#BUT THE SUN IS STILL IN THE SKY AND SHINING ABOVE U!!!!!

[bedforddanes75]

there's something in abba's music that just makes me so unbearably happy

[sugucidal]

# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!

CHAPTER i. [3k words]

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: with winter break having rolled around the corner, you’ve decided to spend it with your family back at home. it felt nice being back after 2 years away at university. you just wish your mom had told you that a certain guest was visiting. one that you hadn’t expected to ever have to face again.

୨୧‬┊warnings: fluff! + age gap (reader is 19 and toji is 34) + taboo content (cause what’re u doin tryna get tojis middle aged ass in ur bed smh) + slice of life kind of (??) + suggestiveness + humor + reader is in her winter bimbo era + toji is…toji. + no smut yet sorryy + slight slowburn + everything is legal! no ones going to jail!

୨୧‬┊a/n: first chapter woohooo !!! second chapter will finally be coming out on [redacted] <3

‪MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part iii.

Tugging at the sleeves of your jacket further down your hands, you let out an exhale, nerves set ablaze. The typical cool spring air was colder than usual this particular night out, sun having already set and moon shining up into the dark, starry sky.

Fiddling with the hem of your mini skirt, you gazed up, doe eyes glinting heatedly up at the man you've harbored adoration towards.

You were finally gonna confess.

"I want you."

The simple words that held so much weight filled the space between you both.

A sigh in response. Oh no. You already knew what was coming, but you hoped to any deity or god from above that it wouldn't turn out this way.

"Kid, you're way too young for me." The smoke blowing past his lips wafted through the stiff air, his scar pulling at the corner of his mouth in dismay. "If you were older maybe I'd consider it. Wouldn't bet on it though, since you're such a pain in the ass to deal with."

You let his words hang momentarily, trying to come up with a sufficient rebuttal. You knew he was only playing when he said you were a pain to deal with but it still stung your heart to hear it coming from him. But you weren't gonna give up that easily. You've had a crush on this man ever since he moved into the neighborhood years ago!

What started out as innocent puppy love slowly built its way into this desire, stemmed deep at the heart the older you got. You'd watch as he invited women into his home late into the hours of the night, clinging onto him like a leech in a body of lakewater. God, how you wish it was you he'd have brought into his home on those late nights. Lustfully gazing down at you with promises of this being the best you'll ever have, one you'd be thinking back on until the day you die.

He knew exactly just how much you craved for his touch. It wasn't hard to see that he felt the same, you could see it in the way he'd glance in your direction whenever you purposely wore something revealing, hoping to catch his eye. He told you that you shouldn't wear things like that at your age around men, that they were dangerous, intentions impure. As if he wasn't one of those men he was warning you about. But despite it all, he always looked the other way. Kept a boundary of barbed wire up, no way of climbing through. Frankly, it was annoying.

You hate when people play hard to get.

"So...you mean once I'm 18, you'll take up my offer?" If he couldn't get with you because you were 'too young' then surely he'd concede if you were legally an adult...right?

"Not exactly what I said, but sure," Taking one last final drag of his cigar, he stomped it out onto the pavement, sharp eyes gazing at you discerningly one last time before turning the other way.

"Whatever gets you off my case."

That was the last time you spoke with Toji and almost 2 years have gone by since then. The rejection after the confession hurt no doubt, but the avoidance of Toji towards you afterwards, hurt like salt to a fresh wound.

You rarely saw him after that, suddenly out for weeks to months at a time for work. Sometimes he'd come by when he was free and have idle chats with your parents any time they saw him down the neighborhood. Not bothering to spare a polite greeting or glance in your direction whenever you were present. What used to be a strong bond between family friend and their doting daughter, having met him at an early age, quickly turned awkward and tense, distance overtaking whatever there once was.

You regret talking to him that night every single day.

Unfortunately, you couldn't bring back the past and fix your fuck up. On the other hand, the days of being immature and bratty were long gone. Having been replaced by someone more mature and less dense.

Living off pre-packaged noodles and staying up till 6 am finishing up assignments for your university classes due the next hour, does that to a person you suppose.

Now with winter break finally having rolled around the corner, you were able to get that good night's sleep your exhausted ass had been craving for. And the home cooked meals your mother had waiting for you was certainly appreciated as well.

Lugging your bags up the front steps to your parents' quaint home, you took a quick look at the classic 'welcome home' mat under your feet that you were sure still hid a key underneath. Lifting the corner of the mat your suspicions were confirmed.

You'd think they'd realize how unsafe this could be one of these days.

Before you could place the key through the silver lock, you were instead met with the distinct sound of hard, oak wood doors being unlocked and swung open.

"Baby, you're finally home! Get in quickly, come on now." Your mother hastily ushered you in, calling over your father to help carry your bags further inside the warmth of your home. The key you held was quickly dropped on the small table near the entrance, and the door kicked shut. The signature smell of a vanilla sugar cookie candle being burnt filled your nostrils, the rest wafting through the air. Anyone would think your family baked with the way they always seem to choose that particular scent regardless of season or weather. Further glancing around, you watched your family's pet cat prance towards you, its furry face wide eyed and complaining to be held. You swear he acted like a dog sometimes.

Guess some things never change.

You just hoped that would've stayed true for a certain someone.

Before you had any more time to dwell on it, you were taken out of your thoughts by the mention of the name you had barely begun to ponder over.

'Speak of the devil', you sighed.

Walking over to the living area, you followed your father picking up your cat on the way, butting in, "Hm? what was that?"

"You remember Toji right?" Nodding your head, your father continued. "We invited him over for dinner tonight."

You paused in your step. "What? Why?" The confusion in your voice was surely noticed. You couldn't exactly say you were unhappy, hell you felt giddy at just the mention of his name, but you were still hung up on the past and weren't ready to face the man that blew off your poor naive, little heart. If you saw his handsome face in person again that's been embarrassingly haunting your dazed mind whenever you're busy writhing and whining atop your soft, cozy sheets—at that dinner table, you might just take the 2 hour car ride back to campus dorms.

You were just a pussy like that. One that couldn't face the culprit of those lingering feelings that had never ceased to falter throughout the years, dead in the eye.

The two quietly glanced at each other at your sudden change in demeanor, eyebrows raised. Before he could continue your mom piped up first, "What do you mean by 'why'? You haven't seen each other in so long. He misses you and I'm sure you two would like to catch up."

"Misses you" You swear your heart might've actually stopped beating. In what world would Toji Fushiguro have missed their friends young daughter after being told straight to their face that they wanted him to fuck her.

"He..misses me?" It sounded a little unbelievable saying it outloud.

"Mhm, after you left for University he asked about you a couple times, wondering when you'd be back to visit," Turning around to walk into the kitchen to get started on dinner, she smiled over her shoulder at you once more, "You must've really left an impression on him."

Nervously laughing you settled your cat down, watching him stride over to sip some water from his bowl.

"Yeah..quite some impression alright."

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

Okay. Okay it's fine. Yeah you haven't seen him in years but it's fine! He's just coming over for dinner. You'll greet him with a friendly smile, he'll ask how you've been- or shit, maybe he won't. Maybe he'll just ignore you again like he's already done. Toji mentioning to your parents that he misses you was probably just a misunderstanding and he meant to say the weather has been misty- yeah. Totally plausible.

"What the hell am I doing.." Taking a once-over to look yourself in the mirror, you just finished applying the finishing touches to your makeup, wiping off any excess gloss at the corner of your lips with a q-tip for a sharp finish. Was the gloss necessary given the fact that it was going to be smudged off during dinner anyway?

The answer was yes. Yes It was.

Just because you were having a small dinner that was probably gonna be awkward as hell with a man you've been wanting- didn't want to see, shouldn't mean you couldn't at least look cute.

A sudden faint sound of muffled talking took you out your inner monologue. Putting away your array of makeup displayed on the varnished wood countertop of your vanity, you walked over to the door pressing an ear against it trying to discern what was being said.

'Hm sounds like there's someone else down there..' quietly poking a head out into the hallway you just barely made out a deep yet familiar voice before quickly being startled by your mother calling out your name.

"Hon, come down and greet Toji!"

Fuck. "C–Coming!" straightening up, you calmed your blazing nerves, mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of awkward tension that your parents luckily knew nothing of. Bless their complete oblivion.

Walking out into the hallway and down the stairs your eyes immediately locked onto Tojis, gaze shyly looking away and focusing onto nothing in particular. You were better off staring at something near him than at him directly.

Approaching towards where they stood, you tried your best to look as confident as possible. You're a woman now. Not some doe. At least that's what you feel like telling yourself at this moment, as you pick at your nails. Standing straighter, you stood next to your parents, watching as they finished up their talk.

You haven't had a proper conversation with Toji since, well...that night. Not counting the usual greetings you had exchanged with him in the past when you saw each other after. If you could even call it that. If a glance of bare acknowledgement was considered a greeting, then sure. Yet here you were right in front of him, determined to set things right. You had to confront him, it was the only way you'd be able to heal the wound of the past and maybe, even let go.

But first, you'll have to actually talk to him.

Deciding to finally look up at Toji, you were able to make out his features more clearly. He hadn't changed much since you last saw him, still very much tall, and his ever so brooding presence never waned. His jaw was somehow even more defined than before, and he was still rocking the same haircut as he always did.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it I guess.

Overall, he looked good. Better. The best. As he most likely always will be in your eyes.

And you're so lost in your own thoughts that you don't even notice Toji looking down at you in the corner of his eye, trying to hold back a smirk that's beginning to creep up. Silly you, ogling him so openly in front of your own parents. Not like they bothered to ever notice though.

Hearing the three of them laugh about something pulled you away from your stupor, and your attention was immediately latched onto Toji who was the first to speak.

Hopefully he didn't notice you being a creep.

"It's been a while, huh? You still remember me?" You know he's only teasing by asking if you still "remembered" him. The old you would've sassed him up for asking something silly like that, but you don't know if its a good idea to get ahead of yourself and start pulling on his leg this early on.

So you opt for the safest response.

With a polite smile on your lips, you shrugged your shoulders, "Of course. It hasn't been that long."

Toji stared at you for a moment. Shit. Did he not like that answer..?

Then you felt something warm come into contact with the top of your head; it was Toji's hand. Toji was petting you. Or more like ruffling your hair—same difference.

"You barely changed."

You exhaled a breath you didn't even know you were holding. A moment longer in silence and you don't think you'd be able to hold back the urge to run back up those stairs, slam the door shut behind you, and scream into your pillow.

Why were you so nervous!? You're never nervous when it comes to Toji.

'What's up with me??''

Regardless, you felt yourself being left annoyed at his comment. Disappointed that he probably still saw you as some kid despite not certainly looking or being one at all for that matter.

Too bad you didn't realize he meant it in a different way.

Even if you tried to hide it, Toji could still make out the way you held your hands behind your back, most likely fidgeting with your nails. Seems you've changed, the thought amusing him. The old you he knew would've pounced on him by now, batting your lashes, staring up starry eyed thinking you were being discreet about it.

Nothing gets past him, especially not when you make it so obvious. One thing that hasn't changed though, are the clothes you seemed to purposely wear around him, and him only.

The moment he saw you walk down those stairs, he knew you had him wrapped around your finger all over again. The too short skirt and see-through slip on you adorned leaving almost nothing to the imagination, if not for the cream colored cardigan you wore hiding the slivers of skin, leaving him wanting more of what was underneath.

'What a damn tease..' But Tojis eyes averted by the time your parents noticed your descend towards them. He didn't exactly want them seeing him ogle their daughter so openly.

Before any one of you could say anything more, your mother cut the greetings short. "Great, now that we're all finished reuniting again, let's start eating before the food gets cold."

Walking a little ways behind you, Toji catched the way your hips swayed as you walked. Whether you were doing it intentionally or not, he couldn't say for sure.

But one thing he was sure about, is that you were going to give him one hell of a hard time.

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

The rest of dinner went by quickly. Once you were all seated, your parents and Toji had no problem talking with each other. They were busy discussing something, but your mind was too occupied to actually listen in on what they were saying. Too busy playing around with the food on your plate as your mind ran aimlessly, and foot twitching anxiously.

The night could've been worse. Really, it could've. Sure you haven't made any progress yet, but you'll get there! Overall, nothing particular happened. Except for one thing.

Toji couldn't stop looking at you.

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

Before you knew it, dinner had come to an end. Toji had already taken his leave and bid you all a 'thanks for the meal' and a goodbye. Finally. Now you can slip away to your room, wipe off your makeup, and lay awake in your bed as you regret everything you could've said and done tonight but didn't without anyone noticing–

"Where do you think you're going?" There stood your mom, looking at you expectantly. Were you missing something?

"To my room, why?"

"Didn't you hear at dinner?"

'Was I supposed to hear something at dinner?'

"No, hear what exactly?"

"Tomorrow, you're going out to buy some decorations for a party we're having."

A beat of silence. Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as you wondered why the hell you would be having a party.

"Mom… I appreciate that you want to host a welcome back party for me, but there's really no need to." It's sweet that they missed you this much, but you weren't one for parties that were centered around you.

She laughed. "No, no, not a party for you. I know you don't like that kinda stuff,"

Oh. Nevermind then.

"Our annual winter get together. We do it every year with the rest of the neighborhood and we're the ones hosting this time. Have all those cup noodles gotten to your head and you suddenly forgot?" She shook her head in disappointment.

Low blow, mom.

"I didn't forget! I just...didn't know you'd be the ones doing it this year."

"If you were actually paying attention at dinner then you'd have heard."

"Sorry. So, tomorrow you want me to go out and buy decor right? Cool, I'll go after lunch."

Thinking that was the end of that, you began to trudge your way towards the staircase. Already almost at the top when your mother called out to you once more.

"Oh! and Toji's accompanying you."

Yup, definitely going to scream into your pillow tonight.

© SUGUCIDAL 2023 — All rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: you'd never been shy about sharing what you knew about the dead. to hide in plain sight was a decision you'd made behind your mother's back, all while respecting the warning she'd given you those many years ago. because, really, who would believe you?

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

tysm for all the love u guys 😭

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.2

It was the first real day of spring, the sun shining and the breeze warm, and Mathilda had coaxed you and Xavier outside for lunch. You sat in the grass beside the bleachers and were lazily watching the football team run drills when you spotted Maddie and Simon.

They joined you when you waved them over, closing the circle, Maddie beside Xavier and Simon beside her putting him to your left.

You'd seen the way Maddie and Xavier looked at each other, bashful glances and pink cheeks when they thought no one noticed. They'd been cute for each other since you'd gone to the Gorrorcon screening of Grindhouse as a group last month. It was rare that Xavier tagged along for the gory movies, but as soon as you'd mentioned Maddie's name, he hadn't needed much convincing.

While the others chatted idly, your attention drifted, tracking a footballer who appeared to be coaching a boy dressed head to toe in denim. The boy looked uncomfortable on the field, held the football like it was a baby he might drop, and grimaced when the footballer jogged backward a few yards and signaled for the ball.

You knew who they were. Knew you shouldn't be casual about witnessing a moment they thought was theirs. Only, you couldn't help yourself. The footballer was handsome. Not hot or fit or fine. Handsome. With dark, fluffy hair and soulful eyes that you wished softened for you the way Xavier's did for Maddie.

Wally Clark, stadium namesake, died doing what he loved.

Even from afar, you could see the way the muscles in his arms bunched when he tossed the ball, had to wet your lips when his shirt rose to reveal a pale stripe of skin. Instead of the sweatpants he usually donned, he wore shorts that, in different circumstances, would've earned Wally a dress code violation. Barely there, they clung to him like paint on a canvas, accentuating the curve of his ass and thickness of his furry thighs.

Have mercy...

"Leave our sweet flower alone, you know she's saving herself," Mathilda said, pulling your attention back to the conversation happening around you.

The comment she'd responded to had to have been about your virginity. A realization you shook your head at while Mathilda made herself the picture of an angel. It was one of several tactics your friend group employed to violently drag you back to earth whenever your head was in the clouds.

Xavier chuckled and nudged Mathilda's shoulder with his.

"What I miss?" You asked, glancing between the others, still a little dazed by the image Wally made on the field.

Unfortunately, Simon didn't know the rules and, curiosity piqued, asked, "Are you really?"

"Am I really what? Saving myself?" Simon nodded. You grinned, shameless, and stretched your arms above your head as if embracing the sky, "Of course I am," then dropped backward to lie on the grass.

That wasn't entirely true. Simply, your virginity wasn't something you ruminated on, having never been in a relationship, but you'd also long since accepted that you couldn't do what Mathilda had done, finding an interested partner at a concert and losing it for the sake of getting it over with. "I'm surprised Tilly didn't tell you."

Mathilda scoffed, "About your ghost?"

"Ghost?" Now Maddie was intrigued, glancing between you, Mathilda, and Xavier, seeking answers. "You're saving yourself for a ghost?"

You rolled your head toward her and winked through your aviators, laughing lightly at her shocked expression. You could tell she wasn't sure what to make of it, hovering between interested in hearing what the hell you meant by that and concerned that you were that delusional.

"So, you wanna die a virgin, got it." Simon turned to look you in the eye, expression straight for all of three seconds before he started to shake with laughter.

You sat up and swatted at him; he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to his chest, giving him the angle he needed to grind his knuckles against your scalp. He released you when you shrieked and dug your elbow into his stomach.

Once you'd both settled, "How would that even work?" Maddie wondered, raising a hand to list her thoughts on her fingers, "I mean, a) say you guys can get physical, would it be like sleeping with a corpse?" Ew. God. "And b) don't ghosts haunt the places they died? So, if there was a ghost here, you guys would have to do it in a classroom or...the janitor's closet—" "Another nail in the coffin of Romance." Xavier said. You were surprised and somewhat gleeful that Maddie was willing to lend genuine consideration to such an absurd topic, to the point you didn't see the harm in revealing, "Actually, ghosts can roam as far and wide as they want. They aren't confined the way we are. I mean, they could get stuck in a loop if their death was that traumatic, but, for the most part," You smiled at her, "Ghosts can haunt wherever their spooky little hearts desire."

