#Bad Mood Brain - had one recently too

[sysig]

Pick a side, it’s the same coin (Patreon)

[muletia]

[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus handles the "would you still love me if i was a worm?" question a little too well

cw: fem!human!reader, fluff, optimus is fucking obsessed with you, bad writing, silliness

word count: 545

"Optimus?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Behemoth stopped working on his datapad, giving you his full attention. His private quarters were dimly lit, except for the soft blue glow of his patient optics, illuminating your figure, comfortably seated on his desk. Wrapped in a blanket and lying on the cozy couch that Optimus had personally brought in for you, you felt safe.

"Yes, my dearest?"

You couldn't quite explain what compelled you to speak the words that began to slip from your lips. Perhaps you just needed some validation in that moment, or maybe you were feeling a little down and wanted a mood boost. Whatever it was, it took over.

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"What is a 'worm'?"

Embarrassment washed over you. You shouldn't have said anything (even if part of you was curious to see how he would respond).

It didn’t help that he was staring at you with those big, puppy-like optics, patiently waiting for an explanation. Oh God, he took it completely seriously. It shouldn’t have surprised you, knowing who you were dealing with, but this wasn’t the kind of question to take seriously. You would've been thrilled if he just said a simple "yes."

You cleared your throat.

"Ermm, well, you know..."

He absorbed every word like a sponge, analyzing, debating within himself to find the right response, unaware of your sudden awkwardness. He didn’t consider your question childish; he wanted to give you an honest answer that reflected his feelings.

After several seconds of silence (though to you it felt like hours), his mouth moved, and the reply that came out was one you never expected.

"I would build you a large garden with the richest soil in the universe, decorate it with your favorite flowers and plants, so you could enjoy the view before you when you decide to leave your shelter. I would visit you at every free moment, sharing updates about life, discussing human craft that recently captivated me. At night, I would carefully lift you onto my servo, so we could gaze at the radiance of the night sky together. I would treat you as my equal, with unchanged gentleness, affection, and devotion, admiring your beauty beyond your physical form, speaking to your soul. And just as I do now, I would be devoted to you, ready to answer your every cry, gesture, and request, overjoyed simply by being able to help. I would love you as a worm, a plant, a stick, or a stone, nurturing my love for you until my final days, faithful only to you."

The look of astonishment on your face made him a little concerned.

"[Your name], is everything alright? Did I say something inappropriate?"

"Wow..." not the most eloquent response, but your brain was too fried to come up with anything better. You blinked a few times to regain your composure, but it didn’t stop the blush from spreading across your face. "That was... beautiful. No, really, I didn’t expect such a powerful answer."

Optimus surprised you again by sending a gentle smile your way, softening the metal contours of his face. And then, whether consciously or not, he fired a return shot.

"And would you still love me if I was a worm?"

[bruhnze]

Actual goals AF - LUCY x ONA

This fic is brought to you by the inspiration I got watching the Chelsea – Crystal Palace game. Lucy’s goal truly moved me. Or maybe I was just in a little ✨mood✨ to write some smut, who knows.

warnings: smuttttttttt, also some fluff.

summary: post match facetime

words: about 2.4k

‘’Babyyyyyy.’’ Lucy shook her shoes off as she bursted in to her apartment, Ona on FaceTime, she had specifically waited to call her until she’d have some privacy. But in the elevator up to her apartment she couldn’t hold her excitement anymore.

‘’Luce.’’ Ona giggled, seeing the chin of her lover. ‘’beautiful goal, very cool, very casual.’’

‘’Mhm.’’ Lucy smirked, finally looking in to the camera as she had shedded her coat off somewhere in the hallway too. ‘’That’s actually why I called you baby.’’

‘’Is that so.’’ Ona said, chuckling, rolling her eyes. She knew all too well what their traditions where regarding goals, assists, sometimes tackles. Lucy playing good meant, Lucy feeling good, Lucy feeling good meant Lucy getting in a certain mood. She had never complained about it ever, oh no, fucking with a post-match euphoric horny Lucy was one of the best things this earth had to offer and it was all for her. She loved it.

‘’Did you watch the game.’’ Lucy asked excitedly, wondering off to her bedroom.

‘’Mhm, ofcourse.’’ Ona shook her head, ‘’I just told you your goal was a very good goal.’’

‘’Do you remember that match we both scored?’’ Lucy trailed off, ‘’That was-

-yes Luce.’’ Ona interrupted her girlfriend, ‘’I remember perfectly, I’d say our best performance yet.’’

Lucy narrowed her eyes, the game had been nothing special, a bad game maybe even, there had been six goals made that match.

‘’No, I’m not talking about football performance.’’ Ona rolled her eyes. ‘’And don’t act so surprised, you started this call and your motives are very clear.’’ She said sternly as Lucy dropped herself on her bed.

‘’Motives?’’ Lucy smirked, ‘’I can’t call my girlfriend after I’ve scored.’’

‘’You would’ve called me straight away in the car.’’

‘’Maybe I wanted to listen some music, maybe I didn’t have my phone connected to the car and I didn’t want to text and drive.’’

‘’Maybe you waited until you were home so you could have phone sex.’’

Lucy’s eyes widened at Ona’s bluntness, ‘’I-.’’

‘’Ohhh, sorry I totally misinterpreted.’’ Ona said cheekily, changing from sitting against the headboard to laying on her stomach, kicking her feet in the air as she bit her lip looking at Lucy on her screen. ‘’Tell me about the game then.’’

‘’Phone sex.’’ Lucy repeated, seemingly the only words she had picked up. ‘’Well if you want that.’’

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’don’t turn this all on me now.’’

‘’You’re right,’’ Lucy chuckled and sat up straighter, ‘’I wish we were in the same room right now so fucking bad.’’

‘’Oh yeah?’’

‘’Mhm,’’ Lucy groaned from the thought alone, she had some very vivid memories coming to the front of her brain all of a sudden, she shifted and started kicking her trousers down, ‘’but since I’m not there,’’ she shifted getting the pants past her ankles, ‘’you can maybe get some stuff out.’’ She boldly suggested.

‘’Stuff?’’ Ona chuckled, she had always found Lucy’s prudeness funny, for someone who did so many unholy things she had suspiciously much problems with calling things by their name. She herself was very openminded, very comfortable around the topic. Sometimes she even thought talking about sex was the most important part about sleeping with someone.

‘’Uh yeah.’’ Lucy scratched her neck, ‘’get the, uh.’’ Her cheeks flushed, she cleared her throat, ‘’get some toys, uhm.’’

Ona looked back at Lucy with an unfazed smile, ‘’which ones, love?’’ she said with a little smirk.

‘’The one I bought you most recently,’’ Lucy started, a little more certain, already getting wet about the thrill of seeing Ona ride the thick silicone dildo, possibly sooner rather then later. ‘’And a vibe.’’ She added after some quick thought.

Ona chuckled, ‘’mkay.’’ She shuffled and Lucy saw nothing more then a little forehead, a little ceiling, a little shoulder as Ona rummaged through the drawer.

‘’Okay lay them on the bed, and now first undress.’’ Lucy said, her eyes fixed on her iPhone, ‘’put the phone up on the nightstand, show me baby.’’

‘’Mhmmm, a performance for a performance.’’ Ona said as she propped her phone up against a stack of books she had yet to read.

Ona giggled, ‘’guess you deserve it after that performance, hm?’’

"Yeah because i did so well tonight"

‘’You’re so sexy, I miss you so much.’’ Lucy said as she watched Ona undress.

She watched intently as Ona sensually undid herself from her clothes. It didn’t take long until she was just in her panties as she hadn’t been wearing much.

Lucy’s breath hitched at the sight of Ona standing there, clad only in her panties, her skin glowing under the soft light of her bedroom. Ona smiled knowingly, that playful smirk Lucy loved so much.

“You like what you see, don’t you?” Ona teased, running a finger along the waistband of her panties.

Lucy swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "You know I do, baby. Now, why don’t you get rid of the rest? Slowly."

Ona bit her lip, loving the control she held over her even through the screen. She hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down her hips, drawing the moment out, knowing exactly how to keep Lucy hanging on every movement.

Lucy’s hand drifted down between her own thighs, her fingers brushing over the wetness that had been building since they started talking. “Fuck, Ona, you’re so hot. I need you so bad. I need you right now.”

Ona chuckled softly, her hands roaming over her own body, teasing herself with light touches, grazing her fingertips over her stomach and up to her breasts. She lingered there, squeezing softly, knowing how much Lucy loved watching her play with herself.

Her body was already starting to respond, her skin warming under her own touch. Her fingers drifted lower, brushing the inside of her thighs, making her hips shift. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Lucy groaned in frustration, her eyes locked on the screen, watching as Ona’s hand slowly crept closer to where she wanted to be, to where she wanted to have her mouth, her fingers, her strap. Ona’s fingers slipped between her legs, grazing over her folds as she bit her lip, letting out a small sigh that made Lucy’s pulse race. Lucy could see the glistening wetness on her fingertips, the subtle shiver that ran through Ona’s body at her own touch, and it drove her crazy.

Lucy’s chest rose and fell with labored breaths, her fingers already wet from her own arousal. “So fucking hot,” she muttered, eyes glued to the screen. “Now grab the vibe.”

Ona’s lips parted slightly, excitement flashing across her face as she reached for the small vibrator, holding it up for Lucy to see. She pressed it against her inner thigh first, letting the vibrations tease her as she rolled her hips forward. Lucy’s breath hitched, watching intently as Ona played with herself, her body responding to the vibrations before she even touched her clit.

"Fuck, Ona, you’re driving me insane," Lucy groaned, her own body arching slightly in response to the sight. "Now... put it where I know you need it."

Ona bit her lip, slowly moving the vibrator between her legs, letting it hover just above her clit, teasing herself, and Lucy, for a few more moments. Then, with a shaky breath, she pressed it against her clit, her hips jerking as the pleasure shot through her. A soft moan escaped her lips as her eyes fluttered shut, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through her body.

“Ona…” Lucy’s voice was strained, desperate, her self-control slipping. She bit her lip, trying to regain some composure as her own hand mimicked the motions on her own body. Fuck a build-up she thought. “Pick up the dildo,” she instructed, her voice dropping low and husky. “I want you to use it, ride it for me.”

Ona looked at her phone a little desperate, she was just getting started.

‘’You look so pretty riding it.’’ Lucy cooed, ‘’Please baby, show me how pretty you are.’’

She put the vibrator off and tossed it further onto the bed. She reached over, grabbing the other toy and positioned herself at the edge of the bed, making sure Lucy had the perfect view by turning her phone a little bit. “Like this?” she asked, her voice dripping with sweetness, teasing as she climbed over the silicone length, lowering herself slowly until the tip barely touched her entrance.

Lucy’s fingers moved faster against herself as she watched, her heart racing. “Fuck, yes. Just like that. I want to see you take it all.”

Ona didn’t need to be told twice. She slowly sank down onto the dildo, her head falling back with a soft moan as she felt it stretch her. Lucy’s breath hitched, her eyes glued to the screen as Ona began to move, rolling her hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Lucy groaned, her body trembling with need. She could feel herself getting closer, the sight of Ona riding the toy pushing her over the edge. “Touch yourself for me, baby. I want to see you cum.”

Ona’s hand slid between her legs again, finding her clit as she rode the toy, her hips moving in slow, deliberate circles. The sensation of the dildo filling her deeply, combined with the teasing circles on her sensitive clit, made her gasp, her moans filling the room as she followed Lucy’s command. The pleasure built quickly, her body tingling with the intensity of it, her legs shaking slightly as she rocked against the toy.

Lucy’s eyes were half-lidded, her own pleasure nearing its peak. “That’s it, Ona. Let me hear you, baby.”

Ona’s moans grew louder, her body shaking as she rode the toy harder, her fingers working her clit in fast circles. “L-Lucy,” she panted, her voice breaking.

Ona’s breath was ragged, her body teetering on the edge. “L-Lucy... it feels so good,” she whimpered, her voice breaking with the intensity of it. Her fingers moved faster against her clit as she quickened her pace, the toy filling her deeply with each roll of her hips. “I’m so close...”

Lucy’s breath came in short gasps as her own climax built to a crescendo. “Cum with me, Ona,” she whispered, her fingers moving faster. “Cum f-for me.”

That was all it took. Ona’s body tensed, her back arching as the orgasm crashed over her, her moans spilling out freely. The sight of Ona coming undone was too much for Lucy, she followed her over the edge, her own body shaking as waves of pleasure pulsed through her.

For a moment, neither of them could speak, the only sound filling the air was their heavy breathing. Ona slumped forward, resting on her arms as she caught her breath, a satisfied smile on her face.

As the waves of pleasure finally subsided, both Lucy and Ona remained in a blissful, breathless haze. Ona collapsed back onto her bed, her body still tingling, while Lucy lay sprawled out on her own, her heart slowly returning to a normal rhythm.

“Baby,” Ona murmured, still catching her breath, her voice gentle and affectionate. “You okay?”

Lucy, flushed and exhausted, managed a soft chuckle. “Hmm, better than okay,” she replied, her voice raspy from the intensity of it all. “You… you’re incredible, Ona.”

Ona smiled softly, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on her stomach as she basked in the afterglow. “You too, Luce. I wish I could hold you right now.”

“God, me too,” Lucy sighed, the reality of the distance hitting her again now that the euphoria had passed. She propped herself up on her elbow, looking at Ona’s face on the screen. “Soon though, yeah? We’ll be together soon.”

Ona nodded, her eyes softening. “Mhm,” she agreed, with a short hum. She reached for her phone, settling into a more comfortable position, her head resting on her pillow. “But for now, let’s just stay like this. I want you here with me… even if it’s through the phone.”

“Yeah,” Lucy agreed, her voice quieter now, as if the vulnerability of the moment had calmed her completely. She mirrored Ona’s movement, laying back on her own pillow, holding her phone close to her face. “Me too.”

They lay there in comfortable silence for a few moments, just the sounds of their soft breathing filling the space between them. There was no need for words, just the quiet intimacy of being connected, of feeling each other's presence even across the distance.

“Hey,” Lucy whispered after a while, her voice thick with sleepiness. “Did I tell you I love you today?”

Ona giggled softly, her eyes closing as the warmth of Lucy’s voice lulled her. “You might’ve, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you, Ona,” Lucy said, her voice full of sincerity, a smile tugging at her lips despite her tiredness. ''I love you so, so much.''

“I love you too, Lucy,” Ona whispered back.

They continued to talk in soft murmurs, sharing gentle words of affection and reassurances of their love, the exhaustion from their long day and intense moment slowly catching up to them.

Lucy’s voice became softer and slower with each word, and soon enough, Ona could hear the steady rhythm of her breathing, knowing Lucy had finally drifted off to sleep. A smile spread across Ona’s face as she watched her lover sleep through the screen, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace.

“Goodnight, my love,” she whispered, not expecting a response. She cuddled up to her own pillow, her phone still resting besides her.

Within moments, she also fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, the two of them connected by the soft glow of their phones.

Their hearts were fully intertwined even if they were miles apart.

//

yupp

[darlingshane]

little things

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: You're having a bad day, thanks to your period, but Frank showing up earlier than expected changes that completely.

CW: fluff, crack, hurt/comfort, happy frank, he's still in the marine corps, mention of getting shot, period mention, pet names, cuddling, watching tv.

A/N: Just a little something I wrote the other day while I was having some bad cramping.

Word Count: 1,1k

— Links: AO3 // Frank Masterlist

“You sound a little cranky,” Frank said on the phone, his voice cutting off over the sound of an announcement coming out from the airport speakers and the urgent buzz of people rushing in the background.

It wasn't his fault you were feeling like crap when he called you. Your period showing up at the most inconvenient time of the day was the one responsible for your terrible mood. You only wanted to grab your stuff, leave work, head home and borrow the couch for the rest of the day but alas you still had half a shift to go through before you could do that.

“I have to go back to work, Frank. What did you want again?” You're sure he said it when you picked up the call a couple of minutes ago, but your brain refused to hold onto that information.

You heard him scoff at the other end before saying. “I said I just landed. I'm about to get into a cab.”

“Right now? In New York? Thought you weren't coming back till next week. I was going to pick you up.”

“It's okay, sweetheart. I got an early leave. I'll tell you about it later. Do you want to go out? Maybe grab a bite, go to a movie or something to celebrate?”

“I uh… I’m not feeling well today. I'm sorry. Can it wait till tomorrow?”

“Sure, baby. What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Just everyone's favorite time of the month when your uterus decides to shed itself.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry baby. How about I pick you up? We could order some food and watch one of your shows. Would that make you feel better?”

“You just got home, Frank.” You paused, letting out a long sigh. “You don't have to do that. It should be me. I had this whole thing planned, I was going to surprise you, and now it's just ruined.”

“It's okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of you today. You can still surprise me when you feel better, okay?”

“Okay,” you resigned, bummed about the fact that you couldn't welcome him properly after months without seeing him.

When Frank picked you up from work a few hours later you almost broke in his arms. It was hard to believe he was here. Missing him had become something normal that you got used to. It wasn't until he was in front of you that you realized how much you did miss him. Capturing the scent of his skin when you buried your face in the crook of his neck brought you to tears. You fit your palm at the back of his nape, it was recently shaved, and you could feel the skin under the short, pickling hairs.

Frank held you tightly against his chest, keeping you from tumbling down. It was easy to tell he was dying to see you just as much.

He drove you home where he had prepared a whole thing for you to relax. On the coffee table he had set up a fresh pepperoni pizza from your favorite joint, a bowl filled with candy, and a second bowl filled with tampons, pads, and painkillers that made you laugh. On the couch, your heated blanket was already waiting for you. Frank offered to draw you a bath first, but you didn't feel like soaking in the tub right now. You just put on your pj's, sat on the couch, curled between Frank's legs with all your creature comforts around while you picked one of your favorite shows to binge—Gilmore Girls.

“You forgot to tell me why they sent you home early.” You remembered once your cramps started to ebb.

“Shit, you're right. I forgot too.” He moved slightly at your back to collect something from his pocket. “Here.”

A small metallic thing was hiding between his fingers that he offered to you. It was a bullet without its shell casing. You were quick to recognize from the crash course he gave you once about handguns.

After inspecting the bullet, you glanced at him over your shoulder.

“I'm confused. What’s this?”

“I got shot. That's why they sent me back.”

“What?” You shifted to the side to survey an injury that wasn't visible. His arms, neck, and face were intact. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I'm fine. It was a couple of days ago. I thought about calling, but I didn't wanna worry you. It wasn't that big of a deal. Just one asshole getting one lucky shot.”

“You should've called me, Frank. I'm already worried every time you leave.”

“I know, I'm sorry.”

“Where were you hit?”

“Well, that's the funny thing.” His lips curled up.

“Why?”

“I got shot in the ass.”

“Get out of here.” You nudged him with your elbow. “Not my favorite money-maker.”

“No, it's true.” He chuckled.

“Okay, show me.”

“Uh-uh, we're watching this.” He pointed at the flat screen. “You promised Lorelai and Luke would get back together in a couple of episodes. I'm invested now. I need to see that happening.”

You paused the episode.

“Nope, you don't get to see that until you show me your ass.”

“Fine,” he scoffed and stood up, turning around and undoing his button to pull his jeans and underwear down. On the curve of his right cheek there was a small piece of gauze taped to his skin.

“Did it hurt?” You asked, peeling the tape carefully.

“Nah, it was just a bee sting.”

You grimaced at the sight of his skin stitched together. It wasn't that bad but for some reason it hurt you more than it hurt him.

“One lucky shot, huh?” You uttered, covering his injury. “They should make Kevlar plates for your ass.”

“Hey, at least it wasn't my dick.” He quipped, buttoning his pants.

“Oh, that would be a tragedy. Don't joke about that.”

Frank laughed as he sat back down in his former spot at your back.

“Anyway, you got one hell of a keepsake.” You rolled the bullet between your fingers.

“Brought that one for you. Thought you like to keep it.”

“Me? I don’t want your crusty ass bullet,” you huffed as he locked an arm around you, pressing his cheek against your jaw.

“No? What do you want then, Miss? Diamonds and flowers?”

“Not necessarily diamonds but I’d take a ring.”

“A ring, huh?” He picked up your left hand and massaged the knuckle of your ring finger. “You’re right, your hand is looking awfully bare without a ring. I’ll see what I can do about that.”

“You know I’m joking, right?”

“Well, I’m not. Next time, it’ll be a ring I promise, sweetheart.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

You gazed at him over your shoulder, and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

A Friend In Need’s A Friend Indeed — Azriel x Cassian.

Summary: Azriel’s been mighty stressed recently. Cassian is a good friend with a good suggestion and a good mouth.

Note: I still haven’t had a chance to sort out my tag lists, I’m sorry. This has been sitting in my drafts for ages. Life has been so busy recently 😅

Warnings: Smut, 18+, minors dni. 💕

It’s clear to Cassian, the second he walks into the room, that the shadowsinger is in a foul mood.

In all honesty, Azriel has been in a foul mood all week.

He’s not very good at striking a work-life balance. Missions and reports and information flood his thoughts and keep him awake at night. They have done every night this week.

So when Cassian slumps down in the armchair opposite his, he eyes his friend and knows — Azriel is not going to be pleasant company tonight.

His brow is deeply furrowed and darkened as he stares down at the papers in his hands. Cassian considers asking him what, exactly, the report pertains to — but he selfishly decides that the information will numb his brain, and he doesn’t think he can bear to hear it right now. Whatever. Az doesn’t even glance up at him.

So Cass pours himself a drink and settles into the chair. And only after the fifth time Azriel sighs — yes, he’s counting — does he ask, “Long day?”

Az simply grunts and turns the page. This is going to be a long night.

"You look like you could use a drink," the Illyrian General pauses. "Or ten."

No reply.

Cass says, "Az."

"What, Cassian?"

"Why don't you put those papers down and have a conversation? Or better yet, let's go to Rita's—"

"I'm busy."

