#I HAD SO MUCH FUN LOOKING INTO THIS THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ASKING ME THIS AND STARTING THIS CONVO

[promptedwordsmith]

Hi hiiiii!!

I LOVED the valentine based piece you did!

If you're still taking requests, can I ask for angst-comfort this time where the guys forgot mc's birthday? I'm excited to see your take on this especially for Caleb!

Thank you and I'll be on the lookout for more of your work 💕💕💕

THANK YOU <3 <3 <3

I had SO. MUCH. FUN. writing this it was crazy!

Hopefully its OK!

Caleb

Caleb had been so busy. More than usual. It was one thing to have patrols through the Deep Space Tunnel, endless reports, meetings with higher-ups who never seemed satisfied, but on top of that, he had taken it upon himself to organize an important dinner party.

Or so he thought.

The truth—the awful truth—hit him like a physical blow when he unrolled the custom banner that had just arrived.

"Happy Birthday, [Your Name]!"

The world seemed to tilt. His grip on the fabric tightened, knuckles turning white as his violet eyes darted across the bold, celebratory letters. His mind, exhausted and running on autopilot for weeks, scrambled through his memory, piecing together the moments he had lost. The meticulous planning. The decorations. The food. He had arranged everything… for a party that had already passed.

Your birthday.

It had come and gone, and he—he—had completely missed it.

For a full five seconds, Caleb didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. The weight of realization pressed against his chest, drowning out every thought except one:

I forgot your birthday.

The sickening guilt settled deep in his stomach, twisting, tightening. You had waited for him that day. He could picture it—your hopeful glances, the way you had likely told yourself, he’s just busy, he’ll remember soon. But he hadn’t. You must have gone to bed that night thinking he didn’t care, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as important to him as you truly were.

The very idea of it made him feel like the worst kind of man.

He didn’t waste another second. He abandoned everything—work, reports, the dinner he had been planning for the higher-ups—none of it mattered now. The only thing that mattered was you.

By the time he reached your home, it was already evening. His uniform was slightly disheveled, his hair tousled from running his hands through it in frustration, but the guilt was what weighed on him the most.

You answered the door, and for a moment, there was only silence.

Caleb searched your face, looking for signs of anger, sadness—hurt. And when he found them, faint but undeniably there, the guilt doubled.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. "I messed up." His voice was low, raw, as if saying it out loud made the weight of it even heavier.

You crossed your arms, raising a brow. "You think?"

Your words weren’t angry, but the tired disappointment in them was somehow worse. You had already processed it, already come to terms with the fact that he had forgotten, and that made his chest ache.

Caleb was never one to stumble over words, but right now, he struggled. "I didn’t mean to forget. I was planning something. I was—" He inhaled sharply, shaking his head. "That’s not an excuse. It’s just…" He let out a dry, humorless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was so damn exhausted, I forgot what I was even planning for."

You blinked. "Wait, what?"

He let out a slow breath. "I was planning your party. That’s what I’ve been doing for weeks." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. "But I worked myself into the ground so much that when your birthday came, I just—" His jaw clenched. "I thought I was planning a dinner for the higher-ups. It didn’t even register."

You stared at him, processing. He watched you carefully, waiting, hoping for anything that would tell him how to fix this.

Finally, you sighed. "You’re an idiot."

Something in his chest loosened at that—because you weren’t shutting him out, weren’t furious.

"Yeah," he admitted without hesitation. "The worst one."

Caleb wasn’t the type to grovel, but when it came to you, he would do whatever it took.

He spent the entire night making it up to you. He didn’t just say sorry—he showed you.

First, he insisted on taking you out to eat, somewhere special, somewhere you liked. He wouldn’t let you brush him off, wouldn’t let you say, It’s fine, it’s over now. No, it wasn’t fine, and he wouldn’t let it be until he saw that light in your eyes again.

Then, after dinner, he walked with you through the quiet streets, hand in yours, holding on like he had something to prove. He was quieter than usual, more thoughtful, stealing glances at you every few seconds like he was afraid you’d disappear.

Finally, when you arrived home, he pulled you into his arms, pressing you close, his chin resting against your head.

"I swear to you," he murmured against your hair, voice rough with sincerity, "I will never forget again. Not in this life, not in the next, not ever."

And you believed him.

Because Caleb may have made mistakes, but when it came to you, he would always make it right.

Rafayel

Rafayel had been locked in his studio for days, unreachable. Your calls went unanswered, your texts ignored. Even when you showed up at his door, knocking, waiting, hoping, there was nothing. Just silence, just the knowledge that somewhere beyond those walls, he was lost in his art again.

And still, despite it all, you held out hope.

Hope that, even in the middle of his artistic madness, he would remember.

But the day had passed.

By the time three days had gone by, your hope had shrunk into something small and fragile. Maybe it was foolish of you to think this year would be different. Maybe you should have expected this. Rafayel loved intensely—when he loved, he loved with everything he had—but sometimes he got lost in his own world, and that love, no matter how deep, could feel far away.

Then, out of nowhere, your phone rang.

"Come over!" Rafayel's voice practically crackled with excitement, as if he hadn’t been a ghost for the last few days. "I finally finished it! You have to see it first!"

"Raf—"

"Ah, don’t say anything yet! Just come. Hurry!"

And then he hung up.

No apology for vanishing. No recognition of the days he had missed.

And certainly, no acknowledgment of your day.

You trudged through the cold toward his home, trying to ignore the sting in your chest. Maybe he had remembered and wanted to surprise you. Maybe this was his way of making up for it.

But deep down, a part of you knew better.

Inside his studio, Rafayel was frozen.

The moment he checked his calendar to see when his next exhibition was, the date jumped out at him like a slap to the face. The realization slammed into him so hard that he nearly knocked over a jar of brushes.

Your birthday.

It had come and gone.

The guilt hit him like a tidal wave, drowning out every other thought.

How could he forget?