It's not as if anyone really gave credence to the things you said, anyway. Proven when Simon launched into a tirade that drew a lot of inspiration from a show in the Flanaverse.

Hide in plain sight. An idea you'd concocted when the witchcore revolution had exploded on tiktok, alt kids everywhere boasting a collection of healing crystals and excusing their behavior on Mercury Retrograde. Even your mother had taken advantage of the era, promoting her services via heavily filtered videos she had your sister film.

As far as everyone was concerned, your weird ghost lore was a matter of personal opinion and not the result of your family's unique and extensive library.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

"Now what?" Simon asked, phone pressed to his ear, as he watched you retreat into the school. Probably questioning his sanity with every step after the conversation he'd just had with you.

"I don't know." Maddie admitted, picking her nails, "I really needed to believe it was true." Even though, before she'd died, Maddie had been skeptical about your sense of the supernatural.

While you'd been in the bus shelter with them, Maddie had argued at Simon to confide in you about his ability to see her. Thought, prayed, that you were perhaps too afraid to admit you could see her, too. Only, it'd become increasingly clear that you weren't faking how Maddie didn't exist in that moment with you at all.

Maddie's chin fell to her chest, eyes sullen. "She had no idea I was right here, I—" She groaned roughly and fell back against the glass, hands scrubbing her face. "—I don't know what I thought she could do to help, I just..." Hoped you'd have answers; maybe had a way of getting Maddie unstuck so she could roam further than the boundaries of the school grounds.

Too bad it was, as you'd put it, a fraud.

Simon itched to console Maddie, hated that he couldn't. He could tell she was conflicted, emotions warring between sadness and anger and resentment. You'd let her down, whether or not you'd meant to, and it stung.

"Hey," Simon said, trying to infuse some positivity into his tone, "We'll figure something out. Until then, I'll just keep doing the heavy lifting."

Maddie turned her head and regarded him softly, "I don't want to keep putting you in situations like that." She remembered Mr. Anderson manifesting behind Simon that night in autoshop, a tinge of menace in his demeanor, and winced.

"It's not like I have anything better to do." Simon shrugged and gave what amounted to a smile, "I got all this free time since my best friend went missing."

A pungent silence crept in and hung in the air between them, neither willing to address that went missing was putting a delusional spin on it.

💀___________________________

PART ONE - PART THREE

also available on AO3!

MATERLIST

[whyareyouhere66]

I feel like it’s been forever since a new Harry Potter fic was written, so I’m here to request(if u feel like writing it ofc<3)!

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Male!reader where reader likes to admire him from the background, but word gets out that they have a crush on him. Reader gets picked on for it because “why would Draco Malfoy of all people go for a Hufflepuff boy?”. U can choose what direction it goes in 👀 (unless you want me be more direct then I can add on to it!)

Yes! I’m here for it- hope you enjoy <3

Also, prefacing this by saying I don’t at all like Rowling or support her bullshit, this is just a cute request id like to do

CW: teasing directed towards reader, reader is like half an inch shorter than Draco (something like that, just for context) unedited (I’ll do it soon I promise) and makeout scene (spoilersssss uh oh)

x

Sound booms across the length of the long walls, the bustling Great Hall full of kids across grades eating their meals. Chicken, mashed potatoes, loafs spread out in baskets, it’s like a thanksgiving meal.

The sun, high in the sky, shines through the tall windows and creates a natural light to outshine the various floating candles. Down at one of the various tables, the Hufflepuff children sit at the wooden table and talk.

“I don’t think he understood the assignment, either.”

“He’s the one who wrote it!”

“Exactly the issue-“

Y/n, accompanied by F/n, sits across from another group at the decorated table. A yellow and black scarf sits loosely around his s/c shoulders, a few rings wrapped around his fingers. He takes another bite from his plate, listening to F/n and another student bicker quietly- the slightest pull of a smile rising on his lips. 

“You guys still talking about Snape?” He asks, eyeing the two. They both nod.

“He’s so grumpy all the time, Y/n,” F/n complains, jutting his chin towards the stone faced man across the room. Y/n chuckles and shakes his head.

“Snape always knows what he’s doing.” He says, planning to check out of the conversation when words of disagreement are thrown his way. 

Y/n moves to keep watching his friends- but his eyes flicker.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the platinum blonde hair his eyes always seem to catch. And suddenly, his friends’ words are but mush against his ears.

Draco sits at the Slytherin table, green banners hanging above his head just like the yellow ones above Y/n’s. 

He has a normal scowl, that would dull anyone else’s face if it weren’t his. As his friends continue to talk, though, his eyebrow lifts and a smooth smirk almost replaces it.

And oh, how pretty his lips are.

Y/n wishes he could hide the thoughts as they ring in his head, wishing his small smile wasn’t such a giveaway.

“Y/n? Did we lose you again?” The girl across the table asks, bangs falling into her face. Grace, is her name. 

“Yeah, you look distracted.” F/n snickers, nudging Y/n’s elbow because unlike the others, he knows exactly where his best friend’s gaze is lingering. 

Blood rushes to Y/n’s face, realizing how obvious he had been just now. 

“I’m fine.” He insists, elbowing F/n right back. The others shrug it off, not noticing how one last glance is shot towards Draco.

Lunch is closer to wrapping up when Y/n notices the time- 1:48. 

“Oh, wait-“ he looks over at F/n. “Man, we gotta go-“  

At this, the boy looks at the time and nods. They both grab their things, wishing goodbye to their friends- Ms. McGonagall would be expecting a finished project in the next hour. 

They weave through the students crowded  around tables, holding their bags close to their hips to take less room. Getting out early gets them more time, though their project was nearly done anyways Ms. McGonagall really talked this one up. 

Stepping out through the giant wooden doors, Y/n breathes out.

“Alright, you have the-“ his words are cut short when someone steps into his path. 

Looking up, he finds 3 people standing in front of him, having bumped into the first one. They’re all from Slytherin. 

“Sorry, didn’t see you.” He tries to step around them, but the boy in front recognizes him and suddenly seems very interested.

“Wait a minute,” he steps in front of Y/n again, “Y/n.” His name on this strange boy’s tongue doesn’t sound like a question, honestly it feels threatening. Y/n furrows his eyebrows, and steps back.

“Uh, yeah?” There’s an intimidating look in the Slytherin boy’s eye- one that not even his friends know the reason for. They, as well as F/n, watch curiously.

“Aren’t you that Hufflepuff that has a crush on Malfoy?”

What.

Y/n’s heart stops, his eyes widen. Who is this kid? 

“Huh?”

“Oh don’t think I haven’t seen anything,” confidence seems to build in the boys voice, the look on Y/n’s face coming as confirmation for his words. “You’re always making puppy eyes at him- oh, I so knew it!” 

The excitement in this boy’s voice is strange- was he betting on this? Does he not realize how creepy that feels?

“Wait, slow down,” one of the Slytherin’s step forward, wrapping her head around the news, “you like Malfoy? Really?”

Y/n doesn’t like the tone of her voice.

“A Hufflepuff? Liking Malfoy?” She scoffs, “oh please.”

Y/n feels too exposed, like he’s suddenly being poked and prodded from under a microscope. 

How had they found out? 

Who else knows? 

He looks at F/n, eyes screaming for help. Another minute here, when kids could walk around the corner at any moment, hear his secret slowly leaking from the safety of his own self, and he might explode.

“You guys are on something strong, aren’t you?” F/n swoops in, trying to play it off and Y/n makes a mental note to remind the boy how grateful he is for him in a moment.

“Quit projecting, will you? Pathetic, really.” F/n says, though avoids any eye contact with the three. He shoves Y/n’s shoulder, who stumbles, and leads him away as quickly as possible. 

By the time they get to the library, Y/n’s head is already swimming, mainly from embarrassment. 

He never wanted anyone to know- he still doesn’t want that. This little “crush” was supposed to stay between him and F/n, for that was the only person he ever trusted to carry it. 

But now? With some smug Slytherin boy walking around with his feelings cupped in the palm of his hand? Y/n’s lost his safety rail. Now, his feelings are vulnerable, ready to be spilled to Draco at any second. 

Two hands hold his shoulders firmly, he recognizes them as F/n’s. No surprise, considering there’s barely any one else in the library right now. Y/n’s eyes dart to meet his.

“Hey, you alright?” He asks, and it takes an extra moment for the e/c eyed boy to come up with an answer.

“I think so.” He says, nodding. F/n copies the gesture.

“Good, that’s good. I’m sure not that many people know, ok?” He reassures Y/n, who’s grateful for the words as they bring back some stability. 

“Right.” 

Now that he’s out of that boys uncomfortable gaze, he doesn’t feel as panicked as he did before. More so, unsettled. 

“Right, yeah, uh- let’s get back to the project.” With the nod of his head, and one last look, F/n is agreeing. The two boys sit down at one of the many tables, between two tall bookshelves. 

‘Maybe it’s ok,’ Y/n thinks to himself, ‘not that many people know.’

**

You realize now, that you spoke too soon.

The next day comes, and you’re now standing in the bathroom wasting away time that’s supposed to be spent in Snape’s potions class. It’s empty, aside from you of course, nothing but the sound of a running faucet. 

It’s so quiet that when the door creaks open, people stepping inside, your head snaps to the side, startled. 

It’s two boys, both from Gryffindor, named Avery and Jaxon and you immediately recognize them from a few classes. You turn back to the sink. 

Neither of them look at you, instead disappearing into two of the stalls. 

By the time they’re both out of the stalls, you’re washing the final suds from your hands. From the mirror, you see their faces change, realizing who you are. 

The air becomes unnecessarily tense, you’re unsure why, both of the boys are trying to pretend otherwise. 

Avery and Jax glance at each other, walking to the sinks. And it’s not until Avery decides to speak, that the silence is again broken.

“Hey, um-“ you look at him, “I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but…” he looks hesitant to speak, like what he say might come off as offensive, something sensitive. Your curiosity only grows. 

“Is it true, that you and Draco are dating?”

You nearly choke.

“What?” You asks, hating that this is the 2nd time Draco has been brought up to you. 

“I mean, I heard that-“ Avery seems to notice the growing worry plastered on your face- it’s spreading. Your secret is spreading.

“Oh,” Avery begins to realize, “sorry, Y/n, that was a bit invasive.” His tone is calm, only slightly uncomfortable. Pretty much the opposite to you- itching to drop the conversation. But, you keep a calm face, shoving the gross feelings down. 

“No it’s fine, um, why?” You can only hope your voice doesn’t give everything away. 

“Oh, I just thought I heard a couple Slytherin kids talking about it.” Again, his voice feels too nonchalant. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Oh.” The slightest shake. Unlike Avery, though, Jax still seems interested.

“Wait- do you like him though?” This results in an elbow to rib, and Avery looks at him like a mother scolding their child.

“Ow!-“ Jax grunts, glaring yet ignoring the hint, “I’m just asking. You know about the Slytherins and Huffs’.” 

“They just…” his eyes dart right back to yours, “they just don’t go together, man.” You hate the way he says it- hate how it feels like you’re being scolded, looked down on. Looking down at the yellow and black robes draped across your shoulder, you avoid Jaxon’s gaze. 

Which, in hindsight, gives enough of an answer.

The two Gryffindors shuffle out of the bathroom, and immediately you let out a groan. 

You’re fucked. 

Hands run down your face in exasperation- this wasn’t supposed to get out. Draco probably knows now, people think that you’re dating. 

The unusually large bathroom echoes mumbled curses back to you, silence so eery it feels haunting. You feel yourself  beginning to doubt if you should even return to potions class- knowing Draco is sitting at the desk a few feet from yours. 

“They just don’t go together, man…”

“A Hufflepuff? Liking Malfoy? Oh, please…”

Another sigh.

You feel your fingers pressing into your eyelids, passing over your temples and the wrinkles above your nose.

‘He’s gonna hate me’

Such a childish thought, but once it appeared you felt a sickening feeling in your chest because oh, how you wish he doesn’t. 

Outside, footsteps echo in the hallway. 

And Draco himself, walks down the corridor towards the boy’s bathroom, taking his time with the silence. It’s a much better option, compared to Snape’s incessant grumbling. 

He’s been trying to think the whole day- but is only now getting the chance thanks to that little posse of his.

For hours now, whenever given the chance, his mind drifts back to the conversations from early this morning at breakfast.

“Have you heard?” Pansy leans over the table, one eyebrow raised as if she’s careful of listening ears. Though, to that she doesn’t spare a second thought.

Blaise narrows his eyes, looking at her curiously. “Heard what?” He asks, and Draco impatiently looks at her.

“What now.” The blonde already doesn’t care, Pansy always seems to find some sort of gossip across houses. But this time, she’s sending a smirk right his way.

“Some little Hufflepuff has a crush on you.”

Now, to this, Draco does perk up- and his eyes flicker in your direction for only a moment. But, he doesn’t allow himself to acknowledge it. 

“Mhm.” Pansy sounds so smug in her words, satisfied as both boys lean closer to her.

“Who?” Blaise asked, the roughness behind his voice covering any curiosity. 

“Y/n L/n.”

Draco looks bewildered for a second- you?  He never thought it was actually you, that was only a spark of hope in a moment of weakness. He was prepared to hear the name of some random girl he hadn’t learned the name of before- but the familiar ring of your name brought satisfaction to follow the shock.

He doesn’t even try to hide the smirk that shows through. Beside him, Blaise scoffs.

“You’re joking”. He says, and Draco shoots him a glare.

“What? It’s no surprise,” he says cockily, “jealousy’s never a good look”. The meaningless comeback earns a glare and an eye roll from Blaise- and surprises Pansy. 

“Draco,” she narrows her eyes, “do you like this? Him?” She gives him a once-over, checking to see if he’s serious. He is.

Draco doesn’t give a straight answer, though, instead scoffing and going back to his plate. 

“Get a life, why don’t you. Your gossip is boring me.” He says- but there’s the slightest pull at his lips, smiling your way.

Draco pushes open the large door, stepping inside the bathroom and immediately- his eyes land on you.

“Y/n?” 

Your head snaps up, and a new feeling sinks into your stomach when you see him. You can’t tell if you wish it was someone else, or if this is perhaps what you were hoping for.

“Uh, hey.”

Draco steps closer, and you can see some sort of glint in his eyes, and you can’t quite name the warm yet uneasy feeling that follows.

“Skipping Snape’s class now, are we?” He teases in a smug voice, and your blood aches in your cheeks. 

“Just taking a break-“ you don’t look at him, using a towel to wipe off your hands. You simply want to play it cool in front of him, though you’re unsure considering the past two times you seem to have failed.

“A break, hmm? I’m sure.” He says sarcastically.

Instead of picking a stall, like you expected, you watch from the corner of your eye as he approaches you and leans on one of the sinks.

“So,” 

You freeze. 

‘Don’t say it..’

“There seems to be a bit of a rumor spreading around.” 

You visibly wince, the moment you prayed would never come has arrived. He found out- and just like the others, he knows that he could never accept a silly school crush from your house.

Turned away, you’re unable to see the smirk on his face- but you can hear it in his voice.

“Draco…” you mumble, feeling the dread of what his response is going to be. He’s closer now, you feel it- and suddenly his figure is right beside you. 

“Y’know, if you wanted a date so badly you could’ve asked.”

You pause.

What?

His voice is new, because while there’s still such a teasing tone buried in the words, you notice…hope, as well.

You look at him, and notice his eyes have softened. 

“What?”

“You heard me,” he says, “no need to have waited so long.” He still sounds partially like he’s joking, but his fingers are creeping closer to yours by the sink’s ledge.

The pieces are starting to connect in your head- he hasn’t pushed you away, hasn’t called you any names. In fact- he’s the one getting so close.

Draco watches, examining your face. He’s starting to feel impatient, actually, feeling he’s been clear enough. He doesn’t seem to understand how confusing his words can be- how your beating heart is twisting and unraveling in your chest. He’s too preoccupied with his own churning heart.

“What’re you saying?” You finally ask, and he nearly scoffs.

“Hell, you’re real thick in the head aren’t you?”

He doesn’t even try stopping himself as his hands cup your face, and his lips are molding right into yours.

He’s so quick with it, like he’s been waiting years for this, yet so smooth at the same time. You can feel your eyes as they shoot open, only to hazily fall half closed a moment later. 

His arms loop around your waist, so you were almost bent into his body. You have to take a cautionary step back just to stable yourself, one hand holding his neck, it almost takes you too long to realize he is kissing you. 

‘Holy shit, holy shit holy shit holy shit-‘ your mind races, and it feels like only half of it is functioning. Part of you is swimming, the other half melting into his arms because oh how long have you been waiting to feel him so close. 

He’s smirking into the kiss now, breaking it into quicker, shorter kisses that mesh together to make one, long breathless one. Through the haze of his lips, your hand creeps into his hair and he wonders why he waited so long to experience this.

You tug slightly, other hand grabbing his jaw, and you pull him away.

The room is no longer silent, both of you  catching your breath.

“I’ll take that as your confession, then?” You ask.

“‘Course,” he replies, “meet again after Potions?”

“Sounds good.”

[I hope you all enjoyed- I feel there’s probably more I could’ve added or something, but for now this is good. If anyone wants an add on or more or like a part two let me know!]

[the-moon-and-stars]

you are amazing !! love your writing , could you maybe make a amane oneshot where he takes you stargazing and he then cuddles you? btw u are awsome stay hydrated and have a lovely day ! :)

A/N: Wow, it's been awhile since I've done one of these, and this is a really old request, but I miss writing and I miss you guys. <3 Took my time on this one, and I haven't written anything tbhk related in a good minute, so bare with me. Warnings: Nothing but pure fluff

Amane’s hand grabbed yours as he pulled you towards him, his eyes illuminating under the moonlit gaze peeking from the window as you both stood still by the stairwell, the shadows from the dark corner peeking behind his back seemed only to define his features more.