Cassian purses his lips. “The world isn’t going to end if you set your work aside for the night.”

“Your world is going to end if you don’t stop yapping in my ear,” Azriel pauses, scans the paper — and then growls, chucking it onto the coffee table in front of them both. “This is fucking pointless.”

Maybe Cass should ask, he thinks. He studies his friend. “What is it, exactly, that’s had you in such a foul mood all week?”

Azriel’s bleary hazel eyes merely flick up to him; clearly he doesn’t appreciate the observation. Dark smudges sit beneath his eyes. His entire body, shadows and all, is coiled tightly. Tense.

Oh. Oh. A fight, Cassian realises — a fight is what’s going to take the edge off. Goading Az, provoking him…he’s done it more times than he can count in centuries of friendship. Letting him get a few punches in will surely ease the tension. Cass is willing to do that for him.

“You’ve just been a rain cloud of fucking doom all week,” he smirks as the shadowsinger stiffens even more. “Perhaps you need to get laid. Although, no one will surely come near you while you’re walking around with a face like a slapped ass.”

Cassian waits for his retort. For him to surge forward and knock him out of the chair, or for him to demand that they go right up to the training rings at once and speak through their fists, considering Cass clearly has a lot to say.

But Azriel’s jaw ticks, and he merely shoots back, “Suck my dick, Cassian.”

The mischief almost winks out of Cass’s eyes. Almost. It’s not the response he’s expecting.

But he rights himself and sits up, his smirk widening. “Is that what it will take to cheer you up, Az? Getting your cock between my lips? When was the last time someone sucked you dry?”

The irritated twitching of Azriel’s eye tells Cassian that it’s been way, way too long since someone sucked him dry. And that shocks Cass. Az has many lovers dotted about the city — many different people he could lose himself in for a couple of hours. If he’s not even tearing himself away from his stress for some mindless pleasure, it must be bad.

“Cauldron,” Cassian raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I should suck your dick.”

There’s no response. Not even a bark for him to fuck off. Azriel simply shifts in his armchair and clutches a cushion to his lap.

And Cass tracks the movement. He narrows his eyes on that cushion, and it takes him a shamefully delayed moment to realise that it’s been very deliberately placed there. He chokes out a laugh, “Holy shit, are you hard?”

“I wouldn’t be,” Az grits his teeth, “if you’d just shut the fuck up and stop talking about sucking my dick. It’s been a while, okay? I’m wound up.”

“…And is your hand not working, or…”

“It’s not enough. I’ve tried. I can’t…I can’t come.”

Silence settles between them. For once, Cassian isn’t quite sure what to say.

And perhaps Az is expecting him to make a joke, because he shakes his head and quickly stands. Grabs his reports. Makes to book it the fuck out of there.

But Cass says, “Wait.”

“Forget it, Cass—”

“I’m not laughing at you, Az,” he sits up. “You know I’ll always help you in any way that I can.”

Azriel scoffs. “What, like sucking my dick?”

“Why not?”

“Can you be fucking serious for five minutes.”

Cass shrugs, “I’m completely serious.”

Azriel stares back at him, narrowing his eyes. But the usual humour and banter…it’s absent. His face is open, honest.

He’s serious, Az realises. Completely serious.

The shadowsinger raises an eyebrow. “Cass…”

“Are you saying no?”

“…Well, no—”

“So sit down, Az.”

The choice is entirely Azriel’s, and the shadowsinger himself knows that. He can sit down and…and take what Cass is offering…or he can walk out of here and leave that boundary unbreached.

It feels a little surreal as his feet begin moving. Back over to the chair he’d vacated.

He thinks he might be shaking, which is weird, but sex and all that it involves tends to come naturally to Az. But in five centuries, it’s a line that he and Cassian have never crossed. They’ve seen each other naked plenty of times. They’ve fucked other people in the same room. It’s never come to this.

Until now.

Azriel watches as Cassian rises from his chair and stalks over. He can’t believe he’s actually doing this, can’t believe Cassian is actually offering.

But there’s nothing but sheer will in the General’s eyes as he sinks to his knees. Azriel parts his legs for him.

He swallows hard as Cass drags his hands up his legs. And his voice comes out in a rasp as he says, “You don’t have to do this—”

“Az?” Cass cuts him off.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and enjoy it.”

He can hardly argue with that. And as Cassian unlaces Azriel’s breeches and tugs them apart, the spymaster isn’t sure he’d be able to find the words, anyway.

Cassian’s hand is huge and warm and rough and callused. And as he reaches into Az’s breeches and pulls his hardened cock out, both males let out a little breath.

“Oh, yeah,” Cass eyes the rigid length, the swollen head, leaking with moisture. “You really need this.”

Azriel’s response dies on his tongue at the first stroke. He can only manage a grunt.

“Whatever you need, Az,” Cassian pumps his hand, dipping his head. “Fuck my mouth. I can take it.”

And then, gripping Azriel’s cock in his hand, he drags a broad stroke of his tongue, from the base to the head. Azriel’s hips jerk.

“Shit,” he grits his teeth, eyes intently on Cassian’s tongue.

Cassian smiles and does it again, “Like that?”

“Yeah. Yes. Can you…”

“Put you in my mouth?” as his tongue once again reaches the head, he wraps his mouth around it and hums his approval. He laps at that little pearl of moisture that’s waiting there.

“Fuck, Cass,” Azriel gasps. He relaxes in the seat, fingers sinking into Cassian’s hair.

Cass realises quickly that he enjoys this. He’s had the odd experience with males over the years, but it’s mostly females that take his fancy. But this — feeling Azriel’s cock disappear into his mouth, feeling his thigh flex under his hand, feeling him jerking and writhing on the spot — gods above, he’s so fucking hard right now.

His lips and tongue seem to work in tandem. He drags his mouth over Azriel’s length, licking and sucking as he goes. And then he pulls his lips off him and repeats.

Azriel’s breaths are picking up. This is so much better than his hand. He actually feels like he might come, and not just be beating away at pleasure that never comes to anything. He moans, pulling at the strands of Cassian’s hair. And at the same time, he uses his other hand to push Cass’s head down.

“Gods, Cass, your mouth,” he growls, encouraging the bobbing motion that Cassian’s head falls into. With every push, Cass takes him in deeper, deeper.

And with saliva dripping from his chin, and the head of Az’s dick damn near grazing the back of his throat, a single thought crosses Cassian’s mind: he really likes sucking cock.

“Harder,” Az grunts, not even sure he means to say it. But he just wants…wants Cass to be rough. Wants this to be teetering on the edge of pleasured pain.

But Cass pulls his cock out of his mouth, wrapping his hand around the length. He pumps fast, hard, and then says, “Fuck my mouth, Az.”

The second Cassian’s lips are wrapping around him again, Azriel does exactly that.

He’s lifting his hips and gripping Cassian’s head with both hands, and he thrusts, hard, panting and sweating and swearing. Cassian takes it all like a champ, greedily swallowing every taste of him. His hands grip the back of Azriel’s legs, and he slides his mouth all the way down.

And this time, when the head hits the back of his throat, Azriel stills.

“Fuck!” He shouts, groans, gasps, roars. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

His cock is absolutely exploding. A week’s worth of pent-up frustration shoots from him and spills down Cassian’s throat. Cass swallows. And swallows. And swallows. Every last drop. He moans while doing so.

Az thinks his hips are still rolling long after his release has rocked him. He can’t bring himself to let go of the pleasure, to remove his cock from his friends mouth. It twitches on Cassian’s tongue and dribbles the remnants of his seed with every jerk. Cassian stares up at him with swollen lips and lustful eyes.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, the two males finally part. Both are breathing heavily. Cassian wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“That was—” Azriel swallows, tucking himself back into his breeches. He doesn’t bother to lace them up. “When did you learn to do that?”

Cassian’s smirk is purely roguish as he pushes to his feet. “I’ve learned a whole lot of things you can’t even begin to imagine,” he rolls his shoulders. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Az watches him, his eyes falling to that hardened bulge that pushes through Cassian’s own trousers. He clearly enjoyed what just occurred. And that thought alone has Az’s cock twitching to life again.

He leans forward, opening his mouth — to say what, to suggest what, he isn’t sure. But before he can voice his desires, footsteps are approaching.

Both males straighten up as Rhys appears in the doorway, a drink in his hand.

The High Lord sniffs, his brow furrowing. And then he looks between his two friends — Az’s unlaced breeches and heaving chest. Cassian’s swollen lips. He puts two and two together.

“Cauldron fucking boil me,” is all he grouses, and then he’s turning back and leaving the way he came.

Leaving Cassian and Azriel alone once more.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Not Like Me - Lando Norris

<word count - 893>

"Baby?" you heard from the upstairs as the front door was closed. 

"Up here!" you called back, waiting for Lando to walk through the door of your bedroom. 

"Why are you in bed already?" he asked, checking his watch as he came into the room and saw you, still in your pyjamas with the curtains closed and blinds drawn. "Didn't feel like getting up," you said, sinking further into the pillows. 

You hadn't been feeling like yourself recently, and sometimes you just needed to stay in bed in the dark to clear your head. Today, however, the darkness wasn't taking your hand and pulling you out of the slump you were in.

"Hey, you OK?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. Lando placed his hand on your duvet-clad thigh and gently ran his fingers up and down the span of your thigh. "Yeah, just a bit tired. How was golf?" you asked, changing the subject. 

As much as you tried to deny it, Lando knew every one of your little diversion tactics, and he knew exactly how to get around them. "It was pretty good, Alex won and George was pretty dismal, but that might have been due to how we changed George's club so he was hitting it skew," he lightly giggled, hoping to put a smile on your face. 

You weakly smiled, trying to show that you were alright and you were trying to figure out ways to get him to leave you alone for another hour or two. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate him trying to help, but sometimes, you just wanted to be alone. 

"What have you been up to today?" he asked, the first attempt at getting around the diversions was slightly pressing questions. "Nothing much,  just watched a couple movies and stuff,"

"Do you want to come downstairs with me for a bit?" he asked, trying to get you out of the darkness for a bit. Maybe stretching your legs might do you some good, and Lando hoped it would lighten your mood a bit. 

"I'm alright, I think I'll stay here for a bit," you said, hoping he would get the hint and leave you for a little while. Lando sighed almost in defeat, but he had one more plan to get you to open up. Well, it wasn't a plan, it was just asking you straight up.

"Come on, what's wrong?" he asked as you rolled over in bed to face away from him. "I know something's up," he spoke, earning absolutely no response from you. 

"Look, you don't have to tell me, but it might help," you turned back around and just looked at him for a few moments. There was no denying that Lando knew you weren't feeling great, and he would do everything in his power to help you feel like a million dollars again. 

"I just-" you started, immediately doubling back on your words. "It's silly, it doesn't matter," you said, starting to turn back over for a third time. But, Lando braced his hand on your waist to stop you from rolling.

"Baby, if it's how you feel, then it could never be silly and it most certainly matters. It matters more than anything else in the world," he softly soothed, tangling his fingers in your hair and soothingly tickled you.

"I just don't feel like... Me. And I don't know why," you groaned, leaning more into his touch as it made good vibrations ripple through your brain. "You don't need to know why you feel the way you do. They're your feelings, they don't need a reason," he explained, and the pieces were clicking in your brain.

"I just don't know how to get back to feeling like my normal self," you complained, wanting to be like yourself again. "Give it some time, darling. These things take time, and you can talk to me at any time about anything if you think it will help," he smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

"I love you, Lando," you said, appreciating what he was doing for you. Sometimes, you felt bad for putting your problems onto him, but he always dismissed your apologies. "I love you too, Y/N. Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

"Can you cuddle me?" you batted your eyelashes at him as if there was a possibility that he'd say no, but it just added to the scene. "Of course," he smirked, rounding the foot of the bed and you felt the mattress dip behind you. 

Rolling over, you saw a few of Lando's curls had fallen over his eyes as he flicked them out of the way. "C'mere," he mumbled, pulling you as close to him as possible. Your legs tangled together as he wrapped his arms around your torso and held you tight. 

 "You're brilliant," you yawned, already feeling tired even after you had spent the whole day in bed. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck as one of his hands gently trailed up and down your spine. 

"I try," he quietly laughed in your ear, his lips ghosting over it. As you drifted off to sleep to the sound of Lando's soft breathing, it already felt like a part of you was returning, and maybe the darkness had been reaching out for you all along.

|masterlist|

[homestylehughes]

3 times nico wanted to kiss you and the 1 time he did.

pairing(s): nico hischier x fem!reader

summary: 3 times nico wanted to kiss you and the 1 time he did.

warning(s): absolutely none. pure sweet fluff :)

wc: 2.3k

an: hi loves! I'm so sorry for my lack of posting and staying on top of everything, life has been kinda kicking my ass recently BUT the show must go on! sooooo.. new nico fic! this is one of my favorite prompts of writing, so I hope you enjoy Nico's version! lmk if you'd like me to write anyone else to this! I loved writing this, and i hope you enjoy reading it! like and reblog if you do! I hope you all are healthy and well. much love as always<3

1.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nico swore as he kicked the front door of his apartment. Today wasn't his day, first the devils lost their game in a shootout, a game that they should have won. Having to sit through mindless, annoying media after, putting nico in an even more shitty mood. Then he got stuck in traffic on his way back home, his phone died halfway home, and just as he got out of his car it started pouring causing him to get completely soaked. Just to top it all off, if his day couldn't get any worse, he somehow left his keys inside his apartment. Which led to the three kicks Nico gave to his door before dropping his head against the cold wood. 

Nico, too busy trying to wrack his brain on how to get into his apartment, didn't hear the elevator door open, as someone began to walk down the hallway. 

“Nico, are you alright?” a sweet voice says from behind him.

turning his head slowly to see yn, his attractive, sweet as honey neighbor standing next to him in the hallway. 

“Uh hi” he rasps put

“Hi” she replies sweetly, “are you okay?” she asks again

“Um, not really. I haven't had the best day, and I happen to lock my keys in my apartment.” 

“Oh no, im sorry” she says, a genuine look of empathy running along her face 

“Its okay, i'm just going to stand here until it magically opens” nico chuckles out sadly to her 

“If you'd like you could come post up in my place until you can get back to yours? I don't want you to sit out here by yourself all night.” she says softly

“Oh no, i don't want to be a bother”

“Nico you won't be a bother, and i'm offering so please” she says to him with pleading eyes

“Okay, thank you so much. I'll be out of hair as soon as i can” he smiles to her

“Don't even worry about it, you're more than welcome over at any time.” She smiles at him, turning on her heel to the other side of the hall to open her door, Nico following behind her, shutting the door after him. 

“I see you've changed some things, since the last time i've been here” nico says as he looks around her apartment

“I have! Changing it up a bit for the different seasons. Do you like it” yn asks shyly

“I do, its very..you” he smiles to her

“Thank you Nico, that's very kind.” 

“Oh! You're soaking wet, let me see if I have anything you can wear. Follow me” she says, turning away to make her way to what nico thinks to be her bedroom as he follows her.

“Yn you don't have too” he says, feeling bad that she's doing all of this for him 

“Nico please stop apologizing it's okay, i promise” her hands rummaging through her dresser as she speaks 

“Here! I have there huge sweatpants and shirt from my college days hopefully this works for you” she smiles, holding out the clothes in front of her

“This is great thank you” he smiles back, taking them from her hands. His gaze lingering a little longer than it should over her face, taking in the soft color of her eyes, as well as her smile, drinking each bit of her features as he could. 

“The bathrooms right down the hall, feel free to shower if you'd like. I'm about to get started on dinner” 

“Okay great, thank you so much again” nico says for the 15th time he thinks tonight

“Of course nico, whatever you need im always here” sending him another sweet smile, that almost makes him drop to his knees

“Well i'm going to get changed, i'll be down in a little” 

“Of course! I'll be in the kitchen, let me know if you need anything’’

Nico nods in response before finding the door to the bathroom, entering before closing the door behind him. Looking at himself in the mirror at his wet dog appearance. Sighing before turning around, opening the shower, turning on the water to the highest setting. Peeling off his wet clothing before getting in, the hot water is doing wonders for his sore body. 

The loss of the game, or being locked out of his apartment weren't on his mind anymore. The only thing he could think about was you, and how kind and sweet you were to him and how much he wanted to kiss you. 

2. 

Nico stands outside your door after delivering 3 heavy knocks in hopes that you're home. Since the night he spent in your place, you and Nico have gotten closer, meeting each other for coffee at least once a week, talking to each other in the hallway whenever you see each other, along with constantly keeping incontact over text. 

Nico who had been gone on a week and a half roadie is finally home, after learning one day when he was gone that you've never been to a devils game he decided that he wanted to change that, which leads him to where he is now. Holding a jersey with his number on it, in hopes that you'll wear it and 3 tickets for you and any two friends you'd wish to invite. 

Your door opens signaling that your home, nico perking up instantly once he sees your face.

“Nico! You're home hi!” you say, quickly pulling him a hug, pulling back quickly sending him a smile.

“I am, and i have a gift for you” he says with a smile

“Nico..what did i tell you about gifts” yn says sending him a slight pout 

“Oh shush, you're going to like this, here” he says holding the jersey and envelope in front of her to grab

Opening the envelope and looking at the jersey silently, pausing before looking up at him. 

“Nico this is so sweet” she says before pulling him another hug

“I hope to see you there, if you aren't busy” 

“Luck for you, im off that day” 

“Good, i can't wait to see you in my jersey” he says with a slight smirk on his face 

“Me neither..captain” she says sending him a wink 

Nico can feel his chest and his pants tighten at the nickname that rolls so smoothly off your tongue. 

“Well i'll let you get back to your night” 

“Right, thank you for this again, can't wait to see you in action in person.” yn says with a giggle

“I'll play my best just for you” 

“You better..captain. Goodnight nico” yn says, sending him another hollywood famous smile

“goodnight, yn” sending her one last smile, before turning towards his door, hearing her door softly shut just as he opens his. 

Entering his apartment, shutting it behind him, dropping his head against it. The only thoughts running through his mind is how would your lips taste against his. 

3. 

It's the night of the game you're attending and Nico couldn't be more scared as he steps on the ice for warmups. The whole team was already picking on him before the game in the locker room, when they found out a girl Nico was interested in was coming to watch the game tonight, thanks to jack. 

Making his normal rounds on the ice, practicing a few goals, passing a few pucks to jack and luke as he tries to settle his nerves. He spent the last two minutes of the warm ups looking all over for you in the stands, unable to remember where your seats are at, he hopes that you're somewhere in the stands. 

The warmups end as the team now gets ready for the start of the national anthem, lining against the blueline as the song starts. dropping his head, closing his eyes letting the song relax his nerves before the game. Once the song ends. He begins to skate off the ice, but not before he sees your face. 

There you are standing, in the stands with the brightest smile he's ever seen on your face. Your hair falls perfectly as you laugh at something one of your friends said, before turning back towards the ice where you lock eyes with him. Sending him a wave and smile, Nico flashing the same in return. His eyes taking over your jersey covered body, his jersey, his number, he can't help but feel a sense of pride as he looks at you one last time before making his way to the bench. 

“I know that look” jack says beside him, sending him a light shoulder push, “she's here isn't she?” he asks, already knowing the answer 

“She is, and she looks beautiful”

“You gave her your jersey didnt you?” jack asks a teasing smile on his face 

“ i did” nico replies meeting jacks eyes, his face now holding a shit eating grin

“Awwww little Nico's in love!” jack laughs 

“Shut up.” 

“When are you going to ask her out?” he asks 

“Soon, i hope” he replies 

“You really like her huh?” 

“I really like her” 

Really liking her as nico called it would be an understatement. He would give her the moon, and anything in between, if it would make her happy. He wants to know what it's like to take her on dates, wake up next to her everyday, and most importantly what it's like to kiss her. 

+1 

“Dinner at my place at 7?” reads the text from yn as nico checks his phone after practice, a smile spreading across his face as he responds sending, “i'll be there at 7:)” before setting his phone down, to finish getting dressed. 

“What's the smile on your face cap?” Jack asks from beside him, as he picks up his gear. 

“What, can a guy not smile anymore?” he replies 

“We know who put a smile on your face cap” Jack snickers to him. “So when are you gonna grow a pair and ask her out?” he asks, as he and Nico make their way out of the locker room.

“I don't know, maybe tonight? She invited me over for dinner. Sometimes i can't tell if she likes me or not” nico sighs out

“Dude.” jack says as he turns to look at nico

“You actually can't be serious. She's definitely into you. She literally came to her first NHL game and wore your jersey, AND she invited you over for dinner randomly. She definitely likes you.” 

“I hope so, i'll ask her tonight '' Nico says confidently, Jack's words finally knocking some sense into him. 

“You better, or I'll do it myself” Jack says with a smirk, Nico sending him a glare at his words causing Jack to let out a deep laugh as they make their way to their cars. 

“YOU BETTER DO IT!” jack says out his car window, as he pulls out 

“I WILL” Nico shouts back, sending him a thumbs up. 

As nick drives home the only thing on his mind is you, and how tonight he wouldn't back down, that tonight he'd ask you out, and maybe just maybe even kiss you. 

– 

Nicos hand slightly shakes as he goes to knock on your door, giving it a firm knock. His grasp on the bouquet of flowers tightens as he hears your footsteps on the other side of the door. 

“Hi” yn smiles at him as she opens her front door, stepping back quickly allowing nico to come in, closing the door behind them. 

“Hi, it smells wonderful in here. What's on the menu tonight chef?” nico asks as he follows yn into her kitchen 

“It's a surprise” she says, finally turning around to meet his eyes. Nico finally got a good look at her for the first time tonight. He can't help but stare at her, taking in all of her beautiful features, mesmerized by how effortlessly beautiful she is. 

“Nico?” yns sweet voice breaking him out his daydream

“Yeah?” 

“Are you okay? You kinda just stared at me for a sec” 

“Yeah yeah, I'm okay. Just got lost in thought. Oh! These are for you” he says trying to change the subject, holding the flowers out for her to take.