He tore through his studio, hands shaking. A gift—he needed something, anything—! His eyes darted across the room, landing on a pile of canvases shoved into a forgotten corner.

His secret.

Bunches and bunches of paintings of you.

Sketches of you laughing, paintings of you gazing out at the sea, studies of your hands, your lips, the way your hair caught the light. He had never shown them to anyone, not even you. They were too raw, too personal, too embarrassing.

But now…

Before he could second-guess himself, he grabbed them all. He turned out all the lights, lit every candle he could find, and placed the paintings around the room. The atmosphere had to be perfect. When he was done, he shut the door, smoothing his hair, taking a deep breath.

He had a plan.

Just pretend everything was normal. Show you his newest painting, make you smile, then lead you to the hidden room to surprise you. Yes. That would work.

And maybe—just maybe—it would make up for everything.

When you arrived, Rafayel greeted you with his usual playful grin, grabbing your wrist and dragging you inside before you could even get a word in.

"Look," he said, presenting the canvas like it was the greatest treasure in the world. "What do you think?"

It was beautiful—of course it was. Rafayel’s art always was. The strokes, the colors, the emotion captured in every detail. It was a masterpiece.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not today.

He was watching you closely, waiting for your reaction.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "It’s… incredible, Raf."

The way your voice wavered, the way you didn’t meet his eyes—it was subtle, but he noticed.

And suddenly, the guilt became unbearable.

Without a word, he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the hidden room.

"Wait—Raf, where are we—?"

The door creaked open, and the glow of candlelight washed over you. Your breath caught in your throat.

Paintings.

Of you.

Dozens of them, covering every wall. Each one full of emotion, of devotion, of him. Some were unfinished, others so detailed they looked like they could breathe. It was overwhelming.

You turned to him, eyes wide.

"You…?"

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, his usual bravado gone. His cheeks were tinged pink, the tips of his ears burning red.

"I—" He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "I forgot your birthday."

Your stomach twisted. So he had forgotten.

"I was painting," he went on, words rushed. "I lost track of time, and I—damn it—" He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. "I didn’t mean to. I swear, I didn’t mean to."

You turned back to the paintings, something warm pressing at your chest.

"You made all of these?" you asked quietly.

His hands clenched at his sides. "Yeah."

"For how long?"

A beat of silence. Then—

"Years."

The confession hung between you.

He had been painting you for years.

Slowly, you turned to face him. The usual mischief in his eyes was gone, replaced with something raw, something vulnerable.

"I’m sorry," he murmured. "I don’t know how I forgot something so important. You mean too much to me for that. I—I just…" He sighed, rubbing his temple. "I got lost in making something for you, and I ended up missing the thing that mattered most—you."

The anger, the disappointment, the hurt—they all melted away. Because here he was, standing before you, baring himself in a way he rarely ever did.

You stepped forward, hesitating for only a moment before wrapping your arms around him.

His breath hitched.

"You’re an idiot," you whispered.

A shaky laugh. "Yeah. I know."

"But…" You looked up at him, a soft smile playing at your lips. "This is the best apology I’ve ever seen."

Relief flooded his features. "So you forgive me?"

You pretended to think about it. "Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe if you make me a cake."

He scoffed. "I’m a painter, not a baker."

"Then take me out for cake."

He smirked, his confidence slipping back into place. "Anything for my muse."

And as he pulled you in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, you knew—

Even when he forgot the days on a calendar, Rafayel would never really forget you.

Sylus

Sylus prided himself on many things. His sharp mind, his strategic brilliance, his ability to anticipate every move before it happened. He was the kind of man who didn’t forget things—especially not something as important as your birthday.

Which was why, when he saw the disappointed look on your face as you pelted him with soft plushies, something deep in his chest twisted—an unfamiliar, unsettling sensation that almost felt like panic.

Almost.

But Sylus didn’t panic.

Instead, he stood there, one plushie bouncing harmlessly off his shoulder, another smacking his chest before falling to the floor. His crimson eyes flickered between you and the growing pile of soft toys you had weaponized against him.

“You forgot,” you accused, arms crossed, hurt flashing in your gaze.

He opened his mouth to deny it. To tell you he’d never forget something so important. But the realization hit him like a slow, creeping dread. He had forgotten.

The meticulously planned dinners. The gifts he had meant to have delivered. The subtle reminders he had given his men—Kieran, Luke, even Mephisto—to ensure he never let today slip his mind.

And yet, here you were.

Disappointed.

Angry.

Hurt.

It was a sight that unsettled him more than any rival, more than any enemy who had ever dared to challenge him. He could handle a hundred assassination attempts, negotiate the bloodiest of deals, and walk into a war zone without breaking a sweat.

But the idea that he had been the one to hurt you? That he had been the reason your smile had faded today?

Unacceptable.

He took a step forward, but you threw another plushie at his face before he could speak. This time, he caught it mid-air, fingers tightening around the soft fabric as he exhaled through his nose.

“I’ll fix it,” he said, voice calm, steady.

You huffed, turning your head away. “Too late.”

His jaw clenched. Too late? No. Nothing was ever too late when it came to you.

Sylus wasn’t the type to apologize with empty words. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d simply say “sorry” and expect you to accept it. He had to show you.

And he would.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and left.

You had expected him to brush it off. To smirk, tease you, tell you that you were cute when you were mad. Maybe even promise to make it up to you later in a way that would leave you breathless.

But Sylus had left.

Just walked out without an explanation.

That made you angrier.

You flopped onto the couch, hugging one of the plushies to your chest, your pout deepening. He had forgotten, and now he was leaving?

Your thoughts swirled in frustration until a knock sounded at your door—not the sharp, precise kind that his men would give, but a slow, deliberate rhythm you recognized instantly.

Sylus.

You hesitated for only a moment before getting up and opening the door.

And what you saw left you speechless.

He stood there, slightly out of breath, his silver hair a bit messier than usual, his blazer discarded, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up. In his hands? A massive bouquet—roses, lilies, your favorite flowers all woven together in a way that looked too beautiful to have been bought last-minute.

