

since when? how?

it didn’t make sense. they were too different. not even the same age, not even the same type. mikey knew y/n well enough to know she wouldn’t just fall for someone like ran.

and then—

it clicked.

last night, she mentioned she left roppongi.

she lived there before.

mikey pieced it together. maybe that’s how they met. maybe that’s why—

“manjiro?” y/n’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

he blinked. “yes, baby?”

her voice was small when she said, “ran haitani… he’s the reason why i left home. he…”

and then she told him everything.

how he took advantage of her vulnerability. how he manipulated her kindness. how he made her feel small.

mikey clenched his fists. “but your dad’s a lawyer, right? how the fuck is that bastard still walking free? does your dad even know what happened?”

y/n shook her head. “no. i didn’t want to burden papa. mama had just died a few months before it happened… he was already suffering. i didn’t want to add more to his pain.” she looked down. “and… i was vulnerable. i made mistakes too. i let ran in at my weakest. so it’s… partly my fault.”

mikey snapped.

“that’s not your fucking fault.” his voice was firm, his fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.

y/n noticed.

without thinking, she reached forward and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“manjiro… i’m okay now. don’t worry,” she whispered. “nothing can break me anymore, right? you’re here with me.”

she smiled softly and pressed a small kiss to his lips.

mikey melted into it, but there was still a storm raging inside him.

he forced himself to smile back. he forced himself to nod.

but in his mind, there was only one thought.

ran haitani is not getting away with this.

chapter eleven | chapter thirteen

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Hair

Written for @hinnymicrofic November 2023 - Prompt 10

School year 96/97, told through the medium of Hair

He first noticed Ginny’s hair in October, at Quidditch practice. Well, not so much noticed, because of course he had noticed before that she had hair in a general sense. She obviously wasn’t bald, was she? No, it was more like he paid particular attention to her hair, specifically. It happened when she dived sharply for a loose quaffle, twisting as she went, and whatever she’d used to clip it up to her head came loose. Suddenly, her hair was tumbling behind her, first as she hurtled towards the grass, then as she soared upwards, aiming for the hoops. It caught the late afternoon sun, and almost seemed to glow, like flames streaking through the air behind her. Ron saved her shot (with his face. Classic.), and as she pulled up in front of him, face alight with laughter, her hair fell forward, like a cloud around her shoulders. Harry decided the odd feeling in his stomach was hunger - must be time to head back up for dinner.

-----------

Ginny was grateful to Dean, checking over her Charms essay, really she was, but honestly, it was a bit dull, just sat there in the common room, waiting. Her gaze fell idly on the table in the corner, where Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting, deep in conversation. Harry had his back to her, and, for want of anything better to do, she traced the line of his hair with her eyes, where it fell, curling just slightly towards his collar. She imagined running her finger there, feeling where his hairline met the pale skin of his neck, and she shivered slightly. 

“It’s pretty good, Ginny. You just need to add a bit more about the Substantive charm’s practical uses and then I think you’ve covered everything.”

Ginny jumped at the sound of Dean’s voice, suddenly feeling very guilty about the direction of her thoughts, and more than a little surprised. I mean, where the fuck did that even come from?

-----------

The Slug Club Christmas party was every bit as appalling as Harry had feared. Luna’s company helped to make it just about bearable, as did the amusing spectacle of Hermione attempting to avoid McLaggan. The biggest problem was that no matter how many utterly terrifying/incredibly dull/undoubtedly influential (delete as applicable) people Slughorn seemed determined to introduce him to, Harry found his attention constantly drawn to the flashes of long, red hair from across the room, everytime it caught the candlelight. It was impossible to miss, a beacon that always drew his gaze. But as always, Ginny remained just out of his reach.

-----------

At breakfast, before the Hufflepuff match, Ginny watched Harry carefully. Sure enough, she quickly picked up the signs that he was stressed. Losing Katie was bad enough, but Ron’s (ahem) mishap and Cormac’s subsequent recruitment was significantly more concerning. It seemed like every few seconds, he’d run his fingers through his hair. Long, slender, strong fingers, oddly delicate despite the callouses from his wand and the handle of his firebolt, though why her stupid brain insisted on noticing that, she had no idea. Well okay, maybe she had a bit of an idea. But anyway, the constant agitation made his hair stick up in spiky black tufts, even more unruly than usual - which was really saying something, wasn’t it? 

Maybe it would be neater if he cut it shorter? she thought - but he wouldn’t like that, would he? Because if it was shorter, it wouldn’t flop down over his forehead, covering his scar. And, now she came to think about it, she wouldn’t like it either. There was something strangely hot about he always looked so dishevelled, like he had perennially just got out of bed. She wondered, not for the first time, whether it was as soft as it appeared? She imagined running her own fingers through it, the feeling of it against the delicate skin between her fingers and… oh crap, she didn’t just sigh out loud, did she?

“Everything okay, Ginny?” enquired Hermione, her tone solicitous, but her expression irritatingly knowing. “You look a bit… flushed.” 

“Yes, fine,” she answered, smoothly, returning Hermione’s arched eyebrow with one of her own. “Just a bit warm in here, isn’t it?”

-----------

By the time Harry arrived at The Burrow at Easter, he knew he was in real trouble. Being in such close proximity to Ginny was… problematic. Everything about her was just so bloody attractive, and it did things to him. Case in point: when Hermione was finally persuaded to make up the numbers for two-aside Quidditch. Harry honestly didn’t expect this to be an issue - after all, he’d played Quidditch with Ginny countless times, and okay it was often a bit distracting, but this was something else. Obviously, her lips didn’t help, pink and slightly parted as she concentrated on stealing the quaffle from under his nose, but the main difference was the way she was dressed, in the unseasonably warm weather. Those  unnecessarily short shorts, and the way her t-shirt stretched over her chest… well, anyway. He needed something else to focus on, and fast. Ron! Yes, genius. Thinking of Ron, instant mood killer. Ron with his ginger hair. It was the exact same shade as Ginny’s ginger hair, wasn’t it? Ron’s ginger hair, which was cut short, and not at all like Ginny’s which was long and thick and shiny, and currently braided into a thick plait, hanging down her back towards… Oh Merlin! This isn’t helping AT ALL! 

“Harry! Look out!”

Unfortunately, Hermione’s warning came way too late, but at least sorting out the minor cuts and bruises from his collision with the tree branch and subsequent tumble to the ground gave him something else to think about. 

-----------

The moment they stepped through the portrait hole, Harry pressed her against the wall, his mouth on hers. With only a moment of hesitation, Ginny allowed her hands to slip up his back, feeling his shoulders tense at her touch, before sliding them through his hair. 

Yeah, I was right, she thought to herself, it really is as soft as it looks.

After that, she really didn’t do much in the way of thinking at all.