“Aw these are so cute! how'd you know these are my favorites?” yn asks, a bright smile on her face as she takes the flowers from him. 

“You told me” 

“Wasn't that like months ago?” 

“I try to remember everything about you. I know your favorite flower are tulips, and that you hate peas, how you only sleep on the left side of any bed." Nico cuts himself before he embarrasses himself anymore than he has. His face heats up with a deep shade of red as yn stands there staring at him wide eyed over his words.

“I'm sorry that was too much, and uncalled for.” he quickly says, in a miserable attempt to cover his tracks 

“No ones ever taken the time to ever know me like that before” yn says quietly  

“ I don't know why anyone would. Everything about you is perfect and beautiful” he says, finding her gaze. 

“Do you really mean that?” 

“I meant every word.” Nico says as  he continues to look at her. He can almost see the gears moving her head as she tries to find her words. Instead of speaking, Nico suddenly feels her soft lips against his. 

His body moving before his brain does, wrapping his hands around her face pulling her into his body, their lips moving in sync. 

“Wow” nico whispers, pulling away from her lips

“Why didn't we do that sooner?” yn says almost against nico lips, bringing her head up to look at nico whose hands are still around her face. 

“I don't know, but I think I want to do it again, '' Nico says before softly kissing her. 

[vetitiscripta]

Traitor

Summary: It's been a year since you were in the desert. You never had any intentions on going back- until Derek decided to bring you along on his annual trip. Only agreeing to go after he implies he would bring someone else home with him, you soon find yourself thinking back on everything that has happened and know what you need to do.

Warnings: yandere behavior (if you decide to read it that way), someone dies!, stockholm syndrome

A/N: the summary is bad but thats okay. i am obsessed with derek he is my 2nd fav after ren so i decided to write something for nasty boy

It was hotter than you remembered.

Not that you actively tried to remember.

You didn’t want to be here, would have done anything to not be here, tried to do anything to not be here. But once Derek had suggested (it wasn’t a suggestion, it never was) you come with him on his annual trip to the desert, your fate was sealed.

Your breath was shaky, body trembling as you watched Derek pack away the ‘toys’ he had brought out for the evening. Luckily, he had been in a good mood and didn’t go overboard, but the bruises that would form tomorrow would say otherwise.

You noticed his change in behavior recently. He seemed almost happier, to put a word to it. His father and siblings didn’t bring his mood down as much as they normally would. He smiled and laughed more when he was with you and not in the condescending, mocking way he normally did. He was more enjoyable to be around like this.

You should hate yourself for thinking that and a small part of you did. But after being with Derek for so long after he brought you home, you found yourself growing closer to him. You lost track of how long you had been with him; you stopped counting after four months when you realized there really was no way of getting out and no one was coming to help. He was the only one you interacted with save for the maids or butlers that would come in to clean your room. You tried to make conversation with them but stopped after Derek almost cut the maid’s tongue out when he walked in on the two of you talking after a particularly bad day.

Your reminiscing was cut short when Derek got into the bed next to you, arm slung over your shoulders as he pulled you close to him. Cuddling was a new development. He didn’t initiate it often but your heart fluttered when he did. You laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and letting the rise and fall of his chest lull you into a half-asleep state.

“I’ll be gone next week,” You could hear the smile in his voice without needing to look at him. You hummed to let him know you were listening and he continued, “Going on a trip. You know the one.” He chuckled. You tilted your head slightly, racking your brain for when he talked about a trip. When you came up with nothing, you picked your head up and looked to him fully.

“What trip?”

Instead of answering you, Derek grabbed your hand and guided it across his chest. Your fingers grazed the scar tissue from where you had stabbed him last year in the desert and you almost pulled your hand back. You didn’t realize he was looking at you until his smile grew when you realized which trip he was referring to.

“Oh…” You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat, “I see.”

“Try not to miss me too much, I know you get lonely without me,” He chuckled again, “Wish I could take you with me,” He trailed off and you were happy the conversation was ending. You could already feel the panic starting to set in from the smallest mention of the desert.

You laid your head back down and closed your eyes, intending to drift off and forget this entire conversation. But you should have known Derek would have kept going.

“I can.” At first you weren’t sure if he was talking to you, but you’ve learned to answer him regardless. You looked at him again, waiting for him to continue. He was still looking at you, smile bigger, “I can take you with me.”

You felt cold, like someone dipped you in ice water, “…What?”

“Who’s going to tell me no? You’re mine, I can do with you what I want. And those assholes could care less what I do as long as they get their rocks off.” He sneered as he mentioned the others from the desert.

The panic came back. You shook your head, eyes wide, “N-no, you can leave me here. Really,” You tried your best to smile at him, hoping you came across as relaxed and totally not seconds away from having a breakdown. “I don’t want to trouble you. You have a lot to worry about for it, why add me to the list?”

Derek stared at you for a moment, smirk slowly tugging at his lips. He leaned close, lips brushing against your ear, “Scared I’ll kill you this time?” He laughed at your expression. “As much as I’ve thought about it, I prefer you with me. My little pet.” Normally the name would make you happy, but this conversation was doing anything but.

“Derek, please,” You were really going to push the limits, but you really didn’t want to go back. “I don’t want to go back, please don’t make me.” Your voice was so quiet, you almost didn’t hear yourself, “I’ll do anything.”

His smile was gone, irritation appearing on his face, “Did you not hear me? You’re mine, you’ll do anything I say regardless.”

But he must have thought of something. Some twisted thought had entered his head as his smile returned and he turned his away from you, eyes closed, “Alright.”

“I don’t have to go?” You were hopeful, but you should have known better.

“Sure,” He shrugged, “Maybe I’ll have more fun with my new toy and decide to bring them home. Something shiny and new to play with. I won’t need you anymore.”

That small part of you was rejoicing- finally a way out of this fucked up situation, even if it was through death. But the bigger, damaged part of you was terrified at what he said. He won’t need you anymore? You spent all this time with him, grown to love him. You needed him and you knew he needed you. You can’t let him throw this all away, throw you away.

“No!” You climbed on top of him, straddling him as you frantically grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you, “I’ll go! I changed my mind, I want to go. Please, can I come with you?”

You were mentally kicking yourself now that you were here, holding onto Derek as he drove the both of you plus his captive through the desert on his ATV. He didn’t tell you much about them, didn’t even tell you when he went to buy them (you assumed he went back to the auction he got you from). The poor thing looked just like you had- white tank top and underwear with a sack over their head. Your grip on Derek tightened.

Not much longer, he slowed to a stop and you were staring at the makeshift camp. You noticed you weren’t the first ones to arrive; three masked men and three victims awaited your arrival. The man with the blank mask- you recognized him immediately, how could you not when you stopped him from killing Derek- stared at you and, despite the heat, you shivered as you felt his eyes follow you.

He wasn’t the only one to notice you though. As you got off the ATV, the men with lizard masks watched you.

“Didn’t you bring that one last year, Derek?” One of them asked, but you couldn’t tell which one. You didn’t encounter them much during your time in the desert. You only remember seeing them at the beginning before everyone was released. Honestly, you were happy about that. They gave off an unsettling energy. It could be because you noticed the knife you had stabbed Derek with was hanging off the smaller lizard’s waist. Either they had an adoration for weird things or it was theirs to begin with. You did find the knife in the secret cave on one of the desert’s hills, embedded into the body of one of the other victims that was with you at the beginning.

“Decided to recycle for this trip?” They laughed together and you could hear Derek almost growl in response.

“Fuck off! What I do with my property is none of your concerns. And stop using my name! I’ve told you before: it’s ‘Scorpion’.” Derek dragged his newest victim off the back of the ATV and turned to you, “Go sit.” You obeyed him immediately, sitting in one of the already set up folding chairs as you watched Derek bring his victim to the others, pushing them to the ground before removing the sack that covered their head.

You sucked in a sharp breath as you got your first look at her. Her dark hair was a sharp contrast to her pale skin. If one of the masked men didn’t kill her, the sun surely would. Her eyes darted around, staying on nothing specific for more than a few seconds as she tried to take everything in. Until her eyes landed on you. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably as she continued to stare. You weren’t sure why she seemed so interested in you when there was anything else she could be looking at that was more worthy of her attention. But her eyes told you everything you needed- she was scared and she could tell you were too. But you weren’t tied up like they were and she was asking for help.

Derek, either noticing the silent conversation and deciding to end it or just because he felt like causing trouble, kicked the woman in the chest, knocking her over. He laughed at her as he kept his boot on her chest, leaning over her and mocking her.

You looked away from them, a sickening feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

The sound of another vehicle pulled your attention away from dwelling on the feeling. The man with the dog mask had arrived. Jack. He carried a struggling man over his shoulder before depositing him beside all the other victims. Like the others, his eyes caught yours and he titled his head slightly as he took you in. He looked from you, to Derek, then back to you before he turned to the group of masked men and Derek. “Are we ready?”

“Fuck yeah! Let's get this party started!” Derek smirked at the victims while the rest of the masked men nodded at Jack’s question. “Let’s skip first blood, I want to get straight into it.”

“Everyone agree?”  Once again, everyone nodded at Jack. “Machete,” The unspoken request was understood and the man with the blank mask went to each victim and cut them loose. The victims took off in different directions, not waiting for the others to be released. The woman Derek brought seemed to linger for a split second, eyes snapping towards you before running off. As soon as the victims were out of sight, Machete walked into the desert without a word and the men with the lizard masks wandered off together as well. Derek grabbed his bat, mounted his ATV, and without even so much as a look in your direction, he too disappeared into the desert.

You tried to not let that hurt you. Tried to ignore how you felt hollow when he left. You reminded yourself that this was his annual trip, that he only got to do experience this once a year and he was just eager. But a part of you didn’t believe your own words.

Jack was the only one left. He threw the cigarette he was smoking to the ground and gave you one last look before also disappearing into the desert on his own vehicle.

The sound of the wind was the only thing keeping you company. You stared at the hills of the desert, already unsure of what to do. You thought about getting comfortable and sleeping until Derek came back, but your mind was racing. You thought of your own time in the desert and how you were back.  You thought about how Derek had just left without saying anything to you, almost as if you didn’t exist. But the thing that occupied your mind the most was the dark-haired woman. You needed to find her.

Rummaging through camp awarded you with a small pocketknife. It wasn’t what you wanted but it would have to do. You needed this, especially if you encountered anyone while you were in the desert.

Gripping the knife tightly, you stepped out of the shade from the tent and into the swelling heat. You looked back at the chair you were sitting in, wondering if this was a good idea.

You had to do this and besides, Derek never told you to stay. Pushing all other thoughts to the back of your mind, you started your journey into the desert.

—

You don’t know how long you had been walking for, but you were tired. The sun was still high in the sky and its rays were beating down you. Your feet hurt due to the lack of shoes (Derek’s sadistic mind had denied you the pleasure of proper clothing while in the desert) and you were already dehydrated. You were starting to think this was a waste of time when a rustling caught your attention. You turned around and, by the grace of whatever was watching over your pathetic life, saw the woman slowly standing up from behind a bush.

She looked around before rushing over to you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the bush she was just hiding behind. She pulled you down to your knees with her. It was a nice hiding area; dense bushes were all around making it almost hard to see through. She poked her head above the bushes and checked the surrounding area once more before turning to you.

“Are you alright?” Her voice was filled with worry, so much that it startled you.

“What?” You winced as your voice cracked. After hours of not talking and dehydration, your body was not ready for the sudden use.

“Are you okay? Did any of them get you?” She checked you over, ensuring there was no wound that needed immediate attention. After you were deemed alright in her eyes, she sighed, “This is fucked up. What a shitty excuse of a vacation.” She laughed, quickly stopping when she realized you weren’t laughing with her. She coughed and held her hand out, “I’m Addie, by the way.”

You eyed her hand for a few seconds before shaking it. You didn’t provide her with your name, unsure if it was because you couldn’t trust your voice again or if it was because of your nerves.

Addie looked around again, “I know this is going to sound crazy, but we need to return to that camp.”

“Return to camp? Why?” You weren’t expecting her to say that and her sudden suggestion caused a slight panic to seep in. What if Derek was back at camp? The camp where you were supposed to be.

“If we can get to the camp and find one of those ATVs, I can hot-wire it. If I can hot-wire it, we can hopefully get out of here.” She smiled at you. If you weren’t panicking, it would have been reassuring.

“Why me? Shouldn’t you be worried about getting yourself out and not someone else?” You didn’t understand why she was so willing to help. She didn’t know you, didn’t know who you came to the desert with.

Her smile softened, “You don’t deserve to be here. None of us do,” She put her hand on your shoulder, careful of the red areas, “But we’re going to get out of here. We have to.”

You thought of your life with Derek. Every bruise, cut, broken bone, and gaping wound he inflicted on you since you became his. The time he grew so mad at you he had tied you to the wall and used you as batting practice. The time he didn’t like the answer you gave him and locked you in the room with no contact from anyone for a week, only opening the door when your cries and screams became hoarse.

But you also thought about the time Derek brought you books and paint to keep you occupied in the room when you were by yourself. When he first allowed you to leave the room and explore the rest of the mansion with him. How he told you stories about his day and told you jokes that made your stomach hurt from laughing so hard.

You absentmindedly brought your hand to your arm, hovering over the area where the tracker was. The knife you brought was heavy in your mind. You knew what you had to do.

“I know a place we can stay until night.” Addie cocked her head, intrigued, “I accidentally discovered it a while ago. It’s out of the sun, so we don’t have to worry about the heat killing us.” Not technically a lie, but not the entire truth.

Her face lit up with the biggest smile she could manage and she pulled you into a hug, causing you to gasp. You weren’t used to contact from anyone except Derek and you were unsure what to do. You awkwardly pat her on the back. She pulled away from you, tears streaming down her face. You worried that your lack of hug had upset her.

As if reading your thoughts, Addie shook her head as she wiped away her tears, “Sorry, sorry. I just… I’m ready to go home. Some of the others are already dead. I wouldn’t be able to forget if I wanted to. I just want to be out of this fucked up nightmare.” She sighed, “Alright. Let’s get out of here.”

You nodded to her, standing up and making your way out of the bushes, Addie following close behind you. You pointed to the hills, “It’s that way. If we hurry, we might avoid being seen.”

Addie started towards the hills, taking the lead, “Good. The last thing I need right now is to see one of those freaks, especially that blond one.”

“…The blond one?” Your blood ran cold. Maybe she was talking about the lizard, his hair was blond too, right?

“Yeah, the asshole with the bat. Already had a run in with him,” She scoffed, “He found me not too long after they let me go. Fucker almost broke my arm,” She held her arm out to show you the bruise that was already forming. “I managed to get the upper hand on him and stab him with his own damn knife. Bet he won’t be using his shoulder anytime soon.” She laughed but you didn’t hear her over the sound of your heartbeat.

That sickening feeling returned as you realized it was over for you. Derek would find her more interesting and would bring her home. You’re going to get left behind; he’ll kill you out here instead of her. He won’t need you anymore. You couldn’t let that happen, you can’t let that happen! You won’t.

You must have stopped walking because Addie was coming towards you, worry evident on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Tears welled up in your eyes and pooled over, streaming down your face. You looked at Addie and shook your head, “I can’t.”

“Hey, hey. It’s going to be okay,” She smiled reassuringly at you, “We’ll wait until night, find an ATV, and get out of here. This will all be just a bad memory by tomorrow.”

You shook your head again, tears falling faster, “I won’t let you take him from me.”

Addie stepped closer to you, confused from your words. She opened her mouth to ask you what you meant, but before she could get a sound out, you pushed her as hard as you could. She stumbled before falling, her footing uneven on the shifting sand. You stood over her, blocking the sun and casting your shadow over her. You gripped the knife tight and tried to ignore how you were starting to shake (from fear or from anger, but you weren’t sure which answer you preferred).

Realization dawned on Addie’s face; her eyes grew wide as she tried to push herself away from you. She threw a handful of sand at you, desperately hoping to slow you down, causing you to yell as the sand got in your eyes. Addie, taking this opportunity, turned over and began clambering away, trying to get herself on her feet.

With the sand out of your eyes, you noticed Addie crawling away. Yelling in frustration, you ran towards her, kicking her side once you reached her. She fell to her side, scrambling to get back up. You climbed on top of her, straddling her as you grabbed her bruised arm and flipped her over. Addie howled, arm immediately flaring up in pain. You maneuvered your body to trap her arms beneath you and grabbed her face with your free hand, “Shut up! Stop making so much noise and just die quietly.”

“You’re crazy!” She struggled, trying to free herself from beneath you. Tears were running down her face as she stared at you, “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but it’s not worth it! Please!”

“Shut up! You don’t know anything. I would do anything for him,” You leaned closer to her, your breath fanning across her face, “Especially if it means keeping him with me.” You raised the knife over your head, sun catching the metal.

Addie screamed as you plunged the knife into her chest. Her body jolted at the impacted, her struggling slowly stopping. You ripped the knife out of her body and stabbed her again, and again, and again, and again. Her blood was everywhere. It splattered across your skin and pooled out of her body into the sand below. But you didn’t stop. You wouldn’t stop until she was gone, until she was nothing more than a distant bad memory.

You don’t know how long you spent hovering over her, knife in hand as you stared at her corpse. A low whistle snapped you out of your thoughts and you whirled around, ready to fight who had found you, but you dropped the knife immediately when you saw him.

Derek leaned against his ATV with a smirk on his face as he watched you. A warm feeling spread through you when you saw him, smile appearing on your face. Derek’s eyes went from you to Addie and you shrunk into yourself.

“Are you mad at me?” You knew how much this trip meant to him; it was the only thing he talked about the week leading up to it. Addie was his chosen victim and, while you had to do what you did, you didn’t mean to take his fun away.

Derek lingered on Addie before looking at you again, “I’m upset you’re out here. I’m upset I didn’t get to her first,” You expected him to pull out his bat or a knife of his own in form of punishment. You knew his anger and you would welcome it, but instead he laughed, “But I’m more impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

You glanced at Addie’s body, “I-I wouldn’t have, but…” You trailed off, not wanting to admit it.

He titled his head, “But?”

“You said you would bring her home. That you would throw me away when you had her.” Your tears returned as you thought back on everything. “I need you. I couldn’t let her take you away from me.”

Something flashed across Derek’s face- excitement, surprise, or perhaps even both. His smile grew bigger, “C’mere.” You obeyed without hesitation. Derek caressed your face, smearing blood across your cheek. “You’re mine. You are never leaving me.”

You leaned into his touch, “I’m yours.” And he’s yours.

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) chapter one: october 2019

summary: the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you: carmy, the recently promoted chef du cuisine at the best restaurant in the world, has no idea what he's in for when he accidentally spills his drink on the recently hired patissiere. (prequel to make my heart surrender)

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language. eventual smut.

word count: 4.5k

listen to: dover beach part 2 - baby queen | alaska - maggie rogers | less than i do - the band camino | 2 / 14 - the band camino

a/n: i'm back back back again! this is six part series will be a snapshot of carmy x reader's relationship in nyc that span across a three year period. i'm really looking forward to writing their friendship & so much repressed sexual tension it's not even funny. this is the first story i've published without it being almost or fully written so updates will maybe be more sporadic this time.

October 2019 

“i was hoping somehow we'd end up together, outside, past midnight, and smoking cigarettes. the wallpaper inside my brain is decorated with your face. i'm lonely for you only, and i'm trying to convince you that i'm something you could love.” – dover beach (pt 2)

He hates you. 

You’re absolutely sure of it. 

You can see it in the way his body stiffens as you walk by – in the way he hasn’t stopped sending you long, piercing glares across the kitchen – in just how bright red his face turns when you catch him doing it. 

And for what? For being excellent? For being good enough to get a job after staging that one night?

Fuck that, you think to yourself.

You find Carmen Berzatto infuriating, and it begins to dawn on you that you may have had one too many gin cocktails to stomach the fact that you have to be here tonight. 

Here, at his promotion party. 

Here, at this stupid fucking bar that you hate. 

Here, because he’s sort of everyone’s boss now… and it’s something you’re just going to have to live with.

It hadn’t come as much of a surprise. There’d been talk of a leadership change (and Carmy filling the CDC position) when you had first started working here, but having a head’s up didn’t really help you now. You just hadn’t pictured having to go out for drinks to celebrate the man that seemed like he could barely stand being in the same room as you. But your friend Liz, one of the chef de parties at the restaurant, had insisted you come with, since she hadn’t wanted to go alone. You understood why you both had to go, so you’d invited your other best friend to help the both of you get through. 

You thank your lucky stars that your direct report is the head pastry chef and not Carmy. Using your boss as a buffer, you had used every excuse in the book to avoid interacting with him. 

Sure, he was brilliant. 

Sure, he was a wunderkind who had just gotten back from a three month stage at noma right before he was hired here.

Sure, he was kind of a total asshole. 

“Fuck that, man! C’mon. Just one shot. It’s your big night, motherfucker!” Nate calls out, practically shoving a shot into Carmy’s hand. 

“Oh, I- uh, I’m good, man,” Carmy stutters, trying to find an excuse not to take the shot. 

Truthfully, he hates shots… and he’s not much of a vodka drinker either. 

He’s just not in the mood to get hammered either, his thoughts consumed with tomorrow, his first day as chef du cuisine, going perfectly. 

You watch the uncomfortable interaction, almost feeling bad for the guy. Nate and the most recently promoted sous, Tim, are trying their best to corral Carmy into taking the shot as you walk by. You can see the uncomfortable look on Carmy’s face as he declines Nate’s offer for a second time. 

In fact, he seems like a different person tonight. He’s… boyishly awkward, almost, and you wonder if he’s maybe not so great in social situations. As you pass by, drink in hand, you hear a cacophony of sound. Carmy’s trying his best to dodge his friends’ next attempt, and before you know it, Nate’s practically pushing him towards Tim, sending Carmy backwards, tumbling right into you. 