And then there were the gifts.

Not one. Not two. But an entire armful—beautifully wrapped boxes, all stacked precariously as he balanced them with ease.

Your lips parted in shock.

Sylus? The man who was always cool, calculated, in control? Looking just a little bit frazzled as he stood in your doorway with gifts clearly gathered in a rushed effort to make up for his mistake?

You should have stayed mad.

But instead, your heart clenched.

“I had everything planned,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, controlled but tinged with something you almost wanted to call regret. “Dinners. Gifts. Things meant to arrive today.”

He stepped forward, pressing the bouquet into your arms as his crimson eyes locked onto yours.

“I forgot,” he admitted, as if the words physically pained him to say. “And I don’t forget things.”

You swallowed, staring at him. This was Sylus. The man who could tear down entire organizations with a single whisper. Who could predict a person’s every move before they even knew they would make it.

And yet, he had forgotten.

Because, for once, he had been too wrapped up in things that weren’t you.

You should have made him suffer more.

But then he did something unexpected.

He lowered himself to one knee, not in a proposal, but in something equally as disarming.

A genuine apology.

“I don’t ask for forgiveness,” he said, eyes unwavering. “I don’t need it. But you deserve better than today, and I’ll make sure you get it.”

His hand reached for yours, fingers brushing over your wrist in a touch so uncharacteristically soft that your breath hitched.

You weren’t used to seeing him like this.

Vulnerable.

But maybe that was the point.

Sylus didn’t grovel. He didn’t beg. He didn’t need to.

And yet, here he was, choosing to show you a side of himself no one else would ever see.

“I…” Your throat felt tight as you looked at him, then at the bouquet, then at the ridiculous number of gifts he had somehow managed to gather in an hour.

His lips curled into a small smirk, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “Still mad?”

You should be.

But instead, you sighed dramatically, stepping back to let him inside.

“I’ll think about forgiving you,” you muttered, clutching the flowers to your chest.

His smirk widened as he straightened, stepping closer, hands finding your waist as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

“I can be very persuasive,” he murmured.

You shivered, pressing your lips together to keep from smiling. He knew you too well.

And he had forgotten.

But he had also gone through all this effort to make it right.

Maybe you would forgive him.

Eventually.

But first? You were going to make him work for it.

Xavier

Xavier wakes up the next morning with the unsettling feeling that he’s forgotten something important. It lingers in his chest, creeping up his spine as he runs through the previous day in his mind. Work had gone as usual, no missions went sideways, nothing seemed off—so why does he feel like he’s made a terrible mistake?

And then, it hits him.

Your birthday.

Xavier sits up so fast that he actually gets lightheaded. He forgot. He forgot.

The realization settles into his bones like a cold weight, making his usual grogginess disappear instantly. He’s already moving before he can even fully process it, running a hand through his silver hair in frustration. How could he have let this happen? He knows he’s forgetful sometimes—distracted, too caught up in missions or losing track of time—but your birthday? Of all the things to forget, he had forgotten the one day that should have been about you.

His mind races with every possible reaction you might have had. Were you upset? Had you been waiting all day for him to say something? Did you pretend it was fine, even though it wasn’t? That thought hurts. It hurts worse than any injury he’s ever sustained in battle. He imagines you spending the day holding out hope, maybe even giving him chances to remember, only for him to say nothing.

He feels sick.

Xavier doesn’t hesitate. He throws on his jacket, grabs his keys, and heads straight to find you. If you’re at home, he knocks—firmer than usual, as if he’s trying to physically knock away his mistake. If you’re out, he searches, guided by instinct and urgency.

The moment he sees you, his sharp blue eyes search your face for signs of how you’re feeling. Are you angry? Disappointed? Trying to act like it doesn’t matter? He hates that he has to guess. He should have been there. He should have remembered.

"…I forgot, didn’t I?" His voice is softer than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge. There’s no excuse, no attempt to dodge the truth. Just quiet guilt.

Xavier isn’t the type to panic openly, but his regret is undeniable. He rubs the back of his neck—a rare show of uncertainty from him—and steps closer, as if trying to physically close the distance that his mistake has created.

"I don’t have an excuse. I just—" He exhales, frustration at himself bleeding into his voice. "I don’t know how I forgot. I should have been there, should have made the day special for you. But I didn’t. And that’s on me."

His hands twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if he deserves to. He hates the idea of you feeling unimportant because of him. The thought alone makes something tighten in his chest.

"Tell me how to make it up to you," he says, looking at you with the kind of intensity that makes it impossible to doubt his sincerity. "Because I will. However you want. Just say the word."

But that’s not enough. Not for him. He’s not just going to fix this with a single apology. He wants to show you.

Xavier doesn’t waste time. Once he knows where he stands with you—whether you need space, reassurance, or a little payback in the form of making him work for your forgiveness—he immediately starts making things right.

He doesn’t just buy you a last-minute gift to try and make up for it. No, that’s not personal enough. Instead, he recreates your birthday, a day late but no less meaningful.

Maybe he takes you somewhere quiet but special, a place that reminds him of you. Maybe he sets up a stargazing spot on a rooftop, bringing blankets and snacks, telling you it’s because he wanted to give you something that feels like forever.

Maybe he cooks for you—badly, because Xavier and the kitchen are a dangerous combination, but the effort is so heartfelt that you can’t be mad. He’d get flour on his face, burn something slightly, and still look at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

Or maybe he brings you a gift—not something extravagant, but something thoughtful. A tiny, carefully chosen charm. A book that reminded him of you. A star-shaped pendant, because you always joked that he had a habit of falling asleep under the stars. He wouldn’t say much about it, just press it into your hands and murmur, "Didn’t want you to think I don’t pay attention."

He watches you carefully the whole time, making sure you feel loved, valued. He doesn’t over-explain or beg for forgiveness—he just shows you.

And when the night winds down, and he pulls you into his arms, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head, he whispers:

"I won’t forget again."

