#(there was more warnings to tag for than I realized whoops)

[razzle-zazzle]

you have a sandstorm au?

I have a wholeass playlist for it, too 💪😌

I've summarized it before but it's been a while and some things have been updated so here's another quick summary, under the cut because of allusions to suicide:

Cole kills himself prior to canon by way of train, and ends up in the Cursed Realm. He meets Morro, and initially the two of them don't interact all that much until Morro figures out Cole's supposed to be the master of earth. Morro teaches Cole how to fight, Cole teaches Morro ballet because he doesn't want to owe anything to Morro, and they bond and it's nice and sweet and the Preeminent is looming over everything!

When the Cursed Realm is opened up and Morro and Cole slip out, Morro possesses Lloyd as per usual. Where things change is that Cole comes in separately and pretends to be enemies with Morro, allowing him to get in good graces with the ninja. He sticks around, helping them in their attempts to get the Realm Crystal before Morro can, and finds that it's actually... not that bad, hanging out with these guys.

But Cole knows where his loyalties lie. When the ninja get their hands on the Realm Crystal, Cole steals it to bring to Morro, who uses it to free the Preeminent as they planned. But Cole's time with the ninja had an effect on him, and he really cares a lot about Morro. Like, a lot. And while before that saw him being willing to follow Morro wherever, now (with some nudging from Wu) it's got him moving to work with the ninja to stop the Preeminent. There's a brief fight between him and Morro that doesn't do anything but affirm that they both really care about each other.

When the Preeminent's defeated and the ninja are victorious, where does that leave Cole and Morro? Wu offers to house the two, but Morro needs time and space after everything, so he and Cole set off to parts unknown. They don't return until Day of the Departed, and even once they have bodies again they're still not certain about their future. But they're here, and they're together, and there's a whole wide world and a whole wide life for them to live. So why not try?

[goldenbeastkeeper]

The task was to kill Spiderman. A task Valor had failed multiple times over now. His time was running out. He knew it, and each time he reported to Belos he anticipated his punishment. Usually it was a reduction in food; if he was lucky it was a lashing out. Sometimes it was both. And every single time he walked in there having failed was a disappointed tone that he absolutely hated to hear.

He wondered what his fate was to be as he walked in this time, eyes already downcast - and they could be downcast, because Belos always preferred his Golden Spider to be in human form when they met. It made sense, he supposed; he at least looked more personable in this form, rather than the threat he was in his spider form.

Valor approached where Belos was sitting and knelt down. Even staring down at the floor, he could feel the man's piercing gaze directly on him, as if analyzing him, taking him apart piece by piece and seeing what was underneath.

"Based on your behavior you seem to have failed once more."

The words felt as if they reverberated deeply into his core, tearing at his very being. Valor winced, and he did not lift his head as he said, "He is cunning, and strong. He can anticipate my every move and-"

"Do not make excuses, Valor."

The spider shrunk back. He took a moment. Breathe, collect his thoughts, before trying again. "I- I only mean to say I require more training and time to figure out how to catch him off guard. I am certain that once I do that, he'll be easy to kill." Maybe, even if he escaped his grasp after the bite, he'd still be able to pursue him until the paralysis set in this time.

Belos peered back at him through his mask for several long seconds. Valor hated when he did that. He could never tell what was going to come next, aside from the fact that it usually wasn't anything good.

Finally, he spoke. "Your mentee. You're close to them, are you not?"

Valor looked up, confusion plastered across his face. What did Flicker have to do with . . . ?

"It would be a shame if they disappeared."

Ice cold spread through his entire being like a shock of lightning as he stared up at Belos in terror. "No!"

The man loomed over him, pitch black eye holes in his mask leering. "Then next time Spiderman shows himself, finish the job. Do I make myself clear?"

Valor gulped and dropped his gaze once more. "Yes. I understand."

He never should have let himself get so attached to Flicker. Mentees died all the time. Whether because they themselves couldn't handle the intensity of their training, or because the mentors could no longer handle the constant state of hunger they were kept in and . . . slipped. Valor shuddered at the thought. Now the prey they were sent after? Sure. They were prey, and Valor had partaken himself in particularly desperate moments. But a mentee? He couldn't imagine that. He'd rather starve. Had done so, even, giving Flicker some or all of his own food to alleviate it for them.

Or this could happen. Being used against him. If Valor hadn't gotten so attached to his mentee then the possibility of losing them wouldn't hit nearly so hard. But he had, so it did, and now he was hating himself for it.

"It really would be a shame, honestly," Belos broke Valor out of his thoughts as he mused, picking some odd something or other off his clothes. "They've been doing so well in training. They could even become the Golden Spider themself one day." He shook his head. "To lose such talent . . ."

Valor gritted his teeth, hands clenched. ". . . I won't fail you again."

"Good. I have high expectations of you, Valor."

The spider's words were soft, barely there.

"I know."

-------------------

He watched as Flicker tore into the food they'd been provided for the day. How could Valor not have gotten so attached? None of his fear and anxiety sourced from his mentee, and he'd been tasked with teaching them. Taking care of them. And they were cute, child that they were, in both their appearance and their antics. They were the most positive part of his life.

He wasn't going to beat Spiderman, especially now that he'd seen what he was like when he wasn't holding back. But he couldn't lose Flicker, either.

He knew what he had to do.

There was only one way out, and it was only opened when he was sent out on missions. When it was time for his next his last mission, he would take Flicker with him. And they would never come back.

Between the exhaustion of the fight and the fact that his body was now working on healing the new wounds he'd gotten, Valor was starving, so he did take his full half this time instead of giving Flicker more. Hopefully Belos would allow him the full time to heal before sending him out again, but he had a feeling that if there was anything that might draw Spiderman out before then, that wouldn't be the case.

Luckily, he didn't plan on actually fighting him this time. But he was probably going to have to push through anyone who tried to stop him, and heavens help him if they sent another spider after him. They were all kept in the same facility - it'd be very easy if the alarm was sounded quickly enough. It would be so much easier if he went by himself, pretended to go out on the mission but then never came back, but he wasn't going to leave Flicker here alone. He couldn't leave Flicker alone. They were coming with him.

He took a breath. Later. He'd deal with it later.

. . . But they should probably at least know what to expect.

"Flicker." Murmured, but firm. The child looked up at him, the lower half of their face covered in the remains of their meal. He continued, "Next time that door opens, cling to my back and don't let go."

They shifted back. Obviously this was not what they were expecting. "Are you gonna show me how to do missions?"

There was a faint smile on Valor's face before he shook his head. "No. No, we're . . . We're getting out of here, Flick. We're going somewhere that they won't be able to hurt us anymore. Somewhere there will be far more food to hunt. And no more enclosures. We'll be free."

Flicker looked up at him with such wide eyes Valor had to hold down a cooing warble, though he couldn't stop his head from tilting. "Where is that?" they asked.

"Outside. I don't know where specifically we'll go out there, but we'll figure it out when we get to it, and so long as we're not here we'll be fine. But people might try to fight us, so you've gotta cling to me as tight as you can, alright?"

They tilted their head, then nodded. "Okay." This was what their mentor wanted them to do, and it seemed very important, so they would do it. Besides, the thought of a place with more food sounded heavenly. They wanted that. They would listen.

-------------------

Valor ran. He ran as fast as his legs could take him with a smaller spider clutching onto his back, and he ran up the walls and on the ceiling, avoiding as many scientists as he possibly could. Unfortunately genetic modification wasn't the only thing this organization was working with, and there were a few weapons they shot at him with. Most missed, some didn't.

And then they sent out the creatures.

Two other spiders were on his tail, and he heard someone call for some project name that he hadn't heard of before but didn't want to be here for to find out. There was tackling, there was biting, there was clawing, there was blood and hemolymph everywhere. Valor was fighting for his life, and for the life of the child so desperately attempting to remain on him despite all the knocking around.

But, eventually, they made it out, and Valor was quick to scramble somewhere with more cover. He had a tracker - Flicker didn't because they hadn't been allowed outside yet, but Valor did - and he needed that to be out so they couldn't follow them. But he didn't exactly have any tools to do so, so . . . with a pained hiss he shifted back into his more human-looking form - it'd be easier to not have to deal with chitin - and bit into the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, ripping the chip out himself. He crushed it in his teeth and spat out the remains.

Then he took a breath and shifted back to spider; he'd always been warned, if he was injured in one form, not to shift into the other as it would affect the injuries, especially if any were on his second pair of arms that didn't exist in human form, and there were right now. Besides, he'd be able to defend himself better in this form if he needed to.

But as of now they needed to go. And they needed to go somewhere that would be willing to treat creatures like them. Because at this point Valor had sustained enough injuries that he was either going to die of blood loss or get infected if he didn't get treatment soon, and he couldn't let either of those happen when he still had Flicker to take care of.

(They'd gotten caught up in the fight, too. Gashes from where clawed hands tried to rip them away from him. Cracks in their chiton from being slammed into the wall or falling to the floor. They needed treatment, too. Valor needed to move.)

Someone that might have at least some amount of medical experience, that wouldn't freak out at their appearance, that might not be hostile so long as they themselves weren't . . .

There was only one place he could think of that might be something like that.

[thru-the-grapevine]

Deep End

Pairing: Choi Soobin x fem!reader

Summary: Soobin thinks you could be the most dangerous thing to ever happen to him, if he let you (or: not even the ambience of a city rooftop can distract Soobin from you).

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags/Warnings: mature content (minors dni), pwfwp (porn with feelings without plot), public sex, established relationship, man is a simp

Author’s Note: the lovely @chanis-banani has allowed me to post the birthday gift I made for her 🥰 I played myself by writing it for her because now I’m kinda nuts about him too. Whoops.

Soobin has never been a particularly possessive or territorial person before, so he’s unprepared for how it feels to see you in his shirt.

He watches you in the reflection of the hotel elevator, mesmerized. The shirt is a button-down, oversized even on Soobin. He’d helped you roll up each sleeve four times just to give your wrists some breathing room, and from how it fits on you, it gives the appearance that it’s the only thing you’re wearing at all. He’s trying very hard not to stare at your bare legs, focusing in on your little painted toenails to try and stay respectful. He’s not sure if it’s working. Nothing feels respectful about the way he looks at you these days.

The two of you are on a weekend trip to the city together, seizing the opportunity for quality time alone during a rare time when neither of you have anything in your schedules. You’d suggested pretending it was a fancy weekend, and Soobin had taken you at your word and sprung for a nicer hotel than usual, particularly because of how your face had lit up at the idea of a rooftop pool.

The two of you are on the way to this pool now, and instead of wearing normal clothes over your swimsuit, you’d insisted on borrowing one of his shirts. He’d agreed without really thinking about it, and once the sleeves were rolled up you’d declared it was perfect.

Soobin can’t disagree, either, because he can’t stop looking at you in it. Something about it being your idea makes it even better. He likes the way you look in it, but in a way he didn’t expect. Some sort of base instinct in his gut is glowing, seeing you in something of his.

Then again, you’ve always fascinated him, even before the two of you began seeing each other. You’ve always lit up every room he sees you in, something about how you carry yourself drawing the klutzy moth of him to you like flame. He’s never wanted to know so much about another person before. He loves learning every little thing that makes you laugh, that makes you chatty, that incites reactions in you.

He can’t believe he convinced you to say yes when he asked you out, amazed you allowed him to keep coming back for more. He feels like a naturalist who got outrageously lucky enough to get close to their favorite beloved wildlife, like he has to drink in and take note of everything he can get of you in case you spook and flee. Like he can puzzle out the mystery of you if he studies you closely enough.

You catch him staring in the reflection and make a silly face. He grins and makes one back, shifting closer to you and watching his reflection drape an arm over your shoulders. He’s realizing recently how often you draw him in, how he’s always looking for reasons to be as close to you as he can. If he really was a moth, he’d be scorched to a crisp by now.

He can feel you practically vibrating with excitement as the two of you step out onto the roof. There’s a huge grin on your face as you gaze around with eyes so big that Soobin knows you wish you had more of them to take it all in.

“Not too shabby, then?” He asks, charmed at the way you flit from place to place, exploring.

“What do you mean, not too shabby? It’s perfect,” you gush, gesturing from thing to thing and bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Look at the view, ugh, it’s so—and the pool? It’s perfect, the water is so pretty, it’s all so pretty here at night, look at all the other buildings lit up, I’m just—!”

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, face still aglow. “Okay. Calming down.”

He grins, making his way to a chaise lounge near the pool and sitting. “That’s the spirit.”

“Why is it so empty up here on a night like this?” You wonder, staring up and around at the nearby buildings and night sky.

A private smile twitches at the corner of Soobin’s mouth. “Yeah, seems way too nice out not to be up here.”

“Definitely nice enough to swim,” you muse, turning to him and batting your eyes once. “You’ll swim with me, right?”

It was never a question that he would, but Soobin feigns uncertainty. “Hmm...”

“Just for a little bit,” you insist, shoulders slumping, and he can’t help laughing.

“’Course, that’s why we came up here.”

You pout at him, making your way over to his chair. “Rude.”

He watches you approach, endeared at the little frown line between your brows when you pout, how it makes your lips even more distracting. “You’re just easy to bother.”

You make a face at him. “Just for that, you can have your shirt back.”

His mouth goes a little dry when your hands go to the top button, fiddling.

“Oh no, please, anything but that,” he tries to deadpan, but his voice rasps.

You roll your eyes, amused, as you pop the first button. “Perv.”

He can’t even refute you. It’s like erotic torture, watching you unbutton the shirt—his shirt; god, that really is doing things to him. The buttons are on the opposite placket than you’re used to, which means you move slower, and Soobin watches in an agony of lust as inch after inch of your skin is revealed.

You shrug the shirt off when it’s finally unbuttoned, tossing it into his lap and wandering to the edge of the pool. He tries to get himself back under control, but your swimsuit leaves so much less to the imagination than anything else he usually sees you wear that it’s impossible.

You look back over your shoulder at him, pausing on the steps descending into the water. “You coming?”

He nods, dazed.

You raise an eyebrow, smirk teasing the corners of your mouth. “You good?”

That depends heavily on what “good” means. He considers saying this, knows you’ll enjoy the philosophical banter, but when he opens his mouth his throat is too dry to speak. He shuts his mouth and clears his throat, giving up. “I...yeah. Great.”

His face feels hot when you wink at him, tip of your tongue between your teeth. Jesus.

He watches you wade down into the pool and tries to think of boring things, like taxes and bylaws and coding instructions, anything but how breathtaking every inch of you is. It doesn’t work, especially when you dip beneath the surface briefly, then come back up, swiping your hair back from your face more flawlessly than any model.

“Water’s fine,” you murmur, and something in your expression makes him think you’re fully aware that he’s wrapped around your little finger.

Maybe the water will clear his head. He grabs the scruff of his shirt and yanks it over his head. “Coming.”

He doesn’t bother with the steps, heads straight for the deep end and hops in. The cool water is a welcome shock to his system, as well as the muted quiet of underwater. He lingers near the bottom, waiting until his lungs ache for air to push back towards the shallow end.

When he resurfaces, you’re floating on your back, gazing up at the night sky. He swipes his hair out of his face and rises to his full height, angling to see you better. You have your mouth pursed in a specific way to keep from inhaling water, and your hair splays out around your head in the water in gentle, undulating waves, Medusa-style. There are little twinkling reflections in your eyes of the world you’re drinking in above you. Bliss in your face.

Oh no, a voice in the back of Soobin’s mind says, and looking at you feels like he’s made of glass and is being shoved off a high ledge. But Soobin can’t bring himself to be frightened, can only concentrate on the pleasant swoop in his stomach as he plummets. He thinks he might enjoy being shattered by you.

You jerk in surprise when you catch him watching you, a thrash of water. “Jesus.”

He feels a grin tugging at his lips. “Sorry,” he says, not sorry at all.

“Why are you just standing there staring, you weirdo?” You move upright again, and your mad scientist hair flattens into a streaming curtain down your back. Pale blue pool light reflects in little waves over your skin, and Soobin would believe someone in this moment if they told him you were a water goddess.

He can’t tear his gaze away from you, still grinning like a fool. “You’re interesting.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing smile back on your face.

“Interesting, huh.”

“Mhm.” He starts wading your way at that dreamlike pace water always demands. Moth, meet flame.

“Me, or my tits?”

“I—that wasn’t what—” Soobin stammers. “What—I hadn’t even looked at—”

And he hadn’t, truly. Except of course they’re now at the forefront of his mind, now that you’ve mentioned them, and invisible magnetism keeps tempting his gaze down, a losing fight with the thought of them right at the top of his brain, and now he’s noticing your chest, half-submerged, the gleam of soaked skin and droplets in tantalizing places, noticing the wet cling of swimsuit fabric to curving soft skin. He wonders how it might feel to glide his hands over and under and around, whether you would feel cool or warm under his mouth, and his mind hadn’t been on this track two seconds ago, it really hadn’t...

He hears you snort, tears his gaze back to your face, schoolboy guilt bunched in his stomach.

“Mmhmm,” you say, unbelieving. Your pleased little grin eases the shame, a balm on his heart.

“Yah, I really wasn’t,” he protests. “...but now that you mention it...”

Your snicker is cute, everything about you is so cute, and when did this happen, how did this happen, how did you become the most irresistible thing in Soobin’s world without him catching whiff of it before?

You surprise him when you lunge for him when he’s close enough, your arms flinging around his neck, soft mouth covering his. Like kissing him is a relief, like to you he’s something special, something to look forward to. He’s not going to question why, even if his own appeal to you puzzles him, just pulls you closer with his hands on your hips and kisses you back.

You pull back far too quickly, and he frowns, missing you already. He’s immediately distracted, though, at the delicate feeling of your fingertips ruffling in the soggy strands of his hair.

“Thanks for springing for this place,” you murmur, grateful little smile on your face. “I love it.”

“’Course, baby,” he hums, trying not to feel too smug for nailing it. All of it was worth it just for this.

Your gaze follows a droplet of water traveling down his neck and over his chest. One of your hands leaves his hair, tracing the wing of his collarbone gently.

“You’re really hot when you’re all wet,” you admit, floating off your feet and hooking your legs around his waist.

Your positioning immediately stokes his carnal interest. He blinks, dazed grin spreading slowly over his face.

“Only when I’m all wet?” He teases, hands on a slow glide from your hips to cup beneath your thighs, holding you in place.

You tsk at him, fingers still playing in slow, hypnotic patterns through his hair and over his chest. “Fishing for compliments? Don’t tell me you don’t hear them all the time. We know what you look like.”

He loves watching your mouth when you talk. The shape of your lips is something he’s constantly cataloguing for long-term memory, both from looking at and feeling them with his own.

“I only ever want your compliments,” he says absently, thumbs drawing little circles on your thighs, completely mesmerized. “They’re the only ones that count.”

He can see the reflection of the flickering surface of the pool in your eyes. Something thrills in his chest when the edges of your smile turn a little shy.

“Flirt,” you murmur, leaning in closer.

He blinks, drawing the tip of his nose along yours slowly. He can’t remember what he said. He should try to remember, should take it down to use later, but you’re quite literally hanging all over him and you’re all wet in a swimsuit and your mouth is only inches away and he is not God’s strongest soldier, after all.

He leans down and fastens his mouth over yours, kissing you like he has all the time in the world. It’s quickly becoming one of his favorite things to do, finding all the ways your mouths can fit together. He teases the tip of his tongue along your lower lip, heart racing when you sigh into his mouth and open for him. God. The taste of you, mingled with pool water and the lip balm you’d borrowed from him earlier, is enough to turn off all the thoughts in his brain.

Mouth still playing over yours, he wades slowly backward, inching towards the pool steps, crouching as the water gets shallow to keep you both weightless in the water. His heel knocks against the bottom step and he stumbles back, kiss breaking as he sits down hard.

Your little giggle goes straight to his crotch for reasons he can’t decipher. He grins, sheepish, lifts himself up to sit on the next-highest step, reaching for your hips and reeling you back in. You straddle his lap without him even having to ask, more proof to his mind that you’re perfect, and when he tilts his chin up you meet him halfway.

Everything about you in his arms feels right, and Soobin feels something unidentifiable deep within him settling into place. All his senses are honed in on you, on your mouth moving with his, on the gentle chaos of your breath, on the soft suppleness of you relaxing into him as he kisses you with slow, consuming ardor. His hands slide in restless patterns over you, and eventually his mouth parts from yours and drags along the line of your jaw.

“For the record,” he murmurs, pausing to nip softly at your earlobe, “you’re really hot when you’re all wet, too.”

Your laugh is breathless, a bolt of heat to his gut. “Only when I’m all wet?”

“Especially when you’re all wet,” he whispers, nuzzling against the hollow beneath your ear, savoring how you shiver.

Your skin is cool beneath his mouth, and he makes it a personal mission to warm it again, openmouthed kisses gliding smooth and wet and hot along the expanse of your neck, the curve of your shoulder, the wing of your collarbone. He feels you hum and relax further into his lap, tension in your muscles melting you closer against him, candle wax near open flame. He marvels innocently at how incredibly silky you are, even over firmer places, how there’s a hint of you behind the chlorine on your skin, and he needs more of it, feels an itch in his brain for more you in his senses.

“Hey,” you protest halfheartedly as he fumbles with the ties of your swimsuit top. “This is a public pool, someone could come up.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, hearing the words purely at a sound level, feeling the ties come loose in his hands with a slithery tickle. He nuzzles into the inside curve of your breast, nudging fabric away from wet skin, mouth slipping along the plush undercurve. Pure fascination wins out as he opens his mouth wider, bites, sucks.

He feels you twitch in surprise at the feeling, soothes his hands along your back in half-apology, laser-focused on the feel, the taste of you in his mouth. You’re sensitive here, not as excruciatingly sensitive as your nipples, but that just means he doesn’t have to be as careful, can let his curiosity at the feeling of you win unrestricted.

He continues nibbling and sucking in that spot, slides a hand around to your front and tugs the now-loose top away, tossing it behind him blindly. He feels your hands tighten on his shoulders when he settles his hand back on you, cupping your other breast. He eases the pad of his thumb in gentle circles over your areola, mesmerized at the way the skin puckers and tightens to a point under the lazy caress. He hears you swallow back a moan, feels one of your hands slide up and weave fingers through his hair, and that base instinct deep in his gut puffs its chest knowing that he affects you like this.

He lifts his mouth from your skin with a crude pop, other hand sliding from your back to brush a thumb over the hickey. He knows you love when he leaves them on your neck, but it still makes him shy to know other people will see them and make assumptions about what your love lives are like. This one, however, on this pillowy curve of skin that only the two of you get to see, is right up his alley. Satisfied with how dark it is already, he nuzzles your breast and settles his mouth over your nipple.

The little noise you make is adorable, and Soobin finds himself smiling against your skin. He traces his tongue over the budding peak, unhurried, takes your other nipple between his fingers and pinches until you gasp. He can’t resist rolling it slowly between his fingers, twisting one way and then the other as he circles the other in lazy circles with his tongue.

He hears a frayed whimper in your throat, the helpless wriggle of your hips against his inflaming him further. He’s never been addicted to a person before, but he’s hooked on you for sure, wants to take inventory of every inch of you, every reaction he can incite, every texture and scent and movement. He drags his mouth to your other breast and kisses your poor abused nipple gently, massages it better with his tongue as his hand takes over the one he left behind.

All of you drowns his senses—the cool slipperiness of your skin, the little whines you sigh out, the way you keep cinching yourself closer to him, burying your face against his hair, agonizing friction in your laps. He can’t stop himself from groping your ass and tucking your hips in tighter against his, fascinated by the feeling of your muscles twitching and contracting with desire.

He makes a noise of surprise when your hand in his hair tightens and yanks, angling his face up to yours. You crush your mouth over his, and his hands are immediately all over you, roaming restless paths over every inch of you he can reach, urging you closer. He wants to drown in you, be consumed by you, devour you with all five senses at once and then more.

It’s not enough. He wrenches his mouth from yours, panting, tapping your hip.

“Up,” he pants.

You hesitate only a second before moving off of his lap. He stands quickly and takes your hand, sloshing his way up the remaining steps and out of the pool with you in tow.

You seem to be on the same wavelength, to an extent, matching his pace as he makes his way over to the chairs with your things on them. He guides you in front of him, a twinge of fondness in his chest at the sight of your arm attempting to cover your chest, as if that doesn’t just make them look especially sumptuous, and he wants his hands back on you, wants to test how squishable—

“Down,” he pants, hand nudging your shoulder until you sit on the chaise, then nudging again until you lie back. His other hand is already untying your swim bottoms, one side and then the other, gaze laser-focused as he leans in and presses a kiss low on your abdomen, parting your legs.

“I—wait, ‘Binnie,” you protest, hand coming to his head. “Stop—we are outside, someone could look out a window and see—”

“Don’t care,” he mumbles against your skin, mouth already gliding along the inside of your thigh. The looming buildings nearby, the vague hum of city life stories below, the night sky, the pool, everything is in a foggy haze in Soobin’s mind. His only focus is you, on how downy soft you are, how you shiver as his tongue darts out to catch at water droplets on your skin.

“Easy for you to say, you’re still wearing someth—ah,” you squeak as Soobin yanks your now-completely untied bottoms away, balling them up absently in one hand and hurling them to oblivion. “Wait, I’m serious, Soobinnnnnnngh.”

He groans into the apex of your thighs, mouth open wide and tongue flattened along as much of you as possible. God, yes, this is exactly what he’s after, concentration and essence of you overwhelming his senses. Slowly, he curls the tip of his tongue, dragging his mouth up, the motion gently parting wet layers of inner softness. You slap a hand over your mouth, moaning as the tip of his tongue laves over the sensitive crest at the very peak, and he lingers there for a moment, leaving an openmouthed kiss.

Blindly, he fumbles above him, finding your arm and pulling your hand away from your mouth, anchoring your wrist to the chaise. He feels your other hand tighten hard in his hair as he continues leaving wet, sucking kisses all over the sensitive tucks and pleats of flesh, working you up with ruthless patience.

He daydreams about this more often than he cares to admit, even more so when the two of you are apart, and he’s determined to learn and implement the way you like it best, the way that makes you lose all sense of shame. Admittedly, he gets a little carried away in part because you’ve told him your former partners were merely passable at eating you out. His competitive streak, combined with this growing obsession with you, make him determined to be extra attentive whenever you grant him this opportunity.

It’s difficult to stay focused, though, the hot and wet feel of you on his mouth, the taste of you on his tongue, enough to make him delirious. He easily gets lost in the savoring, mapping every inch of you under his tongue, lingering in places just because it makes you tremble and whine like you’re desperate for him, and he wants you just as desperate for him as he feels about you.

He hums into you, delighted, when your legs close in around his head as he closes his mouth over your clit and sucks. Everything goes muffled, even the little moans of his name you’re trying to bite back, but it hardly matters when he can feel your limbs shaking, feel you hot and throbbing against his mouth. You start trying to buck your hips into his face, and he slides his free arm over your abdomen and pins you down, steadying you both. He tongues over you in wet, languid strokes, feels the clenching flutter of the entrance into your body. Pure fascination drives him again, and he strokes you there again, stiffening his tongue and driving it into you.

Oh, god. The tight, blistering heat of you, the taste, nearly unmans him. He moans into you, guttural, and nearly loses his mind at the way he can feel your inner muscles fluttering and clenching rhythmically on his tongue like a heartbeat.

The overwhelming need to make you come slams into him like a tidal wave. He’s determined now, anchoring you in place and delving his tongue into you in delicately aggressive thrusts, nuzzling into you deeper and deeper. He can hear you whining even with your thighs muffling his ears, the sound increasingly desperate, and he wants to give you anything in the whole world that you want, would roll over and bark if you asked, so he doubles his efforts and slides his mouth back up to suck and tongue at that most sensitive bud, wringing sensation like raw honey from the comb.

He wonders for a brief moment if he could come just like this, completely untouched with his face buried between your legs, moaning into you like your pleasure is his own, and if that makes him a munch then so be it. And then you tense and tighten against him for a full moment and the pleasure uncoils, your whole body arching and shuddering in euphoria. He shoves his tongue back into you and moans, lightheaded at each of the siphoning ripples of fulfillment pulling him in deeper, drunk on the little sobs of pleasure you make.

God. He’s never wanted anything as much as he wants to be wrapped up in you right the fuck now. He eases you through the quaking pulses of ecstasy and starts fumbling with the drawstring of his swimsuit, taking care not to touch himself for fear of blowing his load in his pants like a teenager. Raw need claws at his insides like a rabid animal, desire to make sure everything is perfect for you warring against his impatience, his craving to skip over things like a condom and gentleness and—

Condom. Oh. He remembers reminding himself to grab one, remembers seeing the box of them tucked into his bag and knowing one would be needed, and yet here he is, empty-handed. Fuck.

“We have to go back to the room,” he groans, leaning back and mopping his chin with the back of his hand. “Now. I need to be in you more than I need to live another day.”

Through your pleasured exhaustion, a lazy smile forms on your lips. You shake your head, glancing over and gesturing at his dress shirt you’d borrowed.

“Don’t need to go back downstairs,” you breathe, and fuck, your post-orgasm voice is devastatingly sexy. “Get the shirt, I brought a condom.”

He blinks at you, once, twice, not comprehending. “You...”

Color flushes over your skin prettily. “I...I thought it never hurts to be prepared. For anything.”

Soobin is trying to process that you’ve had a plan for being up here that involves a condom. Dazed, he glances over at the neighboring chaise, reaches for the shirt.

“Is there a condom...in the shirt...?”

Your breathless giggle ties his insides into little knots.

“You didn’t notice the weird shape in the breast pocket earlier?” You ask, eyes crinkled in mirth.

Through the haze of oh my god she wants us to fuck, Soobin finds it in him to be indignant again. “I wasn’t looking at—I was trying not to look, you know, at...”

He huffs a sigh as he extracts the condom from the shirt pocket, unable to stay annoyed even as you keep giggling at him.

“Here I was trying to be respectful,” he tsks, smiling even as his ears grow hot.

You snort. “Ah yes, the respectful boyfriend that strips his girlfriend at a public pool and commits sex acts on her where anyone could stumble in on them.”

“No one’s going to stumble in,” Soobin breathes, trying to make his hands dry enough to tear the condom packet open.

“What do you mean?”

“Pool’s closed,” he says, giving up and tearing at the packet with his teeth.

“The pool is closed? Are we going to get in trouble for—”

“It’s not really closed,” he says. “I just paid the front desk to tell the rest of the hotel guests that it’s closed.”

You stare at him for so long in stunned silence that he starts feeling a little antsy. “You bribed the hotel...so you could have sex with me?”

“I would bribe anyone with anything to spend even five platonic minutes alone with you,” he protests, fumbling the condom out of the wrapper.

He stills when you grab his wrist, arresting him with your stare. There’s something at work behind your eyes, something he doesn’t know the name for.

“What?” He whispers.

After a long moment, you swallow. “Nothing. I just...no, nothing. Here, let me.”

You keep eye contact as you slip the condom out of his hand, and he shivers when your other hand brushes down his abdomen. His breath stutters when you take hold of him, and he feels himself twitch in your hand after going so long neglecting himself.

If he doesn’t redirect his attention he may still finish before he can even get inside you. “People might—might still be able to see from windows,” he stammers as you roll the condom on, spreading your legs.