You feel the wet liquid of your gin and tonic, along with the shot of vodka that’s flown out of Carmy’s hand spill all over your shirt. The shot glass shatters as it hits the floor, and the sobering feeling of ice cold liquid soaking through your shirt causes you to shriek. 

“Shit! What the fuck, Carmy!” you yell, angrily, as you push him off of you.

At this point, you could care less that he’s everyone’s new boss, and the drama of it all has caught the attention of almost all of the other restaurant staff that have come out tonight. Your friends rush towards you, searching for as many napkins as they can grab. 

“Fffffuck,” is all he says back and you can’t believe he’s yelling at you right now. You watch as his face changes quickly, from angry, to thoroughly shocked as he begins to stammer through an apology. 

“I-. I’m sorry I-. I didn’t mean to-.” 

He scrambles to help you, with one cocktail napkin as you push him away, your friends rushing to your side. 

“No! I don’t want your help,” you grit through a clenched jaw. 

“Shit, your shirt is ruined… C’mon,” Liz says, as she ushers you away shooting a glare in Carmy’s direction. 

“Damn, man. You could just ask her out,” you can hear Nate say, even though you’re too preoccupied with examining the damage of your totally soaked through t-shirt. 

So much for a chill evening. 

“Oh shut up, Nate,” Maya snaps at the sous. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You nod, following her as she leads you away towards the bathroom. 

Back at the bar, Liz is trying her best to remedy the situation, trying her best to clean up the mess you left behind. She watches Carmy closely, trying to figure out whether she’s going to pay for this tomorrow. But instead of being angry, he just seems embarrassed… remorseful, even. There’s a small part of her that feels bad for the guy as it becomes clearer that he may just not be great in social situations.

As soon as you get to the single-room bathroom, you're swearing loudly and stripping off your shirt. It’s completely see through and you know you’re going to smell like a distillery until you can get home to shower. 

“I told you. He hates me,” you pout, examining your reflection in the mirror, a scowl glued to your face. You dap a few dry paper towels across your chest.

“I think it was just an accident, sweetie,” Maya says, sympathetically, as she tries her best to console you. 

“Yeah, I know,” you admit in defeat.

As much as you’d like to blame this on him, you know it wasn’t his fault. 

“Sorry I asked you to come tonight. If I knew it would be this much drama-,” you begin, before being promptly cut off. 

“Oh no, I’m all here for this drama,” she laughs, causing you to shake your head and lighten up a little about the situation.

As angry as you’d like to be with Carmy, you know that the truth of the matter is that he hadn’t meant to spill his drink all over you. You should be mad at Nate and Tim… but it just feels easier to be mad at Carmy considering. 

“Incoming!” you hear a voice say as Liz arrives. In her hands, she holds what looks like a white t-shirt, neatly folded up, that she hands to you. “Anyone in need of dry clothes?”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh with relief, glady taking it. 

“Good on you for having an extra,” Maya says. 

“Well, it’s a restaurant. You never know when you’re gonna need a change of clothes,” Liz shrugs, a glimmer in her eyes that Maya notices, as she says it. You find it a little strange that she seems to be watching you for a reaction, but you brush off the look she sends you, as you slide the dry t-shirt over your head.

The t-shirt isn’t much bigger than an oversized fit you’d buy for yourself – which makes sense because Liz is a bit taller than you. The cotton fabric hangs loosely over your form as your eyes flicker over to your completely soaked through shirt that lays crumpled up on the bathroom sink. 

“Well, ladies. We did our best,” you resign yourself, as you notice your still-very-wet bra begin soaking through the white t-shirt. 

“C’mon. Let’s see if we can get some more paper towels. Or uh.. See if the kitchen has a towel we can use,” Liz says, nodding her head towards the door. 

“We’ll be right back,” Maya reassures you, empathy in her eyes.

You watch as Liz follows her, leaving you alone in the bathroom. 

It doesn’t take long for the door to the bathroom to swing open again, which surprises you. You gasp as soon as you see who's come through the door, and you’re crossing your arms over your chest which may only make the wet bra, white t-shirt ordeal even worse. A very flustered Carmy stands in the doorway, his mouth hanging open as if he hadn’t expected you to be in here. 

“There’s uh… someone in here,” you scoff, unable to hide the irritation in the sound of your voice. You hug your arms closer to yourself, almost as if to cover yourself up. 

“No I-, yeah, I know I just-,” he stammers, his eyes shifting to the floor. He feels like he’s walked in on something he shouldn’t have, and he can feel all the blood rushing to his face, instantly regretting his decision not to knock first. 

“I actually, uh… I came to apologize,” he manages to get out, his words quiet. He says it as if there’s an unintentional question mark at the end of his sentence. You can see the way he runs his eyes back and forth, trailing over the fancy floor tile, searching for the right words. 

“I didn’t mean to- I just-. Sorry…”

His demeanor surprises you. At work, Carmy’s this confident, commandeering, talented chef, but tonight, he seems anything but.

Nervous. Shy. Like a fish out of water, even.

You take a breath, trying your best to relax.

You can feel some of your guard coming down as you begin to accept he really hadn’t meant to spill his drink on you. But you’re not eager to forget the fact that he’s been kind of an asshole to you since you started working here. Unsure of how to respond, you give literal effort to replying with a:

“It’s fine. Thanks.”

He knows you don’t mean it. 

In fact, he can hear how painful it is for you to get out those words. 

You wait for him to leave, but Carmy continues to stand in the bathroom with you, awkwardly. But he doesn’t say anything, so you figure that the least you can do is deflect a little with humor. 

“I’ll uh-, invoice you for the therapy session,” you say, trying to eliminate any malice in your tone so that he knows you’re joking. “Walking home in a wet shirt on the streets of NYC is gonna be… fun.”

“Oh uh…” he trails off, his face turning a darker shade of red. 

“I’m kidding,” you state, searching his face for any kind of expression. 

This man is impossible to read, you think to yourself.

His eyes are still glued to the floor as he begins to move, mumbling something you can’t quite hear in response to your failed joke. Carmy slides out of the denim jacket he’s wearing, before taking hold of it, extending an arm out to you. 

“Sorry um-. Here,” he says nervously, and it’s the first time he’s allowed his eyes to meet yours. “You can uh-. You can wear this. For your walk home.”

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting. 

And had his eyes always been that blue?

Your face softens. 

You take the jacket hesitantly, holding it in your hands. This time you mean it when you say:

“Thanks.”

“Least I could do,” he shrugs, daring to meet your eyes with his again. 

You slip the jacket over your shoulders as the two of you stand a few feet apart. The air feels thick, and at this point, you’re not sure how to feel. Even though your bra has continued to soak through the white t-shirt, the way his denim jacket feels wrapped around your shoulders feels like an added layer of protection.

“After uh-. You know I-,” he stumbles through.

“Yeah. No I uh-. Thanks, again,” you repeat, cutting him off. 

Might as well put the poor guy out of his misery. 

“Anyways, I’ll make sure to get this back to you,” you interject, your voice much more reassuring this time. 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

You swear you can almost see the corner of his lips turn up, but you’ve never really seen him smile, so it’s not like you have much to compare it to. Carmy excuses himself, and you watch as he leaves, genuinely grateful for the peace offering. 

The way that Carmy’s jacket hangs heavily around your shoulders makes you wonder if it’s real denim. You notice that it smells like him too: a faint scent of cigarettes, Old Spice deodorant, whatever scented laundry detergent he uses that feels familiar. 

You and Carmy don’t speak again, save for a few short exchanges at work, but he’s been on your mind. Your interaction the other night had left an impression on you – albeit a strange one – and you’re not sure why you haven’t returned his jacket yet. 

It’s not till a few days later that you speak again, leaving another strange impression on you. You head into the walk-in to get a few quarts of heavy cream and as you pull the door open, you find a flustered Carmy standing there. He’s got his hands on his hips and eyes glued to the floor with an exasperated look on his face as he watches the plastic storage containers he’s just thrown clamor across the floor. You gasp, shocked by the loud sounds, and Carmy knows he’s not alone. 

As he turns to you with a glare on his face, you notice that Carmy’s eyes are puffy, his cheeks flushed red, and he looks sick as a dog. 

His eyes are wide with embarrassment for a moment, before returning to their normal, stoic focus, hardened by a less than positive interaction with the exec chef. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, uncomfortably. He gestures towards the storage containers on the floor, before running a hand through his neatly slicked back hair. 

“It’s uh, you’re good, chef,” you say, trying your best to put your wall of professionalism up. 

You had witnessed the demeaning encounter from the exec chef – everyone had. It had been impossible not to. He’d practically breathed down Carmy’s neck, taunting him for his lack of focus today, that he’s a little bitch for letting allergies get to him. 

To say that the man was emotionally abusive would be an understatement. 

You should leave – turn and go, and pretend that this never happened – that you’d seen nothing. But instead, you stay. 

“You good, chef?” you ask softly, a hint of concern in your voice.

He sniffles again, the searing headache that robs him of his focus only burning brighter after what just happened. 

“Yeah, no. I’m fine,” he snaps, refusing to look at you. 

You wait for him to say something more, only he doesn’t. You can see he’s not feeling well and that he must be feeling worse after his metaphorical public stoning in the town square. He’s not sure what the hell it is you’re waiting for, and he just needs another fucking second to himself. 

“Why are you still here?” he grits through teeth, his eyes fixed to the floor. 

You open your mouth to say something, but you’re honestly not sure why you’re still in the walk-in with him either. 

Maybe because you know that the exec chef is a total monster.

That he shouldn’t have talked to Carmy like that. 

That you can understand why he’d be upset. 

“Chef!” he says, raising his voice a little louder and flinging his hands towards the door. “Will you just-?”

You nod, a feeling of embarrassment filling your chest, as you realize he wants you to leave. You hurry out of the walk-in, closing the door behind you as you escape, your heavy cream quart containers in hand. 

“You good?” Liz asks, as soon as she sees you come out of the walk-in. She’s passing by to bring a few deli containers over to the dish station. 

“What?” you ask back in surprise, unaware that you look visibly shaken up.

“You look… flustered is all,” she points out. 

“Oh. Yeah. I just uh-, Carmy’s in there. Throwing a fit. He just uh… snapped at me is all. But what’s new?” you reply, trying your best to shake it off. 

She rolls her eyes in response, “Yeah, he can be like that. Thank your lucky stars that you don’t have to work under him.”

You let out an annoyed exhale. It’s a funny feeling – one that leaves you a little confused: one minute he’s this chivalrous guy that’s handing you his jacket to wear home and the next he’s practically tearing your head off to get out of the walk-in. You can’t quite figure him out. He’s so hot and cold, you’re not sure what to expect from him anymore. 

As you and Liz are about to part ways, you remember that you have to give her back her borrowed shirt. 

“Oh!” you say, calling her attention before she returns to her station. 

“I have your shirt, by the way,” you say. “From the other night.”

“Oh,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “Okay weird timing considering he’s being such an asshole today but uh…. Yeah. The shirt’s... not mine. I forgot to tell you.”

You send her a puzzled look as she shrugs. 

“I didn’t think you’d take it if I told you but… it’s Carmy’s. He pulled it out of his bag when he spilled the drink on you,” she informs, waiting to gauge your reaction.

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“You were so mad at him that I just figured-, it doesn't matter. He pulled it out of his bag to give to you. I think he felt really fucking bad, babe,” she interjects, revealing the truth. 

Well now you’re really fucking confused. 

And after your little interaction with him in the walk-in, there’s no way you’re going to bring it up to him today. 

“Oh. Yeah um, got it,” you reply, feeling even more confused than when you started the day. 

You show up to work the next day with the t-shirt and his jacket tucked into a canvas tote bag you plan on giving to Carmy. You’d decided to wait till you had them both, and you’re also hoping that he’s in a better mood today. 

Only, Carmy’s not here today. 

“Yeah, he’s out sick. Looks like those allergies turned out to be a nasty head cold,” your general manager had informed you when you’d asked about where Carmy was. “Looks like Tim’s filling in today for him.”

“Got it. Thanks, Kate” you’d replied. 

Later on your mid-shift break, you’d then mustered up all the courage possible to ask if anyone had checked in on Carmy. Kate, your GM, had answered no, and had been more than happy to give you his address so that you could do so. You’re not sure why you feel like it’s the right thing to do, but between his act of kindness at the bar, and his outburst in the walk-in yesterday, you figure it wouldn’t hurt to show him a little kindness. Not that you feel like you owe him or anything. 

Maybe you just want to give him his clothes back and be done with it. 

Maybe you’re also deeply confused about who the hell Carmen Berzatto really is. 

Maybe the mystery of it intrigues you a little more than you’d like to admit.

Dinner service flies by quickly – a string of non-stop orders helps the time go faster. Carmy’s apartment is on your way home, so it’s a no-brainer to make the trip. You stop on your way at a deli nearby, picking up a quart of matzo ball soup, before heading over to his apartment. 

When you get there, you knock on the door three times, anxiety beginning to flood you.

What if he thinks this is totally creepy – that you just got his address from the general manager? What if he thinks you’re stalking him? What if he hates the fact that you’re even there in the first place? 

You wonder if you should just leave the soup at the door and run as fast as you can so that, by the time he answers the door, you’re gone. 

Just as you’re bending down to place the quart container down by his door, the door swings open to reveal a very congested Carmy. His curls seem wilder than normal as he looks genuinely surprised to see you crouching in the hall of his apartment. 

“Hi!” you practically shout, taken off guard as you rise to your feet. 

“Yo,” he says, blinking a few times to make sure he’s not dreaming. “What’s uh-, what’s going on?”

It’s weird – seeing Carmy outside of the restaurant, outside of his chef whites. His usually slicked back, out-of-his-face hair falls in the messiest most unruly curls around his face in a way that's surprisingly unkempt. He’s… almost human-like. 

“This is for you,” is all you manage to say, handing him the quart container. 

“Uh… thanks,” he trails off, taking it and checking out the matzo ball soup. 

You’re not sure where to begin, how to explain why the hell you’re here, so you just start talking. 

“I uh… your place was on the way home,” you begin. “I hope it’s okay but I got your address from Kate. I actually used to go to this deli all the time when I was a kid with my parents and I forgot that it was in your neighborhood so I just figured that I should pick something up on the way over since I heard you were sick and uh-.”

Carmy shoots you a look and he almost looks amused. 

“... I’m rambling, aren’t I?” you ask, a light blush running across your cheeks. 

“Yeah,” he nods, a dry laugh following.

You wait a beat, collecting yourself. You’re not sure why this is so weird, but it’s so weird. 

“I came by because…” you start, digging through your canvas tote bag that’s draped across your right shoulder. “... I wanted to return these to you.” 

You hold out the jacket and t-shirt folded up together to Carmy, his eyes following them. 

“Liz told me that the shirt was yours too. I just-, I know we don’t always… that you don’t-, I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I know it’s kind of weird at work sometimes but… I guess  I just wanted to say thank you. For these. Hence the soup,” you finally explain.

“No problem,” Carmy nods, taking them in his empty hand, before disappearing momentarily to place them somewhere inside of his apartment.  

You’re only a little disappointed by his short response, yet you’re not sure you expected anything else. He returns only seconds later.

“It’s uh-, Cool jacket,” you say. You can’t tell whether you’re making small talk or just saying something out of discomfort, but it seems to pique Carmy’s interest. 

“It actually reminds me of the denim jacket that John Lennon used to wear ”

“You know denim?” he asks, and you could swear that you see his eyes light up for a moment. 

“No, but I know music,” you reply. 

“Uh I mean. Yeah. It is…” he says, with a nod, a hint of excitement in the words that follow. “Not the actual one he wore but… it’s a 1950s selvedge Wrangler. Just like Lennon.”

So he wasn’t just a fine-dining robot. 

“Wow I didn’t know you were into all that,” you say, feeling some of the tension between the two of you melt. “Denim, I mean.”

“Something I picked up from my brother, I guess,” he shrugs, shyly. 

“That’s funny,” you chuckle. 

“Hm?” he hums in response. 

“Just… the thought of you having a brother,” you clarify, jokingly. “Thought you were like… grown in a lab at noma or something.”

And Carmy almost smiles, you think.

“Nope. Just Chicago,” he replies, enjoying the act of sharing something with you. 

“Ahhh,” you sound, following it up with another small laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get some rest. Enjoy the soup.”

“Yeah, uh. Thanks for this,” he says, holding up the brown bag. 

“Of course,” you reply, turning to go. 

But you don’t go yet, not ready to let go of the momentary connection you’ve built with Carmy 

"You know it doesn’t have to be like this,” you say, turning back to him. He's staring at you, just like he does in the kitchen. It’s another long, languid look that makes you realize that maybe they haven’t been hate-glares after all.

“We don't have to do this... start over every time we see each other.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree with a nod. “I mean, I've already worn your clothes so… it’s a rather… intimate thing for us to just be strangers….”

He listens attentively. 

"We could… coworkers… friends, even,” you suggest, hesitantly.

“Me and you?” he asks, a puzzled look on his face. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by what you’ve said, or if he’s about to laugh in your face. 

“If you want,” you nod in response. 

He waits a beat, and you watch his facial expressions soften a little as he finally says, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You smile at him, the man you thought hated you, wants to be friends with you. You get a wicked idea, letting out a chuckle before continuing. 

“Great. There’s just one thing,” you begin playfully.

You can’t help yourself.

“Hm?” he hums. 

“It’s just… I haven’t made my mind up about you. So you should consider this your trial period, buddy,” you tease. 

He lets out a dry laugh, “Like a stage?”

Of course it’s all kitchen-related for him.

You laugh in response, “Yeah, like a stage.”

“Heard, chef.”

“Goodnight, Carmy.”

Carmy’s never had someone joke with him so sweetly. Between his family and, well, Richie… it’s always been callous humor and insults thrown back and forth lovingly. This feels… different: lighter.

As he watches you walk away, he looks down at the deli quart container that he holds in his hand. He’s never had anyone take care of him before – not like this – someone who wasn’t Sugar or Mikey, and certainly not his Mom. Not like this. Not without asking for anything in return. He can’t seem to identify the warm feeling that rushes through him, and wonders, for a moment, if this is what it feels like to fall in love. 

Not that he’s ever experienced that either.

By Saturday, he’s back to work and feeling much better (the soup definitely helps, he decides) but it’s not for another week that he musters up the courage to ask you what you’re doing between lunch and dinner service. 

“Chef!” he calls out to you as you’re cleaning up your station.

“Yeah, what’s up?” you reply. 

It’s not like you’ve been all buddy-buddy and friendly over the last week, but you’ve at least stopped thinking that he hates you. Sure you’ve decided to be friends, but it’s not like you’d expected wildly different behavior. 

“You uh… wanna grab a cup of coffee? On the break, I mean,” he asks, his blue eyes seeming… more brilliant than you’ve ever noticed. 

“I owe you one. You know. For the soup.”

You smile, “Yeah. I’d uh-, I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks. 

“Yeah.”

read: chapter two

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

[prouddogboi]

Stray dog (Part 2)

To find the most recent chapters, please go to @doggoboigaugau 's masterlist

Sorry it took me quite long lmao TToTT School and work deadlines are killin' me.

Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male Reader

Summary: Male Reader is traumatized and refuses to open up to 141. Soap found out something horrible going on with him and told Ghost about it.

Word count: 1910

Warnings: Smoking. Mention of attempts to self-h@rm.

The next morning you woke up with a throbbing headache. It was so bad that you felt like hundreds of needles were jabbed into your eye sockets and every time you blinked, those needles plunged into your brain, sending a sharp and chilling pain to the crown of your head. This was by no means a strange occurrence for you though, given the fact that every night the base celebrated a party you always indulged in this self-sabotaging habit. 

Still, no matter how bad the situation was, you still had training to attend to, tasks to get done, reports to compile, and a miserable life to live. You turned your head to look at the clock, silently praying that it wasn’t too late. 

It was 13:00 in the afternoon already. 

“Shit!” You threw an arm over your forehead. Nice, you missed the morning training session. It was your responsibility today to train the new recruits and now you messed up the whole Task Force’s schedule once again just because you could not handle your pathetic emotions properly. The thoughts of giving up flooded your mind yet again since it was no use in waking up anyway, it was too late to do anything useful. The other team members were already aware of how irresponsible you were as you continuously failed to be on time for training the newbies. And what about the newbies’ impression of you? Probably an unreliable man who was no longer fit to be a member of a special Task Force that was particularly famous for its efficiency. Or maybe you were never fit to be one to begin with. 

Why didn’t the others wake you up? You had worked here long enough to know how scary and irritated Ghost could get when people missed his training session. There were even times when he immediately had the unpunctual soldiers pack their things and get sent to another department because he couldn’t fuckin’ stand people disrespecting his schedule. 

“Maybe they forget about my existence. Maybe I wasn’t that big of a part of this Task Force.” You mumbled to yourself, trying to pull your tired body out of the heavy blanket. As much as you wanted to give up, the desire to be important to someone, something, or some organization, …just anything, urged you to wake up and keep trying. You wanted yourself to be seen.

Upon opening the door of your stuffy room, you instinctively covered your eyes as they were attacked by rays of blinding sunlight. Your room was too dark and gloomy, doors and windows tightly shut all day and night, no wonder you would react so unfavorably to the bright sunlight that is often associated with positive moods by most people. 

The base was unusually quiet. You didn’t meet a single soul on your way to the kitchen to fill your hungry stomach. No Soap cracking stupid jokes with his heavy Scottish accent and laughing loudly to them himself, no Gaz cursing at his jokes, no Roach laughing at the two dumb manchildren, no Price sighing and telling them to at least be less raucous. You tried to shrug the nasty nagging feelings off, but it soon became unbearable when you walked into the kitchen and saw all the dirty dishes in the sink. 

“They have finished their lunch.” And they had it without you. The people you considered to be your own family, much closer than the biological family that you had cut all contact with, didn’t wake you up from your drunken sleep, totally forgot your existence, and enjoyed a meal together like there wasn’t anything missing. You knew damn well that you were overexaggerating the seriousness of the situation, but you just couldn’t help it. 