And you know, in the quiet certainty of his voice, that he means it.

Zayne

Zayne was exhausted.

The hospital had been relentless, a blur of critical patients, rapid decisions, and near misses. There had been moments he thought he might not even make it home tonight—almost being quarantined had only been the cherry on top of the chaos. His body ached in a way he had learned to ignore, but as he finally stepped out into the cold night air, his thoughts were blank, his mind running on autopilot.

That was, until he saw you.

Sitting on the doorstep of his home, your figure illuminated under the soft yellow glow of the streetlight. A glittering dress hugged your form, shimmering faintly even in the dim light, and a sash lay diagonally across your body, its edges slightly crinkled from the way your arms had been folded over yourself. Your head rested in your hands, your posture slumped—not just from the cold, but from something else entirely.

Something in his chest clenched.

He stopped in his tracks, the weight of his coat sliding off his arm. It landed on the pavement with a quiet thud, the sound breaking the silence of the night. You startled at the noise, lifting your head to see him standing there, his expression unreadable.

Then, as if some unseen force wrenched his gaze downward, his eyes flicked to his watch.

2:04 AM.

The date had changed.

It hit him all at once. The cogs in his mind, sluggish from exhaustion, clicked into place, and his stomach twisted with the weight of the realization.

Your birthday.

His breath left him in a slow, silent exhale.

You didn’t say anything at first. You just stared at him, and for the first time in a long time, Zayne felt a crushing, unfamiliar sense of guilt settle over him. He had let the day slip through his fingers, consumed by the chaos of work, and now—now, here you were, alone, in a dress you had probably worn in hopes of celebrating. And he had missed it.

Completely.

He took a slow step toward you, lowering himself to sit beside you on the step. The cold from the pavement seeped through his slacks, but he ignored it.

“You should’ve called me.” His voice was quiet, steady, but there was a tightness beneath it.

You let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “I did.”

His jaw tensed. He had no memory of that. The hospital had been chaos—his phone likely left in his office, forgotten in the madness. That didn’t make it better.

For a long moment, there was only silence. The city around you was quiet at this hour, the world asleep while the two of you sat in the aftermath of his mistake.

Then, finally, he spoke again.

“I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t an excuse. It wasn’t a rushed, meaningless apology. It was slow, deliberate—weighted with sincerity.

You turned to look at him, and for the first time that night, he allowed himself to truly see you. The way your makeup had smudged slightly, the way your lips pressed together as if fighting back something you didn’t want to say.

You weren’t just disappointed.

You were hurt.

His fingers curled into his slacks, his mind searching for the right thing to do, the right thing to say.

Then, as if making a decision, he reached for you. His hands—steady, careful hands that had saved lives and stitched wounds—found yours, his fingertips brushing against the chill of your skin before enclosing them completely.

“Let me fix this.”

You blinked. “It’s already tomorrow, Zayne.”

“Then we’ll start over.” His voice was firm, resolute. “Right now.”

Before you could argue, he was already standing, tugging you gently up with him. The world may have declared your birthday over, but he refused to accept that.

Without hesitation, he shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his fingers lingering at the lapels for just a second before he pulled away. Then, taking your hand in his, he gave the faintest tug, silently urging you to follow him.

You furrowed your brows. “Where are we going?”

His lips quirked—just slightly. “To get cake.”

You stared at him. “Zayne, it’s two in the morning.”

“And you still haven’t had a proper birthday.”

His voice was so matter-of-fact, so Zayne, that you almost wanted to laugh. Almost.

But there was something about the way he was holding your hand, something about the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles absentmindedly, as if grounding himself in your presence. Something about the way he had taken one look at you and immediately decided that no, the day wasn’t over, not until he made it right.

So you followed him.

The city at 2 AM was eerily quiet, but Zayne led you with the same certainty he carried in the operating room, his hand never leaving yours as he walked with purpose. Eventually, you ended up at a small convenience store—the only place still open at this hour.

Zayne scanned the shelves with a critical eye, and you watched, bemused, as this brilliant, award-winning surgeon carefully inspected pre-packaged slices of cake as if they were surgical instruments.

Finally, he picked one. A simple chocolate slice. He held it up to you in silent question.

You sighed, shaking your head, but there was the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. “That’ll do.”

Minutes later, you found yourselves outside again, sitting on a bench beneath the glow of a streetlamp, the city stretching empty and quiet around you.

Zayne pulled out a pair of disposable chopsticks from his pocket, breaking them apart with practiced ease before handing them to you.

You gave him a look. “Of course you have chopsticks on you.”

He merely raised a brow. “You forgot utensils last time.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh at that—softer this time, real. And when he caught the sound of it, the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly.

The two of you sat in silence, sharing the slice of cake, the quiet hum of the city your only companion.

At one point, he glanced down at you, his expression unreadable. Then, with the utmost care, he reached out, brushing a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the last remnants of smudged mascara.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured.

It was late. Too late. The moment had passed. But somehow, as you sat there, eating cake in the early hours of the morning with Zayne by your side, it didn’t seem to matter.

And when he finally leaned down, pressing the softest kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for just a second longer than necessary.