An amused laugh bubbled in your throat as your eyebrow raised, “Amane, you know it’s well after school hours, what are you doing?” Your eyes glanced down to your hand interlaced with his, you felt the gentle squeeze tatter against your skin, throughout your whole body, your eyes finding his again. “I can’t spend extra time with my girlfriend?”

You scoffed, Amane always tried to smooth talk his way out of things, especially when mischief was born from it. “We need to go home.” 

Amane let out a sigh of defeat, for a moment you thought you’d convince him, but this is Amane we’re talking about. “We will, after this.” He proceeded to drag you up the steps, the abrupt movement making you almost trip, and you held onto the railing for stability. Your shouts of protest went to vain as he pushed the door open that led to the roof.

The soft breeze gently cupped your face as your eyes wandered to the scene in front of you. There was a blanket set down with constellations scattered across the dark blue fabric. His telescope was set next to the blanket, inviting you to peek through into a starlit fantasy that rested in the night sky.

You walked forward, your hand gently losing its grip from Amane’s as you moved closer to the blanket, you couldn’t help but smile. You knelt down, your knees hitting the cotton below as your hands ran through the fluffy sewn blanket. 

“You did this.. For me?” You turned to the boy who was only standing a few inches away, a smile laid on his features, due to the moonlight you could even see the canthal lines at the corners of his eyes, he never looked happier. His eyes appeared to match the constellations that laid on the sheet you were kneeling on now. He walked closer to you as you scooted over to give room for him to sit with you.

Sitting beside you, you noticed how nervous he was, a faint blush stained his cheeks and his hands stilled on his knees, but you could see his thumb lightly tapping the fabric of the jeans. 

“I did.” Amane’s head turned to face yours, his hand finding yours, a touch that was made so many times yet this felt more intimate. It burned into your skin as his hand clasped yours, guiding you closer to the telescope in front of you. The metal was cold against your skin as you brought your eye to the smaller hole of the telescope, allowing you to get a closer glimpse of the stars above.

Amane’s hands reached and turned the telescope to the right while you were looking through, his other hand rested on your shoulder. “You see that?” 

You hummed in response, looking at the star that seemed to shine brighter than the rest, like a mini sun, and coincidentally, that’s exactly what it was. “They call that one Sirius, it’s actually one of the brightest stars up there, and the closest to Earth.”

A small smile was placed on your lips as you listened to him explaining the star to you. You could hear the passion in his voice as he said these facts so easily, like they were engraved in his memory, saying them was as easy as breathing, not one stutter. The star shone, and you monovered your hands so you were able to zoom in on the bright light, noticing just how similar yet so different it was to the others that surrounded it. “It’s beautiful…”

You heard small movements behind you, the blanket becoming a bit disarray from the shuffling. You felt hands placed on your hips as Amane slowly pulled you away from the telescope. “Hey, I wasn’t done-”

Your sentence was cut short when you felt his head rest itself on your shoulder, his hair tickling your skin, making you more self aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours. His hands and arms wrapped around your lower stomach as he pressed you further into him. Your arms popped with goosebumps and an uncontrollable smile fought its way on your face.

“I wanted to show you this, to show you how beautiful the stars are,” Amane mumbled, the feeling of his lips lightly pressing against your skin as he spoke brought heat up from your neck to your cheeks. “And how it’s not enough to ever take my eyes off you.” 

Your smile broadened as your hand moved down and rested on top of his, the padding of your thumb gently caressing his knuckles. You looked up at the night sky, your lashes fluttering and your gaze dazed with pure bliss. “Nothing could ever pull my eyes from you either.”

Amane held you tighter in response, indulging himself in your smell, how sweet it was and your touch, the softness of your skin that brought an eerie calm to him. How your voice sounded and the small breaths you took in a serene moment such as this one.

He had you in his hands, he was able to reach you and admire you up close the way he wanted to, unlike the moon that’ll always be a beauty from afar. The difference between you and the stars in Amane’s eyes was that you were simply ineffable, the sky couldn’t come close.

[tinycozycomfort]

rest in the cup of my palms (part three)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter three: compromise

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or  you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: joel helps you work through your doubts.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut, ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn / (for this chapter) -> sad thoughts about fatherhood, idolization!!, oral sex (f receiving), edging

word count: 5k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: thank you for your patience and thank you as always for reading! and special thank you to @pascalisbaby for bearing with me as i cried my way through this i love u

read on ao3 / main masterlist

“For the first time, I could clearly perceive the nature of feelings and emotions—I physically felt their consistency… the surge of a wave, the crumbling of a cliff… I understood the necessity of comparisons and metaphors using water and fire.”

Annie Ernaux, Simple Passion

───────

Minutes go by, but sluggishly, painfully—a dull crawl that mimics the cinematic use of slow-motion. The fracturing feels pre-climactic and almost momentous, too-long strides of seconds that pave the way for something grand. 

In reality, you’re just waiting; in this barely-lit, one shot hallway, aptly partnered by a life-sized amount of discomfort. You feel like a piece of something sprouted up from cement, forced into a mold not made with you in mind—love and like and candy-sweet, feverish feelings—unable to be removed now that you’ve grown in over the lip. Reaching for the sun. And he’s beautiful above you, radiant enough to burn behind closed eyelids—the image that shines there a carefully chosen snapshot that only adds height to where he hangs in the sky.

You’ve become so tired already, from the work-up and the frustration and the effort to stop it—like being outside all day with no reprieve until sunset; he’s that strong. It’s been restraint, followed by actions that negate it, followed by reinstating restraint, and still it doesn’t stop daylight from happening. Morning and high noon and six-o-clock oranges will never stop happening, so why not free yourself of the excessive rumination and the fighting? You’d much rather try to brave him—sunscreen and shade and a flat hand above your brow. Trying is good, easy, uncomplicated. Tonight, you can try. This is a good idea.

He’ll be here soon to prove it, too—on his way to come collect you, confirmed by the oblong rectangle of text on the brick clutched in your fist.

You move enough that it wakes up again, ’Fifteen minutes.’ flashing across its face, burning under the pad of your thumb. The thing is overheating now, somehow having absorbed some of the furious twisting of your excitement, and you shove it deep into your bag to let it cool—too honest of a mirror.  

You will your body to restart, moving back out onto the yard in search of Ian, to warn him of your exit—the only courtesy you have enough patience to give—frantic to get to the good part. 

You find him out by the flame, one foot resting on the brick-lined ledge of the pit, a still-full beer bottle tight in his grip. It’s tepid, too, if the lack of condensation is any indication. You curl your nose and he tips the top towards you, a waft of sour citrus pouring out. 

“What happened? My friend came back very upset that you were gone,” he teases, cocking a smile and rolling his neck over in question, languid and unserious.

“I’m leaving, actually. Didn’t want to go without saying.” You knock the bottle with the back of your hand until it threatens to spill over in the other direction. It’s unoffending, really, a nervous reaction, but it has him visibly questioning what ten minutes out of view had done to make you so taut.

He straightens up minutely at your unrest, only enough to reel back his exaggerated demeanor without drawing looks, “Are you good to drive? I haven’t had any of this yet—I can take you home.” 

“I’m not driving. I’ve got a ride.” 

“With?”

“Joel’s going to come get me.” 

His eyes widen, mouth spreading with what you’re sure are five too many questions, so you stop him before he can continue—afraid to mar his night with what you imagine would be too much to navigate right now, “I’ll explain tomorrow. Text me when you get home. I love you. I’m fine.” 

Part of you—a part that has no say right now—feels guilty for doing this to him a second time, for putting your friend through another half-witnessed, poorly justified fit of emotional anguish. He was the one who brought you here, to get away from this very thing, but somewhere in your bag there’s a faint stir, hard vibration jostling the contents, and you fail to think Ian through, again.

He’s barely even started to nod before you turn, slipping through the side gate and out onto the lawn. 

It only takes another handful of stretched-out moments—time lost completely on you now—before opaque beams cast across the curve of the street from the top of the cul-de-sac. They drop off into low-lights once the driver registers your presence and you push forward on shaky legs, knees locking—blood having gathered in your chest from anticipation, sloshing around your heart and cutting off circulation to your limbs. 

The vehicle—a truck—passes you, hitting the end of the block and returning up the drive, passenger door addressing you when it stops, your reflection warped in its convex surface. The window rolls down with a whir, and Joel’s face appears in the slit, eyes tired and hair flattened unintentionally—you absolutely woke him up. 

You let yourself in, hiking up a static-logged leg to settle in the seat before he pulls off back onto the street. It’s silent for too long, and you’re returning to a familiar feeling of acceptance, just like all the nights in your past where you’d admitted to yourself that you were going home with someone, driven by fuzzy feelings of instant connection and promise. It makes him easier to grasp—more human-like.

“You were asleep,” you mumble sheepishly, acknowledging his unpreparedness in an attempt to forgive your own. 

“‘Wasn’t supposed to be. I was waiting up for Ellie. I—uh, I thought you were her when you called.” 

He sounds just as level as he had on the phone, fingers rapping rhythmically on the steering wheel, “She texted a few hours ago to let me know she was out for the night. I fell asleep before I could see it.” 

Joel tucks the corner of his elbow in the window, laying his cheek on curled knuckles, and you chance a real glance at him for the first time. 

His dark blue t-shirt is wrinkled where it had been bunched at the torso, hanging limply now over a pair of rumpled jeans. Creases of sofa or pillow-case run up like tendrils on the skin of his arm, pressed in at various degrees of depth—restless enough to continue to pivot, even in repose. 

He looks homey, spun out of flesh-colored wool thread and plush, unlike the fatigue you’d seen on him in the classroom, or the buzz of anxious tension on the side of the school a few days ago. Here he’s just Joel, free of the idea of him or his actions; just-awake Joel with nothing to say except the truth. Pressure sits weighted on your shoulders, lingering guilt from choosing to savor, even if within the safety of emotional distance. It’s okay to look, isn’t it? Although looking isn’t all you had in mind.

“Can we go to your house?” 

“Did you drink?” 

Joel peers over his shoulder at you, and he looks meek but not small, like the question itself isn’t embarrassing but the act of asking it is. Oh. You remember your last encounter, how you’d blamed your exit on the wine, and your heart constricts at the idea that he’s asking because he’s afraid you’ll leave again. In all honesty, you wish you could leave, be strong-willed enough to have him let you out a block from your front door, never to be seen again. But you’re weak, at the mercy of your need to test your limits, your brain dipping into its reserve while your body fights to feign presence, hands rolling into fists in your lap.

“No. I haven't gone out much since the break started. Decided against getting fucked up.” 

He hums, satisfied, eyes falling ahead. The tires grind under you, lulling you into another tense quiet until he’s pulling up to the front of a well-kept, stone-faced home at the end of a short street. You lean forward to see more of it beyond the curve of the windshield, lined in copper trim with fender-shaped dents bruising the cover of the garage. It’s a call-back to grade school—what limited experience you had traversing the suburbs as a child—visiting friends in large, traditional houses with pretty concrete fountains and security-alarm signs forced into panels of fresh grass. 

Joel steps out and comes around the car to open your door before you have the chance to do it yourself, popping open the handle and stilling for a second before just stepping out of your way, perhaps in the sake of not being overly cliche. You try to appear unaffected by the notion, climbing down with a smile and sealing the door behind you, but you inwardly relish in his considered movements—he’s taming himself for you.

He leads you into the house—as quaint as it seemed to be—smelling warm and peppery like heat-soaked wood. It’s very much lived in, riddled with evidence of use—scuff marks at the threshold and smudged fingerprints in the dark paint on the walls where boots were taken off with the assistance of a grip. A side table brackets one side of the entrance, littered with bobbles and keys and a few other store-bought treasures. At its closest foot are several pairs of little sneakers, piled tall and wide on a wedge of rug, too narrow to be Joel’s. 

Ellie. 

There are signs of her everywhere, this faceless extension of him, her name scribbled on a few papers on the table and in the corners of framed drawings in the hallway; gorgeous hand, she has—all of the figures looking as true to life as they could, even when confined to paper cages. She lines the edges of their domicile, a path of lovingly curated representations of her, right down to a monogrammed leather sketchbook that sits on the dining table. 

And everywhere she is, he follows. Parts of him loom over her place-holders—guitar picks marked J in a dish with a box of charcoal nubs, a rolled up wad of button-up laid over a dark green backpack, a men’s watch sharing space on the counter with two tiny drops of backed silver. He watches over her within the borders of every container, open and solidly present behind her like a tough-knit net—ready to catch.

You step out of your shoes and he walks further in the house with haste, knocking around in what you assume is the kitchen when he returns with a glass of water.

“For you,” as he passes it, “Just in case.” 

“Thank you.” 

He curls a thumb into a belt loop at his waist, body teetering awkwardly as he watches you drink. You note the more-than-safe distance he’s put between you, the same kind he had implemented last week between his heart-wrenching confession and the point where this entanglement had escalated.

“Okay, so. I’m going to change. Do you want something too?” 

You can’t help but smile, a nervous laugh held tight in your throat, “Yes, we can go to your room.” 

Even in the dark, you don’t miss the flush of red along his jaw, the same shade he’d worn in the gallery, wine-soaked and unpracticed. 

You flinch inwardly. How is it that you are remembering so much about him when he’s existed in your world for less time than should be notable? Only two interactions, now three, but they’ve earned their slot in your fondest of memories; nothing substantial provided still, and he casts your sunrises and warms your earth. You fear what touching him again will do to you.

Joel smiles something shy back, walking past you and motioning for you to do the same. He leads you back through the display, minding the little shoes as he climbs up the steps. 

There are photos lining the staircase, less symbolic than the downstairs decorations, but just as revealing. A few of Joel and another man, similar in stature with a full smile and thick, slicked back hair, clasping shoulders or standing pin-straight side by side at different ages in mall-kiosk, christmas card style. Another of a young girl, all teeth and sparse freckles and pale cheeks. She’s wearing a cap and gown, shiny polyester catching in the flash, edges hazy with blur. 

That’s her. His daughter. You’ve seen her, you realize, from a few modeling sessions you’d done when you offered to cover for the younger students. You already knew her, too, floating around more than a few hellos on the days you’d sat for her like a silent idol. It feels odd to be in her home now, the two of you connected in a way she hasn’t come to partake in quite yet. She’s been at the head of your conversations with Joel until now—in this moment when she’s here but not here—and you wonder how much he’s considered her place in all this. You should at least thank her, you suppose; nod at her picture in prayer or cross your fingers that you might actually get to meet her—see her again, rather—and get to say it to her face.

Joel walks ahead of you as you linger, unbothered by your interest. You’re glad he does when you reach the last row. 

A larger frame bookends the slideshow, standing alone in its unique appearance. It’s hand-made, a thin string of painted ferns on the edges, the wings of something like a butterfly or moth wrapping over the right-hand corner, precise and niche enough to be nothing other than a gift. The picture inside is of the two of them together, happy and puffy-cheeked with their arms wrapped around each other, back-lit in front of some kind of museum display. 

Pure joy. His comfort. 

A swell of pain lodges in your ribs, eyes drawing wet. He’s losing her, you think, in a way he hasn’t even begun to realize. He's missed so much of her life—at no fault of their own—and will pursue her future as a bystander. You long to give him some kind of relief in that, maybe out of pity or maybe out of need. You wanted to be on your own, you wanted to be separated from everyone else out of spite for letting your family and your ex tower over you, heavy-handing their influence in false gestures of kindness. Not loving. Never loving—only present in best interests and helpful advice. Things that gave you purpose and points. Who was tallying? What have you to show for it now? 

You only ever wanted acceptance from them, to be recognized as a person instead of as a student or a daughter or a girlfriend—to be able to transcend role and become an active participant. 

It’s too perfect, this thing you each individually lack; what comes of someone who cares and someone who needs caring? 

“Hey.” Joel calls from the end of the room, pulling you out of your dissection of his life, voice soft like he’s seeing an apparition he’s unsure is there. 

“Hi.” You whisper, walking towards him, ignoring his tentative boundary, “You know, I did everything in my power to not call you.” There’s no point in keeping secrets now, from him or yourself. 

He crowds you in the doorway, body slumping on the line of his spine so he can entrap you more securely, u-shaped shoulders and outward facing palms, “Why did you call?”

“I couldn’t help it,” and before he can interrupt, “Joel, I need you to know that this isn’t going to end well.” 

“End? Have we started?” 

“We were doing this before we both knew it, I think. That’s what you were talking about, right—like we’ve met before?” 

“That’s right.” He’s breathing shallowly, unable to hide his desire for proximity now that you’ve allowed him more than he started with, chest moving back and forth like the breeze of the heater is enough to push his tide, “And I meant it.”

“So did I.” 

“Then what are you so scared of? If it’s familiar?” His knee knocks into the slice of thigh above yours. He’s getting closer. 

“Just because I want you now doesn’t mean I should have you.”

“What if I want you to have me?”

“Even worse.” The heat of his face leaks out onto yours and you open yourself to it—the hot sun in July, the boiling rain of mid-summer, all encompassing and working hard to bring you up to temperature so you can burn along with it. Setting you ablaze. 

You lean up, the tip of your nose catching on the stubble lining his jaw, careful to not break eye contact for longer than the briefest moment, nudging him in short taps. 

“I do, though, honey. I think you know I do.” His knee pushes between yours, digging into the joint of your leg to unfold you, the rough denim over his zipper dragging across the knob of your hip.

You curl a hand around the fabric covering his stomach, wrinkling it past the point of correction as it folds under the damp of your fist. He’s far from at length now, both nothing of what you intended and exactly what you wanted. He’s thrilled about it too, seemingly—the muscle under his torso fluttering when your nails drag against him. 

He’s everything again, everywhere, soft tanned skin and jeans he came up here to ‘change out of’, the invisible halo around him swallowing you, coaxing you into his orbit. You want all of it, piece by piece and for all he’s worth. 

“I don’t want to waste you,” you murmur, and there’s that unashamed boldness again, honesty rushing out like an unsupervised beast. Joel wraps his thick fingers around the side of your neck, thumb pushing into soft cheek, between rows of teeth and over skin, pushing them apart. 