‘What am I to them?’ That question kept spiraling inside your brain, worsening the headache that you were already having. In a brief second, all the nagging feelings were anthropomorphized into a disgusting creature with multiple heads and mouths by your ailed mind, shrilly screaming out your deepest thoughts that were fraught with insecurities. Your legs were rendered weak and you collapsed on the floor. Supporting your weakened body with all four limbs, you took heavy breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

A few minutes later, you managed to put yourself together enough to stand up and get out of the base, on the way you didn’t forget to grab a pack of cigarettes. You felt stupid to resort to nicotine as a way to fight against all those feelings, but you didn’t know a better way. There were times when things were so bad that you had no energy left to hide your conditions from your teammates, and Price was concerned. He used to have you talk to some therapists, and not surprisingly to you at all, they could not handle you for long. No one ever could. 

You were now standing in the parking lot with a cigarette in your mouth. You sighed, clearly satisfied with how strongly its bitter taste stimulated your taste buds. When you first arrived here as the newest member of Task Force 141, Soap and Gaz always joked that you’d become Price’s smoking buddy, but that did not happen. The image of you standing with Price awkwardly because you two couldn’t find a mutual topic for a conversation made you feel too uncomfortable to even try, so you kept avoiding the older man or pretending to not hear his offer until he just stopped inviting you. It was so obvious that the men wanted to get closer to you, they wanted to earn your trust, to make you feel at home and be yourself among them, yet you kept pushing them away. And now perhaps they had stopped trying all together. It was not their fault. It was yours. 

But why it was so painful? You were supposed to feel relieved that they had given up so that you didn’t have to blame yourself every time you turned their kind offer down and saw the sadness drawn on their faces. ‘Why do I keep feeling like shit no matter what I do?’

Feeling that the intense emotions that were barely suppressed by the nicotine started to get out of hand again, you cupped your head with both hands, the half-burning cigarette fell to the ground. Suddenly, your eyes caught the red burning tip of it, together with how the paper wrapping around the nicotine was slowly burnt to black. At that very moment, a dark but familiar thought popped up in your mind. You bowed down to pick up the cigarette, blankly staring at it resting between the two fingers of your right hand. Then, your eyes turned to your left hand, examining your spotty lower arm. It was full of the small round scars that were caused by burning your arms with the burning tip of a cigarette. You had noticed Ghost looked at these scars of yours many times; luckily he never asked about them. The army was a place filled with people who had different background stories and bore numerous scars, so it wouldn’t be abnormal for you to have some that were a bit funny-shaped.

‘Should I do this again?’ 

Maybe you should. It helped with the emotions. Well, temporarily, but that was good enough.

Just as you were about to press the burning tip into your lower left arm, someone threw their whole weight into you. You were hugged by two strong arms and the cigarette was again dropped to the ground.

“There you are! I’ve been finding you everywhere!” It was the Scot man. “Are you smoking? Gosh, I hate this smell! Price’s cigars are much better!”

‘The ones that smell good are never bitter enough.’ You thought to yourself.

“Have you had lunch, pretty boy?” Soap pinched your dumbfounded face.

“Not yet.”

“What? Unbelievable! Get to the kitchen with me right now, Sergeant.” The man literally manhandled you straight from the parking lot into the base, leaving you no time to object.

As you two arrived at your destination, Ghost was already sitting there, sipping some coffee. Soap forced you to sit down right next to him while he proceeded to walk to the fridge and pulled out a dish, putting it inside the microwave oven. 

“Here you are, babyboy~” He put the hot meal in front of you. You chose to ignore the pet name and his flirtatious voice simply because he had started doing it to you ever since you start working here. It was just one of his signature thing, you should not fall for it and mistake it as a sign of interest that could develop into romantic feelings. 

“Thanks, Soap.”

“Aw, don’t be so all worked up and formal, babyboy. Ya’ welcome~”

Silence fell over the three of you, until you just felt so awkward that you had to speak up, “So… how was this morning?”

“It was fine. Ghost stepped in your place and took care of the training.” Soap replied.

You carefully glanced at Ghost, just to find that the man already looked at you, which made you tremble slightly. The skull mask on his face made him too difficult to read, you couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed or he just gave up on expecting something greater from you. 

Soap laughed at your reactions, “It’s okay. You were drunk so Price agreed to let you sleep. Also, Ghost volunteered to help you with the training so he probably doesn’t hold a grudge. Am I right, Ghostie?”

The masked man didn’t answer; instead, he turned back to his cup of coffee.

You quickly finished your meal and left, saying that you should do training by yourself. The truth was you couldn’t stay there any longer, you didn’t want to disturb Ghost and Soap’s rare peaceful time together. You had already made too terrible an impression on Ghost, it’s best that you did not mess up again. As a result, you also missed their conversation. It was not intended for you to listen to anyway.

“You’re right. He did it.” Soap’s voice was solemn, with no sign of flirt or unseriousness like a few minutes before.

“You mean the scars?” Ghost looked up at him from the cup.

“Yeah, the round scar marks that you’ve told me many times.”

“It was just my guess. How do you know he really did it?”

“I found him in the parking lot. He was holding a burning cigarette and about to press it into his left arm.” 

A few minutes of silence passed until Ghost spoke up, “Fuckin’ hell.”

“I asked Price about his past, I know it’s a nosy thing to do, but I wanted to help. Unfortunately, Price knows nothing either. Y/n… the boy never opens up to us.”

The two men sat quietly, exchanging worried looks with each other. If only you could know how much they cared for you, maybe you would find it easier to accept their love and help. Yet, even if they told you, even if they desperately showed you so many times that they cared and loved you so much, would your brain allow your heart to welcome them just like how it used to welcome other people you had met earlier in your life, the ones who left you wounded and made you the way you were today? 

If someone asked you that question, you’d just offer them a weak smile and simply say: “No”. You're now too tired to hold on to any crumbles of hope left in your broken soul. You'd like to give up.

to be continued i guess :")

Taglist: @aphroditeslovr @prestigeghoul @edgyboi10000 @c0nny3917 @peter-the-pan @lovecats123451

[silentglassbreak]

I usually don't so this, but since you posted it not so long ago, are the requests still open? And if so, can I ask for meeting Noah after a show, talking about fantasies and maybe some vampire role-playing? But also lots of fluff after because he's a good top. My name's Maggie and my most prominent features are that I am short, I wear glasses and I have dark curly hair.

Alrighty, let's just get right into this one, because there is truly no time to waste.

After Writing Notes: Baby, I am so sorry. I have no clue how we got here...but here we are? Once again, we went a lil off prompt, so I apologize if it wasn't exactly what you were looking for? I hope you enjoy regardless! Just a heads up, this is -BY FAR- the darkest one I've written so far.

Rating: Explicit AF

Warnings: smut, kink, blood play, roleplay, blood...blood...blood, horror themes, light BDSM (choking and biting)

Die For You

February 14th, 2024.

Valentine’s Day is the bane of my existence. I was so tired of the patrons, the demanding orders, and - mostly - the couples. It was vomit-inducing. Did my recent breakup contribute to the way I was feeling?

Sure. Probably.

Did it change the fact that I was in the foulest mood imaginable?

Not in the slightest.

I leaned my head against the brick wall of the building, my break slowly waning, signaling I was due to go back in and finish the last two hours of this God forsaken shift. Being a waitress had no perks. None.

Instead, it came with cons that I had to endure in order to pay my bills.

“Hanging in there, Maggie?”

I sighed and turned to the door, hearing Alexa’s breathless voice. She was certainly struggling in there without me.

“Yeah, just getting some air. I’ll be in there in less than five.”

She nodded and stepped out into the cool evening air. She pulled a cigarette from her pack, lighting it between her lips.

“Have you seen the announcement on Insta?”

I rolled my head to the side to glance at her. “What announcement?”

She smirked, pulling her phone from her back pocket and opening the app, handing it to me.

The poster was on the Black Veil Brides page. It was blood red, with bright white font.

BLOOD BATH

October 31st, 2024

Kia Forum

BRING ME THE HORIZON

FALLING IN REVERSE

BLACK VEIL BRIDES

BAD OMENS

ICE NINE KILLS

THE FIVE BIGGEST BANDS OF METAL

ONE NIGHT ONLY

TICKETS SELLING FAST

My brain almost didn’t register what I was seeing.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” My eyes were blown out as I looked up at Alex.

“Nope. Tickets are $850 a piece, I checked.”

I groaned, tossing my head back. “I could never afford that, let alone before it sells out.”

Alexa scoffed, sucking in the smoke of her cigarette. “You’re hilarious. I just wanted to make sure you’d want to go.” She snatched her phone back from me.

“What?” I quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I have two tickets.”

My heart fell into my stomach. “E-fucking-xcuse me?”

She cackled. “Who else would I take? I’ve got a savings for a reason, right?”

My jaw was hanging open. “Alex, that’s insane. That’s $1,700!”

“$1,896, actually. Including taxes and fees.”

“That’s insane!” I repeated.

“When are we ever going to get to see all of those bands at once? It’s obviously some kind of crazy event. Can you imagine the crossovers we’re going to see? The theatrics!” I couldn’t speak, I was too stunned. “Plus,” She dropped her spent smoke and stomped on it. “I figured you needed some cheering up today. I know Bad Omens is your favorite.”

I could not physically restrain myself any longer, throwing myself at her and wrapping my arms around her shoulders.

“You’re the best fucking human being alive, you know that?!” I peppered kisses on her cheeks, making her squirm.

“Yes, yes, I’m aware.” She wiped my smeared lip gloss off her face.

She stalked back to the door, pulling the handle. “Now let’s finish this bullshit, so we can go celebrate. You’re buying.”

October 31st, 2024

The line to get in was impossibly long, so Alex and I were sat on the ground, chatting about the songs we were excited to hear, and who we were most excited to see.

“Spencer is the actual love of my life, and I cannot wait to see his fucking face.” She gushed.

I smiled. “Oh, don’t I know. But Andy? Ugh, how fucking mouthwatering.”

The doors would open shortly, so we stood, and promptly filed our way in. The venue was huge. We both agreed we would not be drinking, figuring we had a long time to stand and would end up exhausted.

We opted to grab two water bottles from the bar and head to the GA floor. We were early, luckily, and managed to grab a spot up at the rails.

Waiting nearly an hour, the lights finally came down, and the crowd erupted. Alexa was absolutely feral, listening to the opening of Rainy Day playing. When Spencer bounded onstage, full suit attire, and blade in his hand, she nearly jumped the rails.

As he passed us near the stage, I noticed something. I tapped Alex’s arm and she leaned her head down to hear me.

“He’s wearing fangs!” I shouted. She glanced up and looked, seeing the same.

Her eyes rolled as she licked her bottom lip. “Fucking bite me, Daddy.” She groaned, and I bursted with laughter.

She was so unhinged.

Ice Nine Kills finished their set with Welcome to Horrorwood, sending blood red confetti into the air, before gracefully stepping off the stage. During the set I had noticed a few things that almost seemed…off?

First of all, it wasn’t just Spencer with fangs. It was the entire band. Being as close as we were, I could see the shiny white fangs exposed every so often when they’d open their mouths to sing. These weren’t cheap, Amazon pop-ins either. They were convincing. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn that they were their actual teeth, filed down to sharp points. It was interesting.

As well, everyone in the band seemed to have a looming presence tonight. It was so difficult to explain, but it just as if they weren’t just looking at the crowd, but like they were searching it. Looking for something specific, with pointed stares and glaring smiles. It ran a chill up my spine when Spencer made direct eye contact with Alexa for a full minute while singing Hip To Be Scared. It was as if he was looking at a meal.

She ate it up, as expected.

The next set, however, was Bad Omens, and I could not have been more excited.

I had seen them twice before, and their Setlist didn’t stray much, so I was actually shocked when the usual Loading Screen didn’t show, and the opening to Artificial Suicide didn’t begin.

Instead, the opening song was Blood. That was so odd. I didn’t think they even performed this song. The crowd loved it, however.

They still started in all ski masks, and removed them for the next track - Like A Villain.

During the chorus, I was singing and swaying, giving my full attention, but stopped as soon as Noah moved close enough that I could see it.

He was also wearing fangs. My eyes darted to Jolly, who was easiest to see from where I stood. He licked his lips and, as I suspected, there they were - sharp and white.

Alexa seemed to also notice this, tapping me to lean in. “It’s called Blood Bath, so it must be a vampire themed show for Halloween.”

I nodded, because that seemed legitimate.

But still…

I expected that out of Ice Nine or Black Veil Brides. Hell, Oli Sykes actually had fangs.

But Bad Omens?

They weren’t as theatrical. I was surprised they had agreed.

However, I was pulled out of my thoughts when I felt eyes on me, and my attention was pulled back to the stage. A pair of deep, nearly black eyes were staring at me.

The song had changed, and we were on Nowhere To Go. And he was staring at me.

No, not at me. INTO me. Something in my soul felt exposed, as if I had shown up to this show nude.

I couldn’t break eye contact. I was caught between being starstruck, and immensely terrified. His lips were turned up in the slightest of smiles.

“Are you ready?”

I swallowed hard.

“I’m in the driver’s seat now.”

He finally broke his gaze, headbanging between screams.

Once I was released, I inhaled a sharp breath, turning my back to the stage. Alexa noticed as I crouched down, breathing hard.

“Babe?!” She bent down next to me. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head. “It’s too hot in this crowd, I’ve got to go.”

She got down to my eye level. “Maggie, you want to leave during Bad Omens?!”

I nodded feverishly, my dark curls sticking to my neck. Despite being sweaty, I had a cold chill climbing up my spine.

“I’m going to have a panic attack. I need a break.”

Maggie nodded, looking solemn. “Okay, let’s go.”

I stopped her, grabbing her arm. “No, you stay here. Save our spot. I’m going to go get some air, and I’ll be back.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re sure?”

I stood up, adjusting my shirt that had bunched up at my waist, and pulled my glasses on top of my head.

“Yeah, I’ll be back after their set.”

She sighed, but hugged me and told me to be careful.

I pressed my way through the crowd, not chancing another glance at the stage, despite feeling the eyes on my back.

-

The evening air was cool, in the fifty-degree range. I worried my sweatshirt with my fingers, feeling the air pull in and out of my lungs.

I had slipped out of the side entrance to the smoking area. I ducked under the ropes and to the back of the building to be alone. The tour buses were back in this area, but I paid it no attention, working hard at calming my nerves.

I had been out here for at least forty-five minutes. I could hear the music inside, and knew Bad Omens’ set had been over now for about five minutes. Figuring it was now a good time to make my way back to Alex, I pushed back into the building, seeing the crowd had not moved much.

I had tried to enter at several different points, but the bodies were condensed so tight, and unwilling to give up their spots. After fifteen minutes of trying, I growled and pulled my phone out, tapping Alexa’s name.

When she answered the phone, she shouted. “Hey! Where are you?”

“I can’t get back up there! No one is letting me through!”

She groaned. “Fuck! Okay, I’ll come out.”

“No! Don’t do that! Black Veil Brides is next! You cannot miss that!”

She went quiet for a second. “Maggie, I don’t want you to be alone.”

I stepped back outside so I could hear better. “I’ll be fine. I’ll watch the crowd to see if I can make it back in later.”

“You’re sure? Cause I will leave right fucking now. You know you’re more important.”

“Babe, you spent almost all of your savings on this. I’m not ruining it for you. I can see from back here.”

“Promise?”

I smiled. “I promise.”

Electing to stay outside a while, I sat on the curb behind the building, going through the photos and video I captured of Ice Nine Kills’ set. I managed to catch Spencer staring at Alex on camera, which I promptly sent her.

She responded quickly.

Alexa: OMFG HE’S IN LOVE WITH ME

I giggled, shaking my head at her response. Going back to my photo album, I sat watching the videos when I heard Black Veil Brides start.

Bleeders was the first song. Fitting.

Alexa: Dude…Andy’s wearing fangs too. It’s definitely a theme.

Me: Love it.

The music was so loud that I hadn’t heard the footsteps behind me.

“Excuse me?” Startled, I jumped up, turning around.

An impossibly tall, hooded man stood, hands in front of him, eyebrows raised.

It took me about three seconds to register who it was, and my mouth fell open.

“Are you okay?”

Noah fucking Sebastian.

I was caught between stunned, ecstatic, and horrified. He had such a soft look on his face. He looked immensely different than he did on stage. He wore black joggers with his own logo on them, a plain black hoodie, and a black baseball cap.

“Wh-“ My voice shorted, so I cleared my throat. “What?”

He smirked slightly. “Are you okay? I remember you from the crowd, and I saw you leave. I almost stopped the set when I saw you crouch down.”

I was floored. He noticed that? I knew he saw me, but Jesus Christ, I didn’t think he saw me?!

“Yeah, I, uh…” I stammered. “I just got really hot. The pyrotechnics and all.”

He nodded, chancing a step toward me. “You sure? You look pretty pale.”

Fantastic. Not only did I leave early during his performance - which he fucking saw - but I also looked fucking peaked at the same time.

I forced a calm smile. “Yeah, I’m good, promise.”

He seemed satisfied with that, putting his hands in his pockets. “Did I freak you out? When I stared at you?”

That was on purpose?!

I didn’t get a chance to answer. “I just perform better sometimes when I have something to focus on.”

I was bewildered, my eyebrows knitting together. “And that something was me?”

He smiled, a warm expression. “I guess so.”

“Why?” I couldn’t stop it from falling out of my mouth. Did it matter?

He shrugged his shoulders. “I liked your face.”

That’s a really strange answer.

“Okay?” I shifted one foot to another, not sure what to say or how to act.

“Why aren’t you watching the show?”

I sighed, moving back to the curb, deciding to sit back down. He made quick work of doing the same, sitting about a foot to my right.

“My best friend is up there. I couldn’t get back in to where she is. I tried.”

He nodded. “Ah.” His hands still in his pockets and knees bouncing rhythmically, he glanced around.

“Well, I’m going to watch from the balcony. Want to join?”

My heart rate sped up, screeching in my chest. His lip twitched at the same time, which was ironic.

“I,” My brain was misfiring, but I knew better. “I can’t.”

His eyes almost fell, his expression turning nearly…sad? “Oh?”

“I can’t leave Alex. I promised I’d make it back to her at some point.”

“You can bring her if you want.”

My mind was short circuiting. This couldn’t be fucking happening.

“I, uh, don’t know.” Something was too weird. This didn’t just happen. “I really shouldn’t.”

He nodded, pursing his lips. “No worries.” He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “If you change your mind, I’m going up before Oli’s set. I’ll be around.”

With that, he turned around, and took a few steps. He spun back around and raised an eyebrow at me.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

“Maggie.”

He smiled. “See you later, Maggie.”

-

Me: I NEED TO FUCKING SPEAK TO YOU IMMEDIATELY.

Alexa: What level urgency? They’re playing In The End.

Me: B L A C K.

Alexa: OH FUCK IM ON MY WAY.

Alexa and I were regular show goers, so we had code we used.

Urgent situations were assigned a color.

Green: Good to go. Nothing to worry about.

Yellow: Shit’s getting weird. We need to keep eyes open.

Red: Urgent. Get to me ASAP. Serious situation.

Black: Get here now. Highest level priority.

Alexa came barreling out of the door and ran toward me, out of breath. “Are you okay? I got a knife in my boot that they didn’t take. I can stab someone!”

I grabbed her shoulders. “I’m fine!”

She stopped abruptly, narrowing her eyes. “What? Then why the urgency? I missed the end of the set!”

“I met Noah Sebastian.”

Her face deadpanned. “I beg your finest pardon?!”

I just nodded. “Out here. He remembered me from the crowd.”

“Are you fucking with me? Cause Maggie, I love you, but I’ll punch you right here, right now if you’re lying.”

“There’s no need for violence. She isn’t lying.”

Both of us snapped our necks to our left, the hooded figure stepping out from behind one of the buses. Noah came into view, hands still in his pockets.

“Nice to meet you, Alex.”

She visibly reeled, a shrill screech leaving her mouth.

“Holy fuck! It’s actually him!”

I giggled, glancing back at Noah, whose eyes were on me again. I straightened my spine, feeling that same fear sinking in from before.

“I was telling Maggie earlier that I planned to watch the rest of the show from the balcony with the guys. Wanted to invite you to join.”

Her mouth hung open, hand reaching for my arm and pulling me close. “We’d love to.” She answered for us.

I shot her a look. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to do this. I still had the unnerved feeling that something wasn’t right.

She ignored my stare, smiling brightly at Noah.

He returned her grin with his own, which was oddly menacing. I noticed at that moment that he still had the fangs in.

“Awesome. Follow me.”

We did as we were told, following him into the back of the building, passing people who obviously were working on the show. We were far enough behind Noah that I pulled Alex in close, whispering to her.

“I feel weird about this, babe.”

She stared at me incredulously. “Why? Isn���t this your biggest fantasy?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course it is, but it feels strange. Why us?”

She shrugged. “We manifested it? I don’t know. Shit like this happens all the time.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think it does.”

The balcony he lead us to was private. It was between sets, so the other members of the band were sat, relaxing, beers in hand. It was set up as a lounge, three couches lined up.

Noah graciously introduced us to the other band members, and we shook their hands feverishly, awestruck. It wasn’t lost on me that all of them still had the fangs in.

Alex had struck a conversation with Nick Folio, explaining how she played drums in high school. I sat slowly on the end couch, seeing the view of the stage that was incredible. The couch sunk next to me, and I glanced over to Noah, who was tapping a message into his phone.

“Aren’t those uncomfortable?”

He looked up at me, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

I pointed to my canines, and he snorted.

“Oh, right. Yeah, you get used to them.” He locked his phone and slipped it in his pocket.

I nodded. “You guys are dedicated to the theme, huh?”

He smiled, showing off the sharp points, and ran his tongue over one. “They’re not easy to take off.”