[can-i-make-image-descriptions]

[Image IDs: Series of tweets from Sheila O'Malley (@/ sheilaKathleen) on 08.06.18 reading: The year after my dad died was so bad I don't remember 90% of it. I moved to a new apt and was unable to unpack. For Months. I was ashamed I couldn't unpack. How can you be Unable to unpack? Just open the g.d. boxes. That was the year I cried for 19 days. Straight. /1

My good friend David - whom I've known since - knew I was struggling and he felt helpless. He said "you are loved" "we need you". I was like, "Doesn't matter, but thanks." So he took a risk. It very well could have ended badly. I could have lashed out. /2

I could have been really Really offended. But he took the risk. He sent out an email to a group of local friends (w/out my knowledge) and said, "Sheila is struggling. She needs our help. Let's all go over there and unpack her apartment for her. Bring food. Let's make it fun." /3

David sent me an email saying "will you be home Thursday night? Can I stop by?" I said "Sure." Sitting surrounded by 200 unpacked boxes. /4

At 6pm on Thursday night the doorbell rang and 10 of my friends barged in, bearing platters of food, cleaning products, and complete unconcern for me 'wait ... you (start all caps) can't come in here I haven't unpacked yet" (end all caps) protestations. They ignored me and got to work. /5

They unpacked by boxes. They put away my 1,500 books. They hung pictures for me. They organized my closet and put away all my clothes. Meanwhile, someone set up a taco-making station in kitchen. People brought beer. By the end of the night, my apartment was all set up. /6

I literally was unable to do (start all caps) The simplest things. (end all caps) And nobody judged me. They were like superheroes sweeping in. One friend arrived late, stood in the hallway, looked at me and said, (start all caps) "Put me to work." (end caps) /7

One of my friends basically took over hanging all of my posters and pictures. "I'm really good at measuring stuff. Let me put all these up in your hallway." I hovered, not wanting to give up control: "wait ... put that one there maybe?" She said, "Go away." I did /8

She she was so much better at hanging stuff than I was! Here are my friends putting away my books. /9

Cutoff picture of someone putting books on a bookshelf.

Here's a break for dinner. Please note that my friend Sheila's dinner plate is resting on my DVD player. /10

Picture of people sitting and eating. One person has a DVD player on their lap and a plate on top of that.

I was overwhelmed at the sight of all of my crazy friends turning themselves into Santa's workshop. On my behalf. W/out asking me. They just showed up and barged in. I was embarrassed for like 10 minutes but they were all so practical and bossy I had no choice but to let that go.

At the end of the night, I looked at my friend's husband - a quiet taciturn guy who drives a tugboat on the Hudson - practical, man of few words - and I just looked at him, speechless, not knowing how to say Thank You, especially to this tough resilient self-sufficient man.

He looked at me, saw the look on my face, understood the look, understood everything that was behind it - and said, "Listen, baby, what we did today was a barn-raising."

That's the end. The "ask for help" advice is well-meaning but not really thought through. There's shame, there's enforced helplessness, there's the feeling you're not worth it, etc. My friends didn't wait for me to ask. They showed up. They took over. They didn't ask.

When they all swept out of there 4 hours later, my place was a home. Not only was everything put away - but now it had a memory attached to it, a group memory, friends, laughing, dirty jokes, hard work. These are the kinds of friends I have. Be that kind of friend to others.

To reiterate: this plan could have backfired. I very well could have been offended, insulted, hurt. David took that risk. Being a friend takes commitment. A willingness to take that risk. /End IDs]

This is literally the most heart warming story I have read on Twitter so far. I think this is exactly what friends should do, and I feel everyone deserves people like this.

[matchingbatbites]

The woman is fucking stunning. A goddess amongst mortals, a vision sent from the heavens to bless any who may see her. Eddie could honestly go on, but she has to return her focus to the man currently standing at the counter and not the beauty that just walked through the door.

"Here's your change," she says as she passes over the few coins and receipt. "Pickup is at the end of the counter, and they'll call your name when it's ready.

The man gives Eddie his thanks before walking away, and then Aphrodite incarnate is stepping up to the counter. God, she's even more beautiful up close. The slant of her nose, the artful swoop of her chestnut hair - the twin moles on her cheek that are eerily familiar for a reason Eddie can't quite place.

"Welcome to Black Roast Café, can I have a name for your order?"

"Hi there," the woman says with a soft smile, and god, Eddie feels bad for ever making fun of Jerry Maguire. You had me at hello, indeed. "Uh, Stevie is fine."

Eddie nods and types the name into the system. "Okay, Stevie, what can I get you?"

The woman - Stevie - doesn't even look at the board before she rattles off her order. "Can I please get a large, iced caramel latte, with three shots of espresso, a pump of white chocolate, and extra whip? Oh, and a butterscotch blondie."

Eddie's brain shudders to a halt. The order is specific, unique, and it's one she's heard before, from- well if she's being honest, from the only man that's ever made Eddie question her lesbianism.

Steve had been so beautiful and so kind. He was her absolute favorite customer before he'd moved away two years ago, following his best friend when she transferred to a different university to complete her master's. Eddie had mourned just a little, had grieved the loss of sunshine he brought to her days.

Eddie's eyes snap to the two moles on the woman's cheek and everything clicks into place. "Oh shit! You're back!" she says, her filter absolutely failing her. Stevie's smile fades a bit, replaced with a tinge of nervousness as she shifts in place.

"Oh, uh, I didn't- I wasn't expecting you to-"

"Remember you?" Eddie cuts in as she finally punches the order into the register. "Honestly, your order is a hard one to forget. Clearly I was right about all that sugar going to your hips."

It's a gentle tease, one she used to make back when- before, because the order really is just so sweet. It works the way Eddie hoped it would, because Stevie just laughs softly and smooths her hands over her full, curvaceous - fuck, Eddie, head out of the gutter - her hips.

"Yeah, I could probably stand to cut back a little, huh?"

"Don't you dare," Eddie retorts, offended at just the suggestion. "If anything I encourage more, because you're- you look amazing, actually."

The woman blushes, so pink and pretty, and bites into her lower lip the way Eddie wants to. "You think so?" she asks as she hands her card over to Eddie.

"Uh, totally. Like, you were attractive before - and that's coming from a lesbian - but now you-" Eddie pauses, taking a second to run the card as she shrugs. "You're like, glowing. And it only makes you more beautiful."

There's no response from Stevie as the receipt prints, and it's not until Eddie is handing back the card that she sees the stunned look on Stevie's face, her flush even darker. Fuck, that might have been too much.

Before Eddie can apologize though, Stevie takes her receipt and blurts out "I think you're hot."

Huh?

"You do?" Eddie asks, and Stevie nods.