His eyes are glossy, like he’s just gotten up from a long sleep, gauzy and sloppy and sticky. His mouth hangs open to mimic yours as he speaks, “You couldn’t. I have an endless amount to give,” and then he’s licking the outline of your open lips, slipping his tongue in to press along the roof of your mouth and up up up to the back of your teeth. He’s puffing hard out of his nose, dipping in and out of your split, licking even the pad of his thumb where it pokes through the hollow, touching himself inside you. 

His free hand grips the top of your ribs, leading you backwards towards the bed until you’re seated at the edge of it, his back curved harshly to continue to taste you. 

You’re kissing him back, you know that, but your thoughts float up to cloud your pleasure and you’re getting ahead of yourself all over again. What does he want? Why does he want it? Would he be upset to learn you’re trying to give him less? You flip the hem of his shirt between your forefinger and thumb, toes curling against the carpet—walking that line of self-doubt. 

He breaks away, so careful again even with no clear need to be, “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m just nervous.” 

“About now? Or about me?”

“Both.”

“Just talk to me, then. Tell me why we shouldn’t—we can work through it together. Let me take some of that worry off of you.”

Joel braces a knee on the corner of the mattress to hold himself steady, gripping you under the joints of your shoulders and pulling you towards the center of the bed. He deposits your body like nothing, kneeling at the apex of your thighs. 

Your voice shakes, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He works at the buttons on your shirt with long fingers, drawing it over the hills of your shoulders until your collar rolls in on itself from the force, falling away. Joel wraps the layer over the panel of your jacket and pulls, undressing you like he has to memorize how to be able to put you back together. He does the same with your bra, achingly slow, but you can feel tiny tremors in his wrist as it runs against your back. 

You just watch for a minute, unable to link what he’s doing to reality, arms feeling weak like the dull ache of a full-body cold, akin to sickness. 

“Go on, honey. Only gonna keep going as long as you do.”

“I— I feel connected to you. I don’t want to.” 

He closes his eyes and bobs his head, I understand, and your body starts to feel numb at your core, pulsing so violently it prompts you to roll your ankle to make sure you haven’t left it behind. 

“More,” he pants, running fully-spread hands over every piece of bare skin, your nipples pulling tight as the motions move from gentle to greedy, passing to tugging. 

“I can’t do this again. I have a hard time letting go. What if you want me for the wrong reason and I can’t hate you for it?” 

He pops the button of your pants, lifting you up off the bed to take the garment down and off, dipping his fingers into the rim of each of your socks on the way to remove them at the same time.

You push your forefingers into the band of your underwear, but Joel meets your hand as you start, winding a finger around the lace and pulling opposite so they catch—leave these on. 

You comply, but you know you’re already wet through them, know that he can see it, and you can’t decide if you want him to know his effect on you, legs buckling in no clear direction; but he feels so good, and he’s almost where you want him, and he’s waiting for you to keep talking, so you lean into the heat. You spread.

“It’s easy to tell myself you’re different once I’m in it. But it never works out right. I get too attached.” 

Joel settles in, shouldering the left side of his body under your thigh to bring you open further, wrapping his arm around it and letting a hand situate against your belly. He turns his right palm away from himself, flattening it like a warning sign before he pushes it against the crease of your cunt, rubbing in slow circles with the curve of his fingers, right under the points. You thrash, trying to force him just an inch up to where you’re throbbing, but he doesn’t budge—he’s making you earn it.

“What if you just want me because you think you need someone to take care of? What if you find out you feel better alone?”

He dips two fingers into your cunt through the film of your underwear, shallow but firm—more than just curious. You feel like you might just come from this, from just the suggestion of him. 

He uses his forearm to butt against the underside of your thigh, prompting you to lift it towards your chest, and he leans down to cup your clit into his mouth, fabric and all. His mouth is searing with the aid of the material, a tight suction that insulates the heat he’s expelling. 

You’re heaving now, light-headed and loose as broad strokes of his tongue soak the already tainted cloth, the extra stimulation from its drag enough to make your head spin. You’re sure that if you breathe any harder your chest will cave in.

“Hm?” He asks against you, demanding, the vibration of it setting your skin alight, and you force your nails into the dip of your hand to keep your mind in the room. You’re stuttering, but it’s not enough of a response, so he leans back—cruel and merciless. 

“What did I say?” he coos, left hand pinching into the swell of flesh at your side.

It stings but you gasp, eager to take, even if the attention so so far away from where it should be, and you have to count your breaths out in groups of five to come back into focus. 

“What if I’m willing to take what you give me? Does that ruin the safety I’ve built for myself?” you whisper, and finally he peels back the curtain of fabric, only enough to present your entrance, rough fingers greeting your opening with no resistance, twisting and hooking them so just the tips are fixed inside. He positions himself above his hand, spitting onto your still-covered clit, watching it slide down and gather where you join. It’s unnecessary, with how much slick you know is pooled there, trailing down onto the sheets under you, but you chalk it up to just having another piece of him inside of you—you’ll gladly accept it.

You’re so very close, and he can tell, maybe from the shake in your hoisted leg or the lack of time in between airy cries, and he just slides in, right to the first knuckle. No room to be ready.

The sound of blood rushing in your ears is so loud you don’t hear yourself when you start begging. You writhe under the hold he has on you, relieved and overwhelmed and a few inches from your soul pouring right out of your body.

And then he’s not moving again, lessening the recovery time he’s willing to allow you, and you try to dig through the fog of arousal to find real words, but your mind can only conjure up a single-syllable sentence as you beg him to relent. 

He frees himself from the clutch of your leg, shimmying out so he can use his unsodden hand to cradle your head, the weight of your skull limp in his palm, “You can do it. Get it all off your chest.”

Joel presses his thumb up under your cheek, pulling at the crease of your lips like he can will you to speak with force alone. 

“I can’t. Please. Just finish.”

“You have something else you want to say. I don’t take kindly to giving up. C’mon.”

He gives you a half-step, reminding you part of him is still within you, fingers curling up against the soft muscle and you skip over a hard inhale. 

“How am I supposed to know what I’m up against if you won’t tell me?” He says it like it’s obvious, like this is some very common step in relationship-building—finger-fucking you as a reward for confessing your skepticism. 

You’re tense, holding the whole of your body in one, tiny scrap of you and it feels like you’ve entered some kind of limbo, suspended in the place between tension and relief, so close to falling that you’re not sure you want either of them. 

He angles himself again, pushing his entire heft into your hip with a wide hand so he can fit himself flat against the bed, mouth hovering over your cunt again. He exhales hard over you, the fingers still tucked in your cunt moving as he adjusts. 

“Please?” He begs sweetly, high enough on the end that you know he’s mocking you, “You can do better than please.”

You huff hard, swallowing thickly—trying again, “What if you—What if—,” you manage, and the lead-up must be convincing enough because he bows again, body fully flat so he can latch on to your clit with his mouth, lips closing tight around the bud through cotton and sucking hard, the hand inside you stirring to life, his twisted positive reinforcement serving you well.

“Fuck, Joel. Fuck—What if you make me love you, just to leave me?” 

Your ankle drifts down to find purchase against his waist, and you can feel him moving, working himself into the mattress. In the chaos, you’d forgotten about his want, and being reminded of his ability to take makes your sweat run cold. He could fuck you now, and instead he’s fucking the bed thinking about you—even bringing you to completion is enough to make him chase release. You lean your head back behind your shoulders, your orgasm overtaking you one harsh wave at a time, stomach filling with thick, hot syrup. You push your teeth so deep into your lip there has to be blood but you can’t taste it, all of your senses honed onto where he’s unraveling you, shrinking in on itself in preparation to violently burst.

He weighs in, now that you’re already cresting, “I won’t leave you, sweetheart. Not now that I know what you need.” 

His admission, his promise, is enough to make you see white, pushing your peak into overstimulation far too soon, and you have to be crying or begging or something because he immediately slows, winding you down in an organic way—taking his time leading you past bliss. 

He pulls his hand free of you, sliding his grip over the damp, half-mounted fabric and peeling it away, hand circling your calf to maneuver you gently.

You’re fully naked now, and when he rolls over to stand at the foot of the bed, you remember he’s still clothed. There he is, above you again like he brings the dawn, bent shirt and uneven waistband and shiny slip over his lips.

It looks different from your memory though, here he looks inexplicably pained, face wrinkled, and then settles another reminder—he hadn’t come.

“Wait, Joel.” 

He doesn’t answer, just recedes to another part of the room you can’t see over your heap of arms and legs. 

You’re still swallowing ragged mouthfuls of air, not quite normal, when he reappears, the feeling of hot cloth against your still fragile cunt makes you writhe.

“Joel.” 

“Yes?” 

“You didn’t get to… finish,” you mutter, and how you’re too embarrassed to address his arousal even after what just transpired is beyond you. 

“No need to rush anything. I can take care of myself for now, plenty of time to get to that point.”

“What now, then?” 

“Sleep with me. I can take you home if you want, or to your car, but I would much rather if you stayed.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

[brattyvox]

★ GALLY’S GIRL — MxF.

NAVIGATION — MASTERLIST // Inbox to be on Taglist!

Thomas has just arrived at the Glade, and only days after his arrival, a girl is introduced, and the first person who catches her eye is Gally.

GENRE ★ Fluff if you squint?

PAIRING ★ Fem reader x Gally

WARNINGS ★ Reader is implied to be injured, nothing serious though, Gally’s a bit of an asshole, reader kind of replaces Teresa? Idk, you’re Teresa in this case, reader is of age.

Word Count — 2.94k

My first ever fic on tumblr, lol.. i hope u guys like it :))

In the early dawn, the glade was alive with the hum of activity. Thomas, still new to the group, was already finding his place among the other boys. They moved together, each knowing their role in the daily routine that kept this place thriving. The scent of cooking fires mingled with the dew-laden grass as the sun began to peek over the towering walls that surrounded them.

The sky above was a canvas of pinks and oranges, the light dancing off the leaves of the trees that grew in an orderly fashion around the clearing. It was as if nature itself had laid out a path for them to follow, a silent guide in this otherwise mysterious world. The air was cool and fresh, hinting at the secrets the day would soon reveal.

Gally took a deep breath, feeling the tension that lingered just beneath the surface of everything. Everyone else seemed to ignore it, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. He watched as the runners returned from their early morning laps, sweat shining on their skin, muscles flexing as they moved.

Suddenly, a low rumbling cut through the serenity of the glade. The boys paused in their tasks, heads tilting upwards as they listened. The sound grew louder, a grating intrusion in their peaceful world. It was the box, rising from the depths of the maze much sooner than expected. A flicker of unease passed over their faces. The box was here way too early.

"What is that?" Thomas asked. Newt being the only other person near him at the time dropped his tools and put his hand on his forehead.

"The box is coming back up but — it's way too early for them to be sending anyone…" He mumbled the last part. "But it can't be resources either… I think it's a person."

"What?" Thomas scoffed, walking over to where the song was coming from along with Newt and the rest of the glade. "Why would they send anyone if it's too early?"

“You’re asking me as if I know.” Newt folds his arms.

“Well, you’ve been here than me I would’ve thought-” Thomas paused when the sound grew louder, his voice was with a mix of curiosity and fear. The rumbling grew closer, the earth beneath their feet vibrating gently with each mechanical jolt.

The group gathered around the hole in the ground where the box normally emerged, their eyes fixed on the distant corner where the box would soon appear. The walls themselves seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation. The grinding noise grew louder, the metal beast rising from the earth with a shudder that sent a chill down Thomas's spine. The box emerged from the shadows.

Inside was…you? A girl?

Your eyes fluttered open, and you gasped for breath, the smells of metal and dust filling your nose as you took in the faces of the stunned group of boys. Your clothes were tattered, and your skin was riddled with dirt, but the look of shock on their faces wasn't for your appearance. It was because you were a girl, and you were sent way too early something they hadn't seen in a very, very long time.

The box shuddered to a halt. The door creaked open, revealing the cramped space you had been confined in. You backed into the corner, legs wobbly and unsteady from the journey. The group of boys parted, creating a pathway for Gally to walk through. Before he reached the box, Thomas stepped forward, hand outstretched to help you, but you shied away, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, voice quiet to not alarm you. “None of us will.”

Thomas stared, feeling as if he recognized you but…it wasn't clicking. You were so out of place here, a stark contrast to the world of boys he'd known since he woke up in the glade with no memory. His mind raced, trying to piece together why you were here, what this meant. The glade had always been a place of order, of understanding their roles and sticking to the rules. Now, everything was off.

The other boys whispered among themselves, a mix of awe and suspicion. Gally's eyes narrowed, a scowl etching itself onto his features. He was the first to break the silence, his voice harsh and accusatory. "What is she doing here?"

“Do you really have to act like that right now? She’s clearly scared.” Thomas grumbled, very fed up with Gally at this point.

Alby, the leader of the glade, pushed through the crowd, his eyes never leaving yours. "Looks like she's been through a lot. Get her to the med hut.” His tone was gentle but firm, a stark contrast to Gally's aggression.

As Thomas helped you out of the box and to the medical hut with Gally, Alby, and Newt following close behind, your hand trembled in his, and he couldn't help but wonder what horrors you had faced. The glade was a harsh place, but it was their home, and the arrival of an outsider, especially a girl, was unprecedented. The whispers grew louder, questions and theories flying around like leaves in a storm. The glade's rhythm was disrupted, and the unease grew stronger with each step you took away from the box.

Once inside the medical hut, the other boys hovered around, eager to help, but you remained guarded. The healer, a gentle-hearted boy named Clint, began to examine you. His eyes searched yours, looking for signs of recognition or understanding. But you were a blank slate, a girl with no name and no memory of how you got here, like the rest. The stitches on your forehead, a stark reminder of your journey, stood out against your skin.

Gally's shadow loomed outside the hut, his suspicion thick enough to be felt through the walls. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and his jaw was set. "Why the hell did they send a girl," he spat. "What is this, some sort of prank? Ever since you got here, stuff started to go wrong. And now a girl is here."

Thomas felt his temper rising. He had seen enough fear in those first moments when he arrived to understand how you must feel. "It doesn’t matter how or where she came from, we can't just leave her to fend for herself," he countered, his voice firm but not confrontational. "We need to help her, find out who she is."

Newt, who had been quietly observing from the side, spoke up. "It's never been like this before, man. Girls aren't sent here." His eyes searched yours, filled with a curiosity that matched Thomas's.

Alby sighs and takes a seat next to you. "Do you know your name or where…where you came from?"

You looked around the small, makeshift medical area. "I-I don't know," you stammered, your voice cracking. "I don't remember anything."

The room fell silent, the weight of your words pressing down on them like a heavy blanket. The boys shared looks, a mix of concern and confusion. Alby's eyes softened. "We'll figure it out," he assured you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You're safe here."

"Thomas, Gally, watch her. I'm going to try and find something to get the dirt off of her. Make sure none of the other boys get to her. God knows what the hell they'll do. Newt, cmon." Alby sighs before walking out, Newt stopping next to Thomas.

“And make sure Gally doesn’t choke her out.” He whispers before finally leaving.

Thomas nods solemnly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you're okay." His voice is gentle, the first hint of kindness you've heard since you woke up in this strange place. You nod slightly, not trusting your voice to speak again. The other boys start to disperse, their whispers and stares still following you like a cloud of bees.

Once Alby is out of earshot, Gally turns to Thomas with a snarl. "I don't trust her," he says, his eyes flicking to you and then back to Thomas.

Thomas's grip tightens around the spear he's holding. "Gally, you're not — that's a stupid assumption to make, okay?"

"After you came here, shit started to spiral out of control and now we have a girl here? You think I'm stupid for assuming she could be a danger to us?!" Gally's voice raised slightly, your ears perking to his voice. His eyes landed on you, sighing and pulling Thomas away. "She doesn't know her name and she doesn't remember where she came from."

“You trusted me, didn’t you?”

“…That’s different.” Gally groans. “We don’t get sent girls.”

Thomas's gaze remained steady. "The point is we treat her like we would any newbie. Help her, keep her safe, and figure out what the hell is going on." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

Gally looked skeptical, but nodded begrudgingly. "Fine. But if she causes any trouble…" He left the threat hanging in the air, his eyes dark.

"I'm cold…" you mumble. Gally's face contorted.

"It's not even cold outside, how are you cold-?" Gally began, but was cut off by Thomas' gentle nudge.

"Let's get her a blanket, okay?" Thomas offered with a kind smile. You nodded, feeling a small spark of gratitude for his understanding. He left the hut and returned moments later with a warm, woolen blanket that smelled faintly of the glade's flora. Wrapping it around you, he sat down opposite, his eyes never leaving yours.

"What's your name?" he asked softly. The question was simple, but it held a world of meaning in this place where everything was a puzzle.

You searched your thoughts, but the fog was thick and heavy. "I-I don't know," you replied, your voice quivering. "They never told me."

Gally leaned against the wall. "Well, until you remember, your name is Greenie." His tone was not unkind, but it was firm, a reminder that until you had proven yourself, you were still a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit.

Thomas flinched at the term, but you just nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. "Ignore him, okay? I'm gonna check on Alby to see where he is with the stuff. Gally, be nice to her." He shot a look at Gally before exiting the medical hut, leaving you and Gally in an awkward silence.

Gally took a deep breath, his features softening slightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be an ass," he began, his voice gruff. "It's just that we don't get girls here, and the last thing we need is for you to mess up our routine. No kidding, you’re surrounded by boys who haven’t seen a girl in years. Who knows what the hell they’d do to you.”

You nodded, not knowing how to respond. The walls of the hut felt as if they were closing in on you, suffocating you with their unspoken questions and accusations. Your eyes searched the room, landing on the shelves filled with medical supplies and makeshift weapons. You felt utterly out of place, a wildflower in a field of thorns.

Gally's gaze softened, sensing your distress. "Look, I'm not saying you're gonna cause trouble, but we just need to be careful, alright?" He paused, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "Everything changes now, and we need to stick together."

"…What's your name?" you ask. The question felt strange on your lips, foreign and yet familiar at the same time. Gally's eyes narrowed, his arms still crossed.