“Mm.” Must be glued on.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, leaned back on the seat with his arm over the back.

“Do you do this all the time? Pick up random fans?”

He narrowed his eyes, grinning at me.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because it seems abnormal. What makes us so special?”

He sat up, leaning forward on his elbows so he was inches from my face, his breath cool. “What makes you think you’re just some random fan?”

I scoffed. “Because I am?” I leaned away from him, needing air. “I’m just a girl. Short. Glasses. Mop of hair. I didn’t even wear makeup tonight.”

He leaned back as well, keeping a distance between us. “So? Why does that mean you aren’t special?”

I rolled my eyes. “I think I’m not the first fan to be in a balcony with you.”

He nodded. “You’d be correct.” My heart sunk just slightly. “But you’re the first one I went looking for.”

My eyes popped open.

The fuck did that mean?

“Looking?”

He snickered, sighing loudly. “You got me. I thought you were attractive. Really attractive, okay? I figured I’d see if I could catch you.”

This caught me so far off guard, I nearly fell off of the couch.

“You think I’m attractive?”

This made him belly laugh, my disbelief.

“Maggie, can I let you in on a secret?” I just nodded. He leaned his head over, whispering. “I think you’re mouthwatering.”

A sharp tingle shot up my spine, and I wriggled next to him.

The lights went down, and the crowd cheered as Falling In Reverse began their set.

Popular Monster. This show was a trip.

We watched the show, Alex and I singing along to the lyrics of nearly every song. Every so often, Noah would lean over and tell me something about the song playing, complimenting Ronnie’s artistic ability or the instrumentals. The guys all seemed to be enjoying it as well, air-guitar and drumming. 

It was just far enough away that I couldn’t tell, so I leaned into Noah. “Is Ronnie wearing fangs too?”

He nodded, lips nearly touching my ear when he spoke. “It was Oli’s idea. We all have them.”

Made sense. I smiled at him, catching his eyes wandering my face. His arm was tucked neatly behind my back now, resting on my hip. Something about the encounter changed. I didn’t feel fear anymore, rather, Noah’s presence felt safe. It felt comfortable and I felt myself craving it. The air almost lightened, my shoulders relaxing as I exhaled a breath I had been holding.

“Can I tell you something?” I nodded, leaning back in to hear him. “I’d kiss you right now, if you’d let me.”

My eyebrows shot up. He pulled his face away, running his tongue over his bottom lip. A pit opened in my stomach, causing me to swallow harshly. 

“And what if I don’t?”

He smirked, his tattooed finger coming up to swipe across my bottom lip. “That, darling, would be a tragedy.”

It was involuntary, the way my body pressed closer to him, the soft skin of his lips brushing against mine. It wasn’t quite what we wanted, but it was so close.

My self control was fading, and he knew it, his hand tightening on my hip.

“If you’d let me?”

That was it. My lips were pressed against his, molding to his mouth, and breathing into his soul. I felt the sharp tooth scrape over my skin, which elicited a hard groan from me. His other hand came up to the side of my neck, and his fingers tangled in my curls.

We lasted this way for several minutes, finally pulling away with a sharp hiss from his mouth. His eyes were feral, wild. His grip on my hair was tight. He bored into my eyes, speaking something that I couldn’t read.

We were pulled from our moment when a hand tapped my shoulder. I whipped around quickly, and his hands released me.

Alex stood, eyes wide, and smiling. “I hate to interrupt, but I’m going to run to the restroom. Just wanted you to know.”

I wiped my lips with my thumb, feeling a sharp pain. I nodded at Alex, who furrowed her brows, bending down to speak directly at me.

“Watch the fangs, babe. You’re bleeding.”

I looked down at my thumb, the deep red filling the ridges of my print.

A hand came up to wrap around my wrist, staring at my finger. He swiftly and smoothly lifted it to his lips, sucking it into his mouth. When he released me, my finger was clean.

He smiled a sheepish grin at me in response to my shocked expression. “Too weird?”

I wanted to say yes, because that was the normal person thing to say. However, given the heat that had pooled in my stomach and the way my thighs clenched together, I just shook my head.

The music was loud, booming into my chest, and I leaned back onto the couch, staring at Noah.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked me.

“That there’s no way this is real.”

He smirked. “Sometimes, it’s better to believe it’s not.”

This confused me, but he was wrapping his arm around me again, pulling me into his side, and looking down at the stage. We tried to watch the performance, we really did. But within minutes, I was in his lap, straddling his hips, and our tongues were fighting for dominance while his hands roamed up and down my legs.

I sighed, closing my eyes as his lips trailed down my jaw to my neck, nipping gently at my pulse point. He licked a stripe up my windpipe, causing me to rut against him.

“Fucking hell, Maggie.” He leaned back, and I pulled back, hands on his shoulders. “You’re so fucking amazing.” 

I blushed, leaning back down to nibble on his ear. In my peripheral vision, I caught my phone on the couch lighting up. I had four missed texts from Alex.

“Shit!” I grabbed my phone and sat back on his legs.

“Everything okay?”

I shrugged. “Alexa isn’t back, and I haven’t checked my messages. I got distracted.” I said, eyeing him mischievously.

He responded by scratching his nails down the front of my leggings.

Alexa: BABE Spencer is out here talking to Andy!!!!

Alexa: OMFG he’s looking at me. I’m going to talk to him.

Alexa: HE REMEMBERS ME FROM THE CROWD.

Alexa: He asked me to go to his balcony. I have to. It’s the one next to Noah’s. I’ll be there if you need me.

I smiled at my phone. “Such a weird night.”

“Is she okay?”

I nodded, setting my phone back down. “Yeah, uh,” I shook my head, trying to understand how this had happened. “She met Spencer Charnas, and she’s in his balcony.”

He nodded, looking apprehensive. “She’s a fan of his?”

“The biggest. She’d die for that man.”

His eye twitched at that, almost a wince. “Mm. Maybe she should stick with you?”

My face fell, confused. “Why?”

He bit his lip, glancing over to where Folio sat, who was staring directly at him. “I don’t know. Just seemed like the kind of thing you guys do.”

I nodded, falling off of his lap. “Usually, but this is kind of once in a lifetime.”

He sighed hard, his eyes glancing back up to Folio. “I wish it wasn’t.”

This was confusing, his entire demeanor had shifted.

“Are you okay?”

He worried his bottom lip with the fangs, and nodded. “You, uh,” He looked at his bandmates, who were all giving him a look. “want to see the bus? I need to get something, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

There was something under his tone that made me almost flinch. It was as if he wasn’t giving me a choice…

“Okay? I mean, or I could wait with Alex in the next balcony?”

“No!” Noah’s voice was harsh, causing me to wince. “I mean, let her have her time. Once in a lifetime, right?”

I nodded, unsure.

“You trust me?”

I sighed, suddenly wildly unsure. “Should I?”

He nodded fervently. “Yes. You should.”

-

The tour bus was enormous. It was also a total mess. It was as if it was more lived in than an actual home. I try not to judge, but there was stuff everywhere. Drink containers, beer bottles, random garbage, clothes. The shades were drawn, and you couldn’t see outside. 

Noah turned around with a look of embarrassment on his face, a hard contrast to the persona he had on all night. He scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Sorry, the guys said they’d clean up…I guess they forgot.”

I shook my head, giving him a warm smile. “No worries. You guys have to live here, I get it.”

He sighed. “Can I be honest?”

“I’d hope so.” I giggled, hands in my sweater pockets.

“I didn’t need to grab anything, I was just hoping for some privacy.”

My eyes widened, and I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Oh…” Suddenly uncomfortable, I began scanning the bus for all of the exits, the closest being the door behind me.

“You don’t have to stay, it was just stuffy in there and the guys are kind of really fucking nosey.”

This made me smile. “I caught that.” I pursed my lips, looking around, trying to soothe the hammering in my chest. “I could stay.”

“You sure? Oli is going to go on soon.”

I nodded. “Once in a lifetime?”

This almost made his face fall, and he leaned against the counter of the kitchenette sink. “I wish it wasn’t.”

This gave me pause, and I moved to stand next to him.

“What do you mean?”

He pulled his hat off, revealing his mop of long dark hair that was overgrown. “I just…” He trailed off. “I don’t get to have normal relationships, yaknow? Date? See people more than once? It doesn’t really happen.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why not?”

He smirked at this, looking down at his shoes. “My lifestyle doesn’t really allow it.”

I nodded. Rockstar life had to be tough.

“Well, just because you can’t date someone, doesn’t mean you can’t be friends, right?” I won’t lie, I was slightly hopeful.

“It’s kind of more complicated than that.” 

I nodded, not wanting to press further, and an uneasy silence fell over us. After about three minutes, he finally spoke.

“I liked kissing you.”

I couldn’t prevent the grin that cracked on my lips. “I liked kissing you too.”

“I didn’t bring you back here for that. I just thought I’d mention it.”

This was one of the pivotal moments in life where you decide how it goes. Walk away? See what this is, and make the smart choice to end it? 

Or consider this the Gods giving you a gift? A one-time chance to fulfill a fantasy you would otherwise never get again?

I decided quickly that life was too fucking short, and moved to stand in front of him.

“Can we…just do what we want? Because this will never happen for me again, and I find it painfully difficult not to jump on you right now.”

He peered up at me through his lashes, his eyes pitch black. “Yeah? You’re sure? I don’t want to be a dick, but you know I can’t continue anything after tonight.”

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes for a second, and opened them with no hesitation left, staring directly at him. 

This gave him the answer he was looking for, as it took less than a fraction of a second for him to have me pinned against the wall behind me, hand on my throat, lips attacking my mouth feverishly. A smooth growl rumbled from his throat, and something inside of me clenched. 

With the grip in my neck, he guided me to spin, lifting me up onto the countertop. My legs wrapped around him instinctively, and I breathed into him, feeling his hands smooth up my legs, and push them apart so he could press himself between them.

His mouth pulled at the skin of my jaw, surely leaving bruises I’d have to explain to Alex later. When I felt the sharp point of the fans against my skin, I placed a hand on his chest.

“Noah?” He didn’t pull back, but only hummed in response as he licked and sucked on my collarbone. “Maybe you should take the fangs out?”

He stilled, frozen. This caused me to do the same, waiting for his next move.

“I can’t.”

My brain didn’t register that. “Can’t?”

“They aren’t coming out.” He breathed again on my skin, making me shiver. “Is that a problem? If it is, tell me now.”

The idea of not going further made my body physically scream, so I just shook my head, signaling for him not to stop.

His arms, strong and solid, lifted me clean off of the counter and pulled me into the hallway, our lips reconnecting. In the back of the bus held a large bedroom area, and with one hand, he slid a door shut behind us. 

He lowered me onto the mattress and became so gentle, I almost couldn’t handle it. His hands reached to unzip my sweatshirt, pulling it open to reveal my crop top. I chose to go without a bra tonight, knowing I’d be keeping my sweater on. His eyes roamed to my hardened nipples pressing against the fabric, and he bit his lip in response.

“If at any point you want to stop, tell me, okay?”

I nodded.

“Say it. Say you understand.” His voice was callous, no playfulness left.

“I understand.”

This brought a wicked smile to his face, fangs pressing out and his tongue gliding over them. “Good girl.”

He was ruthless, his hands pulling my shirt up, exposing my bare breasts, hands grasping them with force, pinching each nipple between his fingers. I yelped at the sudden painful sensation, but pressed into his touch. His knee balanced him on the bed, pressing against my core. I writhed under him, begging for friction.

“So fucking needy, darling. All in good time.”

I sucked in a breath, nearly whining at his teasing. His right hand snaked up my chest, grasping at my throat. The pressure was so much, but I couldn’t ask him to stop because it was so good, I was okay with dying right here like this.

His other hand slid down my stomach, nails scratching into my flesh, before he gripped the waistband of my leggings and tugged them down.

“Tell me how bad you want it, baby.” His fingers loosened just enough for me to speak.

“So bad. Need it. Need you.”

His eyes were roaming my body, eyes settling on the jet black panties I wore. His hand pressed flat against the fabric, making me hiss at the sensation.

“You want me to eat you? Devour you?”

I nodded frantically.

“If I do, I’m going to bite you. You alright with that?”

I froze, staring up at him, tears running down the side of my face. 

“You can say no.” His voice was smooth as honey, dripping down his lips and right into my soul.

“Please.” It came out as a breath, just the ghost of a word.

A harsh snarl left his lips, and he dropped onto the floor with lightening speed, pulling my leggings off and gripping the waistband of my underwear, ripping them apart to show my already soaked pussy.

His fingers slid through my lips before coming up to his mouth, his eyes rolling back at the taste. “Fucking stunning.” He groaned.

His mouth attacked me, licking long, flat stripes up my core, causing my hips to buck. I whimpered, trying not to make too much noise.

His hands gripped my thighs and pulled me closer to the edge of the bed, bringing me right to his face.

“No one can hear us here, baby. Fucking scream for me.” 

I let go, letting all of the harsh, vile sounds leave my throat with no restraint. His mouth sucked hard on my clit, making my vision go stark white behind my eyelids.

“Oh my God, Noah, I’m going to come, please don’t stop.”

He latched harder, a finger penetrating into me, pressing against my sweet spot and smoothing circles into it, bringing me crashing over the edge of bliss. My back lifted off of the mattress, my entire body tingling.

At the exact second my orgasm slammed into me, I felt a stinging, slicing pain on the inside of my thigh, causing me to scream out and look down. Noah’s face was still buried between my legs, but his eyes were staring directly at me. His fingers continued to massage me through my euphoria while his lips pulled at the sore spot on my thigh. When he lifted his face, my body finally calming, a deep crimson fluid sat on his lip before his tongue came up and swiped it away. 

He rested a palm flat on my stomach as my breathing slowed. “Are you okay?”

I blinked back the tears and gasped in a breath. “More, please. I need more.”

It wasn’t even me speaking anymore. My body had transcended to another plane and I was watching from a different dimension at that point.

He smiled, his teeth tinged with blood - my blood. “What’s the magic word?”

“Jesus, fuck, Noah! Please!”

His hand snatched me by my waist, flipping me over and pulling me back up so my feet were on the floor. His arm held me up, as standing wasn’t an option with the way my legs felt like gelatin. I felt the warm fluid from the wound on my thigh dripping down my leg.

He paused, reaching for a drawer and grabbing, what I assumed to be, a condom. I heard the foil open and be discarded. He let go of me for ten seconds to put it on, and before I could think about anything else, he was pushing inside of me. The feeling was achingly delicious, the stretch and burn of it. Noah was exceptional. My body fell forward, hands reaching out balance. He thrusted mercilessly, pounding me harder into the mattress, his breathing loud and deep, guttural moans escaping him.

After a few moments, and my vision slowly blurring as I began climbing the hill once again, his hand wrapped around my neck and pulled me backward to stand straight up. I whined, leaning my head back on his chest.

It was without cause, but I still asked. “Bite me again? Please?”

I didn’t want it, I needed it. I was ravenous for the pain and the feeling of him being so connected with me. 

“Don’t say that.” His words were breathless, but I was persistent.

“Please, Noah. Please.”

“God damn it.” He tightened his grip on my neck and I felt his lips touch my skin before the fangs sung in deep, piercing the thin skin just above my clavicle.

A scream pierced through me as the pain sent white hot shock waves through my body, my vision cutting out and my orgasm tearing through me. I vibrated at the stimulation of it all, and began to feel by body going slack, my skin tingling with a numbing sensation. My eyelids began to feel heavy, Noah's lips still latched to my skin. I could swear I felt a sucking feeling. That would be one hell of a hickey later.

Noah's thrusts suddenly stilled, his throat growling against me, his fingers gripping my hip violently, surely leaving bruises.

I was still riding the high of my climax when I felt everything starting to go sideways as the room began to spin. His arm wrapped around me quickly as I felt my consciousness slipping.

"Easy, baby. Easy." I hadn't even noticed him slip out of me, or unlatch from my throat.

Suddenly, his hands were gentle, laying me down on the bed on my back. Through my hooded lids, I could see him standing, tall and muscular. I could see all of him, and as badly as I wanted to savor it, I was so sleepy.

His hands pulled a soft, red blanket over me, and he put a finger up. "One second, stay here."

He disappeared out of the door, and I felt my eyes threatening to close. My brain was shutting off quickly, and it wasn't going to be optional anymore.

He came back within a minute, now wearing shorts, with a large blue Powerade, and a pack of Reese's in his hands. He set them down on the mattress next to me and slid his arms under me, lifting me up onto the pillows of the bed.

"Maggie, you still with me?"

I could only mumble in response, the pull of sleep tugging me down.

"Don't fall asleep. You need to drink this." He opened the Powerade. My hand came up to take the drink, but my fingers had very little sensation. "Here." Noah used one arm to lift me partway, and held the bottle to my lips. "Just take sips."

Once I had sufficiently drank a quarter of the bottle, suddenly feeling parched, he recapped it and began tearing open the Reese's. "Eat this, you need to increase your blood sugar and carbohydrates."

Feeling slightly more coherent, I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why? Did that orgasm almost kill me?" I snickered, taking a peanut butter cup and peeling the wrap off the bottom.

"No, the orgasm didn't." He said pointedly, but made work of getting up and heading for the door again. I laid, slowly munching the chocolate, eyes trailing after him. I pulled the blanket up to my chin, feeling strikingly cold suddenly. I felt a numbness in my toes and fingertips. Something about it bothered me, but also didn't?

He walked back in, a damp rag in his hand. What did he need that for? He used a condom, I thought?

Noah sat next to me on the bed, and ran a hand over my cheek gently, giving me a small, comforting smile. "You feel better?"

I nodded, still chewing the second peanut butter cup. "Much."

His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Good, I'm glad."

Smoothing his hand over to my hair, he pulled it away from my neck, and pressed the damp rag to it. I winced, pain shooting up into my face.

"Christ!" He pulled his hand back, and I noticed the rag was a deep red. "Am I bleeding?"

He shushed me, moving my face back over. "Not much anymore, it's mostly stopped. This is just a little alcohol to sterilize it." He sighed as he pressed the rag to my skin. "Next, I'll clean up your leg."

My mind, suddenly clear as day, began running through all of the most ridiculous scenarios possible. Regardless of how stupid it sounded, I still had to ask...

"Noah?"

"Hmm?" He raised an eyebrow, pulling out a large bandage and unpeeling it from the paper.

"Are you an actual vampire?"

His hands stopped, and his neck snapped up at me. His eyes were deadly serious, but his lips twisted in a sick smile. "Now, why would you say something silly like that? Of course not."

"But-"

He chuckled, his body shaking, and continued applying the bandage to my neck, hand lingering on my cheek as he looked in my eyes.

"No, I'm just a guy with kinks, that's all."

Did I want to press this further?

I looked back up at him, and he smiled brightly. That's when I noticed.

"You took the fangs off."

He peered up at me, running his tongue over his teeth. "Yeah, something like that."

Noah began pulling the blanket from my leg when he stopped abruptly, his eyes shifting to the door of the room. His hand gripped my leg, and he spoke under his breath.

"Fuck." His eyes looked back at me, a panic now rising. "You have to go. Now."

He grabbed my arm, and began pulling me off of the bed gently. "Can you stand?" I heard the door of the bus open, and people speaking at the front.

The urgency in his voice was frightening, so I swung my legs over and attempted to stand. The room swayed slightly, but I managed to stay upright. I nodded at him.

"Good, okay," He stood off the bed, and ran to the other side, picking my clothes up and tossing them at me, sans my torn panties. "get dressed. I'm going to open the window, there's a ladder just outside. Climb down it and go. Fast. Go to your car, and leave."

I was stepping into my leggings and looked up at him. "I have to find Alex, first."

He huffed, frustrated, and helped me put my shirt over my head. "Don't. Just go."

Noah pulled the window open silently, and pulled me over to him once I had zipped up my sweatshirt and slipped my shoes on. "Noah, what-"

He pressed a hand to my mouth. "Please, just listen to me. Leave. Don't look for her. Just go. Fast, okay?"

My eyes welled up. The terror was back. Why was he hiding me? Was he embarrassed? Did he not want anyone to know I was here? Why didn't he want me to look for Alex?

He hands hoisted me up effortlessly, he didn't even groan when he lifted me to the window. I slipped a leg out, and turned my head to him. "Noah?"

He looked at me, eyes sparkling bright, brighter than I had seen. "Yes?"

"I hope to see you again."

The smallest smile turned his lips up. "If you're lucky, you won't."

-

Alex's phone wasn't picking up and she hadn't responded to any of my messages. Bring Me The Horizon's set was about over, and she was nowhere. Ice Nine's balcony was empty - they all were. She wasn't in the venue. She wasn't outside. She was gone.

Her last text to me had me walking behind the building, looking through the busses.

Alexa: Spencer invited me back to his bus with him and Ronnie...I can't believe this is real life!! I will text you when I'm done! ;)

I only knew which bus was Noah's, but I felt like an absolute creep looking through the others, trying to see into the windows. I was standing next to one, on my tip-toes, trying to see through the tint, when my ears picked up on something...

It sounded suspiciously like screaming...but not the kind I would expect from someone having a good time. Not the kind I just made.

I rounded the corner, finding one last bus, and noticed it appeared to be moving. This had to be it. As I approached, figuring I would just wait until she was done, it stilled, and the night went eerily silent. Something about it made my stomach drop. I considered going back and getting Noah, asking him to check it out, but I had already come to terms with the fact that whatever that was, was over.

Instead, I made a soft wrap on the door, hoping someone would answer. Nothing came, no sound or motion. I sighed. Someone was definitely in there. Maybe they fell asleep? I almost did.

I knocked harder with the same result. Eventually, I pounded, hollering. "Hello?"

My fingers reached for the handle, and I noticed the door was unlocked, the door opening easily. I looked in, and noticed it was dark, only a neon blue light emanating from the back somewhere. I stepped up the staircase, peering my head around the corner.

"Alex?"