You shrug a shoulder, abashed smile still on your face. “If they see, they see,” you breathe.

Sometimes you make him breathless.

“Remind me not to believe you,” he murmurs, settling himself between your legs, “when you say you’re too shy to do this out in the open.”

You laugh as he drags his tip over you, catching on your entrance. “Don’t push it, this is a special ca—ohh.”

Ohh, indeed. Soobin moans and drops his forehead against your temple, feeling what little remains of his sanity obliterating the further inside he eases into you. You’ve been intimate like this before, but no matter how prepared Soobin thinks he is, every time feels like the first time all over again. Nothing ever truly prepares him for the scalding hot, wet glide into unimaginable tightness, for how even when you’re relaxed, he has to bully himself into you inch by inch. He’s shaking with the effort to be gentle, nudges his hips slowly until bit by bit, all of him is enveloped snugly inside.

“How can you feel this perfect,” he groans, most of the willpower left at his disposal exerted on lasting, good god he needs to last even just to feel you around him like this for longer—

You laugh again, breathless, and the way that feels when you’re connected like this is sinfully good. “I try.”

“No you don’t,” he gasps, rocking his hips gingerly into yours. “You just are.”

You whimper as the angle of his hips drives him into a sensitive place inside of you. He grinds into the spot again, careful, his restraint threadbare but hanging on.

“Please,” you pant, hitching your knees further up, and the adjustment of angle forcing him even deeper.

Soobin nearly chokes on his own tongue. Fuck. He thrusts like he’s afraid of himself, mantra of don’t come don’t come don’t come flooding the forefront of his mind, sheer force of will.

“I won’t break,” you plead, voice so breathy and fucked-out it belongs in high-end porn. Sweet merciful god, he can’t do this.

He feels your mouth drag along his shoulder, and then a flash of sharpness. His body reacts to the bite before his mind can catch up, hips surging hard against yours, strangled noise punching out of his throat. Your legs tighten around him, intimate muscles clenching in that way that means hell yes, and the groan from deep in his chest is inevitable as he snaps his hips again. Fuck.

Yeah, okay, he can do this for you. That base instinct in his gut purrs like a feral dragon at the way you can no longer hide your moans, being fucked like this. His new goal now is to build stamina, he’s determined, needs to be able to do you exactly how you want it for hours without stopping. He thinks he might be moaning too but he can’t hear, so preoccupied with drinking in every clench of your muscles around him, every little pleasured expression on your face, addiction to every part of you wrapped around him like this so intense he feels lightheaded.

He can’t tell if you’re shaking or he is, only knows you’re pulling him in like you aren’t already as close as it is humanly possible to be, like that somehow isn’t enough, like you can meld yourselves into a singular being if you try hard enough. Your fingernails dig hard into his shoulders, your breath stuttering in that way that tells him just what’s coming next, and then you shatter around him.

You become impossibly tighter around him, bearing down with rhythmic spasms luring him deeper inside, as if that’s even possible, like he hasn’t been working himself as deep into you as he can go, purely for selfish reasons. He never wants to leave, would live inside you if he could, and he loves that you get like this with him, loves the way you go soft and pliant when the release begins ebbing, god, he loves—

His release hits him with no warning, no buildup, hard as a bullet train. Fuck. It feels like nothing that’s ever happened to him before, and a stab of panic electrocutes him through the feeling. His ears are ringing, alarm bells tolling danger in his bones, and he feels out of control, completely gone, glass making impact at last and shattering into far-flung pieces, impossible to gather again. It’s all he can do to gasp for breath, clutching at you like handfuls of sand that keep slipping away, hips rocking into you, slow, rhythmic, with a mind of their own.

Your arms slide around his back, warm pressure like an anchor point, and just with that, with your tight embrace and each deep breath you take, you’ve found each piece of him, binding him back together. Only now the essence of you fills in the cracks, the healing balm, each sinew of him now limned with your glow. A moth made of flame.

Soobin tries to take as even breaths as possible, tries to sound calm, rests his face against the chaise next to your face and feels a hot stinging drip from his eyelashes.

He knows what that look in your eyes was earlier, he realizes. The unidentifiable emotion. He knows because it’s clicking for him right now, the knowledge that he feels that way, too.

Admin Ellie’s Masterlist

[charmercharm3r]

YOU WILL WRITE THIS

SO IMAGING ABT how your a 9th skz member (who always wears baggy street wear or just the really cutsie member who does aegyo and isnt rlly sexual and lit has never showed any skin )and you all go boxing for fun - you decide to wear a baggy white shirt and a white bra under it and once you arrive to the gym your acc really good at boxing like your sweatiinggg and its showing your skin and clinging onto u - thowing jabs at minho like your life DEPENDS ON IT!! the members admire you from the side of the ring with a good view; after that tiring session you or your member dump water on you to quench your thirst but end up dumping wayy more than intended which causes you all to laugh but iykyk white clothes + water = see through jit going thru your shirt and kinda your bra so the members are just staring at your bare boobs (you can also write the baddie moment where you take off your shirt bc your agitated at it clinging onto ur skin)

i’m such a sucker for 9th member fics

Masterlist

warning: gn!reader, 9th member, suggestive

next: two

☆ﾟ

“That’s it, Y/N’ie! Now I can actually feel your punches. Put a little more weight behind it.”

Minho had you dancing around the elevated boxing ring like it was rehearsed. Your couldn’t feel your hands or arms anymore from how long you’d been chasing him in circles to hit the padded target he always held just a little out of reach. Honestly, sports weren’t really your thing, dancing was the only thing you truly tried to do well in front of and behind the cameras. You had no idea what possessed you to tag along with Minho to his boxing session.

The news of your outing traveled fast within the group and before you knew it, everyone was piling into the two cars together. Minho and Chan had been giving you pointers the whole car ride and even tried to show you how to wrap the bandage around your wrist for support until you shooed them away and told them to stop hovering.

Felix was giggling watching the whole preparation take place, only when he said your full name did you realize he was narrating with a mini vlogging camera pointed your way.

Maybe promotions and practices and life in general were starting to take an emotional toll on you, every ounce of your frustrations from the week you took it out on Minho.

You couldn’t feel your feet now, too. The numbness let you move a little faster, only able to feel the sweat dripping down your temple and chest. As you picked up the pace and threw your punches harder, Minho stumbled slightly from the sudden burst of energy. You couldn’t hear the other members whooping and cheering your name, all focus pinpointed on the black target.

Harder, quicker, more than enough weight behind the punches that forced Minho to misstep and trip into the rope. The others rushed to hold their hands out in case he slipped through them, while also torn between being in awe or laughing at the older boy literally falling for you.

You tried to catch your breath and aggravatedly unwrapped the boxing glove from your hand as Minho stood and looked at you with surprise.

“Was that enough weight?!” You huffed, throwing the glove at him with almost no power now that you expended most of it trying to hit the target.

Giggling from the side of the ring made your head snap in its direction, “you want some, too, Kim Seungmin? I’ll come down there and—“

Just as you were about to throw the other glove at him, Changbin stepped into the ring and stole it from you, physically picking you up and waltzing you backwards with your rubbery limbs not putting up much of a fight. “You can beat him up later. Drink water first, you sweat like a fucking fountain.”

“Y/N’ie!” Felix and Hyunjin ran around to help you out of the ring, water bottles at the ready. You let Hyunjin tip your chin up and place the open bottle to your lips, it was gone in under a minute. “Slow down, you’ll drown,” he chuckled.

“Lix, you’re staring again,” Changbin threw his hand over his eyes until he realized what the younger was ogling.

The baggy white shirt you’d worn was completely soaked and sticking to your body like a second skin, showing through the sports bra that kept you safe. You were never one to show much skin at all, but right now, you didn’t have the energy to care. In fact, it was suddenly feeling suffocating. When you started to strip away the drenched shirt was when the rest of the members made their way over to you, all with mouths dropped slightly at the view of their adorable member suddenly shining in a new light.

“Hyung, maybe you should get Y/N’ie mad more often,” Jeongin whispered to Minho, who had a stupidly smug smirk on his face.

“I’ll take—“ huff, “—every one—“ puff, “of you fuc—“

“Hey now! No swearing in my vlog!” Felix rushed to stop you mid sentence.

“But they’re cute when they’re mad! Look,” Jisung pinched your cheek lightly and you frowned, raising your fist, “oh, so scary!” He feigned fright and stepped back with his hands up in surrender.

“You looked really cool, though. Who knew you could actually do physical activity!” Seungmin patted you on the back a little too harshly and you slumped forward with a wince.

“I hate all of you.”

“You love us!” Chan rung out your wet shirt and all of you stopped to watch how much of it was squeezed onto the floor. “That’s disgusting.”

Felix laughed menacingly and turned the camera towards himself, “I think Y/N’ie needs a shower.”

The eight of them made eye contact and smiled deviously. You spotted the bottles of water they each had and moved a second too late. Minho grabbed you by the waist before you could run, and suddenly you were being blinded by water running down your face and getting covered from head to toe. Minho was nice enough to wipe your strayed hair from your eyes so you could see the glee in your member’s eyes as if they’d accomplished an important task.

“Are you cooled off now?” Minho asked, peaking over your shoulder and brushing more hair from your cheek.

“Ice cold.”

“Oh, they’re definitely mad at us!” Felix kept laughing along with Hyunjin and Jisung.

“You all owe me one meal each. Dessert included.”

“I’ll even throw in a dry towel.” Chan handed you a itty bitty hand towel that you snatched away.

You patted down your exposed skin starting with your arms, your face, and when you got to your neck and chest was when you realized they’d all gone quiet. “Have none of you seen a chest before?! Virgins, all of you.”

None of them moved, unabashedly and unashamed that they were still staring.

“It’s just—“ Hyunjin said softly and pointed at your chest again. You looked down to see your nipples hard, and you lost any patience you had left.

There was almost no force behind your fists slamming into his chest, but Hyunjin cowered away and pretended to be hurt just for sympathy’s sake. Minho cheered you on while Chan was pulling out a spare shirt from his gym bag, sneakily slipping it onto you as your adrenaline drained back down to zero.

“Two. Meals. Each. And I’ll be keeping track.” You breathed heavily, finally giving up on being upset.

“Dessert included,” they repeated back.

When you’d finally calmed down, Felix threw his arm over your shoulder and pulled you in close, “how was your first time boxing with Minho hyung? Care to share with sunshine vlog?”

“Next time, it’ll be you and me in that ring, Lixie.” You cheerfully threaded with a tap of your finger to the tip of his nose and smiled.

The seven of them trailed behind you as you leaned on Felix for some support. Not even an ounce of annoyance left in you, the sleep was wanting to take over before you could make it to the car. You climbed into the back seat and made yourself comfortable before the rest of them could file in, careful not to raise their voices too loud. You could tell it was Changbin next to you just by the smell of his cologne, still strongly lasting after a decent work out.

Entirely passed out, you didn’t get to hear Felix end his vlog with, “look how cute they are, already asleep. Stay, shhh, don’t tell Y/N’ie that Minho hyung only tripped cus his shoe was untied. See you next time!”

-

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @goblinracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @kaitchan @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut

[dreamingofbucky]

IS IT TOO LATE?

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!F!Reader (one shot)

summary: He casted you back to your universe. But now he's back and you don't know why. you thought he hated you for the longest time. But that's furthest from the truth.

tags/content warnings: very much angst. heart strings will be pulled at. consensual smut. p in v. love confessions. soft!miguel. fangs are used for pleasure. begging. size kink. praise, like tons of it. mig and reader healing themselves together.

Word Count: 4.2k (whoops)

author’s note: not beta read. mild midnight miguel thots. more angst though with a very happy ending. idk i was in my feelings lol

You could sense him close to you. You always did, even despite your spider senses.

It was like he’s infected himself into you even years later, unable to get him out of your system.  

You were in your kitchen, putting away some dishes when you got the feeling of him being near. It was like a prickle at your neck that grew and grew until every hair on your body rose. You whipped your head around the kitchen and narrowed your eyes to find him. You couldn’t though, he was always good at hiding himself. 

“Miguel?” Your voice drifted throughout your apartment. It fell flat though and a sigh wringed out of your throat once you realized he wasn’t there anymore. 

But then your spine stiffened to its own accord and you whipped your head this time toward the hallway. You grabbed the dish towel to dry your hands before you made your way. You weren’t on guard, but you kept the towel on your shoulder just in case. Your spider strength would probably work just fine, but you didn’t know what he’d want. 

“Miguel? I know you’re here, somewhere,” you called out again with more tenacity in your voice. 

There was a creak in the living room and you increased your pace until you were at the entrance, flicking on the light that flooded the room. He wasn’t hiding. He was in the corner, staring at a photo on top of your fireplace. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, fingers reaching for the towel on your shoulder. 

His broad shoulders slumped for a moment before he finally turned. He was in his blue and red suit, the one you knew very well. He looked better than the last time you saw him. His face though, was contorted in an expression you couldn’t read. 

“I–uh, I’m not sure why I came,” he finally mumbles. 

You take a step forward and tread lightly. It’s been four years, so you really didn’t know why he came. This was his decision anyway, to leave you and keep you at a distance. 

“It’s been years,” you remind him. He finally turns completely and his brown eyes gleam red a little and then fade back to the rich color you once loved. 

The man you once swore you loved forever, until he didn’t. Your heart tugged at the memories of what you and Miguel had. Attempting to push those thoughts away to keep yourself from spiraling like before, you clear your throat. 

He finally replies. “I had to see you.” 

No reason. Nothing else. Just those five words. 

You take another step forward and he does too.

“You can’t just come here without an explanation,” you pushed. Your irritation was starting to increase and your patience was starting to thin for your ex. 

Miguel is quiet as he stays grounded. But your senses heightened when he lifted his hand and turned his wrist toward you. Before you could react in time, a bright orangish red web shot out of his wrist and latched onto your chest. You grunt as he pulls you into him, closing the distance. You grab the string of the web and pull it off your shirt, but it's stuck. 

“Miguel,” you bite. A smile curls at his lips before a talon comes out of his pointer finger and he snips the web. 

“Sorry,” he breathes. 

“You’re here, because?” You press again. Your heart was hammering against your chest and you were hoping he’d tell you what he needed you for.

“Spider Society misses you.” 

Oh. You weren’t expecting that. 

“I’m sure they do,” you quip. 

It wasn’t your choice to leave them. To go back to your universe and live out your days. It was Miguel who pushed you to this point. 

You even got engaged two years ago to who you thought you could live the rest of your days with. And then things took a turn. Things didn’t work out. He felt like you were stunted by him in this universe. Although you still did your best to be the Spider-Woman your universe needed, it wasn’t enough. 

It was like the action of Miguel casting you out back to your universe made you lose your spark. Made you less of who you were meant to be. 

You hate him for it. Well, you did the first year before you started to make a life for yourself here. It didn’t work out, obviously. 

The thing was, you never really understood why Miguel did what he did. It was so quick, so sudden, casting you out. You thought you were doing well in Spider Society. You made friends, you aced missions. So what did you do wrong? You even loved him to your best ability. 

Was it because you couldn’t put universes first before anyone else in your life? Miguel was so bent up on the idea that sacrifices had to be made when it came to being Spider-Man. Guess that included you. 

You were a sacrifice he had to make for a reason you still didn’t know. 

“Just wanted to check in, see how you were,” he says in an almost whisper. He drops his gaze to your lips and you gulp. No, you couldn’t feel like this for him. Not anymore. 

You lift your hand and press your palm to his chest. He looks at it before his brows furrow. His hand then reaches over and caresses yours. His fingers fiddle with your ring finger. 

“Your ring, what happened? Where is it?” 

You sigh, attempting to turn on your heel and get away from him but his fingers move to your wrist to keep you there. You knew he’d know about you getting engaged. You got your spider senses alerted whenever he was near the first two years you were gone. You knew he was checking up on you frequently. Until he stopped. He didn’t know the engagement was broken off and you lived alone in that small apartment. 

“Miguel, let me go.”

He doesn’t budge, so you press your other palm against his chest for leverage but he doesn’t move an inch. Your emotions are getting heightened from it all and you can feel tears start to spring into your eyes. You feel pathetic. 

“What happened?” He repeats, his eyes turning soft and curious. 

“Nothing happened. You happy?” 

“No–” he shakes his head. “Tell me.” 

You sigh, not wanting to fight with him. You had years of it when he started becoming too focused on stopping Spider people from disrupting their canon events. Those fights ended up pushing you both to a point that couldn’t be turned back around. 

“Miguel, I’m not in the mood. I’ve had a long day. It’s late.” 

“Dime qué pasó,” he almost pleads. 

Well, if it made him let you go then you had no other choice. You took a deep breath and stared at him. You needed him to know what he did and how it resulted with you no longer having an engagement ring. 

“He left me, Miguel. Does that make you happy? He saw how much I couldn’t handle being so far away from my people. From my friends. From you. He saw how it ruined my life being stuck here. I tried so hard to fake it until I was happy, but he saw through it all. He loved me so much that he let me go. Unlike someone who casted me out–” 

“I didn’t cast you out because I didn't love you,” he interrupts with a growl. His face leans closer and your core flutters. 

Fuck, your body could still react to him like no time has passed. 

“We were young,” you argue. “That wasn’t love, the longer I had time apart to contemplate it. We were simply infatuated, but that wasn’t love.” 

“It was for me, sabes esto.” 

“No, it wasn’t Miguel,” you bite. 

Miguel is silent, dropping his hand. You take a step back, a deep breath leaving your lips. His own shoulders move softly with his breathing. Some of the strands of hair at the top of his head fall over his temple and forehead. You want to so desperately lift a hand and brush them back in place. But that's not something you can do anymore. 

You take another step back, finding yourself sitting on your couch. You placed your elbows on your knees and took a deep breath. You heard his footsteps follow and he knelt down, placing a finger under your chin and lifted you enough to see him. To look at his eyes that are yearning for you to speak to him. 

“Mira, I lied. They didn’t miss you. I did. I stopped checking in on you to give you space. To move on.” 

You scoff. “You can see how well that worked out.” You lift your naked ring finger to make a point. 

“I needed to see you one last time.” 

This brought you to straighten your spine and look at him with widened eyes. “Last time?” 

He nods. 

“What do you mean, Miguel?” 

He’s silent for a moment. “I’m not going to check in on you ever again. You won’t be bothered by me. I’m taking some space from Spider Society as well. They’re better off anyway.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at the revelation. He was going to demote himself from the society he created for us? One of the best places you’ve been able to call home for years. You missed it dearly, you couldn’t deny that. 

“You can’t just leave them. They need you.” 

Miguel’s eyes cast down and this time it’s you bringing a hand under his chin and lifting enough for him to look at you. You scoot a little closer to him where your knees brush. A fire burns in your belly. 

“They don’t. I hurt people. I hurt you. I need space and time before I can come back and delegate again. I took things too far.” 

“So you’d rather disappear than try to fix things? Did you ever plan to allow me back to Spider Society?” 

He shakes his head. “I thought you’d be content here with him. You seemed so happy.” 

You laugh. “That wasn’t happy, Miguel. That was coping.”

His thick brows furrow. “No, you were happy.” 

“Are you trying to convince yourself? Are you really trying to control the truth? I wasn’t happy. I thought I could play along with this life to deal with everything. I was in survival mode. It was purely a facade. Imagine being introduced to a safe haven and then being stripped of all access to it and its people. That’s what happened to me. I had no choice but to try to make a life for myself here.” 

Miguel is quiet for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. His forehead wrinkles as he thinks deeply. 

“This would be easier if I hated you.” He finally mutters. 

Now you’re the one raising a brow. “Excuse me?” 

“Call this an atonement,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, but I’m not sure bringing you back would fix things. What happened can’t be undone.” 

“I never asked for you to fix it. I’ve learned how to make this my home. It was a home before I got my Spider abilities and it could be my home after.” 

“But you’re not happy. You just said so yourself,” he counters.

You huff out a breath, exhausted at all of this back and forth. Why was he really here? If he wanted to see you one last time he could’ve done that without making himself known. He could’ve creeped in the shadows to do it. 

“What do you want?” The words are sharp and roll off your tongue like venom. His hands raise and rest on your knees. He’s still kneeling and he scoots closer. A hand travels up your thigh and you suck in a breath. 

“One last time,” he repeats so softly you almost miss it. 

“We already had our one last time,” you say quietly. You remember that last time you felt him near you. That was when you truly thought that was the last time you’d feel him in your universe. 

“No, bebita,” he responds gruffly. “I need you one last time.” 

His words aren’t registering in your brain. 

“You made it very clear you didn’t need me.” 

“Will you let me finish?” His eyes connect with yours and your heart thumps loudly against your chest. 

“Finish then,” you push. 

“It’s easier to hate you because then I could move on. I never did, bebita.” The nickname rolls off his tongue in a way that makes your core flutter and you clench your thighs. 

“I–” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“Casting you out was the worst thing I did. I couldn’t take it back, my pride wouldn’t let me. I loved you so much, but I couldn’t say it. It was always on the tip of my tongue. You were it for me, bebita. It crushed me even more to see you making a life for yourself here. Finding a partner to be with, that was the worst of it. It took me months to deal with that one. But I couldn’t risk losing you to the things we did for the universes we saved. Pushing you away was the hardest thing to do, but the safest. If I didn’t have you to sacrifice in life or death situations, then that's what I had to do. I couldn’t lose you in those ways, I just couldn’t.” 

His confession brings tears to your eyes and you wrap your hands around his neck. You lean in, pressing your forehead against his. You take a deep breath and he does too. Soon, your breathing becomes sync with his. 

“You hurt me,” was all you could say. 

“I know, bebita, I know. I’m so sorry. I loved you–I love you so much. It felt like the only way I wouldn’t lose you.” 

“But you ended up losing me anyway in the process,” you remind him. He nods. 

“I lost you anyway. Please forgive me. Or did I come at the wrong time where that’s not possible? Is it too late?” 

You contemplate it for a moment. You hurt for so long with his decision, but now you know why. He did it because he loved you so much. It reminded you of your ex-fiance. He broke things off because he loved you and wanted you to find your true happiness. He knew it wasn’t with him as much as he wanted it to be. 

Funny how it’s the same concept with Miguel, but not quite. Miguel’s way was harsher and broke you. But he’s here now apologizing and on his knees. 

All the feelings of your life with Miguel come back surfacing. The good and the bad. But he was the best thing in your life. 

“And what would we do after this? Would you just leave and never see me again? After everything that’s been said?” 

He grabs your cheeks and pushes you back a little. His face is pained as he thinks of a response. He leans in, kissing your forehead before kissing your nose and then your cheeks. “I don’t know anymore. Lyla asked me the same thing.” 

You smiled softly. “Lyla… I missed her.” 

Miguel smiled as well, tears in his eyes. “She misses you everyday. She might be the reason why I came tonight.”

“I’m glad, then,” you say. This brings another smile to his face and your heart warms. Your whole body warms. 

“Miguel,” you whisper. He leans in again, pressing his lips to your nose. You inhale his scent for a moment. 

“I can’t repair what’s been done.” 

“You can’t,” you concede. “But we can take it day by day.” 

“Really?” He says with a little happier tone. 

You nod. “But you can’t do that again. Don’t push me away. Don’t make me think you hate me. That I was the worst thing in your life.” 

A sob pulls through you and tears cascade down your cheeks. Miguel is quick to brush them away with his thumbs. He finally brushes his lips against yours and you stiffen at the movement. 

“Can I?” He asks softly. 

Instead of answering, you lean in to close the distance. His lips were soft and the memories of kissing him all over filled your senses. Your body still craved him, you just pushed those feelings as down as you could. 

He continues to kiss with passion, like a man starved. His tongue presses against your teeth and you part your mouth, allowing him inside. He groans a little at the feeling and a moan escapes your own lips. 

“Let me make it up to you, por favor,” he asks, moving his hands to your thighs and running them up until they find your hips. You hitch your breath at the feeling and you nod. 

“It won’t make up for all these years, but you can try,” you say with a little spite and a little tease. Something in you wanted him to work for it. You couldn’t just forgive this easily, he had to know how much you hurt all this time. 

“I’ll live the rest of my days making it up to you then, bebita,” he kisses you once more before moving his hands from your hips to your backside. He pulls you hard closer to him before you’re straddling your hips. You squeal from the sudden movement and then he rises. He starts to walk as you continue to kiss, as if he mesmerized the layout of your apartment from his check-ins. This brought another flutter to your core and you needed him in more ways than one. 

He enters your bedroom and plops you on the bed softly. You shift yourself up to the pillows and he climbs the bed alongside you. Your hands come up to his hair, making their home in his strands as he continues to attack you with kisses. He moves his lips to your neck and you moan loudly, bucking your hips up. He groans from the sounds. 

“Bite me,” you plead through breaths. 

“Estás seguro?” he asks, lifting his lips from your neck for a brief second. You push his head back down to your bare skin and nod. 

“Yes, please, Mig. Bite me like you used to. Fuck me like you used to. Make me whole again,” you plead. You can’t help the tears that come back to your eyes and fall down your cheeks. He doesn’t notice though, which you’re grateful for. 

He obliges though, kissing your neck and then you feel something piercing you. His fangs sink into your skin and it feels wet instantly. You moan through it, leaning down to bite his own neck. 

“F-fuck,” he moans once his fangs pull out. He lifts his head to look at you and it’s like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. His eyes light up and then turn into a feral thing you were so used to in the past. 

Miguel knew how to be gentle with you when he could, but you always noticed the way his eyes would turn red with a primal need to love you until you were thrashing and screaming his name, clenching around him. 

You needed him to go that far. You wanted him to. 

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper finally. 

His eyes search yours before he nods and snakes his hand under your hair and wraps his fingers around the strands until he can pull your neck the other way. He leans in and you feel that pain again as he sinks his fangs into the other side of your neck. Your hips buck up again and you gasp. 

“Smell so good, taste so good,” he murmurs. His lips travel lower, kissing your collarbone. He helps you out of your mundane clothes before you’re lying naked in front of him. With a press of his watch on his wrist, his suit pixelates into nothing until he’s there naked over you. You forgot for a moment his suit does that. 

“Please, Mig,” you say in deep breaths as you feel his erection pressing against your hip. You reach down blindly, feeling for his cock and then caressing it in up and down motions. He groans through this and curses under his breath, jutting his hips further into your hand. 

“Need you,” he pleads. 

“You have me,” you assure him. 

He lifts himself on his knees which causes your hands to fall from his cock. He then begins to stroke himself and you spread your legs around him. His eyes glance down at your core and your cheeks heat. 

“So fucking pretty and wet already for me, bebita. Just like I knew you’d be.” 

You just nod as you stay transfixed on him, rubbing his cock before he positioned himself at your entrance. You didn’t care for him to prep you, you needed him now. 

“It’s going to hurt, tell me to stop if you–” 

“I don’t care,” you cut him off. You made a point by reaching down and grabbing his wrist around his cock and aligning yourself with his tip. You pressed his tip against your fold and you both gasped. You shut your eyes briefly at the wonderful sensation. 

He always fucked you so well, that was something you missed. And now he was here, doing just that. 

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well. Such a good fucking girl,” he grunts as he presses himself into you, inch by inch. 

The pain soared throughout your body with each inch, but you didn’t care. You finally had him again and your cunt clenched around him. He moaned at the movements, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

When he finally pressed into you all the way, you both took deep breaths. He leaned in, pressing his palms into the mattress to support himself. He shifted a little, moving inside you and you whined. 

“So big,” you gasped. 

“You can take it, bebita,” he cooed. “You always did so good for me, you can do it again. Okay?” 

You nod, biting your lip as he moved his hips to slowly pull out of you and then he slammed back in, causing you to shift up on the bed from his strength. He curses under his breath again and you whine at the stretch of him. His girth was bigger than you remembered and you swore he was splitting you in half, but you loved it. 

“More, more,” you begged and he obliged. He snapped his hips back and forth into you, earning a cry from your lips at each thrust. 

“So pretty when you cry for me,” he groans as his hips start to grow sloppy. He was getting closer to his release and you were too. 

Your core tightened and your pussy clenched around his cock in a beautiful way. 

“So close,” you mumbled through his thrust. 

“Come with me, bebita,” he says before leaning down, sinking his fangs into your neck once more. This makes all your sensations come alive and you can’t hold back anymore. Your legs wrap around his waist, causing him to push deeper into you and hitting the best parts. 

“I’m going to–” you screamed before you felt everything explode. You saw stars, your body was shaking, and he was holding onto your tightly. He dropped his head into the crevice of your neck and muttered nonsense as he came right after you. Rope after rope of his cum filled you up and you clenched around him even more, milking his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpered as his hips stuttered and he collapsed over you. “Please don’t do that, not gonna last the night.” 

You giggled, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist. You both breathed intensely but you were so fucking happy. 

“I love you, bebita,” he finally says, lifting himself to look at you. He wipes a strand of hair that was stuck on your forehead. You grab his face and kiss him. He moans deeply and his cock twitches inside you. 

You squirm underneath him. “I love you too, Miguel. Always have, always will.”

He kisses you back with more passion. “You mean it?” 

You nod and laugh as he tickles your side. You try to squirm away, but it’s hard with his cock still in you. Your pussy flutters around him again and he groans. “Bebita, that will only make me go for another round.” 

“I know,” you confess with a smile. 

You had years of catching up to do, anyways. You didn’t plan to leave that bed anytime soon. 

Miguel smiled and wrapped his arms around you before flipping you both over. His back plopped on the bed and you were straddling him above, your head laying on his chest. 

“You don’t have to ever forgive me,” he whispers, stroking your bare back. “But I hope you give me the time to make it up to you.” 

You lift your head, resting your chin on his chest. He cranes his neck to look down at you. 

“It’s not too late,” you finally answer and those words were all he needed to hear.

[almostempty]

What’s Love Got to Do with It

(oberyn x f!reader)  wc: 4.6k | other fics 

note: hey y’all it’s me ya gurl, here to defile another prompt with a silly idea <3 Sooo, from the three brain cells that brought you fuckboy!joel and divorced dad rock dilf!joel 🫡i now humbly present …. Frat bro Oberyn, Aka The Red Viper, aka the Prince of Pong, aka the Slut of Delta Psi (i did steal the frat name from the film Neighbors—in which they do sing a line from Creed in their frat chant, so in some twisted way, they’re kind of all connected right??) 

I fear this may have just been funny to me so feel free to skip, but thank you to everyone who tolerates my shenanigans <3. 

ANYWAY, The lovely @baronessvonglitter bestowed upon me Oberyn x What’s Love Got to Do with It for fucktober (happy belated bday babe) but naturally, i made it weird. Thanks to @sunshinehaze1 for reminding me that modern AUs exist when I got scared of the GOT universe and to @auterdelabre for reminding me that the answer is always fuckboy. Don’t blame them for anything else.