"I told you; I don't trust you so I'm not tellin'," he replied curtly. "Until then, I'm kinda like your superior or whatever."

You tilted your head, even pouting. "That guy before kept saying Gally and Thomas but I don't know which one is which," you whispered. Gally's stance didn't change, but something in his eyes did, a flicker of something that wasn't quite anger or suspicion anymore.

"Fine," he huffed. "It's Gally." He pointed to Thomas' empty spot. "And that's Thomas. He's the one who brought you in here."

You studied him, the name 'Gally' echoing faintly in your mind like the distant chime of a bell. "Thank you, Gally."

He nodded curtly, still keeping his guard up. "Look, I'm sorry if I'm being harsh, but we've got a system here. It keeps us all alive, and we can't have anyone messing with it. Do you understand?"

You nodded, the warmth of the blanket beginning to seep into your bones. "Yes, you’ve…said that. I won't cause any trouble," you promised, your voice small and hopeful.

Gally sighed, his stance relaxing slightly. "Good."

You twiddled your thumbs, now avoiding eye contact. You still wanted to talk, but you didn't know about what. So, you started to ramble.

"So…what is this place? And — hlong have you been in here?" you asked, trying to piece together the puzzle of this strange place. Gally's eyes searched the room, as if looking for answers in the shadows.

"Too long," he murmured, his voice distant. "A couple of years, I think." He paused, considering his words. "It's hard to keep track of time when every day is the same. And no one really knows what this place is.”

The silence that followed was filled with the unspoken understanding of lives lived in a perpetual cycle of fear and survival. You could see the weariness in Gally's eyes, the weight of his responsibilities etched into the lines of his face. "What's it like outside this place?" you whispered, the curiosity burning like a tiny flame in the pit of your stomach.

Gally's expression darkened. "We don’t know. Like I said, we’ve been stuck in here for years." he said bluntly. "You should be worrying about what it’s like in here. Especially for a girl." His voice held a warning, a clear boundary you were not to cross. Yet, the curiosity grew stronger, the need to understand this world that was now your home.

"You seem to care a lot about me being a girl in here. So like, are you gonna protect me or something? Since it's too much for a girl like me?" You asked Gally, your voice a mix of hope and challenge.

Gally looked at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. Was she flirting with him? No, he’s just crazy. "I'm not saying that."

"Well, you're acting like because I'm a girl, I can't survive in here so does that mean you're gonna protect me, yes or no?" You questioned, your voice a little stronger than before.

Gally sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Look, it's not like that. It's just…-"

"Then what is it?" You push your hair out of your face, causing Gally to choke on his words.

"I-uh, I just-" He stammers before stopping. "Look, Thomas is the one who'll be looking after you."

"But why can't you?" You press, feeling a strange need to understand the dynamics of this place.

Gally's eyes harden. "Because Thomas is the nicest one of us all. He's the one who can handle…this." He gestures at you, his voice laced with something you can't quite pinpoint.

"But he's not the one saying I won't make it because I'm a girl. It's you. You seem to care a lot." You looked up at him, your eyes searching his, trying to understand the complex emotions that played across his face.

Gally's cheeks flushed slightly. "It's not that, it's just…" He trailed off, at a loss for words. "The glade isn't for the weak." His voice was gruff, but the way he said it suggested that he didn't believe you were weak, just different.

"Well, I'm not weak." you slide off the bed and walk over to him, the height difference between you stark. "I've survived whatever they put me through to get here. I can survive this."

Gally's jaw tightens, his eyes never leaving yours. "You might think you're strong, but the glade and the maze…it's not like anything you've ever faced. I mean, you won’t be going into the maze, anyway. We're all here for a reason, and none of us are weak. But we're also all we've got." His words hang in the air, a stark reminder of the precariousness of your situation.

You stand tall, the blanket falling from your shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere. And I'll do whatever it takes to survive." Your voice is steady, the resolve in it unmistakable. Gally stares at you, his expression unreadable.

"I guess we'll see," he says finally, turning away. "For now, you need to rest. We'll figure out your role once you're feeling better." His words are dismissive, but the tension in his shoulders suggests he's still processing what you've said.

You scoff and walk back over to the bed, sitting down and turning away from him. Gally notices the blanket on the floor, wondering if he should pick it up and give it to you or if he should let you stay cold. He wanted to leave it, but - ugh, he couldn't. He picks the blanket up and storms over, putting it around your shoulders. "Here," he says gruffly, his face a mask of frustration. "Don't get too comfortable, Greenie. We've got work to do and I'm not carrying you around."

You look up at him, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of your mouth. "Thank you," you murmur, your eyes never leaving his. Gally clears his throat, uncomfortable under your gaze. He turns to leave, needing to get out of the room before he says something else stupid.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

I was curious about hiccup's drawing.

What is he going to use it for? .🍬

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 15

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,632

Berk gets just a bit more colorful.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse

<Previous - Next>

You shook your head as you wandered past short stone walls, shallow benches and bushes and a bunch of other things you didn’t pay much attention to, the afternoon sun shining on your back like a burning weight, though not like one that was unwelcome. 

It was an unusually bright day on Berk.

Interestingly enough, you were free. It seemed as if no one had any tasks for you, being too hot for any of the typically busy Vikings to bother.

You spent most of your time walking with your eyes closed, taking in the heat and the mostly open village, many of the Vikings having fled to the forest for fun, to spend time in the lakes and ponds and springs. 

It was a while until you took the time to look around.

When you did, the first thing you noticed was that the village of Berk seemed a bit different than you’d last left it that morning., at least in this row

You realized, then, that at least in this area, the houses were really… Colorful. Like what you remembered from the second movie. Or was it the third? Your memories of the both of them were vague.

There wasn’t too much of a difference; maybe a few painted dragon heads and dots and knots painted onto the sides of houses, though your eyes were drawn to the small patterns, criss crossing over and under pillars, saturated over paint that used to be pretty dull, if vaguely colored.

Instead of making things seem a little grayer and cooler, the gloomy sky did a lot to make the houses seem even brighter, and you couldn’t help but be awed by the sight.

It seemed like a completely different village.

You heard vaguely as you neared the end of a ramp somewhere in the middle of the village a steady thumping of a hammer on nails.

You peered around curiously, mood considerably brightened by your newest discovery, wondering who it was that had done this. 

Was it the twins? If that was the case, Mrs. Thorston would definitely be angry. 

But you wanted to see who it was before you pranced off into the wilderness. You were curious.

You peered down the thin alleys made by too close together houses, some of which you knew were built that way on purpose, tunnels underneath in case they got buried under snow during the devastating winter. You’d had to repair a few on a few different occasions. Your stalls got kind of cold in the winter.

It was behind a tall, particularly thin hut that you finally found what might have been the source to the hammer-on-nail noise. You could, now, hear it much more clearly, aided by the sound of varnished wooden house tiles clattering against each other.

You wondered if you could paint the tiles, too. It would be easy to slip something into the seed oil the vikings used to protect their homes from rain now that they at least stood long enough to gather mold before being burned down.

The oils had a hard time mixing with anything though, so it was anyone’s guess whether or not it would work. For all you knew, whichever group of Vikings had gone around painting houses had already tried that. 

The ladder was thin and the type you’d expect to see in a cartoon, brown and rickety and leaned against the hut, braced against the ground and held by a small, lumpy patch of grass surrounded by pale, dry dirt.

Quickly, you grabbed into the sides and began to climb up the ladder, listening for any rustling above.

You were minorly cautious, as it wasn’t uncommon for people to come falling down ladders or dropping things off the side of buildings, but you were too curious and found usually that you didn’t mind a little bit of danger, not as much as you did before you jumped back in time to dragon war country.

You still missed the internet.

You pulled yourself up, one foot after the other on shaky rungs, until you reached the top of it, long wooden bars laid against the frame that separated the roof from the back face of this particular hut.

You perched near the top of the ladder, just high enough so that your fingers were able to peek over the edge as you peered over.

You were quickly greeted by the face of Hiccup. There was paint on his face in multiple colors. 

You would have assumed someone swan dived on to one of the huts again if he wasn’t just up there with a hammer, some nails and a few roof tiles.

He was sitting next to what looked like a set of paint cans.

And he was staring right back at you, mid-hammer on a nail he held onto the roof with one hand.

“Hi,” You said, moving your hands back so that they were holding onto both sides of the ladder.

“Hey,” Hiccup said, putting down the hammer.

The roof was hot like a plate under your hand.

You took a step downwards, resting your chin on the roofing under you as you looked up at him bashfully. 

He was a lot closer to the edge of the roof than you’d expected.

The wood was warm against your inner neck and you couldn’t help but be pleased by the feeling, too used to the cold and colder Berk days and frozen and freezing Berk nights. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, staring at him for a few moments as you waited for an answer.

“Fixing the roof,” Hiccup laughed awkwardly, “Astrid- she axed one of the twins. Or, she tried to, anyway… “

Hiccup looked down at you, still hanging onto the ladder. You felt a breeze blow by, causing it to creak a little bit and your skirt, much shorter than usual, and the baggy legs of your trousers to blow around just out of view of him.

“Oh, well, uh, sorry,” He scooted back, which you took as an invitation to come up.

“Thanks,” You said, looking down cheerily as you reached up and pressed your hands against the frame around the roof face, practically feeling the distance between yourself and the floor below in sharp, breeze jolts as you pushed up.

You were careful not to press too hard on the roofing as you shifted up and over, aware one wrong step could cause a lot of leaks in the roofing next winter.

The scale-like wood was smooth under your fingertips, though short and bulky and awkward to slide over with your knees. 

“And, uh- the- My Dad wouldn’t let me paint the house -He really wouldn’t. I didn’t ask him, but I had to do some asking around for- this-” Hiccup shrugged bashfully as he continued, “I got the idea from the beads, heard someone talking about it. The dragon scales do a lot in terms of- They’re good fireproofing, so…” 

“You did all this?” You asked.

You did your best not to slip down the steep roof side, slightly embarrassed as you shifted around, the edge of the roof close to your back, one foot hanging off the edge.

Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck, looking skywards, “I mean, most of it, yeah…”

He tugged down his shirt. The green one. His vest was absent, probably laid out somewhere behind him. There was a piece of folded, thick paper parchment stuck precariously behind the bottom of the cloth he used as a belt holding his tunic tight to his waist, corners slightly missing a smooth, folded match, splattered with what you assumed to be his fingerprints in both paint and charcoal.

You were pleased to note he was wearing some of the beads you made, sort of mismatched and oddly spotted but lined neatly together. Most of them were glass, but some were wood. 

He must’ve picked them out special, because they were all near that one brilliant shade of blue you’d pulled from one of the baskets still set up in the Great Hall.

Hiccup followed your eyes, looking down at his collar.

You beamed.

Then you blinked, as the paper pinned to his waist began to slip.

“Your-…” You were a bit curious. Was it a blueprint?

You pointed to his side just ast the paper blew free, half drifting half dropping towards you with the wind, practically falling towards you.

Hiccup nearly slipped off the roof, dislodging a thin turquoise can of paint and causing the liquid inside to splatter down the side of the hut, prosthetic catching against the tiles at just the right angle to send one flying down the side of the roof like a scale off a pinecone or one pulled from the flank of a dragon.

You startled, eyes shooting to him as you stiffened and your hand twitched forwards to offer help. 

Then you tried to grab for it as the lost folded paper slipped away from you, jumping from its place nearly resting against the hut into a swirl with a tough wind.

You stopped as you nearly lost your balance off the backside of the hutt and jerked your head back towards Hiccup whose mouth was set in a thin line, eyes wide.  

Then, your eyes followed Hiccup’s as his relaxed, brows falling as his eyes dropped to the side as he spoke dryly, “Well, there goes-” 

Like fate or something stupid, with another strong gust of wind, the paper blew back, falling open and staying that way against the roof tiling between you.

It wasn’t a blueprint. As it turned out, you knew exactly what it was.

A charcoal sketch.

Most specifically the It was a charcoal sketch of yourself, one that you vaguely recognized from Hiccup’s room.

You blinked at it, as Hiccup grabbed for it, staring at you like a deer in headlights, eyes filled with an emotion you could only describe as cat-out-of-the-bag.

“I remember- Snoggletog, and… Well, I wanted to return the favor,” Hiccup said quickly as he covered his face with his free hand, smearing a long streak of yellow against his cheek as he dragged it downwards, “I- uh, I- I made this. For you.”

That made sense.

You blinked, then blinked again, taking it from his hand as smiling down at it, holding it with a hand on either corner.

You wondered how long he had to look at you in order to get your features so nice.

You thought it was… Kind of weird. He was still weird; definitely weird, or maybe not.

You remembered the hour you spent before Snoggletog trying to figure out how to sketch out his face, mostly relying on what you remembered from the cartoon movie and the small glimpses of his face you’d catch occasionally, sometimes peering around at you from behind corners and across clearings.

So really, if he was weird for watching you all the time, then you had to guess that you were weird too, for doing the same. Maybe. You definitely hadn’t spent as much time staring, so maybe he was still kind of the weirdest, or definitely probably just somewhere in between on the higher end of an average amount of weird.

You breathed in the crisp morning air, reaching up high to stretch your arms, walking against biting coastal winds, which didn’t mean anything more than usual, considering all of Berk’s air was both coastal and biting. 

It felt a lot like you were brushing your hand up the back of a cat’s smooth coat, breeze brushing past your trousered legs, much like it did usually on windy days.

You blinked drowsily up at the sky, still dark, sun only just barely peeking over the horizon where the sea met sky, and not enough to really turn the world into anything warm or bright.

The thought of the previous day still made you feel bright, and so even with your drowsiness you carried a skip in your step that you would be hard pressed to smother.

You spent some of yesterday helping Hiccup bear the brunt of Ack’s wrath, upset as he was about the new, bright turquoise spatter against the side of his house.

In the distance, a few ships dotted the ocean, fishermen and sailors up and early, just set out to make their first catch.

You blinked over the docks, before turning slightly, grabbing at a thin oar rested against a flat rock face by your side.

Hiccup had been spending a lot of time in the forge again. On and off. 

You’d heard overhead Snotlout the other day and it sounded like the other Riders were beginning to get annoyed. Or maybe he was just a little bit bitter because, as it seemed, no one had given him any beads yet.

You’d seen parts of his journal, open to different pages, the beginnings of a map of the Whispering Death tunnels hastily sketched onto one of the pages. 

You quirked your lips. You’d just finished secreting away a nice large package of seeds by the docks for an anonymous patron. 

You pulled the oar over your shoulder, nearly stumbling back a little bit as you struggled to balance it, before walking confidently, perhaps a bit too much so, forwards.

You reached the edge of a stone platform stationed by the docks which was the groundwork for the forge, half lined by bushes and all by dirt, and decided to  peek to the side.

Instead of darker darkness or light or just the closed door forge, though, you saw the large back of the Chief peeking out the doorway to the forge, his head hunched in a way that told you he was making an effort not to bump into the top of the doorframe.

You were surprised that he was up so early. You knew he had some pretty early mornings but to spot him out this early made you gawp. 

You knew Hiccup had some pretty early mornings, definitely.

You tilted your head, angling it towards the entrance of the forge and honed in on muffled voices.

“What am I supposed to do, Gobber?” You could barely make out the low tones of the Chief, speaking tiredly, “I already have a hard time trying to bond with the boy…”

Most of him was covered by his large, brown, furry coat, making him look a lot like bigfoot.

You might have felt guilty about it before, but as you spent more time on Berk, you grew a little more used to the idea of snooping around.

You leaned forwards, scooting closer to the side of the forge, before shaking your head, letting your arm down and feeling your center of balance shift slightly.

“Talk with him!” Came the voice of who you thought was Gobber, mostly muffled by the wood of the door, “Take an interest in his hobbies-!”

You startled when the back end of the oar clattered against stone, looking back and forth between the oar and the door to the forge, nearly squeaking as you saw the Chief shift back.

You scrambled for a place back around the corner of the forge, just barely in front of the back of a large stone furnace.

You felt a bit guilty for listening in, hiding away in the hopes that you wouldn’t be caught unawares. You kept your neck deathly still, very aware as the thin string of glass beads by your neck shifted and your heart beat, though you were certain neither the Chief or Gobber could hear anything.

You listened for a second more, though not close enough to tap into hushed words again, and after a moment, you gave yourself the clear and began to scramble away.

[kerizaret]

Assigning mutuals [badly translated] Kwiat Jabłoni songs quotes bc I love you all and I think about you too much and want to show u i appreciate you ♡ I will leave the lyrics up to your own interpretation but if you want some thoughts as to why feel free to ask!