"I've always thought you were hot. But you have the little-" She points to where Eddie's nametag is, to the little lesbian flag sticker that she stuck on it. "The sticker, and like- My best friend, Robin? She's also a lesbian, and she's talked about how annoying it is when guys hit on her and I didn't want to be like that, so I never said anything."

God, Stevie's just as sweet as she used to be, and much more considerate than Eddie even knew. She probably wouldn't have minded getting hit on by Steve at the time, and now that Stevie is standing before her, more beautiful than she's ever been and claiming that she finds Eddie attractive? Well, there's no way Eddie can't make a move.

"How long are you in town?" Eddie asks.

"Oh, uh, we just moved back, actually. Robin finished her master's program and got a job at a local museum translating documents and artifacts."

"Okay, that's cool as hell and I definitely want to hear more about that, but first- Do you want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"

The question seems to surprise Stevie, and it takes her a second to process it. "Are you sure? Even though I'm-"

"The most beautiful woman I've ever seen and way out of my league? Yeah, I'm pretty sure, sweetheart. And I'm not above begging if I have to."

Stevie blushes again and oh, Eddie is already addicted to the way it floods her cheeks, is in love with how alive, how happy she looks. "Then yeah, I'd really, really like that." She grabs a pen from the nearby cup and scribbles her number on the back of her receipt before passing it to Eddie. "Call me when you're off?" she asks, and Eddie nods, beaming.

"The moment I clock out," Eddie promises, and Stevie giggles - giggles! Stevie's name is called and Eddie is thankful that the store is practically empty, because for a second there she genuinely forgot where she was.

Stevie gives her a wink and a "Talk to you later, Eddie," and Eddie barely waits for her to leave the store before she's adding Stevie's number into her phone.

"Okay," Chrissy says as she slides up beside Eddie. "Who is she and how did you get her number so easily?"

Eddie grins as she saves the new contact under Stevie 🩷🌹😍 "That, darling Christine, is my future wife."

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

This piece contains 18+ content

Pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary Eddie’s had a long day, but being with you is enough to turn even the worst days into something sweeter [fluff, artsy reader, mild hurt/comfort, smut, 3.2k]

A/N This is some of my favorite smut I've written. Still very much stuck on him.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

It’s much quieter in your neighborhood than it is in Forest Hills. No muffled music or raised voices carry from the houses around the cul-de-sac. Tired men don’t tinker on rusty cars. Unleashed dogs don’t sniff their way through ailing yards that aren’t their own. The only signs of life are cars in driveways and lamplight through windows. The golden sun hangs low in the darkening sky.

Eddie makes a final attempt to exhale the weight of the day away before he presses your doorbell. Not even a second later, the lock clicks and the door swings open.

The smile you offer has him convinced that every butterfly he’s ever seen now exists within the confines of his stomach. It’s as if familiarity and radiance itself exist in the way your lips lift upwards to reveal the glint of your teeth.

“I heard you pull up,” you say. “In case you were wondering why I opened the door in two seconds…” you trail off when you realize you don’t sound as convincing as you want. 

Eddie smiles with a fond shake of his head. The action causes more of his curls fall onto his shoulders. He’d never make fun of you for being eager to see him. Especially when half the people in Hawkins care more about his skills beneath the hood than him as a person.

“Sorry I’m later than I said I’d be,” he says as you usher him inside. “Wanted to grab a shower before I came over.” 

“Didn’t you hear?” Eddie's brow furrows innocently at your question. “I love the smell of motor oil.” 

He huffs out a chuckle that makes you bite your lower lip to keep from grinning like a fool. Then he laughs again, deeper this time, like a funny thought has struck him. But he takes a step closer, cups your cheek, and kisses you. His lips are slow and easy against your own.

When he pulls away, you catch the weariness in his eyes, softened by gratitude as he takes you in. He could’ve gone home. He could’ve turned in for the night. But he wanted to see you too. He needed to see you. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “Everything okay?” 

You reach out to tuck his hair behind his ears, and he lets you. Any other time, he’d shake it back loose with a playful smirk. Tonight he doesn’t. 

He catches your hand as you pull away, and dots a few kisses over your knuckles. Work and playing guitar have calloused his palms. His steel rings glint in the low light of the foyer. 

“I’m okay,” he says into your skin. You remain quiet in hopes that it’ll coax more out of him. “Long day at the shop.” 

You hum. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. Don’t be. 

“Got you something,” he remembers. "Been holding onto it for a couple days." He realizes he’s empty-handed.

“Shit. I left it in the van.” 

You chuckle as he presses another quick kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go and pulls away. 

When Eddie comes back inside, you’re on the living room couch with one leg tucked beneath you. The TV plays low reruns of I Love Lucy, but you grant him all your attention as he settles beside you. Before you have the chance to ask what’s in the brown paper bag, he pulls out a nice set of drawing pencils and a leather-bound sketchbook. 

Your mouth falls open as he passes them over to you, his expression quietly hopeful. Big brown eyes eager for your reaction. 

“Eddie…” 

“You filled your last sketchbook. And you’ve been needing some new pencils." He rests his forearms on his thighs and licks his lips. "Knew you’d hold off on getting them for yourself so I figured..." 

A smile finally breaks across your face.

“These are the fancy kind too," you note as you look over the pencils. "Thank you so much, baby. Really.” He shrugs like it's no big deal even as he bites back the proud quirk of his lips. It was a privilege to be able to do little things like this when he could.

The leather of the sketchbook is smooth as you flip open the cover to run your fingers over the crisp, fragrant pages. 

When you meet his eyes again, your gaze is soft and observant, like you have an idea. It feels like you're seeing straight into him. He's handsome. Long curls, kind eyes, plush lips. Even then, it's clear he still wears the remnants of the hours prior, though he masks it well.

“Maybe I can draw you," you propose with the quiet hope he’ll oblige. “To break everything in.

"All you've gotta do is sit back and relax. We can talk, watch some TV, eat my snacks." He smiles at that last part. 