Summary: You attend a fraternity toga party, and you catch the eye of Delta Psi’s notorious Red Viper. He shows you how he got the nickname and then he shows you something else he’s known for. 

tags/warnings: explicit 18+ smut, alcohol/partying, gratuitous flirting, piv, fuckboy behavior aka on to the next one, infidelity, i couldn’t bring myself to write his dialogue in frat bro™ –aka i didn’t fully commit to the bit bc that man just had to be smooth and had to fuck no matter what universe i put him in, apologies if that ruins your immersion in my pwp, per usual: no y/n, f!reader is able bodied otherwise no specifics, unprotected piv as if it’s no biggie because it’s fiction (don’t do that irl), no beta/limited proofreading sorry for all mistakes 

“Oh my god, that’s him!” Your best friend shouts into your ear as you walk down the sidewalk. You blend into the sea of toga-clad college kids, sandals slapping against the pavement. Liv leans on you, pointing out the guy she’s talking about. You can hear the music pouring out into the street and people inside yelling and chanting over someone doing a keg stand or something equally as exciting and alcohol-related, you assume. 

The guy she pointed out is leaning casually against the banister, letting some ripped blond dude entertain him on the porch. “That’s the guy your roommate was talking about?” you question your friend. Liv agrees with a smile as you walk towards the front steps. 

Everyone else on the porch looks like a frat bro wrapped in a wrinkly bedsheet, but for some reason, he seems almost godlike. He’s luminous under the warm lights. As if he knew you were checking him out, he turns his head just as you walk past, and his eyes sweep over you, making your face hot. Something sparks between you before he turns away, taking a swig of his drink. 

Liv had given you a rundown on what to expect at your first Delta Psi party. You had argued that you knew what college parties were like. You transferred this quarter as a senior, and you just didn’t have Greek life at your other school or your best friend to convince you to go out. But now, you’re here, dressed up and entering a party that really does feel a little more intense than the ones back at your small-town university. 

Liv’s roommate had given you the rundown on the guys she knew in the fraternity, but you didn’t pay much attention to her descriptions. You figured there was no way a Brad, Dylan, Connor, or a Brent would actually be hot. And then, when she started with the ones with nicknames, you completely checked out after Viper and Rooster. It has to defy the laws of nature for a frat bro that goes by Rooster to be able to find your clit—even if he IS hot. 

Yet, now you realize you might be eating your words because you get it. You were too quick to judge, whoops. “Which one was that?” you ask in Liv’s ear as you both make your way through the people sloshing drinks and dancing. 

“Viper!” 

You can’t help the immediate grimace that emerges on your face. “That’s so douchey!” you shout back over the noise before she pulls you down a hall toward that kitchen. She leans in close to your ear, telling you that her roommate swears she got the best head of her life from him. “No fucking way,” you argue. 

“Way,” she smirks back. “He’s got a girlfriend now, though. They’re, like, totally in love, it’s all over social media.” She mocks puking at the idea, and you share a laugh.

You explore the party together. The house is huge; one room on the main floor is blasting EDM, and another is blasting top 40 hits. There are a couple of beer pong tables in the backyard and a detached garage filled with stoners on old couches giggling to themselves. You know that Liv is itching to park her ass on one of those sofas and find a girl or guy to whom she can woo with her French inhale and makeout with for the rest of the night. 

But, she’s a loyal ass bitch who wouldn’t abandon you. You circle back through the house. You spend a little while dancing together and taking your time to see if there’s anyone else who catches your eye. Nobody really sticks out to you in the first room until you catch his eyes again. You have to do a double-take as you circle your waist and roll your body against Liv. 

He’s semi-shrouded in the corner; with the dim lighting and the packed house, it would be easy to miss the two of them altogether. But when the girl clinging to him turns around to grind her ass against him, he locks eyes with you, and you swear that fucker winks at you before a group of girls prance into the room, shouting oh my god, it’s our song! You try to shake it off. You were definitely just seeing things with the lights. 

You signal to Liv, and she follows you into the other room. You dance together a bit longer. She offers you a swig from her rhinestone-encrusted flask, but you turn her down, staying sober tonight. You feel euphoric enough with the strobe lights and the thrumming bass from the EDM remixes blasting in the room. 

You turn down a few wasted white dudes who try to dance up on the two of you. Too drunk. Not your type. Too handsy. You’re not afraid to punch a man in the throat or the nuts if they don’t get the hint, but they back off when you give them a gentle shove and a shake of your head. The most recent suitor is turning and scoping for another girl to approach when you see him again. 

He’s moving towards you, looking right at you, but there’s no girl on his arm–or crotch, now. For some reason, it makes you feel too hot. You’re sweating from the dancing anyway, so you ignore the electric look in his eye that makes your clit twitch and grab Liv’s arm to make a dash for the backyard to get some fresh air. 

You debrief with each other and come to an agreement. You tell Liv to do her thing, urging her to head towards the couch with the skater dude wearing the toga made from a dinosaur patterned sheet and the high-top vans. She agrees to text you if she plans to relocate or wants to leave before you finish taking another lap around the party. 

You sort of lie to her, claiming someone inside caught your eye. They did, but you aren’t planning to do anything about it. Instead, you part ways and head back through the house, past the pledge posing as a bouncer at the front door, and onto the front porch. The music is still loud, but it’s quieter out front. People still trickle in and out of the party. You stare out at the night sky, searching for the moon. In your own little world, you’re basking in your own peace. 

“I haven’t seen you here before,” a rich, velvety voice washes over your shoulder. It should make you jerk away, give you goosebumps, and raise your hackles. But, instead, the interruption stirs liquid heat in your core and makes your nipples hard. Because it’s him. 

You turn your head and confirm. He’s so close to you. 

“You know every girl here?” you challenge him. 

“I know the ladies and gentlemen that pique my curiosity,” his voice is so smooth. He’s a charmer, for sure. He offers you a drink, holding out two plastic cups in one hand. The size of his hand does make you tingly, but his smile falters when you shoot him one of your signature dirty looks. 

Before he can ask about the look, you take one of the cups, give him a cloyingly sweet smile, and pour it out over the railing into the grass below. The tail of his brow quirks, and he gives you a sly smile that widens into a grin and a full-chested laugh. “Oops,” you mock. 

“You’re a bold woman,” he muses, “I like that.” 

He doesn’t back down after you toss out his drink. He doesn’t take it as a rejection. He understands when you explain you don’t take open drinks from strangers at a frat party, but you roll your eyes hard when he gloats about not needing tricks or drugs to find a lover. 

He banters with you as he downs the remaining drink. He’s quick, with sharp wit and a devious smile. You can’t keep your eyes off his exposed chest, his arms, his neck, his eyes. It’s still confusing how he can look so regal, whereas everyone else in the party looks a little…goofy? Cliche? He pulls you back to the present, asking for your name before he gives you his. 

“They call me ‘the Red Viper,’” he gives you a provocative grin like he knows exactly how hot he looks, even with a bedsheet draped over his shoulder. 

You play into his hand, “Is that some kinda of euphemism?” Feeding his ego with a suggestive arch of your brow. Maybe you’re bold, but you don’t think he’s the type to be deterred by a confident woman. In fact, it seems to make him glow even brighter.

His voice lowers, dripping with an enticing challenge, “Are you looking to find out?” he asks. 

His jaw quirks, and you’re mesmerized watching him suck at his lower lip. It looks so perfectly plump and kissable, curling into a smirk as his eyes gleam with mischief. “Come,” he beckons for you to follow him deeper into the party. 

“I thought you had a girlfriend,” you say stiffly, remembering what Liv had said as you walked in. He looks at you curiously before shaking his head lightly. 

“You mean Cora? From earlier? She’s not my girlfriend. We were just dancing.” 

“No,” you shake your head, “I heard it’s all over social media. That you’re loved up.” 

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” he gives you that cocky smile that absolutely shouldn’t work but somehow makes you feel warm like you’re laying on the warm sand on a beach listening to the waves crashing. You don’t say anything else, and he leans in a little closer, “What’s love got to do with it?” he asks huskily. Dangerously. 

It makes you shudder with something warm and twisted. 

“Now,” he guides you gently but firmly, “Come.” You need him to stop saying it like an order before you do. 

You let him walk you through the party. Weaving through the boisterous crowds. They part easily for him, clearing a path like he’s royalty. 

“They call me ‘the Red Viper’ because I’m lethal at any game involving a red Solo cup.” He murmurs it into your ear like it’s a sexy secret. 

You laugh brightly at that, giving him a gentle shove. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard!” 

He gives you a coy shrug. “It’s the truth.” He leads you into the backyard, towards the beer pong tables. “I’ll show you,” he says just for you to hear. The string lights illuminate the yard in soft light; however, the mood is anything but romantic, with the drunk cheering college kids taking their drinking games very seriously. 

You watch, amused, as one team high-fives each other over their trick shot. At another table, both teams heatedly argue about “house rules.” 

“It’s the prince of pong!” one of his fraternity brothers shouts across the lawn. He gives you the most dramatic I told you so glance, and you mouth “lame” back at him. He calls ‘next game,’ and as if he were their lord, one table immediately clears out, forfeiting in a demonstration of fealty. 

“Ladies first,” he offers once he’s set up all the cups to his liking. He’s so arrogant about it, and it shouldn’t turn you on, but it absolutely does. 

You grin across the table at him. “You’re on.” 

He’s merciful at first. You land a few cups, giving you enough confidence to talk shit and tease him. But it rapidly becomes apparent that he’s a man of his word as he easily picks off every cup on your end of the table with precision.  

Despite your rapid descent towards a loss, you eat up his charm. His magnetic energy. He makes the rest of the party disappear when he looks at you. It makes your heart tingle and your pussy flutter. He’s a gracious winner, only gloating a little as he reracks the table and offers it up to other party-goers. 

“Alright, Viper, you won. You can retain your title.” You admit defeat as he slinks up close to you, ushering you along to the side of the house, only a few steps away but more secluded from the rest of the party. 

“And now, will you allow me to claim my prize?” he asks in his smoky, deep voice. 

Despite his clear intentions, you feign confusion as he wraps one wide hand around your waist and tilts your chin towards his face with the other. “I didn’t know we were playing for stakes,” you smile brashly. Your skin blazes under his touch and his seductive gaze as his eyes drop to your mouth. 

He starts to dip towards you, but you swerve away from him. It’s on the tip of your tongue to ask again if he’s in a relationship. He growls softly, almost a purr, next to your ear. “What’s wrong, my lady?” he murmurs. The intimacy of it is heady, and your surroundings fade. 

You want to take whatever he’s offering, no questions, so instead you whisper, “Tell me your real name.”

He sighs softly before giving in and telling you his name. 

“Oberyn,” you repeat back, “that’s unique.” 

He starts muttering about how he’s an international student, but you’ve got all the info you needed. Now you don’t have to add a guy named Viper to your mental list of hookups. 

“I like it,” you cut him off before slotting your mouth against his and making up for ducking out of his last attempt at a kiss with your eagerness. He wraps his arm around you, and you’re transported. One large hand presses against your lower back, urging your hips toward his, and the other cradles your jaw, giving you a sense of stability as he matches your ferocity. 

You briefly wonder if you’d have melted if he wasn’t holding you so tightly before your thoughts are consumed by the sensation of his lips against yours and his tongue running along yours. It’s not a kiss you would’ve expected from a frat guy. It’s romantic and passionate, and you feel your body rolling against his, caught up in the sensation and intensity. 

You keep going, letting yourself enjoy the moment, eating up the flavor of him, the scent of him, and the throbbing intensifying between your legs. You slip one of your hands along the back of his neck into his soft hair, and he groans into your mouth. It makes your knees weak. 

You chase his mouth as he pulls back and looks into your heavy-lidded eyes. Sharing the hot air between you, it feels like a current is looping through your bodies, buzzing with need. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” he urges in a gravelly whisper. You can feel him hardening against you. His hand on your back is firm, keeping you flush, pelvis to pelvis, making you nearly dizzy. However, his hand on your jaw is gentle, brushing his thumb along your cheek sweetly. You still can’t help goading just a little. 

“What for?” you ask playfully. 

“To fuck.” 

It makes your cheeks hot. Maybe there should be red flags popping up in your mind, but you don’t care. He likes a bold woman, and you like a direct man. 

“Unless you’d rather do it in the grass here,” he tilts his head toward the ground. You act like you’re considering the option seriously, making him laugh before he releases you from his arms. “Don’t tease,” he says with a severe look, “It wouldn’t bother me.” 

Me either, you consider before deciding not to say that part aloud. You tell him to take you to a real bed, and he does. Swiftly guiding you into the house and up the stairs, past the pledge guarding the rooms, and into his bedroom. He spins around, pinning you against the door for another searing kiss. It’s more urgent this time. He’s quickly moving to your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your tender skin as you both greedily run your hands along each other’s bodies. 

Before you can get your hands under his toga, he’s detaching from you and sinking to his knees. He moves efficiently, bunching up your toga and asking you to hold it. Then he’s hovering his hot mouth over your mound before kissing you over your lacey panties. 

“Mmm,” he hums into you and traces the crease of your thighs with one hand, following the line until he’s softly running his fingers along the edge of your panties, the tips of his fingers barely dipping beneath the hem as he moves towards your core. You watch, staring down with your mouth parted as he holds your gaze. 

He teases you, running his fingertips along your seam over the soaked fabric, tapping and teasing at your swollen clit through the fabric as he watches your needy expression morph into frustration. You shift, spreading your legs wider, but he stops you with a large hand on each thigh. 

“Hold still,” he orders, and you feel compelled to listen. He pulls your underwear down and off of you, then hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading your cunt open. “That’s better.” 

You can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or to you. You don’t have a chance to ask before he’s burying his face into your soft, wet pussy. Your breath hitches at the sensation and one of your hands flies out to grab at the door frame to steady you, while the other one digs into Oberyn’s hair. 

He’s unbothered by your dramatics. Oberyn moves with enthusiasm, drawing his tongue along your slit and pressing into your sex with his jaw. His facial hair tickles at your tender skin deliciously and his nose grazes over your clit as if his face were molded to maximize your pleasure. He changes his strategy, mouthing at your clit and sweeping his tongue over it like he’s making out with it, with the same passion that he kissed you with outside and a moment ago. 

You can feel it starting to build. Your hip flexors straining and thighs starting to tremble as your breathing gets quicker and more shallow. Closer and closer and closer. He’s perceptive and diligent. Repeating the same tricks that make you moan and dig your fingers into his hair. 

You’re stuck on the precipice, so close but not quite there. Your eyes roam around the dimly lit room, the bed, the bookshelf, the tapestry pinned to the wall, the collection of cologne bottles lined up on the desk, the mirror on top of the desk–pointing right at the bed. 

It starts to frustrate you. Not the decor choices, but the tension and the building pressure. You squirm slightly, hoping the smallest adjustment will somehow bring everything into a sharper focus. You let your eyes close, letting the roar of the party downstairs fade, focusing on the pressure and warmth of Oberyn’s mouth. 

More, more, more. 

It’s all you can think as Oberyn stays dedicated to getting you off on his tongue. He sucks firmly at your clit before releasing you with a slick sound. He hovers, mouth fanning warm air over your core looking up at you. His eyes are lit with hunger.  

“More?” he asks in his deep, rich voice. 

You can’t tell if you were chanting out loud or if he’s somehow reading your mind. “Please,” you respond with a needy edge, “more.” You catch the sparkle in his eye and the flash of a grin. He works you up again, towards the brink, relishing in your responses as you whine with need as he resumes holding you in a purgatory of pleasure.

Mercifully, he does give you more. Oberyn grips your thigh with one hand, steadying you, while he swipes two fingers along the length of your pussy once, twice, coating them in your arousal before plunging them inside of you. The increased pressure and friction from his fingers pumping into you causes you to moan. It’s a lower register than your breathy panting from earlier, layered with satisfaction as you can feel the anticipation starting to crest. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg, “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t stop, groaning at your words, rumbling against you. That snaps the tension and you cry out his name and a string of curses as your orgasm hits. He doesn’t slow down when your cunt contracts around his fingers and he doesn’t lose focus when you shake and writhe against mouth. Not until you’re pulling him off of you, oversensitive and wrung out.  

Oberyn stands, wiping at his chin before pulling you in close for another breathtaking kiss. He walks you back toward the bed and you fall into it, pulling him with you. You tangle together, frantically, you want him inside of you now. He laughs softly against your hot neck, sensing your frustration. 

“Shh,” he murmurs as you huff with defeat. He moves deftly, braced over you with one arm, and freeing his cock with the other. Your hands stroke up and down his shoulders and back, and you hook one leg around his hip, encouraging him. “You want me to fuck you now?” he asks and you whisper a yes that turns into a gasp as he runs his tip through your soaked center. “And how do you want it?”

“Hard.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, sinking into you deeper and deeper, and pulling back, all the way out, then all the way in. “Fuck,” he says to himself as he sets a quick pace, slaming his hips into yours making the bedframe creak with every thrust. If the noise from the party didn’t drown everything else out, you might be embarrassed to have strangers over hear, but you would be surprised if anyone could hear a thing. And, even if you were louder than the party, you could care less about being caught as Oberyn fucks you into the mattress. 

“Harder,” you goad him, hoping for more. To your horror he pulls out of you completely, but you swiftly find yourself flipped onto your stomach as he lifts your hips and enters you from behind. You press back, meeting his thrusts, bouncing off of his hips until he presses his palm between your shoulder blades. He forces your chest into the mattress, holding you still so he can fuck you like he means it, with enough force that all you can do brace yourself and ball your fists, twisting the bedding between your fingers. 

With your cheek against the bed you can watch your reflection in the mirror. It’s hot, even with your togas draped and bunched up, you look good together. It makes you grin. He catches you looking and turns, meeting your eyes in the mirror before watching your bodies. He grips your hips firmly and you can barely keep your eyes open to watch as he continues. 

He overwhelms you with his stamina, keeping up a pace that has your mind feeling blissfully fuzzy. He says something else before folding over you and slipping his hand around towards your clit, determined to feel you come around his cock. You’re so close already, it’s only a moment, a few more thrusts, before shuddering beneath him. He tries to fuck you through it, but you clench and constrict around him so tightly that he pulls out while you’re still moaning. 

You can hear the slick wet sounds as he strokes himself, cursing under his breath again, before you feel the warmth as he comes across the swell of your ass and your fluttering cunt. You sink, dropping your hips and relaxing onto the bed while he catches his breath. Oberyn squeezes at your thighs, offering praise you don’t quite hear, then he’s slipping off the bed. He cleans you up with a towel, but you remain still for a little longer, enjoying the satisfaction and the sweet ache from the intensity. 

“Take your time,” he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder. It’s gentle. You murmur a thanks at him before breaking into an airy giggle. It makes your ribcage shake, bouncing slightly on the mattress, realizing that Liv is going to die when you tell her you can confirm her roommates story. Oberyn doesn’t question your reaction. 

He pauses to readjust his toga and his hair in the mirror. Once seemingly satisfied, he turns back towards you, watching you sit up. “I’ll see you out there,” he says with a smile before he slips out of the room. 

You linger for just a little. Allowing yourself the privacy to revel in the sweet satisfaction of the post-sex chemicals flowing through your body. You let yourself grin while you check your phone to see where Liv is at. 

You take another minute, using the mirror to fix your own appearance, aiming for a slightly less obvious version of I just got railed, before meeting your own eyes. For a sobering second you remember you didn’t get a real answer about if he has a girlfriend. He sure as fuck doesn’t act like it, you decide. You shake off the thought. 

He might be a frat bro, he might be a piece of shit, all you know for sure is that he is hot, a good kisser, and he knew how to make you come. Three things you didn’t think you’d find in one guy under this roof. You give yourself a final onceover before heading out of the room and down the stairs. 

You don’t see Oberyn in the first few rooms you pass. You keep looking; he couldn’t have gone far. You’re barely finished that thought when you spot him in the kitchen. The sight makes you stumble, shooting a hand out to the wall to catch your balance. 

He’s leaning casually, with his hip against the counter, as a starry-eyed girl looks up at him, giggling flirtatiously, as she lays a hand along his bicep. 

It’s in slow motion. The way he looks at her hand, the way his eyes trail along her arm, over the curve of her breasts, and down her legs before flitting back to her face with that same sinful smirk you just fell for. 

Your shoulders drop. It’s not like you were planning your wedding or that you even thought a date was on the table—but you didn’t think he’d be on to the next girl before you made it down the stairs. 

You start to recenter yourself, reaching to check your phone again before you look for Liv. 

He sees you before you can mind your business and plan your next move. Catching your eye through the doorway. Before you can formulate a reaction, you’re stuck, held in his gaze. He winks at you again, only this time there’s no question if you were making it up. He winked at you and despite everything, it makes your whole body tingle. 

“I saw that!” Liv shouts into your ear, wrapping an arm around you. “You have to tell me what the fuck that was about. But first can we please get pancakes or cheese fries?”

You don’t bother turning back for a second glance as you follow Liv toward the front door. 

You must understand though the touch of your hand

Makes my pulse react

That it's only the thrill of boy meeting girl

Opposites attract

It's physical

Only logical

You must try to ignore that it means more than that

Oh, oh, oh

What's love got to do, got to do with it?

…..

tags for babes, but no presh:

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy 

[sirdindjarin]

The Concession - Din Djarin x f!Reader

gif from @rebeljyn 's gifset here

Din Djarin falls in love. Whoops.

The Savior / The Concession / The Choice (END)

AO3 Link

TAGS: S2 Din Djarin, "Who Did This to You?", P in V, Unprotected Sex w/o consequences because who likes those, m!Masturbation, Fluff, Pining, touch-starved!Din, helmet-less!Din, soft!Din, protective!Din, Grogu bein a sweet shit.

WARNINGS: Star Wars cursing/slang which I know annoys some people lmao, abusive shopkeepers.

A/N: "Shit" is Star Wars canon (thank you, Andor); Din is a groaner (Chapter 5 of TBOBF); & Din is a bit of a poet (thanks pledge to Bo-Katan in Chapter 23); I have cited my sources LOL.

"No," the Mandalorian snaps. "No droids." 

A gloved hand flies to his holster and the rusty pit droids screech to a halt, beeping nervously.

Leaning against the frame of the Razor Crest, at the top of the boarding ramp, you roll your eyes at Din Djarin's back. His distaste for droids had been made clear to you the first time he'd stopped for parts.

Those droids had been considerably less polite about Din’s preference, and he had taken too much pleasure in enforcing it.

"Listen, buddy, they're my refueling dr-"

"Then I'll take my business elsewhere."

The attendant sighs loudly, glaring at the Mandalorian. The skinny, maroon male with a fin-shaped head rises from his chair behind his workshop desk. He walks toward a shaking pit droid and grabs the refueler.

"It'll cost you extra," the attendant's eye-stalks narrow at the bounty hunter.

Din comes to an agreement with the disgruntled worker, sullenly agreeing to a slightly higher rate.

As the Mandalorian keeps watch over his ship, your footsteps clang down the steep ramp, and you sidle up to him, saying, "We need some things. Ration packs are gone. And - don't tell him -" your voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, "But I think Grogu deserves a treat." 

"He would agree with you.” Din’s elbow brushes your shoulder, and he realizes he’d leaned closer as you spoke.

You continue, “And you need something to relax.” 

At that, Din’s helmet turns. “I do not.” 

“You’re even more impatient than usual. You’re on an anti-droid campaign; the last time we stopped, you threatened to yank out one’s navigator circuits just for bumping your foot.” You look up at him, raising a teasing eyebrow. 

The Mandalorian goes as still as one of those droids he had deactivated. His intimidating, T-shaped slit brands into your vision. Behind it, you know he’s boring holes into your face. 

“Alright. Nothing for you, then.”

Your shoulders drop when you turn away from him, almost relieved to be out from underneath his piercing, hidden gaze. 

The Mandalorian had paid you a few days before, and this was your first real opportunity to spend your own money. You can’t stop smiling, even as you place the kid in his white pod and stuff your pocket with your credits. Grogu is as excited as you are - giggling in his quiet way.

As you pass the statue of Din Djarin, he extends a closed fist. Obediently, you hold out your hand. The tan-hide fingers of his gloves open and credits fall, clinking. You look up questioningly at him.

“For the food. Your wages are not meant to be spent on communal necessities.”

 Your lips curve into a lopsided, sweet smile that Din immediately commits to memory, and you nod.

Turning to Grogu, his fuzzy ears perked and eyes wide, you ask, “Ready, kid?”

***

The marketplace is huge. Stretching the length of the entire square, it’s busy for a planet this remote, but the size increases the options. 

Grogu floats along beside you, and you keep one hand on the lip of the pod, just to be safe. The responsibility of the kid is the greatest charge you’ve ever been given, in more ways than one. Grogu often holds your hand or squeaks to get your attention to point at something glowing or stinky or flashing. His outright affection is a lamp to your lonely heart. 

After visiting several vendors, you’ve resupplied what was necessary (with credits left over), and now you move on to something for Grogu. You’d be buying that with your own wages. Din could say whatever he liked, but what else do you have to spend your money on except the cute baby?

You walk past a booth advertising repair supplies, but when you realize it’s for clothing repair, something clicks in your brain. Grogu’s ears flop forward with your sudden stop. Your eyes run over the objects, and you select some, a smile splitting your face. You hope he will be pleased.

Several minutes later, Grogu makes a bah! sound, pointing at a live amphibian display. You’re pretty sure it’s a pet vendor, but the look on the kid’s face tells you he won’t take no for an answer. And maybe you should parent him - tell him no - but that’s Din’s job, not yours. 

“Hi. How much for the frog eggs?” You politely ask the vendor, digging in your pocket for credits.

The bug-eyed lady tells you in a language you don’t speak, but she holds up three short tentacles on her hand. She pushes six eggs toward you, which you gratefully take and set in Grogu’s pod. 

When you try to hand her the credits, she’s pushed out of the way by someone behind her. A man with a smushed nose yells in the same language the lady had spoken, and points away, clearly telling her to leave. 

You watch warily, and once the woman has gone, the man turns to you. 

“My apologies. The price is one credit per egg,” he simpers at you. 

Disliking the hike in price, you move to return half of the eggs, but he protests, “Once the item has left my possession, they must be paid for.” 

“But I can give them back to you,” you assert. “I’m not paying that much for frog eggs.” 

His smushed nose twitches up like a feral Loth-wolf, “Yes, you are.”

"I'm not." You set three eggs back on the counter. 

The man seizes your wrists, holding you in place. The crowded market is loud, but your indignant cry and the vendor's screamed accusation of theft cause several people to stop and watch. 

You try to twist out of his hold, but his scaly skin tears at yours. The snarling vendor suddenly ceases making noise, and he releases your wrists to clutch at his throat. Shocked, your head snaps to the child.

Grogu has one little, three-fingered hand raised and curled. 

“No!” You gasp, slamming the button on Grogu’s pod to close it. Far, far too many eyes watch. 

The vendor, choking and sputtering, recovers quickly and lunges at you across the table. His hands grip your upper arms, but you wrench out of his hold. Hoping to draw all attention to yourself, you punch the vendor with all your might. The vendor stumbles.

“Never seen someone pretend to choke over three credits,” your lie is an incredibly lame one, but you hope it’s enough for passersby.

He clutches his jaw; his spat insult is garbled, and he begins to inch around the long table, trying to get a better shot at you.

You turn and walk away with as even a pace as you can manage. Running would make his accusation true. The crowd swallows the two of you up well, and you lengthen your stride.

 But the vendor is regaining his volume. Nervously, you check over your shoulder. You jolt when Grogu’s pod bumps into your hip, then zooms away.

“No,” you yell again, grasping for the white vessel, but it comes to a hovering stop in front of a tall, silver man.

“Thank the Maker,” you sigh with relief. “We have to go.”

Din immediately notices the red ring of heat around your wrists and along your knuckles. He strides toward you. The closer he gets, the safer you feel - his protective aura slowly engulfing you.  

Din grabs your forearm and examines your wrist. There’s a raw quality to your skin where the man’s abrasive hands had clamped down and twisted. After a moment, his face locks onto yours.

“Show me who did this."

Cold, calm, his words are a promise.

Confused by his reaction, and still so used to answering when asked a direct question, you wince over your shoulder. Din finally seems to hear the vendor shouting in the distance as he searches the crowd for a ‘thief’ and her ‘dangerous pet’. Din abruptly straightens and steps past you.

Running after him, you reach for his gloved hand, fingers sliding home. “Din, please; we need to go.” 

The familiar contact makes him stop and turn to look at you. He says nothing, so you use the opportunity to explain.

“The ki- I made a scene, and it would be best if everyone forgot about it. A Mandalorian publicly roughing up the very same shopkeeper would give them more reason to gossip.” 

Din Djarin frowns the longer you speak. He knows you’re right. The kid is far more important than his sudden anger. He nods curtly.

The man’s vicious insults about your likely occupation and parentage echo down the street and make Din’s lip curl. But for the sake of the child, he manages to turn back toward the Razor Crest. It’s only when he passes Grogu’s stationary pod that he realizes he’s still holding your hand, fingers loosely intertwined. 

He gently flexes his hand, letting go.

____________________________________

As the Razor Crest speeds away from the planet, you smile. Vacuous and bone-chillingly cold, space is the worst. For most of your life, the inhospitable conditions had been worsened by your constant transport in the dark hold of some Creator-forsaken vessel.

But the cabin of the Mandalorian’s ship is warm and full of life, occupied by the kid's excited babbling and your semi-nervous laughter.

The kid waves his stubby arms in the Mandalorian’s lap as the Razor Crest dips and rises through a relatively calm asteroid field. Expertly maneuvering the expanse, Din Djarin has little motivation to do so except the smiles on his passengers’ faces. If you ask, he’ll tell you it’s a shortcut to the next system, which is only mostly untrue.

It’s been three months since Din collected the bounty on your former master. During that time, the Mandalorian had found one of the kid’s kind. A Jedi who could’ve taken Grogu, she declined the task. She told the bounty hunter of a place, a Seeing Stone, where Grogu could reach out for a Jedi master himself. 

Though a week has passed since learning of the Stone, Din had yet to bring Grogu to it, instead taking a couple of jobs. The stoic Mandalorian won’t admit, especially to himself, that he’s reluctant to let the child go. 

Reaching a lull in the slow-moving asteroids, Din draws the thruster back to stationary level, then looks down, his helmet nearly touching his breastplate, at the child still waving his short arms. Din turns his silver face to you questioningly.

Before he can speak, you joke, "I don’t want to learn to fly out here, if that's what you're about to ask.”

He shrugs with acceptance. Your eyebrows pinch in surprise, wondering if he’s playing along or serious.

“Okay, kid. We're done here,” he tenderly lifts Grogu and passes him to you. 

Grogu makes a protesting sound and hides one of his hands inside his robe.

“Big, mean Mandalorian is no fun,” you mutter to the child teasingly. Grogu coos in agreement.

Din shakes his head and swivels back to the control panel, flipping switches and entering data. The kid catches your attention, triumphantly showcasing a small metal sphere from his robe. You press your lips together and wink, silently promising you won’t tell. 

The Mandalorian’s gloved fingers run over his ship’s control panel like he’s conducting the Coruscant Orchestra, and then, suddenly, his right hand freezes in mid-air as he reaches for the thruster. 

“Grogu,” Din growls, spinning in his chair.

You laugh openly, “He’s a toddler, Din. You can’t close your eyes for a second.”

The Mandalorian rises, his bulk taking up the entirety of the cabin. He gently wrestles the ball from Grogu's fingers.

Long, soft ears droop, and massive, black eyes turn glassy. 