If I missed someone I'm sorry, i went from the top of my head rn, you can ask me and I'll send u a quote too if I come up with one for you ^^

All of these are /p by the way, just in case

Gdy mówisz splatam się z tobą w mojej głowie [When you talk, I entangle myself with you in my head]

Idziemy dalej, wspinamy się po sobie [We go further, we climb on each other]

Wiem, że gdy zostawię cię będzie mnie tu znacznie mniej [I know that when I leave you, there will be less of me here]

I że gdy zostanę sam to rozerwie mi się swiat [And that when I'm left alone, my world will tear apart]

— "Nie ma mnie" ("There's no me"(?)) @aroace-poly-show

I to zapiera dech, że obok ciebie jest ktoś [And it takes the breath way that there's someone next to you]

I że mogło być nic, a jest wszystko [And that there could've been nothing, but there's everything]

— "Mogło być nic" ("There could've been nothing") @lynnieos & @averagemafuyukinnie

Chcę znowu spotkać cie po raz pierwszy [I want to meet you again for the first time]

[...] Na twoich kolanach zasnę, [I'll fall asleep in your lap,]

Wymyślę więcej dobrych wierszy [I'll think of more good poems]

— "Chodźmy nad wodę" ("Let's go to the water") @kotarchipelago

Śpiewam i szepczę, [I sing and I whisper,]

Jeszcze, jeszcze [More, more] [could also mean "Still"]

Razem możemy więcej [Together we can [achieve] more]

— "Chodźmy nad wodę" ("Let's go to the water") @xxwelxx & @prebrokencodeashfurenthusiast

I nic mi już nie trzeba [And I don't need anything anymore]

Warszawa, ja i Ty, [Warsaw, me and you]

A w górze błękit nieba, [And the blue sky above,]

Ah! To już wystarczy mi [Ah! That's already enough for me]

— "Warszawa, ja i Ty" ("Warsaw, me and you") @adhdtsukasa & @ribbonsweetcreme

Bo kiedy nie ma ciebie, [Because when there's no you]

Słońce inaczej świeci [The sun shines differently]

[...] Bo kiedy nie ma ciebie, [Because when there's no you]

Świat się przestaje kręcić [The world stops spinning]

— "Czekam na lepszy dzień" ("I'm waiting for a better day") @shiraishi--kanade

Chodź, pokażę ci kolor mego szczęścia [Come, I'll show you the colour of my happiness]

Dziś palącym słońcem Śródmieścia [Today in the scorching sun downtown]

Zbudujemy piramidy z marzeń [We'll build pyramids out of dreams]

Otwórz oczy na świat; zwiedzimy go razem [Open your eyes to the world; we'll visit it together]

— "Miasto Słońca" ("City of Sun") @the-one-that-weeps

Tobie niczego nie doradzę, [I won't advise you anything]

Nie znajdę podpowiedzi [I won't find any clues]

Mogę na drogę poklepać cię w ramię [I can pat you on the shoulder for the way]

Popatrz do góry i lecisz [Look above, and fly]

— "Drogi proste" ("Straight paths") @phantommarigold

Już nie starcza tchu, i potrzebuję snu, [[I'm] short of breath already, and I need sleep]

Chyba położę się tu, obok ciebie [I think I'll lay down here, next to you]

Gwiazdy widać, księżyc podniósł się [You can see the stars, the moon has risen]

— "Kometa" ("Comet") @kingofsin420

[iluvshinytwink]

Hey I have a req for Mason could write it where the reader comes home to find Mason all sad and stuff and she cuddles him while he cries on her chest so glad u added Mason I love him 😭

Your Tear Stained Cheeks - Mason Mount

"Except for some of her love and time, that's my concern."

Now Playing . . . DOGTOOTH by Tyler, The Creator

a/n: this is my first time writing for mase!! lowkey nervous lowkey excited yk thank u for requesting and i hope u enjoy this!

The night started, the sun had officially set and the moon rose accompanied by the stars. The bright blue sky was replaced with a dark one, highlighting the beauty of the glorious moon above.

Your phone suddenly dinged, your lockscreen showing along with the notification. It was a text from Mason.

The text asked if you were coming to his game later that evening. A small smile appeared on your face, typing a response before realizing that you had to work overtime tonight. Your smile gradually disappeared, you looked over the window, somewhere out there Mason was waiting for a response with a smile, hoping that you would say yes to his invite.

Sorry baby, i can't come to ur game, working overtime tonight :(

Even though you've turned down some invites to watch his games, that feeling of guilt was a feeling that you still weren't used to.

It's okay baby, ill see u later at home<3

A smile quickly found its way to your lips.

You sent a quick goodluck to your lovely boyfriend before resuming your work.

It was 2 hours after the game started. You opened your phone to see the final score. Chelsea lost 2-1. A slight frown appeared on your face. A sense of disappointment rushed through your veins especially that Mason scored in that match.

You stood up from your chair, packing your things to go home. Mason should be at home by now.

You tried to think of what Mason was feeling right now. Disappointment? Anger? Sadness?

Mason opened the door to your shared home with a sigh. Mason tosses his things down somewhere angrily. Before he knew it, he felt his eyes sting of tears.

Mason brings his hands to wipe his eyes. His body ached, his limbs ached, his heart ached. In the crucial times where he needed you most, you weren't there. The moments where he needed your touch and lips, you weren't there.

Mason bites his lower lip in anger as tears trickled down his cheeks. Why was he crying? Even he didn't know.

Tears of anger, possibly.

Angry that they didn't win that match. Angry that he wanted to be with you so bad. Angry that he couldn't do anything.

Mason wanted to open his mouth to call out your name. He wanted to stop feeling this anger that he didn't understand. He wanted to stop this aching in his entire body that he didn't know how to stop.

But he couldn't.

You opened the door to your home, being greeted by darkness and an unusual stillness. The house was dark, but above the stairs you could see a light. A feeling of uneasyness washes over you.

You quickly brush that feeling off and make your wake to the light shining above your staircase.

"Mase?" you called out. No response.

You make your way to the bedroom, peeking into the dim-lighted room. In the edge of the bed, sat your boyfriend. Due to the darkness, you couldn't really tell what expression he had on his face.

You entered the room quietly, sitting beside him on the bed. "You did well tonight, you know that right?" you whispered, laying your hand on top of his.

You look over to your boyfriend who was still staring at the ground. Even in the darkness, you could see his emotions. You could sense he was feeling pain.

Suddenly, a tear slips down his cheek. You felt your heart drop. Your hand glided into his, your fingers hugging his own. Though he didn't move his hand or show any sign of reciprocating your touch.

"Mase." you whispered. Mason turns his head to your slowly. The moonlight glowed to his face. You could see his cheeks which were stained with old and new tears. You could see his eyes, red and puffy. You could see his lips, quivering in sadness.

"Oh, Mason." you sighed, wrapping your arms around his body. Mason bit his tongue, trying to suppress a cry. Mason's arms weakly wrap around your body.

You laid down on the bed, Mason's weak body on top of yours, his arms wrapped around your waist as his head was on your chest.

Before you knew it, Mason cried into your chest. Your clothes stained of hot tears but you didn't care.

Your hand finds its way to Mason's hair, caressing it softly.

Mason's arms hug you tighter as a whimper escapes his mouth.

"Mase, look at me for a second." you quietly said, hands on his cheeks.

Mason's head slowly lifts to look at you. A shaky smile appeared on your face. Your thumbs wiped away the old and new tears from his cheeks.

"You'll be okay." you whispered weakly.

BRORORORO I LOVE ESTATE SALE anyways I HOPE U GUYS ENJOYED THIS AND I HOPE THIS ISNT TOO BAD FOR A FIRST MASON MOUNT FIC!

[birgittesilverbae]

howdy em! for a prompt, if u are feeling inspired: wn + "mending"

(ily ily)

She falls into the sand, tears streaming down her face, stars shining gold in the sky above.

She falls into the sand, tears streaming down her face, stars shining blue in the hollow of her chest.

She falls.

She falls.

When she comes awake again there's sand on her cheeks, in her nostrils, working into every crevice of her face, more coming, falling, landing. She doesn't need to breathe, trapped inexorably in the second between sleep and wakefulness, between life and death, the tarask's claws forever frigid against her skin, pulling her through the veil. Still, she tears at the loose contents of a premature grave, a belated grave, thrusts her hand through into the sky, clutches at the stars. 

There's a girl in the sand beside her when she frees herself. She's lying in a pool of blood so dark it's almost pitch black beneath the eternal noonday sun. Her body, too, is pockmarked with starlight, glinting blue beneath her skin.

She doesn't need air, but the girl might, and her face is caked with sand. She turns her onto her side, heedless of the blood-soaked sand beneath her knees, sinks back into that easy routine of first aid. Airway, clear the airway. The girl's cheeks spasm around her fingers as she scrapes sand from her mouth, from her tongue. 

There doesn't seem to be any end to it. She's not sure how long she's been working, the sun still hanging at its noonday peak, but she keeps going, keeps moving, frantic in her motion. Finally, finally, the girl gasps, chokes on the air, on the sand, on the sun, on the stars.

She rolls back away from her, limbs heavy with exhaustion, tries desperately to catch her breath. She doesn't need air, but the absence of it tears at her lungs. 

"Bea?" The voice is weak, thready, and the girl hocks up what sounds like a mouthful of dirt. "Beatrice?"

She tips back onto her side, presses up onto hands and knees. The girl squints up into the sun but makes no attempt to shield her eyes. Makes no attempt to move at all. She shifts closer again, braces one fist in the sand above the girl's opposite shoulder, shielding her with her own body. 

In the shade the girl's eyes are dim and rheumy. She raises a hand, gestures to her own face. "You've got sand," she murmurs. "Do you want me to wipe it away for you?"

The girl's mouth thins in concentration, but whatever she's attempting to do doesn't happen. "Please," the girl says finally.

She obliges her. 

The nearness makes the star-fleck shards beneath her skin hum, but she restrains herself from moving the girl any further without consent, no matter the inkling of recognition that's digging it's way free of some part of her mind that still feels entombed in that same deep grave she'd freed herself from.

She gestures again, at the girl's chest, the shredded scraps of armour, the blue glow beneath it. She hazards the guess, then. "Your skin isn't mending over the divinium. I'm going to need to take it out to allow the Halo freedom to work."

The girl laughs, weak and thready. "You wanna stick your hands in my chest already? More of a second date thing, Shannon, don't you think?"

Neurons spark, fire, stars forming systems, forming clusters, forming galaxies. Shannon braces hard against her fist to keep her body from crumbling forward onto the girl. "Seems I'm at a disadvantage, Halo Bearer. You know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Ava," the girl says quietly, "Ava Silva." Tears well up at the corners of her eyes, but she tries valiantly to sniff them back. "If you're here, does that mean I'm dreaming?"

[moonleeai]

My Moon

“ARMY Birthday Bash” BWHQ Fic Gifting Event

🖤 Written for Sara🖤

➢ Fic Pairing: Vampire Jin x Human Namjoon ➢ First Person POV ➢ AU: Vampires ➢ Rating: MA 🔞 ➢ WC: 5,371 ➢ Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst ➢ Trope: Strangers to Lovers ➢ Requested details: angsty vampire story ➢ Warnings: M x M sex, cursing, pain, blood drinking, obsession, forced vampirism

A/N: Thank you Jasz @downbad4yoongi , Leah @colormepurplex2, and Kari sunkissedwriter for beta reading and helping shape this story for Sara!!

Summary: Seokjin hides his vampire identity in a sleepy town as a restaurateur. He spends his time living off animals and creating to die for meals until a new handsome face comes to town. Like the moon loves the sky, there is an instant attraction, but Seokjin may be too much.

🌙🌙🖤🩸🖤🌙🌙

Living as a modern-day vampire is simple and fun. Nowadays, no one cares if you’re a vampire as long as you’re not trying to kill them. They also don’t want to see or hear about how I satiate my hunger. My body has adapted to being in the sun and living off more than just human blood. My powers have weakened some, but I can still use my levitation and greater strength whenever I need. I don’t use them too often because I want to fit in and act as human as possible.

Becoming a butcher in disguise at a trendy eatery is my most clever façade yet. Kosmos, nestled between plenty of pretty coffee and pastry cafes, is my haven, so to speak, my safe place where I can fit in with the crowd. A delicatessen with a condo above it, a rooftop deck, and a large garden in the back. I found this sleepy but safe town along the Baltic Sea when I fled my last city from vampire hunters. I quickly became named the most handsome man with a sleek and classy aesthetic delicatessen, where I sell sliced meats and creative dishes. 

Human blood became boring to me ages ago. The hunt for wild animals is much more thrilling but also has much less risk than hunting humans. I tame my violet eyes by thriving off animal blood, something I’ve been doing longer than I can remember. In the restaurant, I can slaughter and cook the most exquisite meals, satiating my deepest cravings. I only open Kosmos four days a week, staying open well into the late hours and spending the other evenings hunting and experimenting with new dishes. 

Tonight is busier than usual. In an effort to liven up the area, the town council brought in a new art gallery, and from the talks of everyone, there’s a fetching curator as well. Kosmos happens to be the closest eatery, drawing many patrons in after they’ve visited the gallery. The artwork descriptions are fascinating, but the person they describe sounds much more intriguing. Tall, broad, drop-dead dapper; all words I’ve only heard folks using on myself. I'm a bit jealous of all the attention this new curator is getting, so I must see him for myself.

Instead of my usual day hunting, I decide to take a gander at the art gallery. Everyone is correct. The tall, burly man that greets the guests is devastatingly beautiful. I am possessed by his loveliness which leads me to spend countless days taking peeks from the sidewalk inside the small space through the large Crittall-style window. The art keeps the people busy enough not to notice me lurking day after day. 

Tonight, out of curiosity, I follow the new man. He rides a bicycle slowly and seems to enjoy the small-town views. With earbuds, he hums along to a tune I cannot hear. His apartment building is nice. A stunning yellow two-story home with dark accents and a maroon roof aside a cobblestone path. Outside of the front door, somehow within the cracks of the stones, are robust red flower bushes that rest along the house perimeter.

I perch myself on the roof of the home across the street and have a perfect view of this gorgeous man. I watch as he relaxes with a glass of whiskey and reads a book until he’s cleaning up and going upstairs. A bedroom light shines dimly through the upstairs window, completely unobscured. I stare as he undresses, removing his clothing, rough and messy, and tossing them onto the floor. As he turns off the light and lies in bed, the moon casts a perfect glow onto his silhouette. His chest slowly rising and falling is soothing. 

So soothing that time passes too quickly, and before I know it, the sun is rising. Today, I will make my existence known and visit this dreamy man at his gallery. Slowly but surely, I will make him fall in love with me and want to live eternally by my side. 

When I arrive at the art gallery, the man is occupied with a few guests, so I walk around aimlessly. Black hair compliments his warm honey skin under a white shirt tucked into cream slacks. While conversing with others, his dimples shoot daggers into hearts, and his deep voice soothes the sharp pain. 

“Hello, I’m Namjoon,” his deep voice boasts. As if I haven’t been watching his every move, I feign startled when he arrives by my side. His chocolate eyes pierce my dead soul within seconds.

“Seokjin,” I reply, flashing my sultry grin while extending my hand to grasp his in a handshake. His scent is warm and inviting…a soft rose with a hint of jasmine, something I now wish to smell endlessly.

“What do you think? These are ones I’ve collected over the years.”

“I’m not much on art… just wanted to check out the newest talk of the town.” My eyes roam his tall, brawny frame, and a subtle blush blooms on his cheeks.

“There are no right or wrong answers when it comes to art,” Namjoon says while placing a hand on my shoulder and guiding me to another piece. “This one is by Yun Hyong-keun. Inspired by nature, he combined colors like those of earth and water tones.  He would spread the pigments over days, weeks, or even months to create intense darkness, implicative of the hardships he endured.” 

Not only is this man beautiful, but he is also intelligent. His eyes gleam as he speaks of the artist. 

“You got all that from looking at a painting?” Namjoon chuckles at my ignorance. “Do you do any painting yourself?” His eyes turn dark, and it looks like he’s deep in thought when he finally responds with a side grin. He nods his head to a side door and begins walking toward it, so I follow.

Namjoon slides the door open, holding it for me to pass through, and then closes it behind us. The dark room has a few paintings with a single dim spotlight casting over each piece. 

“These are my personal works,” Namjoon says.

There aren’t many colors, all gray, black, and red. A deep vibrant red. He tells me about a few of the pieces. The first one is like a window; two large black rectangles enclosed by a thick, vivid scarlet border. Hazy with muddy edges where the colors bleed together. There’s another canvas with a frail, ghostly white being against a black background smeared in red hues. At first glance, one may perceive that it’s a dress, but I see blood pouring over the body. Both are labeled as ‘Untitled’.

My favorite, though… displays interesting shadowy woods. The smudging of the paint looks like thick fog around grayish tree trunks. What’s fascinating is the leaves are clusters of red dots, bright and burgundy shades, creating a beautiful depth while also looking like blood splatter. 

I listen intently as Namjoon explains his art. Aside from his brawns and brains, his voice is hypnotic. I find myself stuck watching his mouth, his tongue bouncing around, forming each word perfectly. I subconsciously draw my bottom lip between my teeth, concentrating on his alluring mouth.

“You’re quite handsome; you know that?” Namjoon speaks, breaking me from my thoughts.

“I know, I never get old.” I wink, and Namjoon chuckles, clearly amused by my antics.

“Would you…maybe… like to spend more time together?” Namjoon asks, and I find the shyness of his words endearing. 

“I’d love that.” I reach for his hands and rub my thumbs over his knuckles. Namjoon notes my touch is cold but never pulls away. I know my heart would be shaking in my chest if it still beat, but it sits frozen in my ribcage as it has for centuries.

🌙🌙🖤🩸🖤🌙🌙

For our first date, we meet at a coffee shop. Quaint, relaxed, and the most refreshing iced Americanos. We both wear our version of casual attire. Namjoon’s slate-gray t-shirt is devilishly low, the v-cut plunging between his perky chesticles, hugging his biceps tightly. My eyes drift, following the curves he has on display; I don’t care if I get caught, either. The conversation is easy, steady. Small talk and casual getting to know each other. My mind is set on one thing…making him my lover…my forever, in just three lunar phases. I just need to tell him I’m a vampire.

On the next date, we take a stroll through architecture-filled historical sites and gardens with maps and pamphlets in one hand and our other hands busy with interlocked fingers. If my cold hands ever bother him, he never mentions it. We steal glances of each other every second we can. Here in the botanical garden, surrounded by lush trees with leafy branches, the weather is perfect, and flowers are in full bloom. Next to a pond is a gazebo where we find a bench to rest and hold hands. Listening to the birds sing around us, we talk and learn more about each other. I decide to tell him about my uniqueness. 

“There’s something I need to tell you, and I really hope it doesn’t scare you away.”

Namjoon turns toward me, giving his full attention.

“I’m just going to say it… no sugar coating… no—”

“Just say it,” Namjoon interrupts, his eyes frantically searching for clues as his heartbeat speeds up.

“I-- I’m-- a vampire.” I wince at the words shutting my eyes tight. When I hear no sounds, I peek through my eyelids, confronted by dimples. “I’m serious, Namjoon. I should’ve told you sooner, but—” My words are cut off by Namjoon’s finger delicately placed on my lips.

“Can I say I kind of knew?”

Confused, I reply, “You… knew?”