What my eyes saw, I was nowhere near prepared for. My eyes met hers, only hers were upside down, head hanging off of the edge of the bed, tears running down the sides of her face. They were also lifeless, and so was she. She was laid on the bed, fully dressed, and blood poured from her throat and pooled on the floor. There were two men on top of her, mouths latched to her chest and throat.

I couldn't help the gasp that came out, my eyes watering at the scene. I brought my hand up over my mouth and both men looked up at me. I couldn't register what I was seeing...

Spencer Charnas and Ronnie Radke were on top of my best friend, and their faces were absolutely covered in her blood.

Their fangs shined, covered in the red viscous liquid, and harsh growling hisses came out of their mouths.

Before I could scream, a hand had grabbed the back of my sweatshirt and pulled me down the stairs, and was dragging me away from the bus. I thrashed, screaming and fighting against the person pulling me away.

"No! No! Please! Stop, please!!" A hand came up over my mouth.

"Shut up!" My eyes looked down, and through my bleary tears, I saw the tattoos. The familiar tattoos.

Noah pulled me over to another bus and pressed me against the side. He loomed over me, his eyes dark again, all of the light gone.

"I told you to fucking leave!"

I couldn't speak. I was stunned. "I...they...Alex..."

"Alex is gone." He was so matter of fact. Stern, even. A choked sob broke out of my chest.

"No, no please, you have to help me."

"I am helping you! You have to leave! Before anyone realizes you did." His hands were against the bus on either side of me. "Please Maggie, please just leave."

"Noah..." I stared at the sharp fangs. "Your teeth..."

He hung his head. "Maggie, listen to me. You were never here. You lost Alex at the concert, and she went missing. They already reported her missing to security." My eyes went wide, tears streaming. "Now, go home. Stay there. And never speak about this again. Understood?"

I didn't respond, I just glared at him. He was one of them. A monster. He drank my blood. He tried to kill me. Him and his friends...they killed Alex.

When I didn't answer, he grew impatient, slamming his hands against the bus, making me flinch.

"God damn it Maggie, do you understand?!"

I just nodded, and he let one of his arms fall. I slipped by him, but his hand caught my arm. I stopped, staring up at him.

"I'm so sorry." His eyes were soft again, but I ripped my arm from him. He looked taken back by my sudden brazenness.

"No you're not..." I took several steps forward, but I took a deep breath and stopped, turning to see him still staring at me.

"But you fucking will be."

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

You've written on pregnancy with a ghoul but do you have any opinions on the possibility of synth pregnancy or pregnancy with a synth as the sperm wizard

(Mild warnings for brief discussion of pregnancy loss and maternal death.)

I had to sit on this question for a while and do a bit of synth research to re-familiarize myself with how they're made (because Nick Valentine is the only synth I care all that much about). Unfortunately for y'all, all that rumination means I'm about to sound like I've thought way too much about this, which I absolutely have.

Bear with me.

I've heard stories of people passing away and their sperm that had been previously stored (typically in advance of the person having a vasectomy/consenting to something that would limit future sperm production) being used by their spouse or partner to have children afterwards. Similarly, but a little more ghoulishly (no pun intended and also this is a personal opinion), postmortem sperm retrieval IS a thing, if you didn't know. Live sperm can be harvested from the testes if the procedure is performed quickly enough after death, or on a living person who is brain dead.

For obvious reasons, the ethics of it are hotly contested, as are the ethics of using the harvested sperm for impregnation, but let's not pretend that morality ever stopped the Institute. PSR has been used in the past by the spouses of recently deceased or brain dead men in order to have biologically related children they wouldn't be able to otherwise have.

With that little bit of background, I'll say that I imagine having a baby with a "swapped" synth, someone intended to replace a person who already exists, could be much the same sort of thing...but, you know, without you really knowing about it. They yoink your partner, harvest their sperm before they disappear them, and implant the harvested sperm into the Gen 3 replacement's lab-grown body. Bang. Boom. Baby.

However, I think whether or not synths can reproduce at all is pretty up in the air. True, the most recent generation of synth is constructed entirely of tissues grown in their labs; the human body is comprised of much more complex cells than gametes (sperm and egg cells) that would have to be produced to have a functional body, so it's feasible to assume that they have the technology to lab-create those simpler cells, too.

However, I ask this: why would they bother?

We know that the Gen 3's have organic bodies and that they're literally constructed from actual muscles/bones/organs, but who's to say some of the organs they install aren't basically "for show"? Most claim the Gen 3's don't have to eat or sleep, so are the organs that manage these functions (namely the digestive organs and possibly the reproductive organs) truly "functional"?

Obviously they can be used if needed, since Gen 3 synths can eat if they choose, but your GI tract taking stuff in at one end and spitting it out at the other doesn't mean it "works". If they truly functioned as human organs do, they'd need regular access to nutrients, rest to recuperate. A synth brain, for example, can't function the exact same way a human brain does if a synth doesn't have to eat to stay alive; the human brain requires glucose, AKA sugar obtained from eating, to function. That's why low blood sugar often gives people brain fog and puts them into a bad mood, and why it can be a medical emergency if it drops low enough. You wouldn't want that vulnerability still included in the design of your synthetic human, even if you wanted your lab-grown brain to match a real one as closely as possible.

They're supposed to be indistinguishable from humans, inside and out, but if you did an autopsy of a dead person (or synth), and their organs looked normal upon inspection, there are things about their body you still wouldn't see. You wouldn't have any idea if they actually had sperm or eggs inside their reproductive organs just by looking with the naked eye, and if they didn't have those cells, it wouldn't necessarily mean anything. Failing to include those cells wouldn't expose their design any more than including the brain chip (you know, the one you have to kill the person to access) does. Not every single detail has to be covered. If you've gotta literally dissect someone to figure out if they're a synth or not, synths and humans are about as close to one another as they're gonna get.

BUT: if I'm quite honest, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that all synths are just sterile across the board, and that the Institute didn't bother including reproductive capability when they were deciding how they would craft the Gen 3 synths. Simply not allowing them to reproduce would be the simplest choice. After all, I imagine allowing your remote-controlled minions to start having their own children can make them prone to disobeying you if what you want isn't in the best interest of those children. It's a massive variable to add into the equation when you're making devious plans.

The infertility would be easy enough to write off, too, in a world filled with radiation exposure and malnutrition; sometimes people just can't have babies and that's their lot. Even if someone's had children before, that doesn't mean that their fertility will be intact forever. Say your spouse and the parent of your child was swapped with a synth, and you went on to try and have another child, but failed. Would you automatically assume it's because your partner was swapped with someone built in a lab? Or would you just write it off as bad luck/declining health/some environmental factor? Stress can also contribute to infertility, and the Fallout universe is all stress, all the time. I imagine lots of people who want children struggle to have them. Doesn't mean their partner is a synth.

But hey, it's not an entirely unrealistic idea. Who's to say that the Institute wouldn't also have considered planning something more complex and long-term, like creating a number of synth men capable of impregnating people, of starting families and helping to build communities, synth men who could still be programmed to be very useful? A plan like that could be set up to go on even in the event that the bulk of their personnel were killed, their facilities destroyed. If you program these men to do what you want them to do (and let them think it's their own idea to be the way they are), give them the ability to father children, and send them out into the world, you could still have your desired impact in the future even if you weren't around to direct or see it.

Conclusion: I would call the likelihood of penis-having synths being able to knock anyone up "scientifically possible but not probable".

In terms of synth pregnancy, I think that could be both simpler and much more complicated, depending on which angle we're approaching the situation from.

As I mentioned above, I'm not sure what the purpose would be to allowing a synth with ovaries to go off and reproduce unless you were planning to use that reproduction to control people over a great amount of time. Even then, it's kind of a questionable plan, but the Institute loves a questionable plan! However, designing a synthetic human that can grow and birth a baby while making it seem natural would be a big ask.

It also doesn't have nearly as much theoretical "use" as a concept if Gen 3's being able to reproduce was desirable (which I don't believe it is, at least from the perspective of those who created them). Even if the children of synths were susceptible to the same control their parents are under somehow, so synths having babies just means more controllable pawns you didn't have to manufacture or program yourself, one synth could still only have so many babies at a human pace if they're the one carrying them all. A single woman has the maximum capability of one full-term pregnancy per calendar year, and that pregnancy usually only results in one baby. A guy can get a different woman pregnant every day, in theory. Multiple women. If they were gonna put resources into perfecting synth reproduction, I don't think it would be on this end of the deal.

Sure, if their scientists wanted to grow a real fetus (the product of combining a sperm and an egg, not a meat sculpture you made in the lab) in a literal tube or chamber, I'm willing to bet they could. Artificial womb technology seems easier to master than "growing whole bones and organs from scratch" technology. But the point is the realism, and building a female-presenting synth who doubles as an artificial womb and building a synth who passes as a pregnant or postpartum woman are different ballgames.

The synths aren't designed to change. They don't age, they don't get sick or tired. Hell, they don't even gain weight even though they can eat, which implies they don't digest what they take in. A body that requires little to run has little to give...how does one deliver nutrients to a fetus if you don't require them yourself, if you don't actually get anything from eating?

All that is to say nothing about the pure change in physical size that can occur during gestation, how your organs are quite literally shifted around as the fetus takes up more and more room in your torso. The Mayor McDonough replacement synth was quite literally "built" fat because he wouldn't have been capable of gaining enough weight to look like the original if they'd made him smaller. If the synth body isn't intended to change, even in body mass, how would a growing fetus fit past a certain point? I don't think it would, frankly, at least not in a way that wouldn't spell disaster for all involved. A pregnancy like that either wouldn't make it to term, would be incredibly negatively impacted by the lack of room to grow, or would kill the mother. Maybe all of the above.

Overall, their type of physiology doesn't scream "capable of withstanding the immense changes caused by pregnancy". Having a baby is literally the biggest change you could ever make to your body on all fronts; even your internal chemistry changes when you become pregnant in order to support the fetus. Your body is irreparably altered when you carry a baby to term, and it has to go through a series of changes to even get to that point to begin with.

It's not like when your "sperm wizard" gives a few pumps and their work is done; moving sperm from point A to point B isn't complicated or difficult from a scientific perspective. Pregnancy is incredibly complex and involves multiple intense processes directed by the brain and reproductive organs in order to come to fruition. You have to ovulate, have proper implantation, allow for all the change that occurs in the body over the course of gestation, and account for the trauma of labor and birth, even if by cesarean. The human body is also intended to support the infant in the postpartum stage...imagine a synth capable of breastfeeding.

The hormones of it all are by far the biggest consideration. Successfully getting pregnant would involve creating synths with wombs whose bodies also follow the 28-day hormone cycle, or whose endocrine system at the very least produces all the necessary hormones that allow successful reproduction. Even the previously mentioned breastfeeding ability is a product of hormonal changes that occur in pregnancy. Frankly, endocrinology (the study of hormones and the organs that produce them) is incredibly complicated for modern scientists to even wrap their heads around, so I think the folks at the Institute would have a big order on their plates if they wanted to theoretically make something like this happen. All these complex processes would have to be nailed perfectly in order to create a synth capable of a real pregnancy, and a synth that real is just a person who cost a lot more to create.

Sounds like a lot of goddamn work just so your literal slaves can have babies who will inevitably motivate them against you.

Conclusion: synth pregnancy where the synth is the one carrying would be much, much harder to pull off (so hard it wouldn't be an endeavor worth pursuing) and would likely end very poorly for both mother and fetus.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Connected ch1

pairing: chan x reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: ~1.3k

synopsis: upset reader comments on chans room, chan sees it and privately reaches out to reader to comfort them.

warnings: crying, brief mention of dying (like as a joke), christopher using his rizz, i think that’s all?

an: this is a repost from my recently deceased blog hyunjins-orange-slice. may she rest in peace. this was originally a request from a moot but now has turned into a full series!

masterlist * next chapter

your phone dinged with a notification. wiping the tears from your cheeks, you pick up the device.

youtube: Stray Kids is Live- 찬이의 “방” 🐺 ep.209

you clicked on the link. the screen shows the studio, chans empty chair, the chat moving so quickly you struggle to read it, and FAM plays softly in the background.

you prop your phone up on the pillow next to you, curling your body on its side, sniffling still but finding comfort in the livestream.

as the song comes to an end, chan takes his seat. “안녕하세요“ he sing songs, smiling. and you smile too.

the live goes on for a little over an hour, and by the end of it you’re feeling a bit better. but you have a sneaking suspicion that once the video ends, so will your happiness. even the thought of that steals away some of your joy.

“stayyy im going to go.” he says. “감사합니다“

he waits a moment as more comments roll in. he reads through them.

‘no don’t go!’ ‘bye channie! remember to rest and eat well!’. ‘사랑해요~~’ ‘big hug??’

you read through the chat the best you could, and you normally don’t comment. but today you weren’t having the best day and his live really helped you, if only for a moment. so you click on the chat bar and begin typing.

“chan, im having a pretty rough day today, but your big hugs always help! thank you for this livestream ❤️”

you hesitated for a moment. reading your comment over and over, wondering if it sounded too cheesy. you decided that it totally sounded too cheesy, but the live was ending and what are the odds of him seeing it anyway? so you press send.

he’s still looking down at his phone, reading the comments.

“you’re having a rough day?” he reads aloud, looking up into the camera. your stomach dropped, and the eye contact was making you blush. “i’m sorry you’re having a bad day.” he pouted. “i’m glad i could help a little.” he smiles and then stands. “for everyone who’s having a bad day, or for anyone who may want one, let’s do a hug” he spreads his arms out wide, “biiiig hugggg” he says, leaning toward the screen.

you knew the smile on your face was goofy as hell, but you didn’t care. you couldn’t help it. he sat back down and said his outro, thanking the stays and doing his signature pose, and then the screen went black.

the smile stayed on your face for longer than you expected. but then the day came crashing back to you, the same thoughts, the same fears plaguing your brain. you let out a sad sigh. you could feel the tears coming on again, so you grabbed your switch, deciding you would try to occupy your brain with video games so you wouldn’t be thinking about your life (mood).

you played for hours, your thumbs moving furiously over the joysticks, until eventually you fell into a fitful sleep. you awoke in the middle of the night from yet another nightmare, your heart beating out of your chest, your face and pillow wet with your tears. you reach for your phone in the darkness to check the time. 2am. but that’s not the only thing you see on your screen. you have an instagram messenger notification. you were instantly confused. no one ever messages you on instagram. you cautiously opened the app and clicked the messages in the top corner. what you saw next had your heart seizing. you had accepted your fate. this was how you died and honestly.. you were okay with it. because on your screen, staring back at you, was a message from bang chan. like thee bang chan. like christopher bahng himself. complete with blue check mark and all.

you sat bolt upright in bed, suddenly not sleepy at all but at full attention. you clicked on his message.

“hey this might be weird.. and im not even sure if you’re the right person im looking for. but this picture and username matches the one on youtube?” -9:04pm

“is that weird? it’s weird.” -9:06pm

“i’m sorry ㅋㅋ“ -9:07pm

“did you comment on a live stream of mine that you were having a bad day? if not, this is totally embarrassing and ignore this.” -9:08pm

“oh, you’re probably sleeping” -9:30pm

“sorry again.” -9:31pm

•

you chuckled at his messages. they seemed very… chan. but then the realization hit you. do you message him back? of course you do. every stay dreams of this moment. so you should send him a message. right? yes. definitely reply. but what do you say?

‘oh my god’ you type and erase. ‘yeah that’s me’ erase ‘i’m such a big fan’ erase ‘sorry if i bothered you’ erase

damn this was hard. what do you even say to a famous person?

hands shaking, you settle on a response and type it out before taking a deep breath and hitting send.

“you found me! totally not weird. and yeah i commented on chans room. today wasn’t the best but you made it so much better. thank you!” -2:38am

after you sent the message, you couldn’t stop yourself from reading it over and over, analyzing everything you said. you had decided it was a weird message and you shouldn’t have sent it. you were about to freak out when he responded.

“i’m glad you were the right person! i’m relieved ㅋㅋ” -2:45am

“i just wanted to check in with you. make sure you’re okay. if that’s okay.” -2:45am

you couldn’t believe this. he’s so sweet for checking on you. your heart swelled. you quickly typed out a response to him, knowing his time is valuable and probably limited at this moment.

“that’s so nice of you. i’m doing okay. i distracted myself with video games. haha.” -2:48am

“well i did until i fell asleep and had a nightmare.” -2:48am

“you had a nightmare? i’m sorry to hear that.” -2:50am

“i wish i could go live every time you needed me.” -2:50am

he is literally the sweetest human and you thought you may cry.

“you don’t have time for that. you’re so so busy. one hour with you earlier helped me so much, truly. you’ve already done so much.” -2:53am

“not if you’re having nightmares.” -2:55am

“that’s not your fault tho, chan.” -2:56am

“chan?” -2:57am

“sounds so formal. ㅋㅋ” -2:57am

“well.. that’s your name. so… haha” -2:58am

“i think i prefer channie. ㅋㅋ” -3:00am

“or you can just call me your boyfriend.” -3:00am

you squealed and giggled, kicking your feet under your covers. he did not just say that.

“maybe i should just call you chrizztopher.” -3:02am

“ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ” -3:03am

“that works too. ㅋㅋ” -3:03am

“i’m sorry, but i have to go now. busy busy.” 3:04am

your heart fell a little, but you know how busy he is and you got more time with him than most people, so you were happy.

“that’s okay! thank you for checking on me. it was very kind. ❤️” -3:06am

“oooh hearts. i like hearts. ❤️❤️❤️” -3:07am

“good night. and if you have another nightmare, message me. i’ll have my notifications on.” -3:07am

you had the thought that the world does not deserve bang chan. and what did you do to deserve him? you felt so lucky.

“thank you channie. don’t work too hard.” -3:08am

and then he was gone. off to record some music, or write some music, or take some pictures, or do an interview, you didn’t know. but you fell back asleep with a smile on your face and for the first time in a long time, you slept through the night.

to be added to the taglist for this series, just let me know.

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

[doetic]

There's Doodles of Rams in the Margins - Enemies to lovers!Jschlatt x F!Reader x Hasan Piker (pt.2)

Masterlist // Playlist

Plot: Anxiety threatens to ruin Y/n's morning after the disaster of the night she had before. Despite this she pushes on, but her hopes of having a good day is ruined when she finds Schlatt's usual asshole self in her kitchen. Word Count: 2171

The Women's Guide to Sex, Love, and the City

Melanie92 writes in: Dear Y/n, how do you handle humiliation? Recently I was at a party and had a drink thrown on me in front of a guy I’ve been hoping to start something with, and to make matters worse I started crying right then and there! I haven’t been able to face him or my friends since.Dear Melanie92, I think we have all been there. I would  say the best solution is to reach out to your friends as soon as possible. It is scary to face anyone after a humiliating experience, but people often underestimate how much their friends care about them, and (I am aware of how cheesy I sound saying this) the power of friendship is more healing than you’d think.On the potential love interest front, any man who would not stay interested in you after something like that is a man you should cut your losses with. Would you like to be in a relationship for years where you are forced to be perfect at all times? I think…

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The next morning began significantly better than the night before it ended. You woke up well rested, your soreness washed away into a dull ache that only made itself known if you stretched your body too hard. For the duration of your morning routine you didn’t find yourself thinking much about the party at all. In a way, it was as if the sun had washed away what had occurred last night. Every time your brain dredged it up you reasoned with yourself that it wasn’t as if you’d see much of  Schlatt again anyways so there wasn’t much point of dwelling on the matter. 

Regardless of your good mood, however, you delayed opening your phone, feeling a pit in your stomach every time you thought of waking up the black sleeping screen to see if anything had gotten out about the incident. Though, from the lack of notifications coming from the device, you felt a little optimistic of Ted’s pull within the group of people that were there to witness it. You distracted yourself from the device by getting dressed, not yet wanting to discard your fairly good mood by giving into the temptation to unlock your phone. Even the sight of it sent a jolt of anxiety through your body. Instead, you opted to occupy your thoughts by getting dressed. You needed to go out and grab toothpaste anyways, and you’ve spent far too much money on clothes – as an immigrant to the U.S, you found yourself falling victim to the enticingly luxurious NYC lifestyle quite often – to go out in just athleisure. 

The smell of eggs wafting from the kitchen had you instantly on guard. F/n made you eggs usually as a way to butter you up before breaking something big. When F/n  would serve you a plate, she would often wait for you to get about halfway into the dish before breaking whatever news she had stored in her mouth to you with an apologetic wince, as if each forkful you lifted to  your mouth were seconds counting down on a clock.

You hoped it was nothing too bad, today was the day you were to sift through the new roommates F/n had found to replace her. She was the reason you moved to NYC and thought it unfair that her moving in with Ted would uproot your newly settled life unless she found someone to cover her half of the rent. You knew F/n wouldn’t do you wrong, certainly you’d become fast friends with the new addition to the apartment, something you looked forward to with your current counter of friends in the area totalling to a whopping one.

You tried not to let the feeling of impending doom that prickled at your every nerve bring you down from the good mood you woke up in – a good mood that seemed increasingly fragile as the day carried on. You intended to move into the open kitchen and living room space with a sense of purpose, though you felt sure your tentative curiosity was evident in your gait. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Your words escaped your mouth faster than your eyes could process the sight before them. Seated at your kitchen island, with a haggard, hungover expression, was Schlatt. Beside him was Ted, who paused his conversation with his friend to look back and forth between you and F/n – her anxious form positioned at the stove with a guilty smile – with worry. 

The sight before you was like ice water being poured upon your warm, happy body. Although you were not physically shaking, the anger that vibrated within your form was akin to violent shivering. 

“Quiet down toots, m’head hurts,” There was the nickname again, emerging from his throat like a groan. 

“I…made eggs?” F/n gave you a nervous grin.

You narrowed your eyes at the group and ignored the only open seat at the island beside Schlatt, opting to walk over and lean against the side of the island countertop. 

“Ted, why do you look like a kid in trouble?” His guilty eyes darted away from your face. From his expression, it seemed as if pressing for an answer from him would be faster than waiting for F/n’s likely roundabout explanation. “What’s going on?”