“Oh, look what you've done,” you croon, looking up at Din with an expression mirroring the kid’s.

Though he doesn't move, you can somehow see when Din’s annoyance is overruled by something stronger. Then the Mandalorian’s wide shoulders slowly rise and fall, a long-suffering sigh leaving his body.

“You are both menaces,” the Mandalorian accuses. He extends his hand, palm upward, “Grogu. Take it.” 

You hold your breath, allowing the child to focus on using his power. Grogu closes his eyes. The metal ball wiggles in the concave of Din’s large palm, then zooms to Grogu’s tiny hand.

Din makes a fist in excitement, “Great job, kid.”

Beaming at the Mandalorian, even more enthralled with him than the magic child in your lap, you wish you could see his proud smile.

Noticing your expression, Din's chin swivels to the side, clearly questioning. 

"Nothing. It's just that - it’s good to see you like this.” You shrug, trying to minimize your staring. “I know you’ve been stressed.”

The silent moment draws out as he assesses your observation. Still standing, the Mandalorian’s right hand hesitantly rises to whisper across the left side of your jaw. The gloved softness of his thumb caresses your cheekbone for an instant and a lifetime.

Din drops his hand like it weighs as much as a rancor. He turns around and sits back in his pilot's chair. Silver armor reflects the red and yellow lights around the cabin as he finishes his navigational procedures. 

Cheeks aflame, you duck your face down into the kid. 

___________________________________

“‘Occasional repairs,’’' you quote at the Mandalorian. “Every karking week there’s a new hole in this poor ship.” 

On the other side of the wing, busy soldering panels together, the Mandalorian's head snaps up. Unmoving, his expressionless mask simply stares at you. You bite your lip to prevent a grin and continue replacing bolts.

The beskar helmet remains for a while longer, hiding Din’s thoughts. He imagines what you’d look like if he put you on your knees and made you pay for your jokes. If he wiped that pretty smirk off your face. He feels a stirring in his flight suit, so he wrenches his mind away. 

The act the two of you committed in that field has not been repeated. His dedication to his helmet - to his creed - is paramount. And you tempt him too much. 

For the second time in the past year, Din has accidentally grown attached to someone - first the kid and now you. But with you, it’s a danger of a different kind.

Din had hoped that he just needed to get it out of his system. Get you out of his system. He had won that mock fight in the field, but he had yielded to his desire for you. 

Instead of feeling sated, Din feels hungrier as the days go by. Useless information, such as the number of sonic showers you've taken, clogs his mind. He would be ashamed of his counting, but he's too battle-weary to care. He does not count how many times he's taken advantage of the privacy of his bunk, remembering your eager face, your receptive body underneath him. 

All that armor wasn't worth a damn thing.

It’s easier for you. As inexperienced as Din but with your self-esteem already in the sarlacc pit, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine he'd had his fill of you and… well, that was that. Though you dream of it nearly every night, waking up to the strange feeling of both gaining and losing something.

Of course, the Mandalorian still needed you to care for the kid or help him replace several wing panels when he inevitably damaged them, as you were currently doing. 

At dusk, white trees sway behind you in the biting wind. This planet is rather cold, and Grogu, asleep inside the Razor Crest, doesn’t join you for the lovely, young Gornt dinner that Din had hunted. The two of you butcher it in silence and place it on the makeshift spit.

You then plop onto a log and snuggle down into your clothes, shivering. Though the items Din had given you months earlier are sturdy and warm, some of the chill of the night manages to seep through. You cross your arms, rubbing them.

Din vanishes from the other side of the fire - the smoky, dark air impenetrable. Squinting, you try to spot his reflective armor, but it works against you in this instance, easily blending him into the flickering, dim light.

A heavy material suddenly falls onto your shoulders, and you jump.

"Oh!" 

The Mandalorian stands directly behind you, the thick cloak he was trying to give you still partially in his hand. 

"I was focused on trying to see you through the smoke. I didn't think you'd be there." You clutch the brown garment tight around you and softly smile up at him, "Thank you."

Din nods, the clinking sound of metal audible as he returns to his log across the firelight. Your mouth gapes for a moment when you realize that the material around your shoulders is his torn cape.

"Do you not get cold?"

"I do." 

"Why not wear one yourself then?" You lift part of the cloak in indication.

"Mandalorians are taught to withstand uncomfortable circumstances. As a foundling, I frequently exercised in far less temperate weather." 

"A foundling?" You query, your eyebrow raising.

The Mandalorian leans back and shifts his legs apart to better distribute his weight.

"My youth was upended by war. When my village was destroyed, I was found by a Mandalorian."

"The name is quite literal, then?" 

"My people are quite literal," Din crosses his arms and his commanding presence is distracting.

He looks so big sitting on the log, his legs open, back straight, and arms folded. 

"We have similar beginnings," you swallow, trying to ignore the burning inside that has nothing to do with the fire.

"I was a little more fortunate in who found me," Din states. He leans forward to finally adjust the rod holding your dinner.

You lose your gaze in the flaming light, remembering.  

“I still can’t believe how much things have changed,” you murmur. 

Din Djarin can’t either. He has a life-altering decision to make, and a child to let go of, and both thoughts weigh on him like a karking Mudhorn. Din sighs internally at his unintended choice of simile.

Your eyes stray upward to the navy sky, breathing deeply. The frigid air burns your lungs, but you only draw more in, relishing your freedom to do so.

"You did not deserve that life," Din’s rough, mechanical voice answers over the sound of the crackling fire. 

You frown, "No one does." 

Running with the Mandalorian was a great way to stay ahead of the slavers. Paid employment, constant movement, and no one besides Din knowing your name - it was too good to be true.

Dropping your head from the sky, you level the Mandalorian with the most heartfelt gaze you can manage, "Thank you. I would've never had the courage to run without you."

Unable to see his reaction, you feel the distance most acutely. It isn't just flame and metal that divides you.

"I-" Din starts, but you cut him off.

"But mostly it's thanks to Grogu," you grin, trying to lighten the mood.

The helmet bobs as though he's amused, then Din sighs dramatically. 

"I need to separate you two."

"I love him," you giggle, remembering a moment a few days earlier when he had picked up a very dignified, sentient species of frog and tried to eat it. "He is such an agent of chaos." You laugh into your cloak-covered hand. 

Grateful that you can't see the fervent emotion glimmering in his brown eyes, Din studies you. Your fond smile is lit by the glowing fire and the cold winds blow redness into your cheeks and nose. You’re secure in his cloak, and it makes his chest ache.

"Shit," he breathes. The hiss through his modulator doesn't pick up the word well, to his relief. 

It's not a surprise if you do truly love the kid. He is adorable and you've been with him every waking moment for three months, but the word you've just introduced is jarring to Din.

Talking about Grogu brings the dangers you all face to the forefront of your mind. Your smile falls.

"Will you continue to teach me to fight?" You don't immediately register the sudden rigidity of Din's posture, so you press on, "It’s upsetting to me that I'm better with a blaster than with the skills I was taught and trained in by my family." 

The Mandalorian is relieved. You've given him an excuse to say no.

"I cannot teach you the methods of your people." 

“That’s alright; anything would be appreciated.” 

Din shifts his thigh on the log, agitated, and you struggle to fill the silence, “You don’t have to, of course.”

Then, as the silence lengthens, and you watch his helmet glint as he looks away, you realize what he must be so uncomfortable about. 

“Oh. I am not asking we repeat that. I’m sorry,” you raise a hand to chest height as if you’re trying to physically defend yourself from the awkwardness. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I know.” 

“I- Din, really I only meant the…” you grimace and clamp your lips together, unable to bear the tension. Standing, you insist, “I swear to you, I never expected more.”

Forgetting to return his cape, you unconsciously hold it closer as you retreat into the Razor Crest. 

The Mandalorian does not watch you walk away. His conflicted eyes remain trained on the crackling fire. Sparring with you brings every heart tug, every little attraction he has to you to the surface, and that's too frustrating to manage while IMPs track him and he deals with letting go of Grogu. 

But Din knows he really should continue to teach you. It’s in your best interest, as well as Grogu’s. His hangup is entirely selfish, and Din is not a selfish man. 

***

Hours later, when the sun has started to rise once more on this short-cycle planet, the Mandalorian finds his brown cape hung on the door to the refresher. He jerks it off its resting place, and goes to tuck it back around himself, when he notices that something is wrong.

Frozen, the Mandalorian stares at the brown, rough material in his hand. There are no holes in it anymore, only stitches. 

_________________________________________

Combined with the sound of intentionally-loud footsteps, Din places Grogu - who had jumped between the two of you all night - on the edge of your cot, allowing the child to wake you up. Din strides to his weapons cache.

You yawn, then snicker at Grogu’s delighted face as he babbles what must be his version of Good Morning. 

“Morning, kid.” You pet his ear and he begins to purr.

“You should stop babying him,” the Mandalorian doesn’t look at you as he searches among the weapons.

“Why? He’s a baby.” 

Din shuts the doors to his stash. “He is fifty years old."

“He's what?” 

Din shrugs and inclines his head in humor. You stare incredulously at the middle-aged child who rotates his little head between you and his father. 

“His species is unknown, but they age differently than we do.” 

“Uh, yeah. Fifty?” 

Din’s modulator makes a rasping sound. It could’ve been a small laugh, but you’re not sure. 

“Is fifty so terrible?”

Something in Din’s voice makes you look up at him. He casually leans against the hull. 

Unsure if you should have the gumption to even ask, you stutter, “A-are you also fifty?” 

The beskar mask does not move as the man behind it debates his reply. He decides on honesty.

“No,” Din states. He clasps one hand over the other in front of him, adding, “But I will reach that number in less than a decade.” 

You make a small, accepting gesture as you had subconsciously placed him around his early forties anyway. In any case, it doesn’t matter to you. He is the Mandalorian who (somewhat inadvertently at first, you’ll admit) saved you. Even without that gratitude, you would feel an attraction to him. He was strong and kind and protective. Ruthless, sure, but only when necessary.

Din pushes off the wall, “You didn’t ask why I woke you.” 

“Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to you, so used to being woken up - far more rudely or violently - each morning for the prior two decades. “Alright, why did you wake me?”

He reaches behind his back, unhooking an item, and holds out the fighting stick he had used in that skirmish between the two of you. 

“I will teach you what I can.” 

***

Din Djarin is careful not to touch you, even through his gloves. He doesn’t trust himself anymore. Instead, he instructs you in tactics. After clocking your strategy in less than three moves, Din is worried about your future opponents doing the same. 

“You dislike giving ground, but there will be times you’ll have to. It’s how you will outmaneuver them,” the Mandalorian stands, hands folded, his knee cocked, as he speaks. 

“How do you know that?” You ask in response to his first statement. 

Din clenches his jaw at the memory so very close to other memories, and answers you in a contained voice, “You were not subtle.” 

You smile, abashed. “See, that is why I asked you. I’m far too inexperienced.”

Din closes his eyes in frustration.

You continue nervously, thinking about how hesitant he had been to agree to this, “My master took me to many fights, and you’re the best I’ve ever seen. I value your opinion.”

Din is used to compliments. Those whom he returned quarries to often praised him for his work. But your praise is one he actually wants, and something throbs in his chest. Then he grows irritated with his rampant, immature yearning for you. 

Din speaks harshly, “This is for the protection of the child. You are his guardian when I am not nearby.”

Locked onto that T-shaped, black slit, your eyes flicker a little at his callous, impatient pronouncement, but you nod. 

“Of course. For the kid.”

__________________________________

Unhappy to be removed from where he had curled up on his father’s pilot seat, Grogu had insisted upon sleeping in the cockpit with his little metal ball. You had assured the Mandalorian that you didn’t mind staying in the passenger chair for the night. The cushions were comfortable enough, and it made the child happy. 

An hour after Grogu had begun purring in his sleep, you’re brought to consciousness by a deeper, labored sound. Bolting to your feet, worried about the Mandalorian below, you descend the ladder. 

The door to the Mandalorian’s bunk had not fully closed, apparently jamming on some loose junk part that Grogu must’ve picked up. There is no light on in the enclosed space, so you cannot see him. But you can hear the way he mutters your name once, rough and agitated. You can hear the sound of material jerking and his rasping, vocoded grunts. 

Your throat tightens and your breathing stops. Eyes wide, you slowly back up, terrified for him to find you in this way. A molten weight in your stomach wants you to push open the door and take care of him, but after the manner in which he spoke to you the entire afternoon, and the obvious way he tries to forget about that day in the field, you can’t. You can’t even fathom why he would be uttering your name. It’s too confusing.

Dazed, you return to the cockpit and try to block him out. Sleep does not come to save you for far too long, and when it does, it provides you no escape from the Mandalorian.

__________________________________

Din’s tortured use of your name had kept you awake far into the night. When you groggily open your eyes the next morning, you know you won’t be able to let this go. You must talk to him. Bravery is a muscle you’re trying to flex anyway, so you might as well try it on the scariest thing you can think of: an angry Din Djarin. 

While Grogu plays with a ship part you pretend to have never seen, one Din had pried out of the receiving slot of his bunk door this morning, you and he traipse down the boarding ramp, intending to save the rest of the Gornt meat for traveling. 

Absolutely guessing at how you’ll begin this conversation, you decide you’ll just hope for the best. 

“I- I heard you last night.” It’s barely more than a whisper.

The Mandalorian stops dead in his tracks and you stumble, trying not to run into him. He turns on you, a solid wall of muscle and metal, but says nothing. You swallow and force what shred of courage you have to the front. 

“I heard you say my name. You don’t have to do that alone. I can help you,” your final words are almost inaudible.

The Mandalorian provides food, shelter, and companionship. Ignorant to any kind of normal relationship, friendly or greater, you want to show your gratitude. And if that was how you could help him, all the better.

Your inner self, the one that’s been unthawing since the day your master was frozen in carbonite, wants Din in a far more genuine manner. You want him. His compassion and honor, his fatherly love for Grogu, his non-pitying care for you, and his primal confidence have you in danger of becoming a hopeless devotee.

“Help me,” he reiterates, his tone worryingly neutral.

“Passage for assistance,” you try to ease the tension slightly with another old quote of his. “I can still assist you. It’s repayment for your aid.”

Even as you say it, you feel the depth of the lie. You want Din for yourself.

He’s silent. At his side, the fingers on his right hand fidget. The broad bounty hunter leans over you. As he tilts his head, the cold sun glints off his armor. 

Din’s voice is as sharp as his vibroblade but twice as lethal, “You are no longer a slave - do not make me say that again. This is not a business transaction.” 

Not a business transaction? While technically a rejection, his clarification makes you dizzy. Your breath comes out shakily, fogging in the chill air. 

“Okay. What if that’s not my real reason for asking?”

That does it. Stunned, the Mandalorian might as well be a statue made of beskar. Din had found it easy to believe you allowed him to touch you because you felt in his debt, and he hated it. Made him feel as slimy as a Hutt.

“Tell me.” 

Din watches your facial expressions run the gamut and he knows that whatever you’re about to say is the truth. 

“I care about you.” Will you ever stop whispering? “For you, not just what you’ve done for me,” your second greatest act of bravery this morning is touching his cold chestplate. You swallow as you look up into that blank face. 

Din doesn't move. Doesn't think he can move, but then his body responds before his mind does. Soft leather brushes your cheekbones as he takes your face in his large hands. He tilts his cold helmet to your forehead, and you instinctively close your eyes, sighing in relief. This was not what you were expecting when you followed him out here.

You can't hear the first thing he says, but it sounds like dank farrik. You laugh quietly in his hands.

"You are a menace,” he mutters a little louder, the modulator somehow enhancing the timbre of his voice. “You and the kid.”

Grinning, you open your eyes as he lifts his helmet from your skin. “Don’t bring him into this,” you joke. 

Din’s thumb ghosts across your lips and you shiver. The Mandalorian is calm. This is inevitable now. He need not fight himself any longer. He grasps your wrist and brings it upward. Gently guiding your fingers underneath the edge of his helmet, Din presses them to his lips.

Utterly shocked at this new gift, you gasp. A scratchy cloth wraps around the bottom of his chin, but above it, his soft, scruffy facial hair and plump lips make your skin tingle. Nerves jumble in your lower stomach. He presses another kiss before slowly lowering your hand.

You tell him disbelievingly, "I thought there was no way -” 

“What you thought was wrong.” 

Your heat signature rises at the sincerity in his voice. Din tilts his head, watching your reaction to him. He lets his covered fingers drift over your lips again, then he drags them down the column of your throat and past your exposed collarbone, enjoying your whimper. Your pupils are dilated.

“You want me now, don’t you?” He asks, his voice hoarse. 

You nod, whispering past your suddenly dry mouth, “Yes.” 

The Mandalorian crouches for a split second, hefting you into his arms with no effort. Your legs automatically wrap around his middle, arms around his neck. His hands clasp underneath your thighs as he strides up the loading ramp as though every second he delayed was one wasted. 

Din lays you out on his bunk and hits the button for the door without looking at it. He does not turn on the light. In the tiny, black room, you can hear him divesting himself of his flight suit and armor. It makes your heart throw itself against your chest. You sit up and struggle out of your own clothes, wanting nothing between you and him.

“Will I ever get to kiss you?” You ask timidly.

Din answers you immediately. His rough palms bracket your face, then he reverently pushes his lips into yours. His facial hair brushes against your skin and you weakly moan into his mouth, parting your lips for more. The Mandalorian groans, as well, enraptured by this new sensation. 

Din wraps a muscled arm around your waist, crushing you to him in the small space. His warm, broad chest forces yours to mold around him. Your hands gently drag along his torso, mapping him. He shudders underneath your fingers.

His lips break like waves around yours. You could be floating above the bed and it would feel no different. He kisses you like it’s what he needs to survive; his occasional noises of desperation stake your heart and dampen your thighs.

“Need to touch you everywhere,” Din’s real, untampered voice knots your stomach. 

“You can do whatever you want,” you breathlessly repeat the unspoken affirmation you’d given him the first time. 

He chuckles, and you shiver again, drunk with lust. Din lowers you back onto the hard bed, settling over you.

His hot mouth surprises the sensitive skin of your breast. Din moans, involuntarily you think, as he tastes you there, gently pulling and sucking. You jerk, pressing up into him with a cry. Who knew that could feel so good?

His big hands flow down your sides, pressing into you, exploring, and you get a burst of understanding. This man is starved.

Your hands comb into his hair, and while you wonder what its color is, you’re choked up to find that it’s soft and wavy. Din groans loudly when your fingers rub on his scalp. He seems invigorated by it as he growls and returns to your lips with a fever. His tongue demands you allow him inside, but there is no resistance on your end. 

Suddenly, Din breaks the kiss with a wet pop of his lips. He vanishes from above you, but then two large hands slide up your thighs. He pushes them apart and your breath hitches. 

“You trust me?” The Mandalorian knows the answer, he just wants to hear it.

Nodding dumbly in the dark, you realize he can’t see you and squeak, “Yes.”

He shifts down and presses a row of kisses up your inner thigh. His nose brushes your coarse hair, and your breathing breaks a second time. 

Din flattens his tongue and licks the spot he already knows you like. You jolt and his arms wrest around your thighs, holding you in place for him. You whimper as he buries his face in your folds, shocking your system. Your hands return to his hair, and his chest swells as he quickly shoves you toward your end. His nose continually nudges your bundle of nerves and each time it feels like you’re hurtling through hyperspace.

Your back arches when he traps your clit between his lips, and he responds with another obscene noise. This time, the vibration of his deep voice rips your orgasm from your marrow. Crying out his name, you quake, chest heaving through the waves of euphoria. 

Too overwhelmed by all his options, Din moves back to your mouth, breathing heavily himself, “Incredible.” 

He licks into you again, his hand cradling your face to allow him deeper. Taking advantage of his position, you wrap your legs around his trim waist, pulling him down. His hips cant toward you, and you feel his length fall onto your abdomen. You hadn’t forgotten how big he was, but the heft of it makes your body tremble. 

The Mandalorian could be a patient man, but this would never be one of those moments. Din fists himself, rubbing once along your soaked seam. He pushes forward, steadily feeding his cock into your tight, forgiving heat. Din grunts several times, overstimulated. 

“You don’t know what you’ve done, mesh’la,” he gruffly murmurs, his naked voice still so shocking to hear.

You have no idea what he means, and you file it away for later study. Solely focused on how he feels halfway inside you, you clutch at the back of his thick thighs, encouraging him. But then he snaps his hips, driving himself to the hilt.

“Din, oh,” you sharply gasp. 

He grinds his pubic bone into your mound, stimulating you; his chin tilts up, proud, when you shudder. The Mandalorian grabs one of your hands and brings it to where he’s joined with you.

“You feel that?” Din’s voice is weighty, meaningful.

“Mhm,” you sigh, your fingers leaving his hand to explore his dark curls. He’s right. The deviant way his thick member disappears inside you is intoxicating.

He languidly draws himself out, letting you experience every ridge and vein, pulsing with your filthy sounds. He re-enters you just as intentionally, and when he’s given you everything, he leans down and drags you into a kiss. A kiss that means something to him. His tongue surges through your mouth in a single stroke before his full lips pull on yours, one hand gripping the back of your neck.

He lets you go, trailing his mouth down your throat, obsessed with the taste and the feel of you on his skin.

Din returns to your lips, his forearms framing your head. His fingers twist in your hair, and he begins to pump faster. His length strokes along a spot that makes your eyes flutter in the pitch blackness. Your nails carefully rake at his toned back, drawing a strangled moan from him as he shoves himself inside again and again. Losing a measure of self-control, he thrusts hard, placing a palm on the back wall for stability. 

Your hands finally, finally, reach up for his face, expecting at any moment that he’ll stop you. His lips are parted as he pants in exertion, his facial hair fluttering with his breath. Din’s cheekbones are round and high; his nose is angular and fitting. 

“I knew you were handsome,” you praise, the words fluctuating in cadence with his pounding strokes. “Wouldn’t have mattered.”

He scoffs, barely conscious of what you’re saying. His forehead drops to yours again, and he can’t believe the life he’d known had unraveled so drastically. In under a year, Din had gained a child and this. 

“Turn over,” he orders.

Of course, you obey without hesitation.

His calloused fingers slide around your hips, pulling them upward. With your chest still pressed into the bunk, you moan when he slowly re-inserts himself. He nearly chokes when your body draws him in; the angle and drenched grip of you makes him shake his head in disbelief. 

“You okay?” He rumbles. 

Your chin scrapes on the metal bed as you nod, “Please move.” 

He clasps an arm around your middle, hunching forward. His scruff and lips tickle the top of your spine as he begins to rut into you. It’s already too much - Din grunting, his chest hair scratching your upper back, his muscled arms holding you in place as he fills you over and over. You begin to clench around him again, crying out harshly in a rush of pleasure. Your legs shake, giving out underneath you.

The Mandalorian’s large hand splays across your breast, and he pulls you backward onto your knees alone, welding you to his perspiring chest. As his length plunges up into you, his lips brush your ear. He’s whispering something, but you can't understand the words.

Then, Din exhales with a groan and rolls several long, pulsing strokes, burying his come as deep as he can with a final, gravel-filled grunt.

***

In the dark, there’s only the sound of two people fighting for breath. Din has leaned against the cool wall; he tugs you to him. You sit somewhat beside him, your legs tangled together. Your head rests on his heaving shoulder, and every now and then, you feel the press of his lips in your hair. He laughs once, quietly.

“What is it?” 

“Your life is not the only one that has changed.” 

Blinking rapidly, your heart glows with warmth. Yours had changed the most. This Mandalorian had come into your non-existence and given you everything. Courage, freedom, responsibility, love. 

“I know you like to fight, but this is one I’ll win,” you laugh softly. 

___________________________________

Tagging:

@morks-watermelon

[cre8inghavoc]

Can't help it...

Part 6

inumaki x f!reader

pairing: inumaki x f!reader

genre/warnings: [18+] Characters are aged up. Story contains cursing, new friends, alcohol, college!au, no curse!au, dark humour, SMAU and written parts, fluff, smut.

a/n: ahhh i forgot this was a smau as well... whoops... so here's some smau for u guys hehe

SMAU

WRITTEN PORTION:

As you and Inumaki pulled up to campus and got off his bike, you could feel the weight of people’s gazes on you immediately. Students were blatantly staring, some pretending to scroll on their phones, while others whispered to each other as you passed by. The attention was unnerving, and you found yourself gripping the straps of your backpack a little tighter.

“Why are people staring at us?” you asked under your breath, your voice tinged with confusion as you glanced around.

Inumaki didn’t respond right away. He calmly continued walking and without a word, he pulled out his phone, the faint glow of the screen illuminating his face beneath his helmet.

You watched him for a moment, curious, before his expression shifted—something between amusement and annoyance flickered in his eyes. He tilted his phone in your direction, showing you what he’d just found.

It was a tweet from the university’s notorious campus account:

@CursedUser was seen pulling up to campus with a mystery girl. Who is she?....

Your stomach dropped when you saw the attached photo—clear as day, it was you and Inumaki, as soon as you got off the bike, which was not even 2 minutes ago. “Oh my god, did someone seriously take a picture of us and post it?!” you exclaimed, your voice rising in disbelief.

Inumaki shrugged nonchalantly, his body language showing he wasn’t too bothered by it. “Looks like it,” he said casually, his voice muffled slightly through his helmet.

You grabbed your own phone, your fingers moving faster than your thoughts as you clicked on the tweet. Curiosity got the better of you, and you tapped on the account that had been tagged in the tweet: @CursedUser.

What you saw next made your jaw drop. The follower count next to his handle was in the millions. Videos of Inumaki riding his bike, doing stunts, and even casually talking to his followers filled the page. You scrolled in disbelief, each post racking up thousands of likes and comments.

Your eyes widened as the realization hit you, you stopped in your tracks and you looked back at him in shock. “Wait… you're famous?! A famous biker?!”

Inumaki chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “I guess you could say that,” he replied, his tone casual as ever.

You stared at him, still processing everything. “How did I not know this? You have, like, millions of followers!”

He gave a small shrug. “I don’t really bring it up. It’s just a hobby that got popular.”

You blinked, your thoughts racing. “A hobby?! People take pictures of you, and you have a huge following on TikTok and Instagram… that’s not just a hobby, Inumaki, that’s a thing!”

He gave you a relaxed smile. “It’s no big deal.”

You, on the other hand, were far from calm. “No big deal? People are staring at us, taking pictures of us! People think we’re dating—and some girls are literally mad that you’re with me! Oh my god, we’re not even—” You cut yourself off, the words stumbling out faster than you could think.

Inumaki's expression softened as he watched you freak out. His smile faded, but there was a gentle amusement in his eyes. “Relax,” he said calmly. “They love making things up. It’s just rumors.”

You huffed, still not fully believing it. “Yeah, but people are mad, Toge! I didn’t sign up for this kind of attention. I didn’t even know you were, like, famous on social media!”

Inumaki smiled sheepishly. “It’s not a big deal, seriously. I don’t really mention it because, well, I don’t care about all that.” He shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“But people think we’re together! That’s…” you trailed off, glancing around as you noticed more eyes on the two of you, whispering. “This is so weird...”

He stepped closer, his expression softening as he met your eyes. “Look, if it’s bothering you, I can clear it up. I’ll tell people we’re just friends, and they’ll stop talking.”

You hesitated, feeling an odd pang at the thought of him saying you were just friends. But that’s all you were, right? Just friends.

“Yeah… maybe,” you replied quietly, your heart betraying the calm tone you were trying to keep. “I just… need a second to process this.”

Inumaki nodded, his gaze steady and reassuring. “Take your time. But nothing’s changed between us, okay? We’re still just us.”

You nodded slowly, trying to take in everything he said, but your thoughts were still racing. The idea of being the center of attention because of Toge’s popularity was overwhelming. The whispers around you felt louder now, and you couldn’t shake the weight of people watching your every move.

“But it’s not just us,” you muttered, glancing around at the students who were still sneaking glances. “It feels like the entire campus is waiting for us to do something… or for you to confirm something.”

Inumaki followed your gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed the attention. “Let them talk. They’re not worth stressing over,” he said, his voice calm and steady.

You sighed, biting your lip as you tried to shake off the anxiety building up inside you. “It’s easy for you to say that. You’re used to it. But this is… new for me.”

He took a step closer, and suddenly you felt the warmth of his presence a little more than usual. His hand hovered near your arm, as if he was about to reach out but hesitated. “I get it,” he said softly. “It’s a lot. I know. But I meant what I said earlier—I don’t care what they think. I just care about spending time with you.”

Your heart did a strange flip at his words, and for a second, you couldn’t look at him. The weight of his gaze was too much, and it made your pulse race. “I… I know,” you murmured, trying to sound casual, but the flutter in your chest made it hard to keep your voice steady.

There was a brief, tense silence between the two of you. The noise of the campus around you faded into the background as your focus narrowed on the way his eyes softened when he looked at you. You weren’t sure if it was just your imagination, but something in the air between you shifted—like there was more to his words than he was letting on.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice quieter than before. “Do you think… maybe we should let them think what they want? Like, not deny it?”

Inumaki raised an eyebrow, surprised by your question. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, feeling your cheeks warm slightly. Thank god you still had your helmet on. “I mean, if people are going to make assumptions, maybe it’s easier to just… let them. We don’t have to explain ourselves.”

His gaze locked on yours, and for a moment, you could see a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. “So, you’re saying we just go along with it?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I don’t know… maybe? It’s better than denying it and making it a bigger deal, right?”

Inumaki’s lips quirked up into a small smile, but there was a serious edge to his expression. “If that’s what you want, I’m fine with it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You didn’t know why, but the idea of people assuming you were together… didn’t seem as bad as you thought it would. Maybe part of you wasn’t as against the idea as you had convinced yourself to be.

“Yeah, let’s just… leave it. Let them think what they want,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Inumaki’s smile widened just a bit, his eyes glinting with that familiar warmth. “Alright. We’ll do that then.”

You stood there for a moment longer, feeling the weight of an unspoken understanding settle between the two of you. Whatever this was, you weren’t ready to define it—but maybe, just maybe, you were okay with letting things unfold in their own time.

“Come on. We don’t want to be late for class,” he said, his tone casual again, though the warmth in his eyes lingered.

You nodded, falling into step beside him as the two of you made your way through the campus. The whispers and glances were still there, but with Inumaki next to you, they seemed to fade into the background. You tried to shake off the nervous energy from earlier and focus on the fact that, for now, things were back to normal—or as normal as they could be.

When you entered the classroom, you noticed a few heads turn your way, but no one said anything outright. You glanced at Inumaki, and he gave you a small nod as if to say, “Ignore it.” You took a deep breath and followed him to your usual spot.

As you sat down next to him, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort. Even though you were still hyper-aware of the attention on you, sitting beside him felt natural, like you didn’t have to explain yourself to anyone. 

He didn’t seem to care about the attention, and his calm presence grounded you in a way you hadn’t expected.

Before you knew it, the class ended, and the day moved on.

By the time lunch rolled around, you and Inumaki had parted ways to meet up with your separate friend groups. You spotted Nobara waving you over to a table in the courtyard where Megumi and Yuji were already sitting, deep in conversation.

“Y/N! Over here!” Nobara called, waving enthusiastically as you made your way over.