“Your skin is perfect porcelain, and you have the coldest touch. You dress more dapper than most our age. I’ve seen your violet eyes… and don’t get me started on your very interesting butcher hobby. Need I say more?”

“And that…none of that scared you away?”

Namjoon tightens his hands around mine. “I’ve never felt more smitten…more ensnared to a person like I am with you. A vampire, a wolf, or a bear…I’d still find you insanely attractive, and dare I say, I’d love you the same.”

“Love?” I feel like I’m hearing things, Namjoon really loves me already. “We’re like two volcanoes talking together then.” 

Namjoon scrunches his eyebrows. “What?”

“I lava you, too.” After we both laugh like windshield wipers on dry glass, I lean in and kiss his cheek. A huge weight lifted from my shoulders; now I know he will spend forever with me. 

🌙🌙🖤🩸🖤🌙🌙

I plan our third date wisely. I am yearning to be close to him, so we go to the Forest of Wisdom, an hour’s drive with thoughtful conversation and getting to know more about each other. He tells me he’s always been fascinated with vampires and their abilities. Much as to why his art is mostly black and red, aligning with my original impression of blood splatter. To my surprise, he has a vast knowledge and is very calm talking about vampires. Namjoon and I find seats on the floor, and he reads me a book of poems with our shoulders pressed together.

“Ah this one, by Alexandra Vasiliu…’I want to bloom in your arms like the moon blooms in the night’s arms.’ I love that.”

I stare at his chestnut orbs, reading over the words in a loop, watching his eyebrows furrow while he’s lost in thought. I look to the next page and read, “‘If I were the moon, I would want you to be my sky.’ Namjoon, I think I shall call you my moon.”

“I’d like that,” Namjoon coos, snuggling into my side.

Quickly I’m learning Namjoon’s pleasures. He enjoys touch, and I feel his infatuation grow as he sneaks light touches in disguise of picking or brushing lint balls off my shirt. I catch him staring quite often, obviously entranced by my ethereal beauty.

On the way back, seated in the car, his baggy shorts hike up to his mid-thigh. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh, I move his shorts upward a bit more and feel his warmth under my icy palm. He shivers but places his hand on top of mine, keeping me there.

🌙🌙🖤🩸🖤🌙🌙

Tonight, Namjoon wants to try cooking, making something delicious together. This, I’m a master at. I close Kosmos for the night and teach him everything I know. He brought an expensive bottle of whiskey that we share most of the night, and I show him different techniques with knives. I leave him to cut an onion and carrot while I whisk the sauce; things happen so quickly I can’t remember the order in which they occur. A thud and a gasp from Namjoon, and then a smell that overwhelms my senses. My eyes flash violet, and I am next to Namjoon within seconds. I reach for his hand and bring it to my mouth, letting the droplets of blood fall on my tongue. He tastes like syrupy butterscotch. My eyes roll to the back of my head as a growl escapes my throat.

Fangs threatening to appear, I pull his hand away and pull him into me, close. “Are you okay, my moon?”

He pulls away and studies my eyes. “Kiss me,” he whispers.

Confused, I stay still, but his lips crash into mine. My cock throbs as he explores my mouth with his tongue, giving me a taste of his whiskey breath, a mixture of barley and vanilla.

“Let me get you upstairs to tend to your cut.” I lead him to the stairs up into my home and sit him on the couch while I go to get the first aid kit. I dab some ointment on and place a band-aid over the cut. Namjoon places a hand behind my head and brings me into another kiss that I can’t resist. Who would want to? 

He moans into my mouth before breaking the kiss, “That was fucking hot… the way you licked my wound.”

I sit back against the couch. Carefully watching this mountain of a man remove his shirt and press his body into mine. My eyebrows arch at his boldness.

“Your heart is racing,” I note while tracing my hand over his chest, riling goosebumps.

“Do you want to taste more?” Namjoon mewls, pecking my lips fiercely.

“What are you suggesting?”

“You like blood, and I have what you like. I’ll try new things… for you.” Namjoon’s eyes long for acceptance. Who am I to turn away his desire to please me? Especially if it lets me taste his saccharine blood again.

My breath gets caught in my throat, admiring his body as he tilts his head to the side to expose his neck. He leans closer and deeply whispers, “Bite me.”

My head spins at the words, lips barely brushing his skin as one of his hands firmly grips my inner thigh. The pounding of his heart sends shock waves through my body, and my cock strains against my pants. Namjoon eagerly climbs into my lap and entangles his fingers in my hair, yanking my head back to make eye contact.

“I don’t want to hurt you; a bite is painful,” I warn, giving Namjoon a chance to change his mind.

“Pain is pleasure, Seokjin. Do it. Bite me.”

I smirk, lick my lips, and dig my frosty fingers into his waist before pushing my mouth onto his plump lips. I trail my tongue to his neck and suck for a moment before my fangs appear and scrape against his skin. One moan from Namjoon and my fangs sink into his skin like a warm knife through butter. My eyes loll with ecstasy flowing through my body.

“Ah, fuck,” Namjoon groans, and his body squirms in discomfort. But as I swallow a tongue-full of blood, I withdraw my fangs and soothe the painful punctures. I suck again, grunting when his hips grind down on mine, hissing into his neck at the touch of his clothed bulge against mine. His soft whines turn me on further, lost in his soul as I take more blood, coating every crevice of my mouth. Human blood has never tasted this good; I need to control myself.

I feel blood dribble down my chin, and I pull away from him, fascinated by the maroon rivulets that flow down his neck toward his chest. I’ve never seen anything more erotic than him dripping with blood, lips turned in a pout, and asking for more. I watch, amused, as blood trickles down to his nipple, begging for my mouth. Latching onto him, I gently suck his nipple into my mouth and then lick up the blood trail, my tongue grazing his skin back up to the puncture marks. The marks will heal before the night ends, leaving just a bruise.

“Seokjin,” my name plummets from his lips in a soft gasp, his hips bucking into mine. “Touch me,” Namjoon pleads. His thumb runs over my lip to collect stray blood before pushing his thumb into my mouth. I suck on his thumb and pull from it, making a popping sound, then move my hands to his waist. He stands while I tug his pants and briefs off. He tugs at my pants, and I lift my hips off the couch as he eases them to my knees, my aching cock hitting my stomach.

Namjoon straddles me again, licks his lips, and presses his plush lips into mine. I kiss him back, moaning when he nips my bottom lip, tongue tangling with his as he deepens the kiss. His large hands grip my shoulders as he slides his cock against mine and rests his forehead on my shoulder. I fight the urge to sink my teeth into him again.

I fuck my cock against Namjoon’s, swipe my hand over our tips, and spread the precum over our shafts, squeezing them both with one hand. It doesn’t cover us both, but it’s enough friction to feel good, too good. I stroke us at various paces until Namjoon’s body tenses. I can feel he’s ready to burst.

“Cum all over me, paint my stomach,” I encourage him with my tongue in his mouth. Namjoon shakes, and hot cum spurts onto my stomach. He lowers his head and sinks his teeth into my shoulder as he rides out his high, hips stuttering and starting to slow.

His bite sends me over the edge, and I groan as my cum explodes and mixes with his. He deepens another kiss, pressing his body into the stickiness between us. We stay like this until our breathing slows, caressing each other. Namjoon sighs and grabs his shirt, wiping us off and cleaning my stomach.

“We should do this again sometime,” Namjoon praises before climbing off me and finding his clothes.

“Stay,” I say, a little more pleading than I intend. Namjoon smiles and drops his clothes back to their place on the floor.

🌙🌙🖤🩸🖤🌙🌙

The next morning, when I come back from my hunting, Namjoon is gone. I go to his home and find my place on the roof across the street and watch him through the window. This time, he’s painting. A black and gray scheme with a walking path between rocky hills and skinny bare trees. He dips his brush in red and paints a huge circle in the middle, a blood moon. Then he’s back to black, stroking lines into a figure of a person with a cape blowing in the wind. The finishing touch, though…I’m not sure what to make of it. He dips his brush in the white and creates a sword in the person’s hand. An individual with a silver-looking sword walking toward a blood moon.

I don’t think Namjoon knows or understands what the meaning of a blood moon is for vampires. My desire for blood is boosted times a thousand, which usually causes conflict for my kind. People become more aware of vampire existence during the blood moon, and therefore I, as well as others, are faced with imminent threats and conflicts.

I’ll tuck this in the back of my mind for a later conversation because, again, the time has quickly passed, and the sun is setting. On my way back to my place, a great idea sparks my mind to have Namjoon willingly agree to be my eternal lover. He loves plants and the outdoors, so I will create a garden for him. Something he can look forward to maintaining for all eternity. 

In between spending time with Namjoon, I spend the next few weeks preparing, finding, and importing exotic, fully bloomed night flowers and plants for a moon garden where I will confess my love and propose an immortal life together. Purple fountain grass that rustles in the breeze. Plenty of flowers to shine under the moonlight like the fragrant iceberg rose, giving off fruit and honey scents. White wonder caladium with its green edges and pink veins throughout the white leaf. Clusters of phlox, jasmine, and moon flowers with their lemony perfume. 

I use pebbles and white marble chips to create a crescent design on the ground. A small waterfall provides the soothing sound of running water and reflects the moonlight. In the middle of it all, a makeshift bed with comforters and pillows. This is where I will ask Namjoon to be my eternal lover and hear him beg me to turn him into an immortal like me. Here is where we will confess our love and be one with each other for time without end. I even set up an easel with a canvas and all the art supplies he could possibly need to paint boundless pictures of the garden.

Namjoon arrives for our evening together dressed casually elegant. A loose-fitting cream, cashmere sweater with a polo neck paired with black weaved leather pants. His style puts mine to shame with my white satin button-down shirt tucked liberally into black slacks. After sharing a meal and tender touches, I tell him I have a surprise. I’m nervous and have to hide my shaking hands as I blindfold him and take his hand, carefully guiding him outside into the garden I created out of love. I remove his blindfold, and he inhales sharply. While he takes in every detail, I watch the stars twinkle in his coffee-colored eyes. 

“A moon garden… for my moon.” I point to the area with the painting supplies and then shove my hands in my pockets, “and all the things for you to let out your creativity.” Waiting for his response, my stomach flips, thinking how close I am to spending an eternity with him.

“It's ethereal and perfect, just like you.” Namjoon kisses me deeply, holding the back of my head with one hand. Pulling away, he murmurs, “I love it.” 

I slot my lips with his and suck his lower lip between my teeth; feeling greedy, I declare, "I want to ruin you and make you mine for eternity." My brain short-circuits, and all subtleness is out the door. Namjoon tenses, then he simply grins at the statement.

“Ruin me, Seokjin,” he whimpers.

Namjoon glows under the full moon, and I am eager to make him mine. Standing next to the garden bed, I trace my hands along his mountainous ridges. I listen to his coos and swallow them as they escape from his throat. We tear at each other's pants, and he tugs roughly on my blouse, sending buttons soaring in opposite directions. I moan in response to both his passion and his palm caressing my confined cock. Free of our imprisonments, I lower him onto the blankets, surrounded by pillows. 

Namjoon’s eyebrows rise for a quick second before relaxing again. “Your eyes, they’re exquisite.” I drop my head to his neck, acting shy of his compliment, and sprinkle his skin with kisses. Is this when I ask him? No, not yet.

I feel Namjoon reaching for something, so I glance toward his hand. He’s pulling a bottle of lube from his pants pocket. I look into his eyes and wait for him to say something.

“Ruin me. Bite me. Make me yours.” Namjoon’s words have blood rushing to my cock, and I rut against his rock-hard thigh. 

“Your wish is my desire.”

“What are you? A genie?” 

I drench my fingers along with Namjoon's hole with the lube. Carefully, I push one finger past his rim, taking my time to loosen him up for me, showering him with gentle kisses... for now. "Is this okay?" I ask while dragging my teeth over his prickled skin.

"More, Seokjin, please," his whine spirals into my ear, sending a thrill down my spine. I insert another finger, praising him with words and soft suckles along his neck. I linger over his vein, letting it pulsate on my tongue. The throbbing on my tongue excites me more, and my hips rock, pushing my swelling cock into his leg again.

"More," he breathes. 

"My moon. You're so good for me," I moan low and soothe his tense body with my lips.

“Bite me, Seokjin, please. I need more–” his words are cut off by his moans.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please…” he begs continuously, almost in tears. I gaze at his body’s slight movements, his chest heaving, before I sink my fangs into his succulent neck. His butterscotch blood fills my mouth immediately, and Namjoon hisses as I swallow. I pump my fingers quicker, scissoring them as I swallow more nectar.

"I'm ready, please. I can't wait any longer."

I pull away, hide my fangs and drown myself in more lube. I watch his blood trail onto his shoulder and slowly press my girth into him. His sounds, oh his sounds. If I didn't have centuries of self-control, I would've cum already.

"Seokjin–ah– you're s–so big. Go–ah–slow, please, please, please, slow," Namjoon begs as his body writhes underneath me.

Slowly, my cock bottoms out inside Namjoon, and I pause, allowing him to breathe through it. I press my lips on his and use my tongue to part his lips, tangling our tongues, numbing his mind from the sting of the stretch.

"So good, my moon. You're doing so so good." My cock throbs inside his tight muscle. "Mmmm, can you feel that?" I subtly move my hips and swallow each mewl he makes. I pull my face away and look into his eyes as I drag my cock slowly out of him and push back in a little quicker. His glassy eyes flutter, and I raise my hand to his cheek, brushing away a single tear with my thumb. "Shhh, it's going to feel so good. I promise."

The garden fills with moans and pants as I drag my cock slowly against Namjoon's walls, licking from his collarbone to his shoulder, getting every last drop. I cage his head with my arms and quicken my pace, watching and feeling how his body reacts to me. He ruts his cock against my stomach, seeking any kind of friction.

"Fuck. Yes, like that," Namjoon moans, his back arching off the makeshift bed of blankets. His ass swallows my cock so deliciously; it’s a torturous pleasure.

I rise to my knees, unsheathing myself, and a whimper escapes Namjoon's lips. I pull his hips to my waist, and his shoulder blades rest on the ground. I maneuver a pillow under his hips before turning my attention to his raging pink cock with pre-cum that glistens in the moonlight. I spit in my hand, then caress his thick length, smearing it around and mixing it with his fluids. His body shakes with pleasure, all for my eyes. I take my other hand and squeeze his throat before following his perfectly sculpted lines down his chest and to his abs. I abandon the lube and align myself with his hole, entering slowly and as deep as I can.

Namjoon rasps a deep, stuttered moan as he pushes his ass into me. I stroke his cock rhythmically with my thrusts until he releases his warm arousal onto my hand and all over his stomach. I slow, only to finish depleting his every last drop, then press my hand firmly against his stomach, smearing the sticky substance. He smells of jasmine and honey, like the flowers around us, I immediately want to taste it. 

I bring my hand to my mouth and lick his remnants, growling in pleasure. This excites Namjoon, and he clenches around my cock. I gasp and feel my cock twitch inside him. The moonlight highlights every bead of sweat on Namjoon's torso as I pump furiously inside him. His accentuated plump veins and arteries, with his breathless sobs, are the push I need to find my release. Head falling back, I roll over the edge and fill him with my release. My body crumbles on top of him, and I slow my hips milking my cock to completion. I place my arms on either side of his head, soaking in his beauty, feeling drunk on love. 

I kiss him wildly and then lazily lift myself and roll to his side as he wraps his arms around me. I run my hand over Namjoon's hair and tuck it behind his ear, basking in an afterglow.

But as we lock eyes, I sense something is off with my love. He’s next to me but seems so far away. My chest tightens.

“Everything…okay?”

“Why did you do all this for me? This garden with beautiful plants and a perfect view under the moon?”

“Because I love you, Namjoon. I want to be with you forever and make you the happiest—” I didn’t want to ask him to be my immortal partner this way, laying next to each other, naked, half covered in blankets.

“Happiest… what?” 

“Well, you already know so much about vampires, and you seem really fascinated with them, so I—I don’t know. I was hoping you’d maybe want to be one… with me.”

Namjoon’s lips move, but no words come out. 

“Have you ever thought about what it’d be like?” I ask, trying to pry words from him.

“No,” he answers quickly.

“Oh—okay…Wh—what about being with me? For good?”

“Why couldn’t I stay human?” Namjoon abruptly sits up and grabs for his clothes. Dressing frantically while I rush to do the same.

“I mean, I just thought we could be together…endlessly. It would hurt too much to watch you age and leave me.”

“I don’t want to give up my human life,” Namjoon nearly whispers, and I can feel the uncertainty of the future weighing heavily on his mind.

“Why? What can be better than eternal life with me? Your true love?”

“I—I want to experience life…I don’t want to be stuck here forever…” Namjoon sputters. 

“But you can see the world. Every country, every food, enjoy owning the rarest items or plants…” I try to reason with him, calm his worries even.

“I don’t want to survive off blood and watch the world pass me by!” Namjoon yells, and the blood I’ve stored in my body begins to boil. My eyes feel different, I can feel them change, but it’s not the same. “Your eyes, they’re a reddish tint.”

My anger boils through my limbs, and I lurch toward Namjoon. He runs behind the easel and picks up a paintbrush, angling the handle toward me like he wants to stab me. “Stop! Don’t come any closer!” Namjoon shouts, trying to keep me at bay.

“I’ll have you, no matter what!” 

I use my power and conquer him, sinking my fangs into his neck, this time, not letting go. My entire strength is used to subdue him and drink his blood. The difference is I don’t stop. Not until I feel a cold, black cloud surround me. I drank just enough to leave Namjoon alive but unconscious next to me.  I bite my wrist and open his mouth, squeezing drops of my blood into his mouth and coax his throat to help him swallow.

I have never wanted anyone this badly; this is the only way that will make him stay with me forever. I kiss his lips and lay patiently by his side, awaiting my new eternal lover to awaken to our new life.