Ted opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Schlatt, whose eyes squinted in pain at the sight of the window behind you. “I’m your new roomie, surprise.” His voice was harsh towards you, but turned more polite as he addressed F/n. “Can I have some more eggs, please?”

“F/n don’t you dare give him my apology eggs,” You narrowed your eyes. She plated the eggs that were in the pan and slid them, along with a fork, across the counter your way. “Is he being for real?” 

F/n waited in tense silence for half of the egg to be eaten – as was custom, although with the small size of the egg and your morning hunger it took less time than usual – before she replied.

“I planned it before you two met, and it's too late to change it up now. Finding someone decent this late wouldn’t be easy, if possible,” She explained. Although she seemed like she didn’t care too much about the matter, it was apparent to you, having known her for so long, that she wasn’t too enthused about the situation either and was putting on a polite facade around Schlatt. 

“I’m right here,” Schlatt spoke up. “Like, I’m currently in the room as you speak about me.”

“Oh don’t worry, Schlatt. I’m unfortunately all too aware of your presence,”  You verbally jabbed at him in between forkfuls.

He let out a sardonic laugh, “Obsessive much?” 

You conjured up a daydream of diving across the table with a scream and shaking Schlatt violently. 

Ted – who had seemed like little more than F/n’s ornamentally passive malewife in every prior interaction involving Schlatt’s douchebaggery – interrupted your thoughts and for once spoke up before a glare from his girlfriend was sent his way. His face was painted with a sense of confusion and annoyance at his friend's behaviour. Was Schlatt not usually this stuck up? You felt even more annoyed at the notion that he was just this prideful around you specifically. You hadn’t done anything to him! 

“Shut up, man. Let’s get a head start on moving F/n’s boxes,” Ted’s words seemed to shock Schlatt a bit, and you had to respect Ted a bit for it – although you believed you’d always dislike and distrust him as the boyfriend of your best friend. With Ted’s words, Schlatt got up and headed to F/n’s room, leaving you and your friend alone. At least he had put his dishes in the sink before leaving.

“What’s his fucking deal?” Once the two were confidently out of earshot, you plopped down in the empty seat you had refused to sit in before with a groan.

“I don’t know,” F/n leaned against the island with her elbows. “He’s always been pretty nice to me and everyone else I’ve seen him with,” A sigh deflated her body slightly. “That’s why I thought he’d be a good roommate… well that and his income. I knew with his wealth he’d easily be able to afford rent. The only reason he doesn’t have a house is because it’s a hassle to go through the process of owning.” 

“Is he some bigshot youtuber like Ted?” You finished the last of your eggs. 

“Bigger, four million.”

You snorted, recalling his attitude and miserable appearance around you. “Those four million people must be fucking miserable.”

“I’m not too happy about this either Y/n. The way he treats you is so fucked, especially last night. Ted took care of that by the way, he’s got a lot of friends. You shouldn’t see it posted.”

“Ted’s still on thin ice,” F/n shot you an incredulous look. “Hey! I care about you, I just met the man! I can’t trust him too quickly. But anyways, thank him for me.”

F/n gave you a satisfied smile before getting back to the topic. “Don’t worry Y/n, it won’t be too long. Just until Schlatt gets his shit together and can get a place to live in again. He’s been going through some housing issues, he needs this place. He shouldn’t be too bothersome.”

You snorted. “I think we’re far past that point.”

“Ted thinks Schlatt’s just embarrassed by how drunk he was. He’s prideful and doesn’t really like being wrong, or in the wrong. Maybe he’s got too much pride to apologise and is just doubling down? That doesn’t make it okay, regardless.”

“That's such a man thing to do. I see this all the time when people write to me. Why are men such…” You searched for the word before crying out in exasperation. “...men!” 

“It all boils down to the patriarchy,” F/n shrugged. “That's why I like my boyfriends like Ted, whipped.”

“Eww! TMI!” You teased, intentionally taking her words in the wrong way to mess with her. 

“Not like that! You know what I meant!” F/n squealed and hit you with the dishtowel light-heartedly. You caught it and stood up laughing, collecting your dishes in your free hand and heading to the sink. She stopped you, taking the items from you. “No, you had a shit morning. I’ll do it. Besides, I saw you talking with some guy last night. Take the time I’m saving you to text him and tell me about it after.” 

You weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Okay, thank you F/n.” You relented. “But I’m taking you out for goodbye drinks tonight as a thank you when I do!” You smiled, heading down the hallway, not letting her protest the implications that you'd be paying.

You knew eavesdropping was bad, but with your room right beside F/n’s in the hallway, you preferred the phrase ‘overhearing while loitering’ to describe how you stopped in your tracks in front of your door at the sound of Schlatt and Ted’s voices. “Be nice man, she means a lot to F/n and F/n means a lot to me,” Ted scolded his friend. “But not too nice, like not falling in love nice. That doesn't usually work out with roommates.”

You hated how you were coming to know Schlatt so well that your brain autofilled in the quiet chuckle you were sure he let out at Ted's words. “She’s alright looking, but not hot enough to tempt me.”

You had to hold back the offended gasp that intruded uncomfortably in your throat.

“She was hot enough to attract Hasan–”

“Hasan’s a–!” You didn’t hear the rest of Schlatt’s thoughts, angrily retreating into your room. What an asshole, how much more stuck up could he be! It wasn’t as if you wanted his attention, but the frank way he stated it had you fuming at the impoliteness of it all. You had done nothing to this man, and yet he was rude to you for what? His damn pride? Well he could certainly take his damn pride and shove it–!

You flopped onto your bed and muffled your angry yell with your pillow. It took a few moments for you to calm down your rage filled body before you rolled over onto your back and pulled out your phone that had been confirmed safe, creating a new text to the contact saved under Hasan. The lingering sting of Schlatt’s words was something you wanted to get over, and a meeting with the attractive man who seemed to be into you sounded perfect right now. Your fingers quickly tapped on the phone keyboard, desperate for a distraction.

[Y/n]: Hey Hasan, It’s Y/n from last night!

[1moreff-creator]

I would genuinely love to hear your thoughts on Ace and Teruko as friends. Like, I can see it working maybe? Outside of the killing game, preferably. (Given how it's too late for that, in light of recent events)

Hey! Certainly an interesting dynamic! Admittedly, Teruko's bad luck might scare Ace a bit too much for it to easily work, but it might be easier if Teruko can convince him of her apparent immortality. Ace would probably appreciate an immortal friend given his last friendship ended with Tayor six feet under :v

This got longer than I expected so we're putting in a read more!

Once the friendship itself is established (as you requested, outside of the killing game), it would probably be pretty fun! I kinda imagine it as the sort of friendship where they're constantly making fun of each other, to the point where it's hard to tell from afar whether they love (platonic) or hate each other. Just a lot of Teruko deadpanning at Ace's cowardly nature while Ace is constantly yelling at her, only for her to roll her eyes and throw jabs back. How does it work? Only they know.

Teruko's certainly the brains and impulse control of the friendship; Whit would probably joke about her putting a leash on Ace on more than one occasion. Teruko's probably one of the only people who can get Ace to calm down when he's mad at someone.

Meanwhile, Ace is constantly dragging her around, and Teruko enjoys the antics he gets them into. Provided her luck doesn't seriously injure everyone involved :v

There would probably be more gossip than you'd think. With Ace's penchant for eavesdropping, and Teruko not giving enough of a damn to stop him, they would talk so much shit about other people. I could even see Arei joining them on occasion. Though I imagine Teruko would have enough sense to cut the others off if they go a bit too far.

Ace doesn't mesh all that well with the friends Teruko would have in a non-killing game AU, aka Baking Squad + Mai probably (I'm obviously ignoring West Class Teruko theory for logistics purposes), unless Teruko is around. She'd probably be able to reign him in just enough for Min to tolerate him, Rose to vibe in the group, Eden's Eden so she'd try to be friends with Ace anyways, and Mai's Mai. If Teruko isn't around, Mai can substitute for Ace's impulse control since everyone loves her.

Teruko would also help keep the beef with Nico and Levi to a minimum, which probably wouldn't even be that big of an issue outside of the killing game anyways. That would also help Ace keep civil, if not good, relationships with Hu and Xander.

And while Teruko keeps Ace social life healthy, Ace keeps Teruko in good moods. Whenever she's feeling down, all it takes for her to laugh is walking in on Ace burning down the classroom to kill a spider while Nico and Xander are trying to get him to stop, Min is running in with a fire extinguisher, Rose is somehow sleeping through it as Mai and Eden try to wake her up, and Veronika's cheerfully sharing popcorn with a cackling Arei and a "so done with this shit" Arturo. Well, Teruko would probably freak out while the fire is raging, but laugh about it afterwards.

On angstier days, Ace and Teruko could definitely bond over people close to them getting hurt (Taylor and pick someone from Teruko's past) and feeling like they can't fight their fate. I have... no idea how that would work, but I can see a world where Teruko bullies Ace into trying to get his life together while Ace looks up to Teruko's strength in the face of adversity and tells her she has a better chance of changing her future than he has of changing his. Maybe. Really hard to tell how this would go.

Now I'll go over more specific headcanons of certain things I would imagine could happen if they were friends outside the killing game!

One time, when Ace had a race and he was worried he was going to lose to another jockey, Teruko put a bet of a single dollar on said horse/jockey (I don't know how horse betting works), as a joke to get her bad luck to help Ace. The jockey Teruko put a bet on fell off the horse in the race and almost died. They both agreed Teruko should never ever bet on a horse/jockey again.

Ace: Teruko! Get her the hell away from me! Veronika: Teruko! Do you want to join our horror movie marathon? Most of the class is joining! Teruko [not really interested, just wanting to mess with Ace]: What are we watching? Ace: That's not what-! Veronika: Well, I was thinking of starting with the Headless Horseman- Teruko [smirking, grabs Ace by the back of his shirt]: Sure! Ace: AAAH! [Ace ended up hiding behind Levi and Teruko as everyone, Veronika included, talked mad shit about the movie. Ace was the only one who was even remotely scared. The rest of the movie marathon, Ace was passed out, but the rest of the class enjoyed it well enough]

Teruko, hair smoking and soot on her face: Sorry I'm late, my apartment building caught fire an I had to escape the ambulance. I can't really afford a trip to the hospital right now. Ace, genuinely horrified and worried about his friend, look of shock on his face: ... Ace, now smirking: Skill issue. Teruko, smirking back: Fuck you. [They both laughed about it later, after Ace shouted at Teruko to take better care of herself]

Hope that's enough! Thanks for the ask!

[galexystern]

seven minutes in heaven

pairing; steve harrington/reader

rating; t

warnings; fluff, no use of y/n, pining, confessions of love, getting together, misunderstandings, jealousy

word count; 2.5k

desc; Steve Harrington hates you. Which kinda sucks, because he’s also in love with you.

masterlist

Steve Harrington hates you. Which kinda sucks, because he’s also in love with you.

But hatred, that's what this is about. It’s the most recent, blazing every time he sees you, which is unfortunately very frequently, since you’re Eddie’s best friend and now thoroughly enmeshed in the group.

The love though...who could blame Steve for falling in love with you as soon as he met you, back in your freshman year, with your stunning beauty and sharp wit? He finds it impossible to believe everyone isn’t in love with you from the first introduction; he suspects subconsciously they are. He was a goner once you flashed him that bright grin while making fun of the poor grade he’d received on his math test and jokingly offering your tutoring services. He’d automatically said yes, surprising you, and was further impressed when you took it in stride and set your price terms. So he’d turned on the Harrington charm and flirted through the negotiations, setting the first session for the next day after school.

He wondered after class if it would wear off, this draw towards you, but it didn't. When he met you at a picnic table and you jumped into calculations and conversions, he was just as spellbound as the first time around. He couldn’t help but infuse more flirtation into the lesson, making it infinitely more fun, what with your pretty blush spreading across your cheeks but you pointedly ignoring its existence and trying to keep teaching. And it went like that for weeks, as he tried to learn math but was more interested in learning about you. He kept you on your toes with his sweet-talking and you kept him on his just by being your stupidly amazing self.

Until one session, when you’d given him the cold shoulder the whole time, not smiling once and growing angrier at his flirting attempts. Okay, he thought, maybe you’d had a bad day. But the next session was the same, and the next, and the next, until he cut his losses and called off the tutoring altogether. You wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t give him a reason for the mood change, and it was killing him to sit across from you and not understand why you hated him all of a sudden. He missed your laugh and smiles and sassy remarks so much it hurt.

But if you hated him, he hated you. There didn’t need to be any reasoning behind it. And it didn’t matter for a while, since you never crossed paths after the tutoring went the way of the dinosaurs. That is, until Eddie got roped into the Upside Down and you’d come along with him, like some package deal, attached at the hip. He wasn’t jealous when you’d spent the whole time too concerned about Eddie to notice even his presence, and he wasn’t jealous that you’d never left Eddie’s side once they’d located him. And he certainly wasn’t upset that every time you deigned to acknowledge him it was with a glare, a disgusted look, and a scoff. It didn’t crack his heart when you turned away from him. No, sir.

He just doesn’t understand. He’s wracked his brain countless nights, trying to figure out if he hurt you in some way, if he’d offended you. What could he do that would make you sour on him so completely? What had he done? How could he make it right, so he could see the smile meant just for him, hear your voice saying sweet things to him again?

No, he doesn’t care. You wrote him off so easily that he can write you off too. He wouldn’t spend another minute thinking about it.

That’s easier said than done, when he hears your laugh through the open window and his heart jumps at the same time that his jaw clenches. The door swings open and in struts you and Eddie, hanging off one another as usual. Steve feels his ears going green when he notices Eddie’s leather jacket draped over your shoulders. That should be his jacket. Not that he has a leather jacket. Maybe he should get one. Would you like him better if he did? It’s worth a try—

No. Steve shakes his head slightly to get rid of the thoughts. His anger flares bright and hot for a second but it’s with himself instead of you. He can’t stop his brain from coming up with useless ways to get back into your good graces, no matter how many times he tells it that he doesn’t care.

Your eyes rove over the living room crowd and when they stop on Steve, your lip lifts in a sneer. His stomach falls but he just gives you back a glare, and you turn away with your nose held high. He makes a face at your supposed haughtiness.

Neither of you notice Dustin and Will eyeing each other after witnessing the interaction.

“The gang’s all here,” Eddie crows as he walks into the room, sitting in an open chair. You perch on the armrest, thigh pressing against Eddie’s and making Steve see red. But he pushes it away and tries to focus on something else. “What’s the plan, my little minions?” The metalhead continues.

Steve opens his mouth to say it’s movie night, when El replies, “We were thinking about playing Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

He gives her a weird look, as do the rest of the teenagers. But the rest of the kids jump at the idea, coaxing everyone into sitting in a circle on the floor. Dustin makes sure to sit next to Steve while Lucas secures his spot next to you. They both stretch back, placing their hands back to lean on them, sneakily putting them directly behind your and Steve’s bodies. Mike produces a bottle and puts it in the middle of the circle.

“Let’s see who’s first,” he says mischievously, and spins. It lands on Steve.

He rolls his eyes as everyone “ooh”’s. “Just spin it again,” he says defeatedly, and Mike does.

It stops on you.

You and Steve stare at each other in shock as the group falls into tense silence. “Okay, you two!” Max shouts and claps her hands, startling everyone. “Into the closet!”

The kids start chanting “closet” and the rest of the teens join in. Steve curses the power of peer pressure as he stands slowly, you doing the same opposite him. You both follow Dustin down the hall, and he motions you into the hall closet that is somehow big enough to fit two people. Just before he closes the door on you, he says, “Do us a favor. Figure your shit out.”

You both gaze at the door, finally understanding. “Did they do this on purpose?” You ask in bewilderment and Steve shrugs, remembering too late that you can’t see it.

“Guess so,” he supplies.

You huff. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Steve, whose resolve is quickly draining away with your close proximity and the body heat radiating off you in waves making his head spin, retorts, “Oh, give it a rest.”

“Excuse me?” You’re unpleasantly shocked.

“Get off your high horse,” he replies.

“What high horse?” He can hear you seething in the dark.

“Please, you know you’re the one who started all this.”

“I most certainly did not.”

He feels crazy, inches away from you and finally talking about what’s plagued him for three years. “Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes! You did!”

“What did I do?”

“You hated me first!”

“Well, you hurt me first!”

Steve stays quiet. He can tell you didn’t mean to say that, based on the breath you’d sucked in after it’d flown out of your mouth. His thoughts are flashing like meteors, almost too quick to grab. He hurt you? When? Where? How?

“What?” He asks, the only thing he can ask.

You make a frustrated noise and adjust your body, making the coats shake next to him. “Nothing,” you reply quietly, trying to rein it all back in.

But it’s out now. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” you repeat, voice firm but strained.

Steve says your name, letting the desperation he’s felt for so long leak into his tone. “How did I hurt you?”

You sigh. “Becky Miller.”

He blinks. “Who?”

“Becky Miller. She was a cheerleader, your grade? Blonde, tiny, curvy. Laughed like a hyena.”

That rings a very faint bell. “Okay…what about her?”

You’re silent for so long that Steve’s half-worried you’d fainted or something. But eventually you start talking. “You know when I tutored you? In algebra my freshman year. I was a grade ahead of my year and you were in my class because it’s usually for sophomores. You’d gotten a bad grade on a test and when I joked and said I should tutor you, you’d taken me up on it.”

“I remember.” How could he not?

“You had study hall after that class, and I had lunch, so we didn’t usually see each other then. But one day I realized I had your notebook and so I left lunch a little early to bring it to you. I was so excited to see you again. It was pathetic, really. Especially when I walked into the room and saw you flirting with Becky Miller.”

Steve cannot for the life of him remember what you’re talking about.

Your voice turns bitter. “It was so obvious. I wasn’t special. I don’t know why I thought King Steve would change his ways for some random freshman. It was stupid of me to think I was the only one. It really hurt. Like, way more than I ever wanted to admit. But I refused to be another notch in your bedpost, so I shut it all down. The flirting, the smiles. The feelings.” You swallow audibly. “That last one didn’t really work. But whatever. What’s done is done.”

Steve takes it all in, and then says your name very simply and states, “I’ve been in love with you for three years.”

His eyes have adjusted enough to the dark that he can see your head whip up at his words. “What?” You ask, sharp and guarded.

“I'm sorry that I hurt you. But I was in love as soon as we met. I fell more in love as we flirted through tutoring sessions. And I stayed in love even after you hated me, even though I tried to hate you too. That didn’t really work either. So I’ve been in love with you since then. I’m in love with you right now.”

“What about Becky—“

“I couldn’t give less of a fuck about Becky Miller. To be honest, I can’t even remember what she looks like.” He sighs, relieved it’s all out in the open and nervous about how you’re going to react. “It’s always been you. It’s only ever been you.”

He watches as his words, more truthful than anything he’s told himself in three years, sink in, and then he watches as you gently push off the wall and come in close. He wishes he could see your eyes fully, to admire their color and maybe finally see something nicer than a glare again.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, voice barely there, anxiety lacing every syllable, and his heart just about stops.

“Yes, please,” he breathes out. And then you’re there, lips pressing against his hesitantly, like he might push you away even though he just declared his undying love for you. It makes him love you all the more, and he surges forward to wrap his arms around you and haul you closer. You make a surprised sound but kiss him back, lips moving against his like that’s what they were meant to do.

When you break apart, you’re both breathing heavily. Steve rests his forehead against yours. “Pretty girl, you are such a pain in my ass.”

The most beautiful thing that could happen in that moment happens: you giggle. He sighs happily at it, smile feeling permanently etched on his mouth. You dip forward to kiss him again, but it’s only for a second as the door flies open abruptly. You wince at the sudden light and bury your face in his chest, and he squint-glares into the hallway.

Mike is standing there, looking stunned. “Holy shit,” he says, dumbfounded. “We thought you guys would like, strike an agreement or something, not make out.”

Steve makes a face like he’s stupid. “Go away,” he says, and then grabs the handle and closes the door again. You sigh in relief at the darkness, which turns into a chuckle when you both hear Mike running to the rest of the group and shouting about what he’d seen.

Steve rolls his eyes as he kisses the crown of your head. “God, hasn’t he ever heard of enemies to lovers?”

“He’s like fourteen, of course not,” you reply, and he revels in the sassy, flirty nature of it. He’d missed it so, so much. He’d missed you so much.

“I missed you,” he murmurs.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For jumping to conclusions and not talking to you about it. I didn’t even give you a chance.”

He rests his chin on your head. He could be mad. He had been mad, once upon a time—for about three seconds. “It’s okay, honey. King Steve kinda causes everyone to think the worst.”

“That’s not fair.” He can hear your pout and he smiles.

“I didn’t deserve you back then anyway. Now you have the new and improved Steve. Steve 2.0.”

“I liked Steve 1.0,” you reply shyly. He kisses your head for it and relishes in your giggle. “I love you.”

His heart sings and his eyes close at the joy of it. “I love you, angel.”

“Should we go back out there?”

“Nah,” he answers, and tightens his grasp. You huff out a laugh. “But I am going to get rid of this.” He pulls Eddie’s jacket off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

This time, you actually laugh. “Were you jealous?” You tease.

“No,” he says primly, meaning yes.

“Sure.”

“I wasn’t!”

You lean back and look at him with puppy dog eyes and pouty lips. “Even if I wanted you to be?”

He gives you a look, and your mouth twitches as you hold back a grin. “Like I said, pain in the ass.”

“Maybe, but your pain in the ass.”

He sighs in pretend exasperation. “Is there a return policy?” He laughs when you slap his chest, grabbing your wrist and draping it around his neck. “No, no. I’m never giving you up.”

You dig your face into his skin and he presses his cheek to your temple. “Me either,” he hears you mumble.

He closes his eyes and smiles.

Steve Harrington doesn’t hate you, and nothing sucks, because he loves you and you love him too.