You smiled, grateful to see your friends and eager to distract yourself from the whirlwind of emotions you’d been dealing with all morning. As you sat down, Nobara gave you a curious look. “So, what’s this I hear about you arriving with a certain mystery biker this morning?”

Megumi raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, while Yuji’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Yeah, we saw it on twitter and heard some people talking about it. You and Inumaki?” he asked, his tone teasing.

You felt your cheeks flush. “Shhh!” You quickly shut his mouth with your hand, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “Don’t say his name out loud,” you whispered, panicking slightly.

Yuji blinked, surprised by your reaction but still grinning behind your hand. “Okay, okay!” he mumbled.

You pulled your hand away, feeling the heat rise to your face as you tried to play it off. “It’s nothing. We just… came to school together.”

Nobara narrowed her eyes playfully. “Uh-huh. And that’s why everyone’s talking about how you’re the ‘mystery girl’ Inumaki showed up with? Seems like more than just a ride to school to me.”

You sighed, feeling the familiar nervousness creeping up again. “People are making it into a bigger deal than it is.”

Yuji, still amused, chuckled softly. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think it’s kind of cool. The mysterious biker has a mystery girl now.”

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. “Not you too, Yuji…”

Nobara smirked, leaning in closer. “Come on, Y/N, spill. What’s really going on between you and Inumaki? There’s no way it’s just a coincidence you two showed up together like that.”

You groaned again, feeling cornered. “There’s nothing going on, seriously! He just gave me a ride. That’s it.”

Megumi, who had been quietly observing the conversation, finally spoke up. “You do realize people love a good mystery, right? And Inumaki’s whole ‘nobody knows who he really is’ thing makes it worse. People are gonna speculate.”

“Exactly!” Nobara chimed in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “He’s already the mysterious, hot biker, and now you’re suddenly the girl he’s been spotted with. Of course, everyone’s going to jump to conclusions.”

You sighed, feeling the pressure mount. “Yeah, well, that’s their problem, not mine. I didn’t ask for this attention.”

Yuji gave you a sympathetic look, though his grin never faded. “If it’s bothering you that much, maybe just talk to him about it.”

You paused, unsure how to respond. Sure, you and Inumaki had briefly discussed letting the rumors slide, but you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the right call. Was it better to clear things up and risk making it worse, or just let everyone believe whatever they wanted?

Nobara’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “So, what’s he like? I mean, you’ve spent more time with him than any of us. Is he as mysterious as people say?”

You hesitated for a moment, thinking back to the quiet moments you’d shared with Inumaki. Despite his popularity and the aura of mystery surrounding him, he had always been kind, laid-back, and… comforting. You realized you hadn’t even seen him as the “mysterious biker” that everyone else seemed obsessed with. To you, he was just… Toge.

“He’s… nice,” you said, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks again. “He doesn’t care about all the attention. It’s not really his thing. He just likes to ride.”

Nobara raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your answer. “Huh. So he’s not all about the hype?”

“Nope,” you replied, shaking your head. “He’s super chill about everything.”

Yuji leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a thoughtful expression. “That makes sense. I mean, he always gives off that ‘doesn’t care about anything’ vibe. Guess that’s part of what makes him so cool.”

Nobara suddenly leaned in, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “So, does he ever take the mask off when you’re alone?”

Your eyes widened at the question, and you felt your face go bright red. “N-Nobara! That’s not—he—” you stammered, flustered.

Nobara laughed, enjoying your reaction. “Just messing with you! But seriously, if you do get a peek, you better tell us.”

You buried your face in your hands again, groaning. “You guys are impossible…”

Here’s the revised version with Inumaki entering the scene and teasing Y/N:

You buried your face in your hands again, groaning. “You guys are impossible…”

Before anyone could say more, you felt a familiar presence behind you, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Slowly, you peeked through your fingers and froze.

Inumaki stood behind you, his helmet still on, casually holding another helmet in his hand. He tilted his head slightly as if he had heard enough of the conversation to get the gist of it.

“Talking about me, Y/N?” he teased, his voice muffled slightly through the helmet.

Your entire body stiffened as your face turned an even deeper shade of red. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and face him, so instead, you stared straight into Nobara’s eyes, silently pleading for her to not make things worse.

Nobara, of course, couldn’t resist. She smirked at Yuji, who was desperately trying to hold in his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand to keep from bursting out.

Megumi, ever the calm one, simply gave Inumaki a nod in greeting, acknowledging his presence without any fuss.

Inumaki shifted slightly, leaning down a bit as he continued to tease. “Didn’t know I was such a hot topic today,” he said lightly, his voice filled with amusement.

You finally turned around, your cheeks still burning. “We were just… talking,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nobara, ever the instigator, grinned. “Oh, we were definitely talking about you, Inumaki. Y/N here was just telling us how ‘nice’ you are.”

You shot Nobara a glare, silently begging her to stop, but she just smirked in response. Inumaki, however, chuckled lightly under his helmet.

“Mind if I steal Y/N for a bit?” he asked, his tone still casual, but there was a hint of something more beneath it.

Nobara raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “Steal her away, huh? I mean, go ahead, but don’t keep her too long,” she teased, making you feel even more flustered.

Megumi just shrugged, while Yuji’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Yeah, sure, take her,” he said, barely able to suppress his laughter.

numaki glanced down at you and nodded toward the spare helmet in his hand. “Come on,” he said softly.

You hesitated for a moment, but eventually pushed your chair back and stood, feeling the weight of your friends' eyes on you. Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi watched intently, curiosity and amusement clear on their faces.

Inumaki held the helmet up, then gently placed it on your head. You felt a flutter in your stomach as his fingers brushed your hair back, making sure the helmet fit snugly. He adjusted it with care, his movements calm and steady.

Your cheeks burned as you stood there, trying to keep your cool while your friends watched everything unfold. Nobara’s grin was practically ear-to-ear, and Yuji looked like he was holding back another laugh. Even Megumi glanced between you and Inumaki with a knowing look.

Once the helmet was on, Inumaki’s fingers found the straps under your chin, and he leaned in slightly, securing the buckle with ease. His face was close enough that you could see the focus in his eyes, and the warmth of his touch made your heart race even faster.

“There,” he said, stepping back slightly. “All set.”

You swallowed hard, feeling completely flustered under the weight of his gaze and the situation.

Nobara broke the silence first, her grin widening. “Well, look at that. Personal service.”

Yuji finally let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “VIP treatment for Y/N, huh?”

You could only glance down at the ground, too embarrassed to say anything as Inumaki’s calm, steady presence lingered next to you.

“Ready to go?” he asked, his voice soft but teasing.

You nodded, too flustered to say much more. Inumaki gently placed a hand on your back, guiding you away from the table toward his bike, leaving your friends behind, who were now sharing amused glances and whispers.

You followed him toward his bike, trying your best to calm the flurry of emotions that were racing through you.

When you reached his bike, Inumaki glanced back at you. “Hop on,” he said, giving you a small nod as he mounted the bike himself.

You hesitated for a second, but then climbed onto the back, settling in behind him. The helmet was secure, but your heart was still racing—not from nerves this time, but from the fact that you were holding onto him again, your arms instinctively wrapping around his waist.

Inumaki turned his head slightly, glancing at you over his shoulder. “You good?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if it was the ride that had your stomach in knots or the closeness you now felt. “Yeah, I’m good,” you managed to say, your voice a little muffled by the helmet.

“Where are you taking me?”

Inumaki tilted his head slightly again, the hint of a playful smile in his eyes. “Just wait and see,” he replied, his voice soft yet teasing.

He turned his attention back to the bike. He started the engine with a smooth, practiced motion, the sound rumbling beneath you. With a quick flick of his hand, he shut his visor down, and without another word, he took off, the bike surging forward as you held on tight.

After a few more minutes, Inumaki slowed the bike, eventually pulling into a quiet park on the edge of town. He guided the bike to a stop near a small clearing, surrounded by tall trees and a few scattered benches. The sound of the engine faded, leaving only the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Inumaki sat still for a moment, then flipped up his visor and glanced back at you. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice calm but with a hint of curiosity.

You pulled off your helmet, taking a deep breath of the fresh air as you looked around. It was peaceful here, a welcome change from the noise and attention of earlier. “It’s perfect,” you said, smiling softly as you met his eyes.

He nodded, seeming satisfied with your response, both getting off the bike and taking off your helmets.

“Enjoy the ride?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.

You smirked and nodded. “Not bad. Could’ve used a little more speed, though.”

He chuckled, his voice low. “I didn’t think you could handle more than that.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t think I can handle it? Please.”

Inumaki tilted his head, clearly enjoying this back-and-forth. “Oh yeah? Think you can keep up with me?”

“Easily,” you shot back, crossing your arms, feeling a boldness creep into your voice. “In fact, maybe next time I’ll drive.”

He laughed, a smooth sound that made your stomach flutter a bit. “I’d love to see that,” he said, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he pushed off the bike and stood in front of you, his presence close and warm.

You felt your heart skip slightly at the proximity, but you refused to back down. “I’ll show you one of these days,” you said with a smirk, holding his gaze. “Then we’ll see who’s really got the skills.”

Inumaki stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “I like the confidence,” he said, his eyes flicking over your face for a moment before he added, “but I’m not so sure you can back it up.”

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise to your face but not willing to let him win that easily. “Is that a challenge, Inumaki?”

“Depends. You up for it?”

“Always.”

He chuckled again, his eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned back just slightly. “Guess we’ll see.”

There was a moment of charged silence between you, the playful energy lingering in the air as you stood there. You were caught somewhere between wanting to push the teasing further and trying to figure out how to keep your cool around him.

Finally, you broke the silence with a playful nudge to his shoulder. “What’s with the sudden interest in stealing me away, anyway? You got bored with your fan club?”

Inumaki raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “What can I say? Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you.”

His words, though casual, made your heart flutter. You tried to brush it off, keeping the teasing going. “Could’ve just asked, you know.”

“I didn’t think you’d mind me stealing you for a bit.”

“Maybe I do.”

Inumaki’s smirk widened as he leaned in just a little closer, the teasing glint in his eyes more obvious now. “Maybe you do? Sounds like you’re not sure.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, refusing to let him win so easily. “Oh, I’m sure,” you shot back, feeling your pulse race under the intensity of his gaze. “But I think you’re the one who’s a little too confident.”

Inumaki raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “Confident? Nah." He leaned back slightly, his smirk never fading. “You’re not as tough as you act.”

“You think I’m not tough? You must not know me at all.”

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, I know you,” he said, his voice dropping a bit. “That’s why I know you’re bluffing.”

“Bluffing, huh? You’re really underestimating me, Inumaki.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just all talk.”

You felt a surge of competitiveness rise in you, and you stepped a little closer, matching his energy. “Careful, Toge,” you said, your voice low but teasing. “You might not like what happens if you keep testing me.”

His smile widened, clearly liking where this was going. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice equally soft and teasing. “I think I’d enjoy it.”

The playful tension between you two hung in the air, and for a moment, it felt like a game—both of you pushing and pulling, seeing who would crack first. You weren’t about to let him win that easily, though.

You crossed your arms, feeling the spark of competitive energy between you two. “You sound awfully sure of yourself,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “I’m starting to think you enjoy pushing my buttons.”

Inumaki chuckled softly, stepping just a little closer again. “Maybe I do. You make it fun.”

You scoffed, trying to hide how flustered you were. “Fun? You haven’t seen anything yet.”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh? So what exactly am I in for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I think I already do.”

His words sent a wave of heat through you, and you had to fight to keep your composure. You were determined to stay in control of the situation, no matter how much he was testing you.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” you shot back, tilting your head in mock defiance. “I’m full of surprises.”

Inumaki grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. “Is that so? Guess I’ll have to stick around and find out.”

You tried to keep your cool, but the way his eyes were fixed on you, the playful tension hanging between you, made it hard to focus on anything else. “Well,” you said with a smirk, “good luck with that.”

His smirk deepened, as if he had already won this round. “I don’t need luck,” he replied smoothly. “I’ve got you figured out.”

“Oh really? You think you’ve got me all figured out?”

Inumaki didn’t back down, stepping even closer, the space between you practically nonexistent now. His eyes flickered with something more as he replied, “Yeah. I do.”

His smirk softened as he leaned in even closer, his eyes focused on yours. For a split second, your breath caught in your throat as he closed the space between you, and your heart pounded in your chest.

His face was so close now, you could feel the warmth radiating from him. It was almost as if he was going to—

But just before his lips could brush yours, Inumaki stopped, that teasing smirk returning to his face as he lingered there, leaving you hanging. His eyes glinted with amusement as he stayed close, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

“Got you,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, pulling back slightly but not enough to give you any real distance.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your face burning with heat. You narrowed your eyes, trying to recover quickly. “Really? You’re going to play like that?”

Inumaki chuckled softly, stepping back just a little more, his smirk widening. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

“You think you’re so smooth, don’t you?”

He tilted his head slightly, shrugging in that casual, confident way. “I don’t think,” he teased. “I know.”

“Yeah, well… you’re not as clever as you think.”

“Oh? And here I thought you liked a little challenge.”

“I do,” you shot back, your voice steady as you met his gaze head-on. “But I’m not the only one getting challenged here, am I?”

Inumaki’s smirk softened into something more playful, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe not,” he admitted, his tone still teasing but with a hint of something else. “But I’m enjoying it. It’s kinda fun watching you try to figure me out.”

“You think I’ll just keep playing along?”

“I think you’re enjoying it more than you’re letting on.”

You scoffed, though you couldn’t hide the slight smile creeping onto your lips. “Don’t flatter yourself. I can walk away anytime.”

"Yet you’re still here.”

He gave you one last playful look before turning toward his bike. “Come on. Let’s head back before we give them something else to talk about.”

You hesitated for a second, still feeling the buzz from the almost-kiss, before following him to the bike. As you climbed on behind him, you couldn’t help but wonder if this teasing game was just that—or if there was something more...

Taglist <3

@madaqueue @mikko-mikko @arabella0001 @swarachxle @s3ns4ti0n4l @jdgfsgdgdvf @tomikixd @arabella0001 @emotionalasf

[epicsteddieficrecs]

Steddie Podfic Mini-Rec - July 2024

If you've seen my post from a few days/weeks (what is time??) ago, you might know that I've had a little Steddie Renaissance by means of podfics! I got into podfics for the first time a few months ago with the ship that's now occupying most of my brain space, but I've now listened to pretty much everything that there is in the tag, ergo: back to Steddie! I hope you enjoy and please give kudos and comments to the lovely people recording these fics if you listen to them!

[Podfic] far away from nothing by greedy_dancer // fic by  glorious_spoon/@glorious-spoon (Coming Out, Missing Scene | 10-20min | Teen): The thing is, Steve knows he’s the dumb one. Between Nancy’s straight-A report cards and Dustin’s wild brilliance and Robin’s multilingual code-cracking skills—yeah. He’s just Steve Harrington, who graduated high school with a 2.1 GPA and got rejected by every fancy college his parents made him apply to. Fine. Somebody needs to guard the door and take the hits while the rest of them save the fucking world, and he’s more than okay with that somebody being him. The other thing is, most of them are brilliant in a way that he’ll never understand, and dumb as hell when it comes to human relationships.

[podfic] Shovel Talks by RattleandHum (ThirdEye1234)/ @thirdeye1234 // fic by unkreativstermensch (Post-S4, Pining, Wayne POV | 20-30min | Teen): “Oh,” Steve says. Then again, “oh,” a little quieter. His expression changes; from confusion to something pained almost. “Mr Munson, I don’t…” he takes a deep breath, his voice a little shaky as he continues. “I don’t think he…I don’t think he likes me like that.” He doesn’t say “it’s not like that.” Neither does he say “I’m not like that.” That’s the first thing Wayne notices. or: Wayne decides to give Steve the shovel talk, only to realize he might not be the one needing one.

[podfic] Longer Lasting Freshness by RattleandHum (ThirdEye1234)/ @thirdeye1234 // fic by RurouniHime/ @thegertie (Morning After, Friends to Lovers | 20-30min | Mature): Steve's his friend. His closest friend. And Eddie had to mess it up. He had to mess it up so hard, all the way and back again because Eddie never does anything at less than a hundred and twenty percent.

[Podfic] The way you feel by Itty_Bitty_Blondie/ @itty-bitty-blondie // fic by alchemystique/ @alchemistc (Getting Together | 20-30min | Teen): Eddie pulls back, and Steve chases, a bit, blinks his eyes back open with a pout. “You. What. You?”It’s – Steve’s done this whole song and dance with half the girls in his age group in Hawkins, rarely ever felt this buzzing under his skin. The desperate urge to claw his way into Eddie’s chest is burning him. That’s…not the usual reaction he gets when he kisses someone. “What the hell, Harrington? What the fuck?” And like… okay. So. He’s had crushes before. He’s been in fucking love before and he fucking knows what it feels like and he knows what it means when someone looks at you the way that Eddie looks at him and-. “Fuck, uh… Shit, sorry man. Yeah. Should have, uh…whoops?” “Whoops?”

[Podfic] hands of loving by greedy_dancer // fic by kafkian (PWP, First Time | 30-45min | Explicit): ‘No way,’ Steve said, stunned. ‘You’re a virgin?’ Eddie rolled his eyes. ‘Shut up, man.’ ‘No, I didn’t mean – just. Really?’ Steve asked. ‘You've really never ...?’ ‘I run a DnD group, got held back in school twice, and live in a trailer with my uncle,’ Eddie said flatly. ‘What part of that screams dick magnet to you?’

[Podfic] Roll for Initiative by Silverkat1620/ @silverkat1620 // fic by by alchemystique/ @alchemistc (Post-S4, Past Kas!Eddie | 30-45min | Teen): He nearly gets away with it, is the thing. Three sessions in and the kids haven’t realized the BBEG isn’t the tarnished knight with the swooping hair and the stupid dad jokes they groan at every time. They still think the wizard leading them towards imminent destruction is on their side, and as his reluctant hero of an NPC warns them to be wary even Will the Wise rolls his eyes and misses the opportunity for a perception check that barring a Nat 1 would have, at the very least, told them that one of them wasn’t to be trusted. He’s not even trying that hard to hide the incredibly obvious parallels – the courtship the knight had once had with the sister of Wheeler’s paladin, the reluctant way he continuously steps in when the party gets themselves into a hairy situation, the incredibly obvious boner Eddie has for this stupid character he’s created solely for the purpose of a reveal he both does and does not want them to discover early on.

[Podfic] you could let it all go (it's called freefall) by Itty_Bitty_Blondie/ @itty-bitty-blondie for anniebibananie/ @anniebibananie (Post-S4, Getting Together | 45-60min | Teen): Good things don’t happen to Eddie Munson, and he’s very aware of the fact. That’s kinda the whole foundation of who he is as a person at this point: don’t expect good things to happen. He rolls with it. He makes glitter out of the shit. He lives in his own fantasy because reality has pretty much always sucked since, likely, before he can remember. Good things don’t happen to Eddie Munson, so he has no idea how to wrap his head around Steve Harrington’s sudden appearance in his life as an unmovable fixture. No fucking clue.

[Podfic] Anywhere, Anytime by RattleandHum (ThirdEye1234)/ @thirdeye1234 // fic by AidaRonan/ @aidaronan (Post-S4 | 1-1.5h | Mature): Eddie wakes from a nightmare about the bats. Again. About a week ago, Steve Harrington gave him his number with instructions to call if he needed anything. Said number is tacked on Eddie's wall under his Anthrax poster. But it's 3:17 a.m. and Eddie probably shouldn't call. Definitely shouldn't call. (Eddie calls.)

[Podfic] It's Not a Big Deal by Itty_Bitty_Blondie/ @itty-bitty-blondie for AidaRonan/ @aidaronan (Post-S4, Accidental Sugar Daddy Steve Harrington | 1-1.5h | Mature): Eddie survives, but his entire life is locked away in the Upside Down forever (his books, his DnD stuff, his guitar.) Everything that wasn't on Eddie when Steve carried him into the ER, gone. So naturally Steve starts giving him things. Handing Eddie back those little outward markers of who he is.

[Podfic] Some Things Cosmic by greedy_dancer // fic by stereobone/ @stereobone (Post-S4, Dream Sharing | 1-1.5h | Explicit): Steve has a dream about Eddie. And another. And another. And another...

[Podfic] Whole Lotta Love by greedy_dancer // fic by stereobone/ @stereobone (Post-S4, Getting Together | Explicit): Steve scoffs. "I think if I was dating someone, Robin, I would be the first to know about it." "Would you, though?" Robin says.

[podfic] Mutual Future by RattleandHum (ThirdEye1234)/ @thirdeye1234 // fic by knell (Post-S4, Getting Together | 3.5-4h | Explicit): "Okay," Eddie says at last, voice betraying his cool demeanor. "I'll go first." He clears his throat, folds his hands politely in his lap. "I have never been more confused in my life than when I'm with you. And I've taken trig three times and I'm still not a hundred percent on what a hypotenuse is, so, like, it's not difficult to confuse me or anything. But you really take the cake, man." Steve chews on his lip. "Sorry? I'm... confused too." — two dudes navigate their feelings in the most normal way possible.

[Podfic] the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you by Itty_Bitty_Blondie/ @itty-bitty-blondie // fic by greatunironic/ @greatunironic (Future Fic, Getting Together | 3.5-4h | Explicit: Sixteen years after the world didn't end for the last time, Max Mayfield showed up on Steve’s doorstep and said, “You gonna walk me down the aisle in May or what?” Or, it’s 2002 and Steve Harrington attends a wedding, a funeral, and a birth.

[Podfic] I just want your extra time (and your kiss) by RattleandHum (ThirdEye1234)/ @thirdeye1234 // fic by ChristinMKay / @transmascsteveharrington (Post-S4, Getting Together | 4.5-5h | Mature): Five times Steve almost kissed Eddie and the one time Eddie beat him to it.

[Podfic] sub-culture by greedy_dancer // fic by palmviolet/ @palmviolet (Post-S4V1, Getting Together | 7-10h | Teen): “Is he whining about Eddie being mean to him again?” Robin is leaning in the doorway, eating a leftover slice that’s probably cold by now. “You talk about him more than you talk about girls, Steve, it’s getting concerning. Anyone would think you had a crush.” Or, Steve is pretty convinced Eddie now hates him. Turns out Eddie has the opposite problem.

[lakesbian]

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I said. “Even if we were warned, we wouldn’t last long.” I leaned close, close enough to whisper in his ear. “But some of us would last a while, you little creep. Long enough to make sure that your parents … well, use your imagination.” He stepped back, drew back his fist, and swung on me. I dodged the blow. I grabbed his head with one arm and jammed the fork against his ear. I fought a nauseating urge to twist the fork, to make him scream in pain.

What had I just done? In all the time we’d been fighting the Yeerks, I’d never made a threat like that. What was the matter with me? I felt … not exactly ashamed. But I knew I never wanted to talk to Cassie about what I’d just told David. Or Tobias. Or even Marco. And as for Jake, I found myself filled with a terrifying surge of pure, utter hatred for him. I couldn’t begin to explain it. But I swear at that moment I hated Jake far more than I did David. I should have gone back to the cafeteria. I should have told them all what had happened. But Jake already knew, didn’t he? Jake, the smart, determined leader, already knew all about me. And I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t face what he knew about me.

i would like to preface this post with the fact that i was discussing this matter and i was like "where's that quote i've seen about here on ruthlessness that was tagged as taylor hebert? that's how marco works" and then i googled it and

apparently that quote is just straight up literally from marco. whoops. stop being taylor, marco. being taylor is taylor's job. very funny thing to find out though. ohh that quote i was remembering and thinking was applicable to a fictional character was literally from that fictional character. okay. anyway.

the jake/rachel dynamic here is probably objectively more interesting but i'm particularly enamored with the rachel/marco dynamic because it's like. they're not particularly close. they're banter buddies but not friends beyond that. but when it comes down to the bloody shit they're perhaps the most closely aligned on the team in terms of how they think and act, in that rachel is the one whose immediate suggestion is always "what if we kidnap/murder/maim them" and marco isn't cruel but he is, well, ruthless in the manner described by the above quote i didn't realize was from him. it's such a weird little cross-angle of closeness where they're close in a way that doesn't mean they're friends (for a certain definition of friendship, anyway), but does mean something is severely wrong if she can't even go to him with the blood on her hands. it rocks.

the dynamic with jake is also really good. being the type of person that the one whose job it is to understand & direct you all knows should be called on if he needs someone killed in a cold fit of rage, and the resentment that stems from having to recognize this about yourself thru someone else's recognition of the fact

[mint-yooxgi]

{13} - Morning Mist - Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU & Dragon AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Jongho)

Words: 5,900

Warnings: Past trauma discussed: torture and imprisonment, scars, death, violence, a lot of angst but with a happy ending. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Wow, it's really been a whole ass month since I've updated this series. Lmaooo whoops! Anyways, I really hope you all enjoy this chapter, I've got a lot more planned coming up as the following parts will really focus on the development of OC's relationships with all of the guys. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I do not do tag lists.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve - Mini Masterlist

It’s early that same evening when eight dragons sense a somewhat familiar presence getting closer to their own nest. Focussing in, they soon realize that there are actually two.

Stepping out of their home, all of the Halas (minus Jongho who currently sits on the roof), stare up at the two Neos who descend into their yard. Both dragons are blue in colour, though one is quite a lighter shade than the other. The darker of the two is slightly bigger, but the smaller radiates more of an air of intimidation. A moment later, they discover why.

Landing gracefully on the grass, both Jeno and Renjun appear before the eight Halas.

“Sorry to intrude like this,” Renjun begins, dusting off the front of his pants lightly.

“How did you find us?” It’s Yeosang that asks, brow furrowing slightly as he stares at the Neos.

“Is everything okay?” Immediately, Jongho hops down from the roof, worry clear in his eyes.

“Everything’s fine, don’t worry.” Jeno smiles at him faintly, and he watches as the youngest Hala’s shoulders relax. “You would have heard us roar if something had happened.”

“To answer your question,” Renjun shifts his gaze to Yeosang, “It was easy to find you. You guys don’t really hide your scents as well as you think.”

Hongjoong, San, and Mingi all purse their lips slightly at this, a minor furrow to their brows.

“Why are you here?” It’s Seonghwa who says it, but his tone isn’t as sharp as the Neos are used to. Instead, it holds a genuine curiosity as the eldest Hala crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, I was sent here to collect a certain dragon.” Renjun says, before motioning to Jeno with a jerk of his head. “Her cub just wanted to ‘tag along’.”

At this, more than a few eyebrows raise.

“I came to make sure you don’t butcher her offer.” Jeno huffs, a roll to his eyes. “You make it sound like you’re here to bring back one of their heads on a spike.”

“Offer?” This catches Wooyoung’s attention, his entire demeanour perking up instantly.

“Who?” San doesn’t even attempt to hide the eagerness in his voice.

Both Renjun and Jeno spare a glance at one another out of the corner of their eyes before their gazes are shifting onto the youngest Hala standing across from them.

“Him.” Renjun jerks his chin in Jongho’s direction.

The younger male cannot help but stand a little straighter in his spot, heart racing in his chest. You sent for him?

“What about?” Yunho does his best to ask the question casually, but his feigned disinterest only serves to make the slight desperation in his voice all the clearer.

“That’s between him and her.” Renjun replies, a mild shrug to his shoulders as he turns back around. “She’ll be waiting.”

“Wait!” It’s the youngest’s voice that has Renjun halting right in his tracks for the moment. As soon as Jongho sees the Neo spare a glance over his shoulder, he’s continuing, “where can I find her?”

The corner of Renjun’s lips quirks upward before turning back around and taking off into the evening sky.

Jeno lets out a sigh, shaking his head. He meets Jongho’s gaze. “Let the lights guide you home.”

In the blink of an eye, Jeno has shifted and taken off into the air, following closely behind Renjun without another word.

All Halas turn to look at their youngest.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Mingi frowns, arms crossing over his chest.

“Don’t worry about it.” Jongho breathes, blinking after the two retreating dragons as he attempts to wrap his head around this turn of events.

You want to see him? He can still hardly believe it.

Before any more of his brothers can say another word, Jongho is taking off into the evening sky. The faintest hues of pink and orange begin to dust the clouds as the sun begins to set, warming the earth with its final rays. The way his golden scales glint in the fading light is synonymous with the way that his tail eagerly flicks back and forth through the air, cutting through the sky with a newfound purpose as he flies towards you.

It takes Jongho all of three minutes to reach that little special clearing on the edge of the cliff. He sees you just through the thicket of the trees, that small tower of stones resting beside you as you sit on the ground. The way he can feel your eyes on him, tracking his every movement has a pleasant shiver caressing his spine.

He circles lower.

If he’s being honest with himself, Jongho is a little cautious of flying directly into that clearing. You told him the last time he found you here that you only allow people that you have granted permission access to step foot on such a sacred part of your territory. He’d really rather not run smack into that invisible wall again.

Then, as if you’ve read his every thought, you chuckle.

“You may land, you know.” You smile softly as you stand to your feet. “I would not send for you to join me here if I haven’t already granted you permission to set foot inside this circle.”

Jongho’s breath catches in his throat, and he bets more than anything that you’ve heard his reaction loud and clear. So badly does he want to let out a rumble of content, but he feels as if it might be too much for the moment. He simply does not want to read into this more than is necessary. Yet, with everything that you’ve told him so far, he cannot help but do just that.

You called for him. You wanted to see him. 

That alone gives him more hope than you could ever imagine.

Gliding towards that small opening on the side of the cliff, Jongho can still feel your eyes on him. The sensation of having your gaze roam over his true form is unlike any other, and for the first time, he senses that you are taking your time to memorize every detail. He simply hopes that you are as mesmerized by him as he is always mesmerized by you.

With his heart soaring in his chest, Jongho stretches his wings as far as they will go while he comes in for his landing. He purposely puts himself on display, fanning his crown as his tail flicks behind him. The way the light of the setting sun catches on his scales, illuminating the clearing with little iridescent reflections of golden hues has him preening proudly as he shakes out his muzzle.

The feeling of your eyes on him is like no other. That soft smile is still on your features as you stand with your arms gently supporting one another by the elbows. Your cloak rests open over your shoulders and as soon as he shifts back into his human form, you begin to take a few steps towards him. Only, Jongho cannot shake that brief look of longing that crossed your features for a moment.

Why did you just look so sad?

Closing the distance between your two bodies, you come to stand directly before him. Slowly, you take his hands in your own, staring deeply into his eyes.

He swallows thickly, doing whatever he can to keep his body from physically trembling while being held in your touch. “You wanted to see me?”

“I did.” You confirm, a slight nod to your head. “I’m glad you came.”

Jongho nearly hums at your words. “I will always come when you call for me.”

You motion for him to join you near the edge of the cliff, sitting down so that your legs are dangling off of the side. “I desired to speak with you.”

The pleased rumble that escapes him could not have been smothered, even if he tried. “About?”

“I have come to a few realizations over the past day, and there are some things I would like to share with you now.” You say, staring out over the valley as you continue to watch the sun set before you. “If this is to continue between us, then you have a right to know. I want you to know.”

Jongho wishes he could deny the way his breath catches once more in his throat. Slowly, he sits beside you on the edge of the cliff, feeling as if his heart is about to beat right out of his chest.