[solipseismic]

i hope you know that every day i wish i could read your book and really enjoyed reading the nanowrimo tidbits you sent, you should infodump about it 👀

CROW ... this is so so sweet i am kissing u gently on the mouth . also this is great timing bc i am just about to compile a vigilante's guide to knowing when to die into a goog file that i can send to my friend (part of our bargain in me convincing him to do nanowrimo w me this year)

snippet from book 2 for u:

The Rift gave a sudden convulsive shudder. Skysteel felt it all the way to her ankles as it threw her out—and away. She was freefalling before she even knew it, pinwheeling through the air like a shitty paper airplane. Sky-ground-sky-ground-BUILDING passed in a dizzy blur right up until she smacked into a billboard with a comedic sound. She would have laughed, except her lungs seemed to have gone on impromptu strike at the time of impact. It really was a hard-knock life, huh? Black spots swarmed her field of vision. An Avian shrieked at the sight of her and dove, the razor talons of its feet extended fully and bladed wings gleaming in the bright sun. Poltergeist and Eidolon were both yelling something over comms but she couldn’t parse anything—all she could see was the golden light of the Avians surrounding her, all she could feel was the agonizing feeling of the Rift splitting open wider far above her. The golden light of the Avians turned blinding. Skysteel’s secondary eyelids dropped down for a split second. But— That was no fucking Avian. A man shining like a blue sun reached down and gently plucked an Avian off Skysteel’s prone body laying in the ruin of the billboard. One moment his hand closed around its shoulder and the next—it was a still-glowing pile of fine, off-white ash on the ground. “That was stupid,” he said. Skysteel took the hand he offered and heaved herself up out of the pieces of billboard she’d fallen to the ground with. “That’s what I want on my headstone,” she told him, wincing and touching a hand to her ribs.

anyways i rarely talk abt a vigilante's guide (which some of u who have been following for a long time may know under the previous title of "demon city" and / or "demon eyes" and so all the stuff i've posted abt it r under those tags) bc it's like That One Big project for me. like u know how brandon sanderson has the stormlight archive that kind of is the hub / culmination of all his works across the brandonsandersonverse (official term is brandon sanderson's "cosmere")? for me that's vigilante's guide. also it's exceedingly self-indulgent is the other reason.

it's gone through like 50 different iterations bc it's existed in my brain for nearly as long as i can remember (i think over a decade at this point) and the Ira Neda i talk about (my supreme blorbo, if you will) is the protagonist! i have ambitions for it spanning five books with the second (formerly "demon eyes") titled a vigilante's guide to destroying the world but right now books 1 and 2 are existing in the same doc (DEMON MEGADRAFT) because i'm trying to see what gets shaken out of it while i play with a non-linear timeline between the two

as a result, there are a lot of ideas that are getting spun into it (and even more ideas that i've had trial runs of before editing or cutting them entirely) but it's got the run of the mill superhero genre setup: we have a recognizable earth set in the near-ish future / a time that's somewhat similar to our own, we have a bunch of vigilantes running around fighting ordinary crime and supervillains (tho these are mainly just called "terrorists" in-world bc, well.), and different people have different powers from different things (but mostly it's because they're alien / part alien lol)

book one (knowing when to die) follows ira neda's arrival in anehaven, a (fictional) city in new york, where she is trying to unravel the circumstances that led to her twin brother's death several years ago. she promises herself, her family, her friends, and a lot of strangers that she isn't in that vigilante business anymore, if she ever really was: she's retired now. she just wants to live a quiet life (lie) and she doesn't intend to instigate anything (lie) and she is never picking up the mantle again (lie). but anehaven, like ira neda herself, has secrets of its own. the city is alive--and it hungers. people have been disappearing from the streets without a trace for over a year now, more and more with each month that passes. she makes some friends (criminal empress and her two partners in crime as well as ... actual partners), she makes some enemies (her fellow vigilantes) there are three questions now that have no answers: what happens to these people? why does the sidewalk have teeth? and who the FUCK is this other guy calling himself a vigilante?

book two is a little more abstract on account of I Still Haven't Figured out Subplots for it, but it's your stock alien invasion with ensemble cast: here we introduce cori sanchez, the (also) (formerly) retired HUSH, a mirek'ar necromancer; alec iakabos, SOLSTICE, and noah harper, EQUINOX, whom you can think of as "gosh, i really was VERY inspired by wildstorm comics when i was fifteen, huh," if you're familiar with apollo and midnighter from them; along with some familiar faces from the first book--alan and blue wilson (POLTERGEIST and EIDOLON, respectively) and ira neda. names capitalized to make it easier for me to keep track of them lol.

[at-thezenith]

ROY G BIV

thank u for tagging me @vcaudley!

rules: search your wip document for the colours of the rainbow and post the snippets

red

‘No.’ Ola looked at the horizon. With the sun blinding them, the valley seemed to stretch on forever, the earth swallowed up by the deep red sunset. It was a beautiful sight, hard to look at after a day of dreary weather. Ola stared at the sun that dripped golden blood.

orange

Yolan stepped into the centre of the circle and crouched, gently pressing fingers into the earth. She drew a sigil into the snow and loose earth snaked its way towards her hands, piling atop the makeshift gravesite, worming its wat into the shape she had drawn. It signalled a killer’s grave. The sigil burned bright orange for a split second before fading into the deep brown of the dirt. Yolan held her hand there, clenched in a fist, and exhaled. The tension left her body and she dropped her hand, her body hunched over as if holding itself together.

yellow

Afsara took a deep breath in, taking in her surroundings one last time. The big oak she and Cosmos used to swing from. The climbing flowers she’d first practiced on, still alive even in the depths of winter and clinging to their trellis. For good measure she touched a hand to their stems, the blossoms seeming to shake themselves and stretch upwards, colour flooding back into their petals. One was lovelier than the rest; a yellow bloom in a perfect circle. Afsara stroked it, feeling the silk-softness of the petals.

green

The dance was fairly simple. There was a short skip clockwise in the circle, and then the dancers separated to spin their partner around, to then swap with another dancer. It was fast-paced and jolly, the musicians playing as loud as they could to be heard over the noise. Afsara threw herself into it, her skirt billowing out around her in a wave of green velvet. The lanterns and the fire caught on her jewellery, making her gleam from head to toe. Occasionally a new partner would look at her arms and their faces would fold in concern, but Afsara was moving too quickly to hear anything. She came back to Ola often enough, and her faerak was gamely if sourly playing along.

blue

Afsara stretched, slid out of bed. It was still dark outside, and she could see the last of the stars shining in the deep blue sky. When she was younger, this view was reserved for the morning before festivals, when she and Cosmos were too excited to sleep. They would sit by the window, trying to catch the exact moment the sun would crawl above the horizon. She was a little out of practice, but guessed that she had another hour before the stars would fade away in the red bloody sunrise.

no hits for indigo :(

violet (cheating, using purple)

His eye glimmered. It almost looked like he was crying. ‘No. But he’ll forgive me.’ ‘I’m sure. But we won’t.’ Ola set a knee between his shoulder blades, the sudden weight making Angus gasp. She curled a hand, a long, thorny vine snaking out of the ground. With clinical ease, she pulled it out and wrapped it around his throat. He coughed, tried to grab at her with his free hand, but she simply pulled tighter, until his face went from red to purple to blue and his head eventually hung limp.

tfc taglist: @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @hydrancheas  @charlesjosephwrites @kosmic-kore @outpost51 @megarywrites

gently tagging: @fleurtygurl @deanwax @keysandopenmind @phynewrites

[fridayiminlcve]

nike ur the only person i trust enough to ask this question but do you know any upbeat happy songs 😭

hello hi yes of coruse i have a playlist w that exact description on spotify here u go

[ssparksflyy]

hi darling! Could I request a Leo Valdez x reader where Leo finds the reader alone on the beach (which is strange cause she is a daughter of Athena) and he discover that the reader is kinda of feeling lonely and he says something of the lines of “well, if you’re lonely you can be lonely with me” and it kinda ends in a confession? No pressure at all🫶🏻 Thank youuuu 🧡🧡

ask and thou shall recieve ༉‧₊˚.

this side of paradise ๋࣭ ⭑

pairing : leo valdez x gn!reader warning(s) : itty bitty cursing, small angst but turns into fluff ♡ word count : 2.2k a/n : hii! tysm for requesting, i hope this is similar to what u had in mind ♡ also idk the offical landscape of chb so hopefully nobody comes for my kneecaps because idk it 🤷‍♀️ actually please do i dont want to run the mile tmmrw :(

leo gasped when he walked out of bunker 9 and it was dark out. when he entered, the sun was out and brightly shining, and the birds had been happily singing, well, not really, but leo liked pretending they were and he that was in a disney movie.

now, the only light was coming from the moon above. the same birds that had been happily tweeting in his imagination had gone to bed, along with everybody else at camp.

he hadn't realized he'd been cooped up in there for so long. truthfully, leo didn't keep track of time when he was working. he'd rather remain focused on what he enjoyed, and not worry about how much time he'd spent doing it.

he began his descent back through the woods and to cabin 9. he couldn't remember when exactly it had happened, but he knew the way like the back of his hand. he knew some shortcuts, though they involved some parkour and some angry wood nymphs.

after a few minutes of walking and trying not to trip over logs and rocks, leo finally made it out of the woods. normally, he would've turned to his left and headed toward his cabin, ignoring the shimmering sea to his right, but tonight was different. tonight, he couldn't help but look back at the beach, only a few feet away from him.

it was a calming scene. the faint sound of waves softly crashing onto the shore filled his ears. the ocean looked gorgeous from where he was standing. the way it almost perfectly mirrored the starry night sky above. the sand was a soft shade of white, illuminated by the moon above. sitting in the sand, he could just barley see someone's silhouette, calmy looking out at the ocean.

he furrowed his brow, 'its after curfew', leo thought, 'who the heck is still up?'. leo wasn't a snitch, after all, he was out after curfew as well. but, he couldn't say the same for some of the other camp counselors who took their no-pay, hierarchy, and partial-pain-in-the-ass "jobs" seriously. for example, if it was annabeth who was out instead of leo, whoever's sitting on the beach's ass would be grass. leo liked annabeth of course, she was a great friend and strong fighter. but gods of olympus she ran camp like the navy. a navy with more fun, of course, but she was a bit strict.

leo began to head towards the beach. as much as he didn't want to burst this person's bubble, nobody deserved to spend their afternoon cleaning the pegasus stables. except for octavian, may he forever remain restless in hell.

the closer leo got to the person, the clearer of an idea of who it was formed, or so he thought. he stopped in his tracks when he realized it was you. you were wearing your favorite hoodie, the one that had an owl on the back and said your mother's name, athena, just above it.

you loved that hoodie. you wore it any chance you got. once, after dinner, leo had asked you why you loved that hoodie so much, and you proceeded to talk about it for the next 10 minutes while the two of you sat by each other near the campfire. leo never thought he'd be so interested in learning about different sweater materials and how they didn't even compare to yours, but alas, he paid full attention to what you were saying for the entire 10 minutes. the way your eyes lit up when you talked about things you liked would be enough to make leo listen to just about anything you said.

a million thoughts and questions raced through leo's head as he stood just 3 feet away from you. he found himself trying to make his hair look less crazy and trying to straighten out his clothes before he said anything. it'd become a habit he developed before talking to you.

"you know, you could get in a lot of trouble for being out this late" leo said, walking up behind you, looking down at you.

you jumped at the sound of his voice. you hadn't expected anybody else to be out at this late hour. you smiled when you saw him though.

"yea i know, but i also know you won't be the one to get me in trouble." you said, smirking up at him.

leo let out a small chuckle, you were right. you always were. "mind if i sit?", he asked, pointing down at the sand.

you smiled and nodded your head, patting the spot next to you. leo sat down next to you, looking out at the ocean. somehow, it looked even better up close.

"it's beautiful, isn't it?" you said, eyes glued to the scene in front of you.

"yea, breathtaking." leo said, but he wasn't looking at the ocean anymore. he was looking at you. the way your eyes shined, illuminated by the moon above. the way your hair fell perfectly into place, like dominoes. the way you looked so comfortable in your hoodie and jeans.

"i gotta ask though," leo began, keeping his eyes on you, "what's a child of athena doing spending their time at the beach, especially this late?"

you paused and looked lost in a thought for a second before asking, "i can trust you, right?"

"of course you can" leo said, nodding his head in assurance.

"and you promise you wont make fun of me?" you asked again, glancing at leo.

"pink promise." leo said, holding out his pinky.

you smiled and linked your pinky with his. you turned to face the ocean again and let out a small sigh before saying, "well truthfully, i like coming down here whenever i'm feeling kind of, well, lonely."

you glanced over at leo, and he gave you a confused look. you continued, saying, "i don't know, sometimes i just feel like everybody's got their somebody. sure, they've got other friends and stuff, but they've also got their other half. somebody they can be lonely with. me, i feel like i don't have that somebody."

a small frown sat on your face as you continued to look out to the ocean.

leo had no idea you felt that way. you always looked so happy, laughing with your friends, always having a smile on your face. he never considered you'd feel this way.

but you were right, even when you weren't trying, you were right. everybody did have their somebody, and it was easy to feel lonely when you didn't have your somebody. truth be told, leo felt this way often. sure, his friends were great, and they tried to include him as much as possible, but leo couldn't help but feel like he was out of place amongst them. they all had their somebody. percy and annabeth had each other. jason and piper had each other, same with frank and hazel.

leo didn't want you to feel that way. he hated seeing that frown on your face, it killed him. he wanted to take away your pain and any feelings of loneliness and dump them into the pits of tartarus, where you wouldn't be able to experience them again.

leo scooted a bit closer to you. "hey," he began, elbowing you softly, "if you're lonely, you can be lonely with me."

he gave you a soft smile, which you returned. you sighed comfortably, resting your head on his shoulder gently.

even though leo looked calm, his eyes focused on the sea, he was doing backflips on the inside. he felt like his heart was doing somersaults, beating a million miles per hour. he felt like he was going to burst into flames out of excitement. he had to tell himself to calm down, though. he wanted to treasure this moment you were sharing, and he definitely didn't want to burst into flames while your head was on his shoulder.

"say," you began, looking up at leo, "you got a crush on anybody, valdez?"

now leo was feeling heat rise to his face. thankfully it was just him blushing, and not something hazardous.

"uh, yea, i-i do actually." leo said, smiling while looking down. he wanted to say, 'they're sitting right next to me with their head on my shoulder and i want to explode'.

"oh?" you said, lifting your head from his shoulder, smirking at him, "do tell, repair boy."

leo glared at you. he hated it when you called him that. (his heart was doing cartwheels). it was a stupid and annoying name (he loved it) that you had decided to calm him (he felt like you personally had crafted that name).

you gave him an innocent smile and suddenly he didn't care about the stupid (please call him that again) nickname.

he looked down and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "well, i'm not telling you who it is, cause you know them really well, but, i can tell you they're the smartest, most greatest person i've ever met. they're truly like no other. i mean, they're super nice to everybody, always welcoming to new campers. they're always helping out and trying to find solutions to issues anybody may have. they've got this great sense of humor, always laughing at my jokes, and im always laughing at theirs. they're always right. i hate it, but it's true. i'll never admit it to them, but they are. and oh my gods they aren't even only brains either. they're literally breathtaking as well. my hearts always does backflips whenever their around, and i feel like im going to burst into flames even if our hands slightly touch. i swear i want to get lost in their eyes and just stare into them endlessly. they've got these beautiful stormy eyes full of emotion, but yet so calm at the same time. oh and their smile? gods of olympus their smile could bring me to my knees the way it lights up the room. they're literally perfect. inside and out."

leo hadn't realized he'd been rambling. but everything he said was true. heck, he'd probably left stuff out. leo wasn't ashamed to admit he was head over heels in love with you. you made him feel whole when nobody else did. you were able to cheer him up when nobody else could. you were just always there.

"oh wow," you said, a small hint of sadness in your voice, "guess you just really like this person."

"like?" leo said, with a small laugh, "nah, i think i'm in love with them."

"that's great", you said, a sad smile on your face, "well, uh, i think im gonna go to bed. you were right, it's getting pretty late and i wouldn't want us to get caught. bye leo."

you got up quickly, dusting off the sand on your pants. leo hadn't realized you were upset. had he said to much? he didn't want to mess up anything he had between you, but in this moment, it felt like it was 'say it now or regret it forever'.

"wait!" leo said, hurrying to his feet and grabbing your hand.

you whirled around quickly, your breath hitching as you looked at leo.

"it's you." leo blurted out, "it's you, you're the person i've got a crush on. i meant everything i said. you're the greatest person i've ever met."

"it's okay if you don't feel the same way," leo added quickly, "i get it, i just-i just wanted you to know.

you looked at leo with a surprised look on your face, your mouth open slightly. you closed it, and a smile began to creep onto your face. you took a few steps closer to leo, slowly closing the room in between you two.

"you've got a crush on me?~" you asked him, teasingly.

"yea, yea, laugh it up" leo said, blushing and looking down.

you let out a small laugh and said, "im glad. it's good to know my feelings aren't one-sided."

leo quickly lifted his head, it was his turn to look at you shocked. you just smiled at him.

that surprise though, was quickly washed away with a wave of confidence as he clicked his tongue and began to raise and hand to cup your cheek as he said, "you know i wouldn't leave you lonely there."

you both smiled at eachother. leo began to lean in closer to you and connected your lips. as you kissed him back happily, he felt like there was a 4th of july fireworks celebration going on in his heart. the kiss was soft and sweet, straight out of a movie. you were kissing at night on the beach in sercret while everybody else was asleep, it was perfect.

when you broke away, you both had the stupidest smiles on your faces. you had raised you arms and were hugging his neck. he had moved one of his hands to your waist.

"well (y/n)," leo said, his smile a mile wide, "would you do the honors of being my somebody?"

you laughed and brought your face close to his and said, "of course, repair boy."

you both smiled as you kissed once again.

a/n pt.2: yooooooo, i hope u enjoyed that :)) i hope that's what u were looking for anon!! tysm for requesting, this was so cute to write ♡ once again, tysm for reading, i hope u have a great day/night ♡ lmk what u thought! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!

peace from manhattan,

percy jackson