After the frustrated customers he had to diffuse today, he can do that. Gladly so. 

•••

The warm lamplight and the glow of the TV cast soft shadows across Eddie's face. His long lashes appear heavy with the relaxed way he blinks at the screen. He’s sunk back into the cushions, legs spread just so, hands interlocked over his stomach, rising and falling with his breaths. An empty bowl of popcorn rests on the coffee table along with a hollow box of Jujyfruits. 

Five separate sketches of him now constitute the beginnings of your new sketchbook. He tilts his head to peer over at you when he no longer hears the familiar brush of graphite against paper.

The cushions shift as he straightens up and rubs his eyes with lazy fists. 

“All finished?” he asks, and you nod. “Can I see?” 

When you pass him the sketchbook, his eyes rove over the drawings with the attentiveness of a critic, but void of any harshness or critique. It’s more of an assessment, an appreciation. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth. Raises the book to get a better look at the hatching technique you used to shade the first sketch you completed. 

It’s a straight-on portrait that he’d faced you for. There’s a sense of ease about his gaze. A warmth paired with an underlying pensiveness. He knows he’s being studied but feels more seen than exposed. 

Except, Eddie's so much more than you’ll ever be able to confine to a couple sheets of paper. Charming in an awkward way, with one of the kindest hearts you’ve ever known. Loving him is as easy as blinking or breathing. So natural it feels innate. He feels your gaze as he studies the sketches.

When he redirects his attention to you, he offers one of his steady, slow-moving smiles that never fails to make your stomach flutter. 

“Always staring at me,” he accuses, too lighthearted to be mistaken for a complaint. 

In truth, you observed everyone and everything. But never with the same admiration allotted to Eddie. There were so many layers that you feared you wouldn’t have the time to unravel them all. You’d never wanted to know the inner workings of another person so intimately. 

After a lifetime of slipping through the cracks, it sure was nice to be seen in an unadulterated way by you. 

“Can’t help it,” you murmur.

Eddie tracks your movements as you grab one of the accent pillows and toss it to the floor at his feet. A second later, you drop down onto it. His breath catches when you place two gentle hands on his knees and spread his legs so you can better settle between them. 

"Hope your day's gotten a little better since you’ve been here," you murmur.

Eddie swallows. Sets your sketchbook aside with a jittery hand. 

“It has." His voice is thick as anticipation stirs within him. "As soon as I walked through the door.”

You hum as he squirms, hyperaware of your touch as your hands drift along his thighs. His head tips back when you palm him through the fabric of his jeans. Warmth ignites in his cheeks and melts to his torso as his pants tighten in the wake of his arousal. Along the thick column of his throat, his Adam’s apple bobs with another swallow.

It hadn’t even taken much. 

His legs fall open wider, like a gate, when you begin to unbuckle his belt. The metal hardware clinks with your movements, breaking the hush between you. You pop the button, drag the zipper down. 

“Wanna help me get these off?” A sweet smile plays on your lips as you blink up at him. 

Eager, Eddie lifts his hips, and you help him shuck down his pants and underwear. There's a tent in the front of his boxers when you get to them, and he shifts with the new exposure by the time everything pools at his socked feet. 

Featherlight, your fingertips ghost toward the apex of his thighs, his milky skin dusted with sparse hair. His muscles twitch at the ticklish sensation, and he braces for the inevitable.

Except your touch flutters past where he aches. Bypasses where he strains toward his stomach. Instead, your hands sweep over his hips. Slip beneath the hem of his shirt to scratch along the low part of his stomach where a thin, dark trail of hair leads down to his need. 

His chest deflates on a slow, bated breath. You hide your coy smile in the inside of his thigh in the form of a kiss. Right over the small smiley face inked into his skin. Eddie huffs in flustered amusement. 

“This is—” 

“One of your favorite tattoos of mine,” he finishes with flushed cheeks. 

You grin in feigned surprise. “How’d you know?” You trace your nails back down to his quivering thighs. 

His arousal kicks up when you grant him the gentle brush of your fingertips over the rounded fullness that rests heavily between his legs.

“Sweetheart,” he finally sighs, dark eyes molten when they find yours. 

“Teddy,” you coo back. 

He doesn’t have time to brace when you begin to pepper an alternating line of kisses up his thighs until your lips find the part of him that needs you the most. 

His breath hitches. “Baby—“

A pleasured shudder rolls through him as you kiss up the elegant curve of the thick vein along his underside. You follow the path of his need all the way to the rosy tip, where a wet, gleaming pearl beads in a testament to his want. You suckle it away. Savor it.

Eddie's eyes flutter shut, body taut as you spit over him and wrap a secure hand around his base. The slick heat of your palm makes his hips stutter as you begin to pull upward in a steady tug. At the top, you circle your thumb around the mushroom tip. You dedicate another swipe of your thumb to a slow trace along his slit. 

Eddie is warm and rigid in your hold, beautifully at your mercy, and he knows it. Doesn't mind it. The full hum in his throat unravels into a low, shameless moan when his lips part. 

“Yeah, baby?” you meet his gaze and hold it. Heat pools between your legs. “You feelin’ good?” 

Eddie reaches out to stroke his thumb across your cheek. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Please don’t stop.” 

You wouldn’t dream of it.

As you continue your languid strokes, you mouth at his inner thighs. Kisses, nibbles, licks. He’s so wound up that all of it gets to him. Pleasure tugs low in his gut with a radiance he can feel in his fingertips, his toes. 

With a practiced gentleness, your free hand lowers to massage the velvet weight of him that you’ve neglected. A rugged sound escapes him as he writhes. Even more so when you move to lap him again, this time taking him halfway and working what's left over with your hand. 

You pull away to trace your lips along his shaft, mindful of every inch and the tell-tale shudder that startles through him. You peer up through your lashes to find desperation etched across his features. 

He cups your cheek to get you to pause. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he insists. "Wanna feel you—lemme feel you.” 