“I am not promising you anything, Jongho.” You turn to look directly into his eyes as you say this. “I cannot. That does not mean that I am not beginning to trust you. If you are as serious about me, about us as you say you are, then I need you to listen to what I am about to tell you. I need you to understand.”

His expression softens, and he has to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing your hand in his own. Still, he turns towards you, giving you his full and undivided attention.

“I understand.” His voice is low, eyes flitting over your every feature and committing this moment to memory for years to come. The way the sunlight dances across every inch of your figure makes you glow, a warmth flooding his veins the longer he stares at you.

“You continue to prove yourself to me every day that I know you,” you continue, a slight tremble to your voice. “I think it’s only fair you finally get to know some things about me in return.”

“Please, only tell me if you’re comfortable telling me.” He says, a hint of concern in his gaze. “If you’re not ready, don’t force yourself. I can wait.”

“See,” you smile reassuringly, but he’s unsure if it’s more for yourself or for him at the moment, “You just did it again.”

“Did what?” He blinks at you.

“Proved you’re ready to hear what I am about to say.” The corner of your lips twitch upwards, and Jongho notices a few fireflies beginning to float around the area, dancing lightly around your head.

A brief silence settles over the both of you as he waits for you to speak. That is, until you’re letting out a low sigh.

“These are not easy subjects for me to discuss with anyone. Only my closest friends know these specific details about me, so I apologize in advance if it takes me longer to voice certain thoughts over others right now.” You say, shifting your gaze out toward the setting sun. “The chat I had with your brother last night made me realize that it wouldn’t be so bad if you knew some things, too.”

“Take all the time you need,” he gently assures you, his fingers twitching lightly as he rests his palm in the grass between the two of you. “I’m right here.”

He notices you swallow thickly, your hands resting in your lap clinging onto one another as your fingers nervously wring together. This is the most anxious he’s ever seen you, and his heart aches not knowing what he can do to make it better. The urge to pull you into his arms and whisper sweet nothings into your ears is strong, but he holds himself back for now.

Taking a deep breath, your mouth parts, only to close a moment later. Then, you exhale through your nose, shutting your eyes briefly as you steel your nerves.

“I will start with the easier admissions first,” you begin, “But everything I admit to you this evening does not leave this clearing.”

“I would never betray your trust like that.” Jongho replies instantly, nothing but the deepest sincerity shining within his gaze.

A firm nod from you is all the confirmation he needs that you believe him.

Again, you sigh.

“I understand that you and your brothers perceive myself along the likes of the ancients.” You breathe. “You would be correct.”

Jongho blinks in shock.

“Though I am no ancient, I was raised by one.” You tell him. “My father is one of the oldest of the original dragons still alive to this day. Other than my Uncle Ken, of course. He has power unlike anything you could believe, and it has been ingrained in me to be as strong as he is ever since I was small.”

“My mother was a powerful witch.” A slight purse to your lips. “I never met her, for she died during childbirth. My father loved her deeply, and was devastated when he lost her. Every time he looked at me, all he could see was her face, and how he failed her.”

Jongho swallows thickly, already not liking where this seems to be going.

“My Uncle Ken raised me for the first ten years of my life. I thought he was my actual father for a time, for he always treated me better than my biological one.” You huff out a dry laugh. “My father couldn’t bear the grief that came with seeing me, so he gave me away to his best friend. It wasn’t until he learnt I could summon the same powers as my mother that he finally made his presence known in my life.”

The growl Jongho has to suppress nearly chokes him, a deep hatred already blooming in his chest for your father. How could anyone not want you, let alone your own flesh and blood? 

“I thought he wanted nothing to do with me after I found out,” you scoff lightly. “Imagine a twelve year old finally being told the truth.”

He has to keep himself from shaking, but still, he remains quiet.

“My training started after that.” You lean back onto your hands, looking upwards into the darkening sky as those fireflies float lethargically around your head. “I was sent to survive on my own in the wilderness. I nearly died eleven times in the first week, were it not for my Uncle Ken.”

Jongho’s jaw clenches, biting his tongue before he says something he might come to regret.

“I was young, and I didn’t know anything about survival. Hell, I didn’t even know I was a dragon at this point yet. My Uncle wanted me to live as normally as possible for as long as I could before subjecting me to certain types of magic.” You swallow. “I learned everything there was about this earth before I was fifteen, and I knew how to wield every type of weapon by the time I was twenty.”

“You were a child.” He seethes, eyes swirling with a deep golden hue.

“I was a prodigy.” You finally turn to meet Jongho’s gaze. “After all, my father had a reputation to uphold.”

“That’s despicable,” Jongho’s frown is prominent, smoke escaping him with every exhale.

“The past is passed, Young One. I’m not going to change it now.” You sigh.

“That doesn’t mean what you went through is okay.” His chest heaves with every breath. “It doesn’t make it okay.”

“I know it doesn’t.” You nod in agreement. “Remember, I am telling you this so you can understand.”

Again, Jongho bites his tongue.

“My father was adamant on me learning physical defence before ever properly training my magic. He believed that my powers should only be used as a last resort since they could destroy anyone in the blink of an eye.” You go on to say. “I realize now he only trained me the way he did because he was always scared of what I could become.”

“Scared?” Jongho’s brow furrows.

“You see, Jongho,” you chuckle, “because of the anomaly my entire existence centres around, I am potentially even more powerful than my father.”

You swear he stops breathing.

Taking a deep breath, you sit back upright.

“Do you recall what I told you the last time we were both in this clearing?” You ask, not even bothering to spare him a glance out of the corner of your eyes. “About My Cubs?”

A brief memory flashes within his mind as he nods.

“I told you that my father ensured I could never have ones of my own.” You continue. “Do you know why that is?”

He shakes his head.

“Other than the fact that my own children could potentially be more powerful than me, my father has never gotten over my mother’s death. He has blamed me for it every moment of my existence.” You tell him. “However, that did not stop him from developing a twisted sense of love towards me. He took away my ability to have hatchlings of my own to ensure I never incurred the same fate as my mother. I am the last living attachment he has of her, so he will do whatever he can to ensure my safety now. It’s why my training only got harder after what happened with Daisy.”

A moment’s pause before Jongho asks, voice soft and barely above a whisper, “what happened with Daisy?”

The way you instantly curl in on yourself does not go unnoticed by him. Your hands grip at the sides of your cloak, pulling it tighter around your body as you look down for the moment.

“Are you familiar with the S’ber Hunters?” Your voice is much quieter than it was before, blinking blankly at the valley before you.

“The ones that are always hunting for the ancients?” He frowns, attempting to wrap his head around what they have to do with anything. “I’ve heard that they haven’t been seen on this side of the fjord for almost fifty years.”

“There’s a reason for that.” You shift your gaze to him, and he notices tears beginning to gather in the corners.

“What did they do?” His heart pounds, already fearing the worst.

Your lips purse for a good thirty seconds, chin beginning to wobble as you attempt to control your emotions. Only, the second you go to speak a choked sob tears from your throat.

“They took her.” Your voice is no more than a mere whisper, words strained as you take an unsteady breath in. “They killed My Daisy right in front of me.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as you cover your mouth with one of your hands. A vicious sob wracks your entire body, and Jongho instantly goes to place a comforting hand onto your back. Only, before he can so much as graze your skin, he stops himself. 

Slowly, he shifts closer, reaching over to grab your free hand in his. 

Any and every comfort he can, he will offer to you. Even through something as small as this, he wants you to know that he is here for you. You are not alone, and he will be with you every step of the way.

“They killed her for loving me.” Your voice is rough as you sniffle, wiping away your tears for the moment. 

Yet, you do not pull your one hand away from his own.

“I had just-“ your breath hitches in your throat, more fireflies coming to float around the two of you as if to offer their silent support. A deep, shaky breath later, you continue, “I am sure you are aware of our marking rituals between imprinted.”

Jongho’s back straightens. “I am.”

“Her mark - my mark - was on full display when she went traversing through the village that day.” You close your eyes, as if the visions are coming back to haunt your memories once again. “They followed her home and ambushed us. I begged her to deny their accusations of loving me. They would have let her go free if she did.” Your eyes blink open, more tears spilling onto your cheeks as you force a strained smile onto your lips. “She didn’t.”

His expression falls, hand squeezing yours tightly as his heart absolutely aches for you.

“My Daisy fought up until the very end. She was so brave, yet I couldn’t save her,” a broken sob tears from your throat as your whole body begins to shake. “I was still so young, and so weak.”

“No-“

“I was.” You cut him off. “I had been neglecting my training, and I couldn’t sense them creeping in around us. They caught me with iron before I could react, and all I could do was watch as the love of my life bled out before me.”

Again, Jongho shifts closer, placing his one hand overtop of your own still held in his other.

“S’ber Hunters are ruthless. They kill anyone who associates with dragons, but they never kill the dragon.” You shake your head slightly. “No. They do something much worse.”

Sliding your hand from his grip, you meticulously roll up your sleeves. Extending your arms to him, you put your scars on full display. The light from the fireflies illuminate the faint lines raised in jagged peaks along your skin, the weight of those iron shackles still ever prominent despite them having long since been broken off.

Jongho’s eyes go wide, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he takes in the sight before him. Furious doesn’t even begin to describe him right now as he sees the scars lining your skin. Though, nothing could prepare him for the anger and guilt that he feels towards himself. How has he never noticed before?

Carefully, Jongho raises his hands to cup your forearms gently in his grip. His thumbs trace lightly over the raised tissue over your wrists, entire body trembling as he attempts to put a leash on his anger for the moment.

“I’ll kill them for touching you.” His voice is low, eyes the darkest you’ve ever seen from him.

You smile, somewhat tensely. “You’re a few hundred years too later.”

His gaze darts up to meet your own, his fingers tightening the slightest bit as he continues to hold your arms gently in his grip.

A moment of silence passes between you as he attempts to keep his whole body from trembling.

“How long?” Jongho cannot keep the fear out of his voice.

You manage to meet his gaze.

“Five hundred and two days.”

The way his eyes shine says it all. You can see the pain, the grief he holds for you. Yet, also the anger, and the concern, along with the growing need to comfort and protect you in every and any way that he can.

“It doesn’t matter what type of dragon you are. To them, we’re all the same.” Your voice is low, and you don’t realize how he grabs your hands back into his own. “To them, we all have connections to the ancients, and we all know where their nests are.”

There’s a part of him that wants to ask, but he’s scared. The thought of you telling him just what type of tortures you had to endure terrifies him because he wasn’t there to protect you. Knowing that you have suffered, and that he could do nothing about it, pains him more than you’ll ever know.

“The S’ber are smart.” You add. “Tell me, Jongho. How do you kill a dragon without taking away their life?”

He shakes his head, a single tear already beginning to trail down the side of his cheek.

“You go for their wings.”

The mere thought of what you had to endure suffocates his very soul. He clings onto you for dear life, squeezing your hands as an unbridled rage festers beneath his skin. This must be why you react so intensely whenever someone touches your back.

“Everyday they asked me where the nest was, and everyday I received a lash for not answering.” Your jaw begins to tremble. “They were smart, too. Keeping me locked up in the dark so I couldn’t tell what day it was, or how much time had passed. The only way I knew was through the lashings. Everyday they would add one to the tally, until they reached one hundred. Then, they would start all over. The scars littering my back still have never fully healed, and it took me years to be able to shift again. I honestly don’t even know what the state of my wings look like now. Not after-”

You cut your words short, lips clamping shut as if admitting to whatever you were about to is far worse than anything you’ve already said. He doesn’t push.

Instead, Jongho’s entire body trembles, golden eyes staring at you with nothing but concern on his features. Right now, comforting you is more important than any rage he feels festering within his soul. No wonder you keep yourself so guarded.

If he ever so much as catches a single whiff of one of these hunters, they’re dead.

“That wasn’t even the worst part, though.” Your eyes are blank as you stare at your hands. The way you can feel him looking at you has a tight smile pulling at your lips. “No, the worst part wasn’t the beatings. It wasn’t being in the dark, or not allowing myself to grieve for Daisy during all of that time. The worst part was knowing that I was alone. My father didn’t once come looking for me when I got captured. He immediately thought I was dead, and would have rather succumbed to his own grief than spare a hope I had survived somehow. It was My Neos who rescued me, but even they had some help.”

“Your own father didn’t even bother to look for you?” Jongho is this close to hunting this bastard down and frying him alive, ancient or not.

“No.” You shake your head. “It was my Uncle Ken that helped the Neos, and destroyed the S’ber hideout. There’s not but ash left. Ash and memory.”

Jongho’s eyes flash, his whole body stilling as realization washes over him. A second later, and each breath he begins to release boarders on a feral snarl.

“My brothers,” his eyes are wide, a crazed gleam shining within, “they compared you to the likes of them. They ruthlessly compared you to the people who hurt you the most without a second thought.”

His fangs elongate, the air spiking with electricity. 

Jongho sees red.

“They didn’t know.” You reply, much calmer than anything he could ever expect. As if you’re used to this type of reaction from people.

“That’s still no fucking excuse for comparing you to those beasts.” He snarls, pulling away from you for a moment as his claws extend.

The last thing he wants is to hurt you, or to scare you away. You’ve already extended more trust to him this evening than he could have ever hoped for. Like hell is he going to damage that, or make you regret telling him all of this.

“You understand why My Neos and I react the way we do now?” You state, meeting his gaze which flashes with the heat of his fury. “Why that promise I made to My Daisy is so important to me? Why I do not allow true hunters into my village anymore?”

Jongho blinks, digging his claws into the dry earth beneath him to ground him for the moment. “I do.”

“Good.” You nod once, wiping at your lingering tears with the back of your hand. “Then, I have one final thing to tell you.”

You go on to tell him the exact same thing about the prophecy as you told Seonghwa last night. The way Jongho remains quiet through it all has you watching him carefully. Every minuscule movement of his brow, every twitch of his jaw, you see, gaze calculating and calm.

“I despise your father.” He spits, rather harshly as a scowl tugs at his features.

This causes you to chuckle. “You, me, and all of My Neos. I’m pretty sure my Uncle Ken has started resenting him a long time ago, too.”

“If I ever meet him, I’m going to kill him for what he put you through.” Jongho turns to meet your eyes, nothing but the deepest form of sincerity shining within his electric gaze.

“I haven’t seen my father in over twenty years, and I’d like to keep it that way.” You say, and you feel the faintest of touches brush over your cheek in comfort. For a moment, you believe it to be Daisy, so you think nothing of it to lean into such a touch. However, at the warmth you feel remaining pressed against your cheek, a thumb tenderly stroking over your skin, you realize that that is not the case.

“I am deeply sorry, My Light, that you have experienced such hardships, and that I have not been there to protect you from them.” His voice is low, cupping your face gently in the palm of his hand. “I swear to you that I will never let anything hurt you again. Not as long as I am here to watch over you. I will never go back on my promise. You mean too much to me.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jongho.” You gently place your hand over his own on your cheek, and he thinks you’re about to pull it away. However, the moment your eyes flutter shut, you leaning even more into his touch, he knows that that’s not the case. “I cannot tell you what happened to me fifty years ago yet, for the wounds are still all too fresh in my heart. I cannot promise you that this will be easy, either.”

A lone firefly lands atop the back of your hand, the subtle glow illuminating the side of your face in the dark of the night.

“I have denied most, if not all dragons who have imprinted on me in that time because I could not bring myself to love again.” You admit, a single tear cascading down your cheek. He’s quick to wipe it away, holding his breath as he waits for you to continue. “However,” that single word has his heart stuttering with hope in his chest, “I am willing to try again.”

Jongho swears that he stops breathing. Your words have filled him with such an unbelievable sense of warmth that radiates outwards from his chest, flooding his veins with every breath he takes, that he cannot help but shed a few tears of his own. Nothing but pure and utter happiness sparks through his soul, his hands beginning to shake as he holds you in his embrace.

He doesn’t even realize that his tail has emerged until he physically draws you in closer to his body. The way your eyes widen the slightest bit, a faint amount of amusement dancing behind your orbs says it all.

He goes to retract his tail, cheeks warming beneath your gaze. “Sorry.”

You smile at him faintly, allowing your thumb to lightly trace over the back of his hand still cupping your cheek gently. “I don’t mind.”

Jongho freezes, your words washing over him. He can feel his heart leaping for joy inside his chest, his eyes searching your face for any hesitancy or uncertainty. When he finds none, he smiles.

His tail, which he had slowly been shifting away from your lower back is instantly around you once more. He pulls you closer to him, your one leg pressed right up against his own as the tip of his tail swishes happily over the skin of your one thigh. There is nothing more intimate to him than this moment, right here, right now, with you, and Jongho is going to revel in this euphoric feeling for as long as he can.

Again, he searches your gaze.

“Thank you,” he breathes, shifting impossibly closer, even if only the slightest bit. “For everything tonight. For trusting me with this. For giving me a chance to prove myself to you. For letting me love you, and continuing to let me love you despite it all.”

You opt to remain quiet for the moment, blinking at him lightly as you observe his every move. You don’t want to acknowledge how quickly your own heart is racing for the moment, but with each passing second, you find yourself melting even more into his touch.

Just what is this dragon doing to you?

“I won’t let you down.” He leans forward, resting his forehead against your own as a pleased rumble escapes his chest.

Jongho doesn’t even attempt to hide the way his hooded eyes continuously flick down to your lips. His tongue even darts out to wet his own, nuzzling the slightest bit against you as he draws you in closer with his tail.

“You are so beautiful,” his voice is a mere whisper, the ghost of his breath trailing against your lips with every word he speaks. A pleased rumble builds in his chest, “And strong.”

It’s almost as if he’s gone into a trance. A trance of which where all he can see is you.

“My Light,” he hums contently, “I do not wish to overstep,” he swallows, his throat bobbing with the movement, “but, please,” his eyes flick down to your lips once more before coming up to stare deeply into your eyes, “please, may I kiss you?”

Your own breath catches in your throat, and you cannot deny the way your heart skips a beat in your chest. It’s been so long since someone has asked you this, and you find that it feels just like the very first time with Daisy.

Softly, you smile. “You may.”

His lips are on yours without another moment of hesitation.

With everything that he is, Jongho pours his entire heart and soul into this kiss. He cups your cheeks gently with both of his hands, tail wrapped securely around your lower waist as he presses you against him. The way he can feel your own hands find purchase on his body has a pleased rumble building within his chest, tingles erupting beneath his skin wherever you touch.

All too soon, he pulls himself away, not wanting to overstep or make you uncomfortable. His eyes remain shut as he leans into you, pressing his forehead gently against your own once more.

“I love you, My Light.” Jongho breathes, golden eyes blinking open to stare deeply into your own.

The subtle pull of your lips upwards is nothing short of sweet, and the way he can hear your own heart racing inside of your chest has a warmth unlike any other spreading throughout his body. 

Jongho is used to the feeling of electricity flowing beneath his skin, but nothing could have prepared him for what your touch, your kiss does to him. Now, he only craves more, but even he knows not to push you any further tonight than you’re willing to go.

“Thank you for waiting,” your own voice is soft, tone gentle as you shift slightly so that your body is leaning against his.

“Always.” He hums, grasping your hand in his once more and intertwining your fingers together.

A small silence settles over the both of you now, comfortable and warm. Fireflies begin to dance around the clearing and over your heads, twinkling like the stars above. Both of you are more than content to bask in the other’s presence for the moment. 

The way you softly rest your head against his shoulder as you lean into him says it all.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

The Bite

pairing: steve harrington x female byers!reader

WC: 5K

warning: cursing, vomit mention, steve being hard on himself. yall im terrible at these.

summary: are we out of the woods?

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG - The Byers Harrington Story-

ONE MORE CHAPTER THIS SEASON!!!!!!

@alecmores​ i threaten them sometimes ( dont worry)

series masterlist / steve harrington

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“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Realizing that your group wouldn’t be able to outrun the Russians, Dustin snagged one of their transport cars. And with you being a little inebriated, you were thrown in the back with Robin and Steve giggling their asses off while Dustin drove shakily with Erica in the passenger seat.

“Jesus, slow down!” Steve yelled as he bumped into the paneling, a hand keeping him upright. You leaned your head against his shoulder with your eyes closed trying to quell the hurricane storming your head.

“Yeah, what is this, like, the Indy 500?” Robin slurred. “It’s the Indy 300,” Steve corrected. Though Robin was insisting she was correct, “No dingus, it’s 500!” “It’s 300!”

“Shut up!” A harsh snap of your mouth. They were quiet for a moment and you were ready to apologize when Robin said, “Let’s say a million.” And they were back to laughing as idiots.

You weren’t sure how fast Dustin was driving this tiny truck or what its top speed could hit, but you heard Erica yell his name and suddenly the car lurched forward flinging you into Steve and some of the car. Everyone groaned from the sudden impact. “You guys alright back there?” Dustin turned in his seat as he asked. More groaning was his answer.

The door opened with Erica and Dustin waving their arms. “Come on. We gotta go, now.” “Come on! Get out!” “Let’s go!”

“Geez! Can we stop yelling?” Pushing yourself up and grabbing at Steve and Robin to pull them forward. “A little help would be nice.” Irritated that they were yelling but not helping with dragging them out.

You stumbled on your feet, Steve tripping to the ground after you and Robin leaning against the truck. You pulled Steve up and threw one arm over your shoulder to help carry some of his weight. “This sucks,” He whined. “I know, baby. I know.” Arm wrapped behind his waist and moved into the elevator.

Once everyone was in, Dustin swiped the keycard and pressed the buttons. The door closed and hummed to life as it hit speed going up. Steve and Robin were acting like unsupervised children, whooping and hollering giddy. Steve standing on a red moving cart with Robin pushing it side to side. “Hey! You look like you’re surfing!” “Surfing! Yeah!”

You stood beside Erica as both of you plus Dustin just watched them. “They seem drunk?” Erica noted. “Why would they be drunk? (Y/n)’s not drunk and she was in the same room as them.” You stayed quiet. You didn’t feel drunk, you were feeling high and you can tell it was slowly wearing off. 

You stepped forward when Robin jerked the cart the wrong way and Steve fell off causing him to roll into some boxes. She laughed and yelled, “Wipeout!” And giggled like a maniac.

Both you and Dustin rush to Steve’s aid. You check over his head for any bumps, smoothing his hair back and Dustin rests his palm on his sweaty skin. “He’s burning up.” “You’re burning up,” Steve mimics.

“Hold him down.” “What?” Confused by Dustin’s request. “Hold him down!” He repeated as his fingers moved to Steve’s eye. “One sec, one sec, one sec. Steve, Steve.” You held his wrist down, but he still was a lot stronger than you, trying to push away your grip. “God, no.” 

“Stevie, it’s- it’s okay.” Hoping to calm him down. He still wiggled against your hold as Dustin peeled his lids apart and you saw how blow his pupil was. “His pupil is super dilated,” Reporting the issue to Erica. “Maybe he’s drugged.”

You released his wrist to hold his cheeks. “Stevie-” He booped the tip of your nose with a finger, lips pulled into a wide smile. He did the same to Dustin as he snapped his finger at attention. “Steve, are you drugged?” Steve scoffed, “How many times, dad? I don’t do drugs. It’s only marijuana.” Poking a finger at Dustin’s cheek.

“This isn’t funny, okay? I need to know what they did to you.” Dustin continued trying to get a straight answer. Steve only chuckled and booped his nose again, head rolling around in your hold. His red eyes stared at you before mumbling, “Pretty.”

“(Y/n), what did they give to them? To you?” Seeing as your coherent understanding of the severity of the situation. The pad of your thumb rubbed delicately at the swollen skin of Steve’s eye, “They- They injected us with- with something. All the same thing, but I- I feel different.”

“Are they gonna die on us?”

“We all die, my strange little child friend.” You looked over your shoulder to Robin who sat down and twirled her hair. Her bleary bloodshot eyes and dazed smile, followed by her ominous words brought shivers up your spine. “It’s just a matter of how… and when.”

Furrowed brows pointed to Dustin. “They’re gonna be looking for us up there, so I need you to tell me where you parked your car.” He turned to Steve looking for an answer.

“Oh, can we make a pit stop at the food court?” “I would kill for a hot dog on the stick.” Robin leaned her head back with her statement. Steve just whistled in agreement.

“Once we are safe, all the hot dogs on the sticks you want. Just tell us where the car is parked, Stevie.” Hoping his brain would start functioning correctly instead of shorting out. His puppy dog eyes rounded on you, and you knew that was a sign he did something bad.

“Uh-oh.” He sounded like a child. “Uh-oh?” Dustin leaned in.

“The car’s off the board. They took the keys. The Russians, they took the keys.” Hands grabbing at his empty short pockets. “Like, forever ago.” His bad news was punctuated with more squeaky laughter. “That’s a bummer, right?”

You closed your eyes and dropped your head just a bit. Of course, they took his keys. Clammy fingers tingle your cheeks and brows, sweeping to your ears. Heading tilting up just a bit to look through your lashes and see Steve pouting at you. His long fingers played with the loose, sweaty front pieces of your hair while you tucked some of his light parts behind his ear.

“Are you mad?” A deep and quiet inquiry. You were quiet, thinking over which answer is best for this moment. Your thumb scratched over the growing stubble from his last shave as you looked back to his swollen and bloodshot eye. It made you sting with the knowing sign of tears, you were mad, you had a right to be mad when no one wanted to listen to any of your thoughts about this whole thing. But right now, wasn’t the time to blow up in his face again, you were mad and will wait to have a collected conversation when the both of you are home.

So you tucked your bottom lip under your top teeth as you shook your head, “No, no.” Stroking more of his hair, “I’m not mad, just tired.” Steve stared at you, his hands had slipped to sit on your thighs and he squeezed just a bit. He didn’t look too convinced, but it didn’t matter.

“Come on,” Letting go of his face to grab his hands, “Let’s get up. Almost there.” You had to tug most of his heavyweight forward. He was more stable on his feet now, swaying for just a moment but then signing a thumbs up with a dopey smile.

“Okay, when we get out there we need to figure out a plan home.” Dustin stood in front of the door and he had his hands sitting on his hips. “(Y/n), why don’t you call your house and see if anyone’s there? Since no one was answering my transmission…”

“We were underground, there was no signal where the elevator was. Besides you nerds always have those things on, it gets annoying.” Erica stated to Dustin. He just rolled his eyes.

The elevator came to a stop with a jolt then the doors opened. You felt like a giant weight leaving your shoulders knowing you were back in a public space, out in the open air. Dustin and Erica walked forward and they were quiet, as were you. Robin and Steve were the last to exit and their voices filled the night.

“Holy shit!” Steve exclaimed. “Oh, my God, that tastes so good. Ah!” You turned around just as Robin stuck her tongue out. “Steve, can you taste the air?” They were behaving like children experiencing their first winter snowfall. “I taste it! I taste it!”

You ignored their antics when you heard the gate opening and you saw two guards, dressed black grabbing their guns. Dustin and Erica backtracked for Steve and Robin while you ran to open the door. “Okay, okay, okay! Woo!” Robin is still high off her ass while she and Erica run into the service tunnel. “Why are we running?” Steve asked Dustin as they passed you. You yanked the door shut as you followed behind, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum flooring.

“Where are we going?” Huffing breaths hoping Dustin had a plan since he knew this space better than you.

You didn’t get an answer until Dustin stopped at one door and slowly opened it. Robin and Steve swayed on their feet and giggled quietly. You saw Dustin look left to right before calling the all-clear. One by one in a line. Dustin, Erica, Robin, and Steve with you last sticking close to the dark purple walls, rushing over the patterned carpet. Rounding a corner and seeing the Back to the Future poster, you knew now. Dustin led you to the movies, a crowded spot to hide in.

“Steve- Steve, no that’s! Ugh!” Trying to push your boyfriend along as he scrambled to grab a trashed bag of popcorn. He just hummed pleasantly.

Dustin threw the double doors open wide and you were greeted by the voices of Doc and Marty. “Oh! What did I tell you?! Eighty-eight miles per hour!” Dustin led your group to the front row where there were a few open spots.

He pointed a stern finger at Robin and Steve, “You two sit here.” They complained as they slumped down. “Dude, these seats blow,” Steve spoke around his trash food. “Then don’t watch the movie.” You could tell he was getting tired of babysitting them, a taste of his own medicine.

“We wanna watch it,” Robin argued. “Then watch it!” Dustin raised his voice loudly causing a man in the row behind to shush them, Robin and Steve shushing back.

“Whatever you do, don’t…go…anywhere.” Making sure they got the message. Steve teased back, “Fine, dad.” And Robin snickered at the joke. Dustin didn’t say another word as he and Erica crouched passed people to the other end of the row.

Not thinking anyone was planning to leave during the movie, you sat on the last step and then leaned against Steve’s chair. You winced while wrapping your left arm over your stomach, your adrenaline wearing off causing the aching from your beatings. The booming film score pounded in your head with the bright screen hurting your eyes. Your limbs felt so heavy, that feeling when your body is naturally shutting down for sleep or accidentally taking a big hit of weed.

So before you could force yourself to stay awake and alert, you were knocked out.

-

Loud commotion and flashing lights behind your lids were your greetings as you were being rudely shaken awake. You were groaning and ready to complain towards Steve, thinking you were home and in bed. But instead of home it was the movie theater and instead of it being Steve shaking you, it was Dustin with Erica just over his shoulder. They both shared frantic expressions and when you took note of the two empty chairs you already knew what his question was gonna be. “Where are they?”

You could only open and close your mouth like a goldfish before you abruptly stood from the step and rushed out of the room with the kids behind you. “Okay, let’s split up. There aren’t many options in and out of the closed mall.”

Your sweep of the theater was quick, they weren’t anywhere. And you should be able to spot them easily, they’re wearing sailor outfits in a sea of normal attire. You walked through the exit and into the mall, hands on hips as you scanned possible hiding spots. A hearty sigh while leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling.

Little white dots and artificial stars in the brick building beamed down. “Wow…” The longer you stare the brighter they get, starting to twirl into a cyclone of heavenly light that was making you queasy and dizzy. “Oh, wow…”

Feet sprinted you to the nearest women’s restroom. You were too preoccupied with not throwing up on the floor that you missed the shocked then concerned looks of Robin and Steve. You made it to the third stall and hurled small chunks into the toilet, barely any food in your system at this time it was practically only liquid and dry heaving. Small shakes set into your shoulders as tiny tears stuck to your lashes, abdomen doing mini crunches with your heavy huffing. A helping hand held your hair away from potential damage and their warmth set into your back as they rubbed up and down, side to side, or just in an endless circle.

“Oh, baby.” Your Steve came to your rescue. “It’s okay, just get it out.”

A whimper from your slick lips, “Stevie…” You weren’t sure why you were calling out to him or what you had to say to him. Maybe just wanting to say his name and have him respond, which he did easily. “I’m right here, baby. Right here.” And he continued to rub your back until you were sure everything was gone and you flushed it away.

Steve’s arms wrapped over your stomach and with a gentle tug pulled you against his chest. His chin sat on your shoulder and he tucked his face into your neck, lashes fluttering your pulse point. Your eyes closed in contentment with a pinch to the front of your brow, hands seeking Steve’s on your body, holding onto them like your life depends on it. A clownish frown downturned your lips as you tried your hardest to keep crying at bay, okay with the baby drops falling here and there on your oily skin. 

“Is she okay?” Robin’s rough voice filled the space. Steve moved his head and you copied the action so you could see eye to eye. His eyes swam with such sorrow and pain it made you feel sick again. He reached a tentative hand out, hesitating before brushing the pad of his thumb over your jaw and cheeks. You assumed dark bruises were slowly blooming on your skin after this past hour or two. He then took his pointer finger and softly ran it on the bridge of your nose, flinching at the feather touch.

“No… she’s not.” A delayed reply for Robin and almost a defeated sigh from him. “Baby, oh my baby. I’m sorry.” His mouth twisted into a grimace. He saw them earlier in the night, he was still sober when you reentered the room, but looking at them with just a few inches of space apart…

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Voice cracked on the third sorry, his hands couldn’t keep still. Going to your cheeks then shifting to your shoulders then finding their new spot on your cracked hands. Steve’s fingers slotted through the in-betweens, waffling your hands tight as he pressed kiss after kiss to the tops.

“I couldn’t protect you. I’m a shitty boyfriend.” His eyes are hidden from view by his diary hair. You gasped at his words, “Steven Harrington, don’t ever call yourself a shitty boyfriend. Especially in front of me.”

You shook his hands off and cupped his cheeks to push his head up. He looked tired, defeated and you couldn’t stand the sight of the boy in front of you. You leaned in as you moved his head forward just a bit, a firm kiss pressed to his forehead. Trying to convey too many words into a simple action.

You pulled back and gazed intently into his heavy eyes, “Steve, it was a terrible situation that we were able to get out safely. The kids are unharmed and the drug is out of our system, it’s fine now.”

He circled your wrist, “If we just-” You stopped him with a kiss, not caring that both of you would have a vomiting mouth, just need him to pour your love into him.  A kiss that was nothing like the one from earlier in the day or your first. It was one where either or both of you are tired from the day, your body giving out the second it hits the mattress, contemplating if sleeping in your day clothes is worth the discomfort and if you’re okay with a pimple popping up in a day from not doing your skincare. How your hands still seek each other out in your drunk-sleepy state, Steve still managing to cage you into his chest with his nose in your hair and hand at your hip. Having a mumbled pillow talk about your day if the two of you weren’t attached to the hip that day, puffs of air from noses in exchange for belly laughs. It was a kiss that was being done blind, both eyes closed and searching out the bullseye in the dark even though the map was memorized. Slow, simple, something grounding and normal; just a firm pressing of lips that followed up with a tiny rhythm before it was enough to satiate you for the night.

You ignore the dull throb from your nose, taking care of Steve was more important. “Let’s just wait until we’re home, clean and in bed, before sorting everything out. It can wait a little longer.” Reassuring him, letting him know that you’re not as mad as earlier, but you have more words to speak. He nodded his head and whispered, “Okay,” Then pressed kisses to both of your palms.

The neutral bubble popped with the banging sound of the door. You both turned to see Dustin and Erica at the threshold, Robin behind them, must have slipped out sometime after she spoke. You could tell Dustin was completely exasperated with all three of you for running off and it was confirmed with his firm, “What the hell, guys?”

-

With everyone sober and coherent Dustin worked on a plan to get out unnoticed. Trying to find different modes of transportation to leave the mall behind since Steve was the only one with a car, and he was against the idea of breaking into his own BMW.

“Well, the movie should be over by now. We just blend into the crowd, leave the mall, and… I don’t know, hitchhike home.” Robin scratched her head as she paced.

Erica caught an attitude, “You want to walk…home? Yeah, I’m not doing that.” Arms crossed as she popped a hip.

“Well the buses don’t run this late and Robin has a bike, but Steve always drives her or us home when it’s this late. And he isn’t willing to sacrifice a window-“ Steve cut you off at your claim. “I don’t have the money to fix a window.” “I could talk to Eddie-“ He scoffs, “Munson, yeah, I'm good.” You weren’t sure why this was a sudden fight and it was making you sad and angry again.

“Guys!” Dustin yelled before your argument could be blown out of proportion. “We’re gonna get out of the mall with the crowd and hit the road. End of discussion.”

A sigh was all you gave as Dustin went to the door and took peeks into the lobby. You caught Robin’s eye and she scrunched her brows with a meek jerk of her chin, a silent ‘What the hell was that?’ and you just shook your head, pushing it away as if it wasn’t important.

With everyone walking to the door, Steve tugged at your belt loops to keep you back. You were prepared to brush Steve off, but he spoke first with a mumbled, “I’m sorry. I don’t want a fight.” You thought about just brushing him off, but you didn’t want a fight either and both of you are just cranky at this point. “I know, Stevie. We’re just tired.” Flashing him a simple smile as he squeezed your left hand.

“Lovebirds, come on.” Robin called. Dustin’s head was poking through the opening and he held a hand up, “And…blend.” They moved forward, Steve linking your hands and pulling you behind him.

Your group keeps pace with the people chatting about the movie, Steve keeping his head down and your hands clasped. “Well, shit, that worked,” Erica commented to Dustin. “Of course, it worked. Now we just have to get out of this place  and home sweet home, here we come.”

“Uh, Dustin?” “What?” Steve groaned a bit, “Yeah, we might not wanna go to your house.” “Why?”

Steve licked his lips, “Well, I might’ve told them your full name.” Dustin looked over his shoulder, shocked. “What is wrong with you?”

You came to Steve's defense, “He was drugged. He has loose lips when intoxicated.” You could tell Steve was gonna say something when Dustin just asked, “So?” That made Steve stutter, “So?”

“So, you resist. You tough it out. You tough it out like a man.” Dustin acting like he was the one in that scary room with unhinged Russians ready to kill him, instead of the vents snooping around. Steve scoffed, “Oh, yeah, it’s easy for you to say.”

“Guys?” A single word from Robin. All your eyes clocked on the two men from outside asking and checking IDs. You all stopped and everyone parted to the sides, Steve pulling you closer. “Abort,” Dustin declared. The men spotted your group and started forward. “Abort. Abort.” Dustin enforced as he made sure everyone turned around and pushed through the crowd.

With your hand still in Steve’s, he made sure you didn’t get lost. Feet were halted at the escalators with ropes closing off the stairs. You looked over your shoulder and saw how they were getting closer, so just told Robin to slide down the middle. One by one you each went down, Robin, Dustin, Erica, you then Steve following up the rear.

There was enough time to find a hiding spot the top level filtered out and the Russians took a long way down to the bottom level. Dustin pointed all of you in the direction of the food court and he jumped over the Great Cookie counter. You gave Erica a boost over as Robin crawled on the red countertop, Steve held your hips as he pushed you forward, and you dropped to the floor with him beside you. 

“What do we do?” Erica whispered. Her small chest panting. You weren’t sure if there was a way out, you could hear movement, but it sounded like more than the two you saw so they brought backup and you knew they had guns. If you could go through the back maybe, but still, you were easily outnumbered and overpowered.

As your safety blanket, you intertwined your hand with Steve’s and held it close to your racing heart while holding your breath. Eyes closed and speaking to the angels in your head, wishing for any sign of help coming to your aid.

A car alarm starts wailing and it brings all of you to gasp quietly. You didn’t dare look over the counter suspecting it was a trap. The alarm kept blaring and then you heard a loud crash combined with people groaning. When the alarm stopped and felt like the mall was silent all of you slowly pushed off the floor and over the counter. Russians lay on the floor with blood bleeding from wounds and a promotional car was damaged on its side where it was pressed into the Hot Dog on a Stick counter.

Hearing squeaking footsteps all of you looked to the upper level and hidden in the neon glow of store lights, the kids with Jonathan and Nancy stared from above. A wet hiccup of happiness at seeing your brothers safe and alive, as everyone headed to the closed escalator and climbed down. You were the first to rush over the counter and meet them halfway.

Mike had one of El’s arms over his shoulder as she limped with him towards Dustin who shouted as he laughed, “You flung that thing like a Hot Wheel!”

Jonathan and Will both rushed at you and it made you stumble back from their fast impact. It still shocked you that Will was practically the same height as Jonathan, both their chins digging into your shoulders with one arm behind your back. Your arms were thrown over their shoulders and your palms held the back of their heads, tears splashing your cheeks and shuddery breaths as you composed yourself.

“Oh, I’m so happy you're safe. I was so worried.” Petting the back of their heads to calm your shakes. “Where have you been? I just assumed you were at Steve’s.” Jonathan pulled his head away causing your hand to fall to his shoulder. His mouth dropped a bit, his eyes taking notice of your blood and bruises, “What happened?”

“Russians.” Jonathan and Will shared confused and worried expressions at your word. “I’m guessing something equally as bad has been happening above the surface since El’s limping.”

“Yeah, it’s bad. As in bad bad.” Will widened his eyes, not going into detail on what the bad bad was. You didn’t care, you were just happy your brothers were safe and within arms reach. Jonathan looked over your shoulder and his expression hardened, “Hey, Harrington. Wanna tell me why my sister looks to be in a similar state as you? Huh?”

Turning around you saw a sheepish Steve standing close, his hands messing with the bottom of his shirt. He licked his lip and looked at his shoes before backing up, “It’s- It’s my fault. I- I couldn’t…I didn’t listen. Shit, I brought a freaking ten-year-old into this when she didn’t even know. I’m- I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Damn right, Harrington.” “Jonathan, stop!” Automatic backhand to his head, once again mad that Steve and someone were calling him names. They needed relationship therapy at this point.

“Yeah, sorry to interrupt the sweet reunions. But I don’t understand what happened to that car.” Robin, along with Erica were the only ones out of the loop on El and her powers. Not wanting Robin mixed into this has finally crossed its line, there’s no going back after tonight. “El has powers,” Dustin threw a thumb at the quiet girl. 

Robin stuttered, “I’m- I’m sorry?”

“Superpowers. She threw it with her mind. C’mon, catch up.” Steve acting like this wouldn’t be mind-blowing news to Robin who knew nothing about the dangers of Hawkins. Erica pointed at her with new clarity, “That’s El?” Never actually met her, but possibly heard about her from Lucas.

“Who’s El?” Poor Robin. You were gonna point her out when Nancy spoke, in a tone you took a bit harshly. “I’m sorry, who are you?” Again you were gonna introduce her, but Jonathan easily said, “Robin. (Y/n)’s friend.” “And a coworker at Scoops with us.” Connecting her to Steve.

“She cracked the top secret code.” Dustin awarded her. “Yeah, which is how we found out about the Russians. And why we look like shit by the way.” Steve’s sarcasm winning out.

“Wait, seriously? Those were Russians?” Max blurted in confusion. “Some of them,” Erica looked back at them with indifference on her face. “What are you talking about?” Lucas persisted.

“Didn’t you hear our code red?” Dustin questioned. “Yeah. Couldn’t understand what you were saying,” Mike noted. Dustin groaned, “Goddam low battery.”

“How many times do I have to tell you with the low battery?” And you couldn’t help but to bite back the little grin at Steve acting like such a big brother towards Dustin. “Well, everything worked out, didn’t it?” It reminded you of times when Will was just a baby, you and Jonathan little toddlers.

“Worked out? We almost died.” Erica was not happy about Dustin’s look at the situation. “Yeah, but we didn’t, did we?” He sees the glass half-full side. “It was pretty damn close,” Steve added his two cents.

Everyone was busy arguing about the Russians and the gate. You took the time to look at each kid to check them over for any damage done, everyone looking to be in perfect condition. When you didn’t spot El beside Mike you leaned past Steve to see her in front of the next store, her steps slow and body hunched in. You walked away from the group and reached a hand out to touch her shoulder, “El? Sweetie?” Her hands reached up to hold her ears and she turned slowly for you to see the dark red blood sliding down her nostrils, hitting her top lip. Her knees buckled and she fell like a sack of flour.

“El! El? El!” Grabbing her waist quickly to stop her fall. You placed her gently on the ground as everyone crowded around. “What’s wrong with her?” Erica quietly asked.

“What’s wrong?” Mike asked El. Needing to find the root of her problem. She cried, “My leg. My leg.”

Nancy pulled her pants up and Jonathan unwrapped a bloody bandage around her calf. Her skin was stained red, almost orange in the fluorescent glow, with a swollen spot on the top. You held a hand to your mouth, the injury making you feel queasy just looking at it. And to top it off, something was crawling beneath the skin.

“Oh, God.” Muffled into your palm.

El continued to wail and groan, some tears slipping from the corners of her eyes and falling into her hair. “El! El, are you okay?” Mike shook her shoulders as he leaned over her. Everyone was worried and getting emotional, not knowing what was happening and the next course of action to take.

El screamed at the top of her lungs.

-

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*STRIKED MEANS TUMBLR CANT FIND YOU*

[cowboyemeritus]

Day 7

Prompt: Hate Sex

Pairing: Mary Goore/Reader

Tags: hate sex, drunk sex, taunting and insults, dub-con if you squint

Notes: i love mary too much to not include them in Ghostober. sorry (not sorry) to any purists out there.

You never would have shown up if you’d known Mary had been invited as well.

“Always knew you were a fuckin’ slut,” he slurs, so piss-drunk he can barely stand. You’re surprised they can even get it up, let alone stay on two feet. In a similarly inebriated state, for a split second you’re grateful to be in this position, bracing yourself against the bathroom sink while Mary sloppily fucks you. Then you remember exactly what’s going on and the moment is over. It’s easy enough to ignore them and focus on the — you loathe to admit it — delicious stretch of the cock inside you until Mary growls, grubby fingers threading in your hair and lazily tugging your head back. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, makeup smudged and eyes drooping. Mary’s lips are dark red with smears of your lipstick, the same color as the tacky fake blood he always insists on wearing. What an attention whore. “D’you hear me?”

You kick him lightly in the shin. It’s a merciful blow, using only a fraction of your actual strength. A warning shot. Still, they hiss like you just slapped them in the balls.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you crazy bitch.” It works, though, and he lets go of your hair.

You lock eyes with him in the mirror. “Do that again and I’ll break your fucking legs, Goore.” He’s seen you kick down a door — his door — before. They know it’s not an empty threat. Mary scoffs.

“This is why no one wants to fuck you,” they say. You sneer at them.

“‘Cept you, apparently. Must be one killer fuckin’ dry spell you’re-“ The most pathetic noise tears its way out of you when he, instead of laying hands on you again, delivers a brutal thrust right to your sweet spot. You’re fucking pissed; it’s not fair that Mary can be this shitfaced and still lay pipe like that.

“Sorry,” Mary taunts, cupping a hand behind his ear. “What was that? Couldn’t hear you over how wet this pussy is for me.” You roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn with shame. They’re right, it is embarrassingly loud.

“Go fuck yourself.” You’re quickly running out of good comebacks. Mary laughs cruelly.

“Why should I? Got a perfectly good cocksleeve right here.” For emphasis he presses his hips flush with your ass, the head of his cock jabbing at your cervix. It’s like a punch in the gut, and yet there’s something in the way they brutalize you that has your walls fluttering involuntarily.

“Fuck you,” you hiss. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you- Oh!” You’re so close but can’t let him win — can’t give him the satisfaction of breaking you. Feigning more composure than you have, you reach down between your legs to slowly, lazily, play with your clit. If you’re getting there, you’re doing it your damn self.

“Oh, no you fucking don’t.” Mary grabs your wrist and yanks your hand away, pinning it behind your back. Needing your other arm to hold yourself up, you’re more or less trapped this way. His grip is firm, but not enough to hurt. Still, it’s the last straw.

“You fucking freak!” With all your strength you try to wriggle your way out of Mary’s grasp, intent on teaching him a lesson. His palms are sweaty from the exertion, and you’re easily able to free yourself from his grasp. As you rise, though, they take a step forward, pinning you to the sink with all their weight, still inside you. “Asshole,” you spit. Now right next to your ear, Mary laughs.

“That a request?” Their breath reeks of alcohol, and you grimace.

“You’re disgusti-“ Suddenly, there’s a pounding on the bathroom door. Both your heads whip in the direction of the racket.

“You fuckers like each other yet?” Tom’s voice asks.

“No!” You yell in unison. Outside, you hear whooping, hollering, and a few wolf-whistles. You look to each other then, both humiliated as you realize you’ve been caught… together.

“Ten more minutes, then!” Then there’s explosion of cheers from the other side of the door and Mary tries the knob. It turns, but the door doesn’t budge. He must have propped a chair up against it, or something. They bang on the door, calling for Tom, for any of his bandmates, but there’s no response. Groaning, they look back at you in the mirror.

“Should we keep going?”

You sigh. “Might as well.”

[littlefoxwithadagger]

Zee's 2023 Reads

Stats:

Books read ˋ°•*⁀➷ 62

Books DNFed ˋ°•*⁀➷ 9

Five-star reads ˋ°•*⁀➷ 23

Note: ☆ counts as a half star, since there isn’t a half star emoji

I tried not to tag any books I didn’t like because I don’t like to hate on books in their fandom tags, so if I accidentally tagged something I have a bad review, please tell me 😭

This list is chaos and I defintely ripped into some of these books because I hated them. Be warned. (I’m sorry ACOTAR fans. Maybe don’t read this if that’s your favorite book series. I didn’t hate them, but I certainly had quite a few criticisms.)

Also, if you see the reviews start to get way longer in October, that’s because I started this post in October, so everything I read after that was reviewed immediately after reading.

↳ March (2)

Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard

March 3rd, ⭐️⭐️⭐️

I read this by request of my aunt (it's her favorite book series) and honestly it was just kinda boring and not my taste...not to mention the ending REALLY pissed me off. The whole powers thing was kinda cool, but the dystopian main plot was kind of generic? Which is fine, but this was kind of bland for a first book. Will not be finishing the series.

Glass Sword - Victoria Aveyard

March 10th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️, DNF

This is the sequel to Red Queen, and frankly I think I read about three chapters of it before I DNFed. The main reason I DNFed this was because of the ending of the first book. I won’t go into detail about it because it spoils the end of the first book, but after my favorite character was taken away from me, I couldn’t finish this series.

Overall, I think this series had great potential but bad execution. I may try to read it again in the new year just to give the entire series a proper, full review, but at the time that I read this, I wasn’t into reading much at all and therefore couldn’t read a book just to say I’d read it.

↳ May (7)

Les Misérables - Victor Hugo

May 5th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

By far my favorite classic thanks to my mom encouraging me to read it. Loads of beautiful prose and a compelling plot line. I especially liked how he wove a bunch of stories that seemed not at all connected into one. Jean Valjean was a very complicated character, and I enjoyed following his story as it progressed. It felt very full-circle, even if the ending was a bit sad. The author took us all over France, and I felt very immersed in the world even though there was no visual for it. I also appreciated seeing the side characters grow over the length of the story. There were quite a few side characters who got a full arc despite not needing it. I'll probably reread this someday, just not now.

Flip the Script - Lyla Lee

May 20th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This is a cute sapphic love story between two teenage actresses starring together in a Korean drama. Fun fact - I didn't realize it was sapphic for a good while and was confused why sexuality was a hot topic in the book. Whoops! Cute anyways, and the plotline kept me interested.

The Selection - Kiera Cass

May 26th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️☆

This was my first reread of the year! I read this book back in 2021 originally by request of a friend. Rereading it was a bit of a let-down. I found the main girl annoying at times and overall the plot just kinda felt...meh. I will say that I was a bit disappointed that Maxon was the main guy at first because I really loved Aspen, but I think Maxon grew on me quite a bit more towards the end of this book. It was also easier for me to love him on the reread because I’d followed the full story already, so I think I appreciated his character more on this read than I did on the first read. I'm also not huge into dystopian, so that did kill my enjoyment of this a bit.

The Elite - Kiera Cass

May 27th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

To continue my Selection reread, I read this. This book was better than the first one, though some of it was just very boring if I'm remembering correctly. It was nice to have a smaller group of girls and get to see them getting to know each other better, and this alone made the book more enjoyable than the last. I think the political tension upped a bit in this book, which I didn’t really like, but it did lead to quite a few great scenes between America and Maxon.

The One - Kiera Cass

May 28th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

To complete the Selection reread, I read this. This was by far the best book in the trilogy. It was fun and full of action, and Maxon and America finally got themselves together. There was a great love confession from Maxon at the very end which will forever have my heart. Five stars just for making me swoon honestly. There were a few things that frustrated me in this book, such as the fact that America and Maxon still didn’t seem to trust each other for a lot of this book, but that’s their problem, not mine. I definitely enjoyed the scene where America saw Maxon’s scars for the first time. It was a very sweet scene, and I love emotional vulnerability between characters. 💔

Honorable mention - The Heir - Kiera Cass

May 29th, ⭐️⭐️, DNF

This book sucked to put it frankly. I recall enjoying it the first time I read it, but upon reread I found the main character entirely unbearable (making America look like a saint) and I think I made it about ten pages before deciding it wasn't worth the reread. I wish I didn't own this book.

The Love Hypothesis - Ali Hazelwood

May 29th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️☆

This book was what really got me back into reading, and I'd been wanting to read it for months after hearing about it all over the internet. I gave it four stars at the time because I cringed a bit at the number of times the main girl referred to the main guy as "big" or something of the sort but overall found it enjoyable. Honestly, I'd probably rate this lower if I re-read it, but I'm not going to bother testing that theory. It got me back into picking up books, and that's what matters.

↳ June (9)

A Court of Thorns and Roses - Sarah J. Maas

June 10th, ⭐️⭐️☆, DNF

This book...was disappointing. This was the first book I bought from the store without reading it first because the internet had me so convinced I'd enjoy it. I didn't. I found myself so bored I didn't bother reading past page 100 before I returned the book to the store. I don't really have much to say about it other than it was boring, honestly. Feyre also annoyed me a decent bit.

The Romantics - Leah Konen

June 14th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️, DNF

This book had the same problem as ACOTAR, only far worse. This book felt like it had absolutely no substance, and I read at least half of it. The entire book was narrated by the entity of Love, and all of the characters we got introduced to were only ever surface-level. I felt like I was watching a bunch of strangers interact with each other. Perhaps it was just that young teenage romance isn’t really my cup of tea, but I found the plot entirely uninteresting.

Once Upon a Broken Heart - Stephanie Garber

June 19th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

My babyyyyyyyyyy <3 My bread and butter, the reason I got into fantasy books. Definitely not as compelling as the second book, but compelling nonetheless. Jacks and Evangeline have insane tension and it was overall just great. I absolutely loved the whole kisses deal, though I’ll admit this book was NOT what I thought it was. When I picked it up, I was expecting Jacks to be an actual prince, and I was quite surprised to find that he was more of a demigod. Either way, it was a great book, and if you love romantacy, I’d recommend this for SURELY. (I’m biased, can’t you tell? This is a OUBAH blog, after all.)

The Ballad of Never After - Stephanie Garber

June 20th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I'd give this book six stars if I could. This entire book was just pining and drama, and I live for it. Not to mention...the Hollow? Yes. Yes, yes yes. Everything about this book, yes. The curses in this book were completely crazy, and I felt like we got a lot more world building in this book. The entire world felt a lot more complete in this book, and we really got to start to piece together Jacks’s backstory. Lovely.

One True Loves - Elise Bryant

June 21st, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I'm pretty sure I actually read this book last year, but it got put into my book tracker in July so I'm leaving it here. This was a cutsey little romance about a girl who goes on a cruise in Europe. I don't remember much about it, but I remember loving the two main characters and the realtionship they had with each other.

Happily Ever Afters - Elise Bryant

June 21st, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Pretty sure this is the book before One True Loves? They're in the same series, I know that. This was a cutsey little book about a baker guy and a writer girl who ended up at the same high school. Absolutely loved the character growth the main character had over the course of the book.

In Order to Live - Yeonmi Park

June 26th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This was a biography written by a woman who escaped North Korea. It was truly an amazing read, and this is the one book I cried while reading this year! I would definitely recommend this to anyone because it is extremely informative while also being very immersive.

Caraval - Stephanie Garber

June 27th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Back to Stephaine Garber! Honestly, I started reading this series for Jacks, but the first book is something entirely on its own. I absolutely loved Julian and Scarlett, and I'll be rereading this again soon. The book very much immersed the reader, and I felt like I was a player in Caraval myself. There was so much fun to be had in this book, and honestly it could just be read as a stand-alone.

Legendary - Stephanie Garber

June 31st, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I drove all the way to the other side of town to get this book, that's how good the first one was. This book was less enjoyable than the first, but the plot was extremely compelling. Sadly, I’m not a huge fan of Tella, so I struggled to immerse myself in this book the way I got immersed in Caraval.

↳ July (11)

(Was I ok in July? How many books is this, Zee?)

Finale - Stephanie Garber

July 1st, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Jacks. That's about all I have to say about this book.

Sugar, Spice, and Can’t Play Nice - Annika Sharma

July 2nd, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Not sure why, but I decided to dump $16? $17? on this when I went to Barnes and Noble with a friend, so I had to finish it. There was a tad too much sexual tension and not enough romance between the main characters for my taste, but it was a good book. I especially enjoyed that the author did so much with her own culture in the book. Both of the characters learned the importance of truly connecting with someone over the course of the book, and I thought it was lovely.

The Spanish Love Deception - Elena Armas

July 2nd, ⭐️⭐️, DNF

This book was...something. I - yet again - purchased a book without reading it first. Learned my lesson this time. I have honestly no idea what this book is about because I read only fifty pages of it and there was...too much of her referring to him as "big" and "tall". I get it. He's tall and wide. Can we please discuss why you hate him? I'd love to know, really. Perhaps this book is for you if you like extreme sexualization of tall, buff men, but it’s not for me.

The Inheritance Games - Jennifer Lynn Barnes

July 6th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Queen. Puzzles and drama galore, and I love the boys. That's really all I have to say about this. I LOVE puzzles so this book was a big hit with me. Avery is a little genius and I appreciate it, and I also loved getting to see her adapt to her new life.

The Cruel Prince - Holly Black

July 9th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆

This read is courtesy of my bestie. She had not finished the series when she recommended it. Still hasn't. (Nani, this is a plea for you to finish it.) I don't recall much of the book, honestly, but the plot was good enough for me to rate it four and a half stars, so...?

The Wicked King - Holly Black

July 11th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆

Cardan and Jude...on the couch...with- ahem. I mean what. What was this book about? Also I love the way Cardan speaks. He’s very formally-spoken and I love that for him.

The Queen of Nothing - Holly Black

July 11th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

yESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. This entire book. The ENDING??? Insane. How do I not remember any of the plot of these books besides the end of this one? We'll never know.

Skin of the Sea - Natasha Bowen

July 14th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️☆, DNF

This book was probably pretty great. I personally found the introduction to the plot a bit dragging and it lost my interest because of this, but it sounded like it would eventually be a good and intriguing plot. I may eventually pick this back up, but currently there are other books I am actually excited to read, so for now this will be only a DNF.

These Violent Delights - Chloe Gong

July 17th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️, DNF

Ahem...this was actually a great book, despite the DNF and star rating. I DNFed this book because it was too gorey, but I'm currently attempting to finish it. The writing is beautiful and the characters are very compelling. The tension between the main characters is lovely. I'm hoping to give this five stars when I finally finish it.

Six of Crows - Leigh Bardugo

July 18th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Delicious. A heist, six morally grey characters, lots of fighting and tension - both romantic and plot-wise. Absolutely ate up the characters' backstories. I love a good trauamtic backstory. I was reading fanfics about this book before I even finished reading it, that's how good the character building was. (Sadly I got a ton of the plot spoiled for me between this book and the next because I decided to join the online fandom before finishing the books. I will NOT make that mistake again.)

How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories - Holly Black

July 19th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

A goofy short read about Cardan. I love him. That's it.

(Zee said no reading during birthday month apparently? Was I spending too much time being lovesick over my coworker? We'll never know.)

↳ September (6)

The Forgetting - Sharon Cameron

September 1st, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This book surprised me. I had no idea what it was about going into it, and I was entirely surprised. Apparently it's dystopian? Sci-fi? Who knew? (not me) Anyways, I loved the two main characters, and the plot was extremely creative. This is definitely going to be a re-read next year. Sadly, the sequel was not about this pair of characters, so I didn’t end up reading it.

Fourth Wing - Rebecca Yarros

September 15th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Well, this is a funny story. I put in a request at the library for this book in July, having about zero clue what it was about beyond dragons. I was intrigued, of course, because I LOVE dragons. By the time I got my hands on the book, I'd heard many reviews about how awful the book was. I was convinced I'd hate it, but of course, I had to read it because I waited TWO MONTHS for it. It took a few pages for me to be interested, but it was a VERY good book. I love Xaden. I will kiss him on the head. This got four stars because those smut scenes GAGGED me (and not in a good way), but I have since read worse smut, so perhaps this will be a five-star someday. The smut was truly something, though. I sat on the couch and sobbed from laughter while reading them.

The Stolen Heir - Holly Black

September 16th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This was...gorey, honestly. But other than that, a great read. Both main characters are very compelling, and I adore Oak. Sweetest boy. I can't wait to read the second book. It really took us a lot farther into the world of Elfhame, and I appreciated the book for that.

Lightlark - Alex Aster

September 16th, ☆, DNF

I truly wish I could just say "No." and move on with this list, but this book was probably the worst book I've ever read. I read three pages and was so extremely confused that I couldn't continue. To confuse me that awfully in the first three pages of a book is a feat, I'll give her that. I would not recommend this book to anyone, and generally I believe that everything has an audience. I'm sorry if you're a fan of this book, but I just...can't.

Fireworks - Alice Lin

September 20th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Cute book about a girl and her childhood best friend turned Kpop star when they finally reunite at age 18. Soooo much romantic tension, and I loved how the book dealt with mental health. I hope these two live happily ever after.

Reread - Fourth Wing - Rebecca Yarros

September 25th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Yes, I reread it a week after I read it. Sue me. It was a good book. I’ll be rereading it again when my holiday edition shows up.

↳ October (8)

Imogen, Obviously - Becky Albertalli

October 5th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This is going on the list of cutesy sapphic books that make me cry. Absolutely loved the way the realtionship between the two main characters developed, and I thought it did a good job about commenting on what it means to be queer. Also, arguably the best college friend group ever in this book. I'm jealous.

When You Wish Upon a Lantern - Gloria Chao

October 6th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This book was ok. It was cute, but I found it slightly boring. I will say it was very good for a first-person dual POV book, which I usually hate and refuse to read.

Assistant to the Villain - Hannah Nicole Maehrer

October 14th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This was a funny read, because I expected to hate read it, but it had me kicking and screaming, especially the ending. I was so insanely upset when I realized it was a trilogy (mostly because the ending was absolutely jarring and I didn’t expect it to end on a cliffhanger), but at the same time I'm glad this isn't the last we'll see of these characters. I love books where the villains are villains because they felt like that was all they could be. I love. Beyond all of this, I simply enjoyed to see all the characters interact with each other, and I felt like the author did a good job of humanizing all the characters. Not to mention Kingsley. He’s arguably my favorite character despite having no real lines in the book.

The Hawthorne Legacy - Jennifer Lynn Barnes

October 15th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Puzzles, Hawthorne boys, and...strip bowling (I forgot about this scene until a coworker told me she didn't read the book because there was stripping in it. I laughed.) Anyways I loved Jameson and Avery in this book and that's about all I have to say.

The Final Gambit - Jennifer Lynn Barnes

October 18th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Ok I’m going to be completely honest this book was one huge blur and it almost felt disconnected from the rest of the series. Don’t get me wrong, it was GREAT, but it was like complete whiplash while simultaneously tying up all the loose ends we had in the last two books. Also *spoilers* but JamesonAvery endgame YAYYYYYY.

Reread - Once Upon a Broken Heart - Stephanie Garber

October 19th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I reread this in preparation for the third book and it took me a month to read. Idk man.

Reread - The Ballad of Never After - Stephanie Garber

October 23rd, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Good soup. Send me to the Hollow, please.

A Curse for True Love - Stephanie Garber

October 24th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

*ahem* drum roll please… 🥁🥁🥁 …LOVELY!! Evajacks kiss. This is all I wanted. Also his dimples. And Archer. And- Ok enough about that. To actually review this book, I think it was a great wrap-up of the series. The book had an amazing vibe, and I loved how the first half of the book felt shrouded in mystery since we spent the majority of the time in Evangeline’s head. I read this entire book in one five-hour sitting, completely skipping all the homework I had to do that night just so I could read this IMMEDIATELY. It was totally worth it. I also just loved seeing Jacks as the tortured man I always knew he was. Yes bby be so tortured. Now kiss.

↳ November (8)

A Court of Mist and Fury - Sarah J. Maas

November 3rd, ⭐️⭐️⭐️

This was...a book. It had potential to be a great book in the first 100 pages, but somewhere along the way it got kind of insane. Honestly, I feel like it should've been two books. It was over 600 pages and yet I found most of the scenes were a bit too short. Also, there were too many location changes, and this book is where the bad smut truly is. I couldn't even read the smut scenes...I can usually tolerate them. (Is it clear I don't like smut?). The first half of the book set up this lovely dynamic between Rhys and Feyre that I loved and showed me this new, fun world of the Night Court. I only wish that I’d enjoyed the second half of the book as much as I did the first. The second half didn’t get enough development and kind of just all ran together, which sucked. I would’ve given this four stars if the second half had had better pacing.

Honorable mention - The Queen of Nothing - Holly Black

November 8th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

*cough* *cough* ahem. I reread like half this book for the scenes between Cardan and Jude…especially a specific scene in chapter 21 (if you know you know) and also the ending <3 yes queen get your ma-

Iron Flame - Rebecca Yarros

November 12th , ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

(I just finished this book right before I started typing this so excuse my screaming) BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR. HANDS DOWN. ABSOLUTELY AMAZING ENDING AND I LOVE YOU REBECCA YARROS. If you like fantasy, I’d recommend this book. (Also rep for the messed up joints girlies 🙏🏼) I love Xaden and Violet sm.

These Violent Delights - Chloe Gong

November 14th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆

This book was very good. Great prose, amazing characters, original plot. I only didn’t give it five stars because I personally felt just a bit disconnected from the story. I didn’t really feel all that stressed by the plot, though this may have been because I only had four hours to read the book. Overall, it was a great book and I’ll be reading the sequel when I have time. (Also, coming off the Iron Flame high does make this book a bit less fascinating.)

Crooked Kingdom - Leigh Bardugo

November 15th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

After four months, I finally bring myself to finish this. A masterpiece. I didn’t want to leave this world, and yet I finally had to. The entire crew has my heart, and that ending broke me. I wanted so badly to simply not read it and make sure it didn’t happen, but here we are. Our gang all got their not-quite-happily-ever-after, and this may or may not have been the only book to make me cry ever. (That’s not true, but I can’t remember which other book I cried at. Perhaps it was my own.) Five stars. I will be returning to this duology someday to reabsorb the masterpiece that it is.

Drizzle, Dreams, and Lovestruck Things - Maya Prasad

November 22nd, ⭐️⭐️⭐️☆

This book was pretty good. The sisters had a cute relationship and the inn was fun. The book was split into four parts - one for each sister - and personally I enjoyed the first two the best. The third one was also pretty cute, but the last one…I didn’t connect with the character as well, and her plot seemed to drag. I actually stopped reading like 3 pages before the end because the plot was basically over like 20 pages before and it was just focusing on side characters. I think I’m just not a huge fan of slice of life in book form, so if you like that, then this book is for you. I have the sequel sitting on my shelf, but I might just take it back to the library at this point.

A Court of Wings and Ruin - Sarah J. Maas

November 23rd, ⭐️⭐️

This book was way too long, to put it bluntly. I considered DNFing it a number of times, and the plot just seemed to drag on. I don’t understand what Maas has against question marks, either. I can’t tell you how many times I read a question in here that ended with a period. I’m not sure whether it was supposed to emphasize tone or what she was trying to do, but it was extremely irritating and distracting. I didn’t notice this happening in the other two books, but maybe I just missed it. The only reason I finished this book was so that I could read ACOSF with full context because I do love Cassian and Nesta, but otherwise I probably would’ve DNFed about 2/3 of the way in. The fandom wasn’t kidding when they said ACOMAF was the best book in the series. I’m only glad I finished this because of the Nessian scene we got at the end 💔 my heart cried.

A Court of Silver Flames - Sarah J. Maas

November 25th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️☆

To my surprise and delight, this book has question marks!!! Yayyy!!! To start this review off, I’ll begin by saying - Sarah finally got a decent review out of me. I really enjoyed this book except for a few small details. Now, that may just be because I love Cassian and Nesta, but I consider it a win that she wrote two characters that I LOVE.

That being said, this book made me dislike Rhysand even more than I already did. I’m not sure what it is about him, but I find him a bit intolerable. I won’t dwell on this point, but I found him especially irritating in relation to the Feyre B-plot. Oof. That in combination with the ridiculous number of smut scenes made me knock this down a star. I was fine with them at first, but then it just became too much. Google says there were only 7 smut scenes in the book, but I swear there were more. This is just a personal gripe and nothing against the book or its readers, but it certainly downgraded my enjoyment of it.

Beyond that, I really loved the tension between Cassian and Nesta, and I also enjoyed seeing the two of them work through their issues. They’re extremely sweet and I love them. One thing though - Sarah, why did you tease a mating ceremony for like three pages and then we don’t even get to see it??? Miss ma’am at the very least I wanted to see Cassian being all sweet as they consummated the mating or whatever. But instead we get another scene of someone crying over Feyre’s painting??? COME ON!!! This will probably be the only time I’ll rate an SJM book over 3 stars.

↳ December (11)

The Brothers Hawthorne - Jennifer Lynn Barnes

December 2nd, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

To start this off, I was completely thrilled to read a book about the boys. Don’t get me wrong, I love Avery, but the three youngest Hawthorne brothers have always piqued my interest more. I honestly didn’t think a book in this series could be better than the others, but there was something about this book that was even more incredible than the trilogy. This book was even better than I thought it would be. I expected to enjoy Jameson’s part of the story even more than Grayson’s part, but I actually found myself enjoying getting to know Grayson quite a bit more. (Don’t get me wrong, I loved Jameson’s part of the story, but this book made me love Gray a lot more.). I’d give this book six stars if I could. Absolutely lovely and completely compelling read, and I love all the new characters we’re introduced to. I do hope that someday we get a book about Xander and Nash, but for now, this will quench my Hawthorne thirst. I definitely have a new favorite Hawthorne though (sorry Jameson). I will kiss Gray-

The Half-Life of Love - Brianna Bourne

December 9th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Uh so to put it simply. I hated this book (in the best way possible). I don’t know why I read this. I knew how it would end from the start, but it intrigued me enough that I read it anyways!!?? Haha. I sobbed at the ending. I never want to think about this book again. I loved the characters but I hated the plot. That’s it. (I will also say this book dealt HEAVILY with death and was very heavy so. Yeah. Be warned.) Update after a week of processing: I actually loved this book a lot, but it broke my heart. I loved the character development that Flint went through over the course of the book, and it absolutely broke me that that was the end. I may change my star rating for this before I officially post this, but for now it stays at 3 for hurting me.

Fireborne - Rosaria Munda

December 16th, ⭐️⭐️☆, DNF

This book was…odd, to say the least. It had potential, but something about the world building felt off to me. Perhaps it’s just not my vibe. My main gripe with it has to be the characters’ names. Some of them had very modern names, some of them had very old names, and some of them only went by extremely weird nicknames. The names alone took me out of the immersion of the world, because every time I’d finally get into it, I’d read a name and go oh, yeah, this is a book. It took me about a week to decide to DNF this, but after reading so many books I genuinely enjoyed, I just couldn’t force myself to finish it.

Greymist Fair - Francesca Zappia

December 16th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆

This was one of my most anticipated reads of the season. I saw the cover at the library and was like oh, yeah, that’ll be a good read. I didn’t even read the summary. Turns out, I was so right. The book kind of has similar vibes to the tales of The Brothers Grimm, but oddly I didn’t find any of this story very creepy. It was dark and a bit gory, but I thoroughly enjoyed the progression of the story. I wouldn’t say this was a five-star read, but I really enjoyed this book. It’s a collection of stories about Greymist Fair that weave together very beautifully, and I absolutely love the atmosphere this book created. Come to find out after I read it, it’s classified as a horror book? I would’ve probably said it was more paranormal fiction, but alas. This was not a horror book to me. I should know, I hate horror. Would definitely recommend this book to anyone who likes morally twisted fantasy books - especially classic fae stories. This book gave me similar vibes to those.

The Matzah Ball - Jean Meltzer

December 22nd, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆

This book was so much fun. I think I read it in 3.5 hours. I wasn’t sure what to expect going into this, because honestly it’s one of the four Christmas (this book wasn’t technically Christmas but based on certain themes I think you could categorize it that way) books I impulsively rented from the library, but I loved it. The main girl had a chronic illness, and as someone who struggles physically myself, I really enjoyed reading about a main character going through the mental struggles of such a thing. This book gave silly Hallmark movie vibes, but it was completely enjoyable. The main guy was extremely sweet albeit a bumbling idiot, and I actually didn’t mind the major misunderstanding trope that carried this plot. I also really enjoyed reading a book that included lots of Jewish culture. It felt like home. There were a few aspects of this book I found a bit childish for a book about two people who were nearly thirty, but I guess different people enjoy different things. It was a fun, quick read if you’re looking for something with a holiday theme.

These Hollow Vows - Lexi Ryan

December 23rd, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆

I’m not really sure why, but I started reading this in October and couldn’t get into it. A couple pages in and I was HOOKED. I love me a book about Fae realms. (At least, the original Fae. ACOTAR was too far from the source material for me to enjoy it, sadly.) This book has all the mystery and wonder of the Fae lands while being extremely simple to read and understand. I LOVED the plot progression, and the plot twists were predictable in a roundabout way where you could sort of guess them, but they still surprised you. The ending made me scream in both an angry and excited way. I totally saw the ending coming, but it still pissed me off!

I can’t wait to read the next book, but sadly I must wait until I return from vacation. I would DEFINITELY recommend this if you like fae books, especially if you enjoyed The Cruel Prince. The only reason I didn’t give this book five stars is that I felt the side characters were all a bit underdeveloped. I’m not sure if this was on purpose since the book is from the main character’s point of view, but I felt like I didn’t even know the love interests well enough to actually make a good judgement of either of them. I did, according to the ending, end up pegging both of their true characters correctly, but I still felt they were underdeveloped for how much time they spent in the book.

Honorable mention - The Queen of the Tearling - Erika Johansen

December 24rd, unrated, DNF

I tried to read this book about ten different times before I had to return it to the library, but it just isn’t my cup of tea. It didn’t capture my attention in the twenty pages I read, and I don’t think I can follow the character on her journey. It’s very sad, because I truly love a learned royalty plot, but I couldn’t do it. Perhaps I will pick it up again someday, but I don’t plan on it being anytime in the near future.

Defy the Night - Brigid Kemmerer

December 25th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Ok, this one surprised me. I picked this book up at the library back in the summer, but I realized it was dual POV, and at that point I just couldn’t handle reading that, so I returned the book. I picked it up again on Christmas because my grandma bought me a kindle and I really wanted to try it, but the options at my library that were immediately available were limited. I’m so glad I gave it a second chance, because I loved it. This book had everything I love in a fantasy novel. There were so many twists I didn’t see coming, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. This book made me enjoy a wholly political plot, and I love that for it. Usually, I’m not a huge fan of political plots, but I loved the way this one developed. The romance was absolutely adorable as well, and it made me so happy I decided to give this book a second chance. As it stands, I will probably be reading the sequel tomorrow, and I am very excited, although I’m a bit upset the third book isn’t out until January! I was so happy to give another book five stars this month, because with how it was going, I didn’t think I would be.

Defend the Dawn - Brigid Kemmerer

December 26th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆

Hah. This book. True to my word, I finished it the day after Defy the Night. I’ll be honest, this book was slightly disappointing after how amazing the first book was, but I’ll let it slide solely because we got to know a new and amazing character. Besides that, this book did BOUNDS of character work. We got to know more and more about our main characters, and they all learned to overcome their stubbornness in this book. One thing I really loved about this book is that we got to see more about how close the brothers are. I feel like I don’t read many books where boys are very close to each other, especially not in a royalty setting, so it was refreshing to read a book where two brothers rule the throne united instead of going to war over it.

I was a bit disappointed that they spent the majority of the book on a ship, but because of the development that happened in the ship both character-wise and plot-wise, I can’t necessarily complain. For one, we got away from Allisander in this book, and I really had no character in this book more than him (yet). I’m very excited to read the last book when it comes out, though I wish I could read it right now. This series is truly worth the hype it had when I first discovered it, and I can’t wait to see where the relationships go in the next book.

The Lost Sisters - Holly Black

December 26th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Truth be told, this was a whole lot shorter than I thought it would be. It was essentially a letter from Taryn to Jude about the events of the first book. I found it to be a very interesting character study, honestly, and it showed us a bit more about Cardan too. I would recommend reading this if you’ve read The Cruel Prince series.

These Twisted Bonds - Lexi Ryan

December 29th, ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Oh my gosh this book did more than I could’ve ever imagined it would. This book gave me all the character development the first book was lacking, and the way the plot developed was insanely amazing. I absolutely love Finn, and the way he calls Abriella Princess just absolutely melts me. The world got extremely fleshed out in this book, and I really enjoyed seeing how this author put her own twist on the world of the Fae. I also, oddly, really liked how the spice was done in this book. It was there but it mostly lacked detail and description, which is how I like my spice. I want a vague idea and nothing more! 😆 Overall, I really enjoyed this book, and it will probably be my last book of the year. I think it was a great conclusion to this year’s reading, and I’m glad I ended the year on a high note.

If you read this far, thanks for sticking around! For 2024, I will be doing monthly wrap-ups, so don’t expect another post like this…unless I decide to do a yearly wrap-up after my monthly ones are done…

If you have any recommendations to start my year off, tell me! I currently am planning on reading the Percy Jackson series, but that’s the only thing I’m really looking forward to reading

[oliverreedmasterass]

Could you write about how nervous they probably were about performing the new song last night?

I'm so sorry for the delay on this one! I decided to write something based around the Sac show, I hope you don't mind:

Stage Fright

Words: 2.7k words

Warnings: language, drinking, allusions to grief

“LAST DAY OF TOUR!” Josh hollered at the top of his lungs, taking a lap from the back of the bus to the front, and back again. 

“You’re supposed to be on vocal rest,” Sam groaned from his bunk before letting out a loud yawn. “Shut the fuck up.” 

“Sorry that I’m glad this hell ride is almost done,” Josh skidded to a stop in front of Sam and crossed his arms. “Don’t piss on my tits.” 

“Piss on your tits?” Sam repeated Josh with a scrunched face. “What the fuck?” 

But Josh was already gone, taking another lap and whooping at the top of his lungs. With the grim acceptance that he wasn’t going to get another second of sleep, Sam pushed himself upright and rose to his feet with a groan. It was just his luck that Josh ran by at that moment and, without a second thought, Sam stuck out his bare foot, tangling it in Josh’s legs so he tumbled to the ground with a loud thud. 

“Agh,” Josh groaned from the ground. “You pissed on my tits.” 

“That’s what you get for waking me up,” Sam said down to his older brother. Feeling satisfied, he stepped over Josh and made his way to the front of the bus, where Jake and Danny were both sitting at the table, quietly working on their tall mugs of coffee. Sam slid into the spot next to Danny and looked over Jake’s head to see Josh slowly picking himself up from the ground and frowning down at the bruise that was already forming on his knee. 

“Are you ready for tonight?” he asked his band members. 

“Obviously not as ready as Josh is,” Danny said after taking a thoughtful chug from his drink. 

“I feel fine,” Jake said down to his feet. 

“You’re definitely nervous,” Sam pointed at his older brother, who reacted with a quick glare. “You’re shit at hiding it.” 

“It’s just been a while since we’ve played new stuff,” Jake started to get defensive. “I don’t want to start accidentally playing the wrong thing.” 

“It won’t matter, we’re playing unreleased music. You could literally play anything and we’d just gaslight everyone and be like, ‘yeah, we totally meant to do that,’” Sam tried to comfort his brother. “You could do a bunch of awful feedback with your guitar and people would probably lose their minds.” 

Jake tsked at Sam’s words and gave his head a firm shake. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“I can’t wait to play the harmonica,” Josh popped up next to the table, making everyone jump. “I’ve been practicing in the bathroom.” 

“We know,” Jake spoke for the table. “We’ve heard you every night at 3am.” 

“I think I’ve got it down,” Josh continued. “Are you ready to become the second best harmonica player in the band?” 

“Sure thing, bud,” Jake gave Josh a hefty slap on the back.

Sam caught a glimpse of Danny and noted that he was a lot more slouched than normal, as if he was trying to disappear into the vinyl seating of the dining table bench. 

“Are you okay?” Sam leaned into Danny’s side to whisper in his ear. Danny slowly raised his shoulders up to his ears. “We can talk later, if you want,” Sam added. 

“Yeah,” Danny said under his breath. 

“Aw fuck,” Jake’s voice raised, capturing everyone on the bus’s attention. 

“What?” Josh asked, grabbing a seat next to Jake. 

“Management didn’t tell me that my name was gonna look like that when I changed my Instagram username,”  Jake whined, holding up his phone. Josh, Sam, and Danny all squinted at his screen and then broke down into laughter when they saw the problem. 

“Jaket Kiszka,” Josh howled, “I can’t believe it.” 

“I never realized my name did that,” Jake frowned down at his phone. “Oh god, so many people are tagging me in memes.” 

“New bus rule,” Sam announced, “We only call Jake Jaket moving forward.” 

“Thank god this is the last show,” Jaket pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Is it too late for me to change it to Jacob?” 

“The damage is already done,” Sam reached across the table to give Jaket a supportive rub on the arm. “I had to deal with all of the iPad kid slander, now it’s your turn.” 

“Jaket Kiszka,” Jaket grumbled to himself, like he still couldn’t believe it.

Danny gave Sam’s leg a light tap and nodded towards the back of the bus. Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at how quickly Danny wanted to talk, but immediately sprung to his feet and led the way without saying another word to Jaket or Josh. 

“Bye, I guess?” Josh called after them. 

When Sam and Danny were in the back, Sam slammed the sliding door shut, giving them their privacy. He turned back around and saw that Danny was standing awkwardly in the middle of the common area, toying with the bracelets around his wrist. 

“Is this about the show tonight or something else?” Sam tried to coax Danny along. 

“I’m scared, Sammy,” Danny said, looking anywhere but at his best friend. “I’ve been so distracted lately, I’m not sure that I’ve got everything down. I really want to play my best, but I don’t know if I can do it.” 

Sam motioned for Danny to join him on the room’s couch adorned in pillows, and they both fell back into its soft cushions. Danny let out a small huff which Sam understood meant that he was starting to get overwhelmed. Danny usually was pretty composed and it took a lot to break him down, but Sam also understood that he had been through a lot in the past week. Sam was beyond impressed that Danny was still playing his heart out in spite of everything, but he had had a gut feeling that Danny was going to crack at some point. 

“Hey,” Sam finally succeeded in making eye contact with Danny. “You’ve got this. Together we make one hell of a rhythm section. Just follow me, and you’ll be okay. You can make it through our new stuff, I know you can.” 

“No pressure,”  Sam caught Danny whispering to himself. 

“How about this?” Sam thought aloud, “We’ll head to the arena early and get some practice in. Would that be helpful?” 

Danny thought it over and finally let out a sigh. 

“That’s a much more rational idea than getting back in bed.” 

“You can get in bed after we practice a bit,” Sam promised him. “And I’m guaranteeing you a really nice meal after the show to celebrate finishing the tour. Whatever you want, it’s on me.” 

“I want In N’ Out,” Danny answered. 

“I was thinking more Michelin star-quality, but thanks for being mindful about my bank account,” Sam said, standing back to his feet. Danny was frozen in place on the couch, lost in thought again, so Sam reached out a hand to help him back up. He noted that Danny’s hand felt clammy and tried hard to think of anything else he could say to make Danny feel better.

“Should I ask if Jaket wants to join us?” 

He was glad that his joke got a small smirk out of Danny. 

“Let’s just keep it to the rhythm section for now. I don’t want Jaket knowing that I might blow things on stage tonight.” 

Sam and Danny snuck out of the bus while Jaket and Josh were distracted, looking through all the Jaket memes that were blowing up their Instagram pages. Sam checked to make sure that the coast was clear and then motioned for Danny to join him as they hustled to the back door of the Golden 1 Center. After getting through security, Danny looked slightly less stressed. 

“Can we run through Sacred the Thread first?” he asked while they walked through the labyrinth of the backstage area. “There’s one fill that I’m really worried I’m going to miss.” 

“Yeah, of course. But we need to do The Falling Sky a few times too,” Sam added. “I’m terrified of that one.” 

“Sam Kiszka terrified? No way.” Danny feigned shock. 

“Hey, I’m not a singer. I’m still pissed that Jaket insisted I take the mic for that song, we all know that he’s the one who’s got the hidden pipes in the group.” 

“It’s your time to shine, Sammy,” Danny cut Sam’s self-wallowing off. “You deserve to have your moment out there.” 

“Watch, my voice is gonna crack,” Sam tried to joke, even though it was a genuine concern. Josh had already started dumping unsolicited advice on Sam to keep his voice feeling fresh and fully optimal for singing, but a lot of it involved chugging down boozy tea, which Sam could hardly force down. “That will especially stink since I made that TikTok saying that I was a man and all.” 

They made their way to the stage and moved to their designated spots, Danny behind his kit, and Sam next to his large amp. Danny was frozen yet again, staring down at his drumsticks like he was trying to set them on fire with his mind, which caused Sam to loudly clear his throat. 

“Yup?” Danny snapped out of it with a startled jump. “Want me to count in?” 

Sam gave him a thumbs up and waited while Danny sucked in a few deep breaths, before tapping his sticks together three times. 

As they played through Sacred the Thread, Sam started to feel more at ease. Like everyone in the band, Danny was a pretty hardcore perfectionist, so it checked out that he would be super hard on himself and doubt that he could play their new stuff. From what Sam was hearing, Danny was hitting every note like it was nothing, even going out of his way to add in some extra fills that hadn’t been included in their studio recording. He caught a few glimpses of his best friend and noted that he was bashing away like each strike was filled with pent up emotions: grief, rage, frustration, fear, despair. The farther they got into the song, the less tense Danny looked, like he was alleviating everything that had been weighing on him. 

When they finished, Sam set down his bass and jumped up on Danny’s platform, giving him a pat on the back. 

“You’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about,” he said matter of factly. Danny’s face was twisted, like he didn’t believe a word of what Sam was saying. 

“I don’t know, I think I was out of time in the middle part.” 

“You weren’t,” Sam hardened his tone to make Danny understand that he was being dead serious. “You were on fire.” 

Danny still looked uncertain while he ran his finger up and down one of his cymbals. 

“How did it feel to play?” Sam decided it was appropriate to ask. Danny took a break from touching his kit and stared up at the rafters of the basketball arena. 

“It was cathartic, I guess.” 

“Can we do The Falling Sky?” 

“Might as well.” 

By the end of that song, Sam was feeling more panicked than when they started. 

“Now why do you look like that?” Danny asked, motioning towards Sam’s face, which was darkened in concern. 

“I missed so many notes,” Sam admitted, letting his hands flop to his sides in defeat. “I don’t know how to sing and play at the same time. How the hell does Geddy Lee do it?” 

“It’s not fair to compare yourself to Geddy Lee,” Danny’s voice was soft. He would never tell Sam, but he had been a bit pitchy and missed a few notes when he stepped up to the mic. “Want to run through it again?” 

“Yes,” Sam turned back around to face Danny, his face pale. Danny raised his sticks up and counted them in again. 

By the twelfth runthrough of The Falling Sky, Danny’s worries about not being able to play their news songs well were entirely gone. He could feel that he was in the groove, and every beat was hit in just the right way. In his gut he knew that he could pull things off and have a good time while he was at it. 

Sam, on the other hand, could feel his confidence diminishing like air being let out of a balloon. Each runthrough brought new errors in places that Sam assumed he had down. He understood that he was getting stuck in his head and overthinking things, but he also knew he wasn’t going to be able to relax until he played through the song without an error at least once. 

Much to his dismay, Jaket and Josh had to arrive for soundcheck when they were part way through their thirteenth attempt. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his brothers standing off on the wing of the stage, scrutinizing his every move while he tried to get out his “Woah-oh-oh-ohs”. Sam missed a note on his bass and, with a loud groan straight into the microphone, waved his hand to get Danny to stop. 

“Can we scrap this and play Meeting the Master instead?” he begged into his microphone so his voice rang around the arena. 

“No!” Jaket and Josh both called back to him. “The setlist is final!” Josh added. 

“I hate you both,” Sam replied into the microphone in a growl. Josh took Sam’s frustration as an open invitation to hop on stage and wrap his arm around his very stiff younger brother, pulling him in close with a grunt. 

“Singing is about feeling the music, not thinking about it,” Josh coached his younger brother. “Feel the groove and let the words roll off your tongue.” 

Sam felt foolish but he reapproached the microphone and tried playing a few lines on his bass while singing again. He would never admit it aloud but he was starting to understand what Josh was telling him, and he managed to play and sing a few lines successfully before he messed up again, mostly because he was surprised he had pulled it off. 

“That was good, try it again,” Josh encouraged Sam. From behind them, Jaket plugged his Gibson into his amp and tested out a loud chord. Danny started to excitedly tap on his cymbals. Sam gave it another try and got nearly halfway through before his fingers got tangled and out of time. “You were close!” Josh’s tone was starting to sound a little condescending, in Sam’s opinion. 

“Why don’t we play from the top?” Jaket asked. 

Sam could feel that he was starting to get drenched in sweat as they neared closer to his singing part. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on Danny’ rhythm behind him, which was flawless. Danny had gotten over his mental block, so why couldn’t he? He was just as much of a musician as Danny. He had pulled off singing and playing in the studio, which was the main reason why Josh, Jaket, and Danny all decided that he could perform live. 

Josh ripped out his harmonica from his back pocket and hunched over it, channeling his inner blues and playing his heart out, obviously having the time of his life. Jaket let out a loud whoop to encourage his twin, and then Sam sucked in a deep breath as Josh finished his solo and placed his instrument back in his pocket to return back to the chorus. 

“You got it, Sammy!” Danny called down from his kit. Sam stared down at his Rickenbacker, said a quick prayer, and then let it rip. 

“YES!” all of his bandmates called out in glee when they finished the song without a single error. Sam flung off his bass in relief and threw his head back to let out a deep, satisfied groan. He could do it. He could make it through the stinking song. They were going to play new music tonight for their fans and, god dammit, it was going to sound good. 

“How long have you been practicing for?” Jaket asked Sam and Danny as he switched to a different guitar. 

“Long enough for me,” Danny announced, standing from his kit. “I’m gonna take a fat nap.” 

“I’m gonna give the boozy tea another try,” Sam gave Jaket and Josh a wave, following behind Danny off stage. The twins watched their bandmates go and shook their heads. 

“Practice more?” Josh turned to Jaket. 

“Absolutely,” Jaket let his guard down. “I’m not ready for tonight.”

“Me neither,” Josh agreed.

[inkykeiji]

clari!! can we get 19. 10 years ago with tag keigo?? i’ve been wracking my brain for that prompt just because its soooo interesting and i think tag keigo suits it the most!! thank youu :3

prompt: ten years ago series: tag you’re it warnings: mention of drug addiction/shooting up, touches briefly on keigo’s love being more than brotherly, implied physical abuse words: 582

yes anon i absolutely agree with you!!! i hope you enjoy <3

Ten years ago, he was thirteen years old.

Ten years ago, you thought the world of him, tiny plastic jelly shoes—all glittery and vibrant colours—catching on his heels everywhere he went, trailing after him with both hands clasped around one of his as he ran through the forests and the schoolyards and that dingy little convenience store you both loved so much, pooling your allowances together to buy pieces of bubblegum for you routine Who Can Blow The Biggest Bubble competition—he always won, of course, but you were always such a good sport about it, gazing at him with stars of awe and amazement twinkling in your eyes, a look only a little sister could ever give her big brother.

Ten years ago, the thought of disobeying him was unimaginable to you, everything yes, nii-san and of course, nii-san and oh, really, nii-san?, his word more holy than the gospel at church, more sacred than any text, more true than any fact, unwavering and absolute faith.  

Ten years ago, you were proud of him, at every single one of his track meets clapping and shouting and whooping for him, his best little cheerleader, his favourite little cheerleader, babbling to the crowd all boastful and smug and so, so happy; that’s my big brother! That’s my Kei-nii! And rushing down those rickety aluminum steps to greet him, to congratulate him, to jump into his arms and hug him tight, tight, tight, all bright smiles and fizzing voices, reassuring him that you knew he could do it.

Ten years ago is when something began to change, to shift, to break. Something sick, something wrong, something he’ll fight for the rest of his life, because he will never allow it to taint your pureness. A monster he suppresses, represses, keeps locked away behind a sturdy cage of ivory bone, buried deep within the pulsating walls of his heart. A creature with envy for claws that he shoves down over and over and over again, who’s roars rattle his ribs when Dabi touches you, when you touch Dabi. 

Ten years ago he realized his love for you crossed boundaries a brother’s love should never cross, morphing into something ugly and venomous, something that burned holes in his stomach and ate through his throat any time he thought about you with another boy, any time you asked him, so shy and soft and sweet, for advice concerning your most recent crush—back when you trusted him enough to confide in him for such personal matters—because he knew they’d never be able to protect you the way your big brother can, the way your big brother always will.

Ten years ago, the only bruises and cuts and scrapes you had on you were from jumprope accidents and bicycle mishaps and untied shoe laces, tended to with care and caution and gentle hands by your big brother, sealed with white bandages and mild kisses.

Ten years ago, his spine wasn’t cracking beneath the weight of responsibility, and the thought of shooting up was inconceivable, the need for an escape nonexistent, the title of All-Star Golden Boy still easygoing and carefree and fun, nothing more than a lightweight label that came naturally to him, straightforward and uncomplicated and free of the heavy strings of duty it eventually sprouted.

Ten years ago, you wouldn’t have left him for his dealer, because ten years ago, he wasn’t an addict. 

Ten years ago, you were his.