You clench around nothing as he encourages you upwards. 

After you shuffle to your feet, you push your lounge shorts down, followed by your panties. Eddie strokes himself, gaze heavy-lidded as he watches. 

No sooner do you move forward to straddle his waist, on your knees with your hands braced on his shoulders. His hands find your hips, but one drifts lower in a curious glide between your parted legs. He graces through your slick folds, then brushes his thumb over your swollen bundle of nerves. He’s gauging if you’re ready for him, but you nearly crumble forward at his thoughtful touch. 

“So sensitive,” he notes lightly. A flicker of amusement dances in his eyes as they find yours. 

“Because of you.” You pout as you reach down and align him at your entrance. 

He catches at your slick warmth and whispers a string of curses. It shouldn’t already be this good. You shouldn’t already be this ready. But both things are true because the two of you have somehow stumbled into your own little perfect world. Both his hands find your hips again as you ease yourself down to welcome him in. Inch by slow inch, every vein and ridge. 

You don’t realize you’re whining until you’ve sunken to accommodate all of him. Eddie runs a soothing hand up your back as you lean forward into his chest in an encompassing haze of fullness. Already, he’s touching that devastating part of you that’s so thoughtfully tucked away. He’s the only one who’s been able to reach it. To find it as if the path had been carved for him alone. It’s a homecoming in its own right. 

“You feel so good,” he sighs the news like it's hot off the press. Like the words can't make it out of his mouth any sooner.

For a brief moment, stillness prevails as you adjust around him. You tuck your nose into his hair, where the subtle scent of his sweet, herbal shampoo lingers. Instead of canting his hips upwards like he so desperately wants to, he lets you have the moment. Presses a kiss to the bulb of your exposed shoulder, then allows his hands to find the hem of your tank top. You move to pull it over your head. He does the same with his own shirt, biting back a groan as you shift over top of him. 

Your nipples pebble in the cool air, even more so when he cups your chest and circles them with his thumbs. The sensation throws you into a shiver that jumpstarts a roll of your hips. Eddie’s fingers return to your waist, a silent encouragement. 

Before long, you leverage the bend at your knees to lift off him, then lower yourself back down. A rhythm soon forms, Eddie’s hips rise to meet yours. His thighs quake as a strangled sound of relief spills past his lips. 

A whimper escapes you as an invisible string pulls you forward to dot a few languid kisses across the apple of his cheek as you continue to ride him. 

“Oh—shit,”  he exhales shakily. “You’re perfect, sweetheart.” He sounds panicked and awed all the same. 

All you can do is hum at his words. Every time you lower onto him, it feels like he manages to reach a new depth that makes you want to crawl away. Yet your hands find his tattooed chest for the sole purpose of feeling more of him, his warm, dewed skin. A shiver shakes him when the tip of your nail grazes over one of his nipples. Spurred on, you pinch the peaked flesh next, which earns you a particularly hard thrust as he groans. A jolt of electricity rushes straight between his legs with the threat of being his undoing. 

“You’re gonna make me come, angel.” The shameless, exasperated way he says it makes you clench around him. 

You lower a hand to rub tight, purposeful circles over the tender bud between your legs, the pleasure sharper in the wake of his words. 

“I want you to come,” you attempt to keep your voice steady as you lilt. “Want you to fill me up. Want all of you.” 

Eddie groans and sags back into the cushions in an air of disbelief. Somehow you’re real. Somehow you chose him. And you’d never led him to believe that things should be any other way.

You lean forward in pursuit of him to kiss his throat, then up along his jaw until you’ve arrived at his bitten lips. The kiss carries the neediness of being on the edge. 

“Always gonna want you,” you whisper heavily against his mouth.  

Eddie whimpers. “You have me.” His thighs tense beneath you as he teeters on the brink. This time, when his hand finds your waist, it’s to ground himself in the intoxicating rock of your hips. 

You kiss him one last time, saliva slinking between you, before you touch your sweaty forehead to his. 

“Come with me,” you frantically encourage. “Eddie, please—” 

The broken sound that punches out of him sends you into the thralls of a reckless release. It’s swift and forceful like a lightning bolt zipping from the sky. Your walls flutter around him as pleasure courses in every direction. Eddie has no choice but to let go. He jolts beneath you like stricken earth. His stomach clenches in time with each pulsing wave of release. 

Eddie’s neck becomes your hiding place as aftershocks ripple through you both. Your lips begin to press more deliberate kisses to the space where his neck and shoulder join. Beneath you, he sits like putty and softens within the warmth of you. He’s attuned to every small shift you make. You’re not quite ready to relinquish the fullness. 

A steady, clammy hand glides up your back and settles at the nape of your neck. When you sit up to meet his tired, satisfied gaze, you're struck by a surge of fondness. Of love. If you could erase his bad days, keep them from ever touching him, you would. But you can’t. They’ll come, for both of you, whether you like it or not. 

Still, you had this. Each other. That’s enough to make life a little sweeter, a little kinder. Even on the days that are anything but. 

Eddie’s lashes flutter when you run a gentle finger down his nose. “You okay?” you ask. 

He shifts beneath you, wincing at his forgotten sensitivity. A small smile pulls at his lips as he finally nods at your question, contentment clear in his eyes. 

“Promise?” you ask. 

“I promise, sweetheart.” 

He offers his pinkie as a seal of truth. 

- 

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all!

MORE EDDIE

ALL MASTERLISTS

[valalice]

PRELUDE: POPULARITY CONTEST

punk rockstar!vi 𝑥 fem!popstar!reader

summary. label mandated events. everyone dreads them, but social networking is a must; an art form managers have mastered and a sport to artists in order to thrive in the competitiveness that is the music industry. and it’s here where the two of you were closer than you had even thought.

warnings. it's just the prelude, so no major warnings. angst a little bit. industry parties. mentions of alcohol and drugs. original non-canon characters. mentions of not so great friends (surround yourself with people you love). not much more i can think of, if i missed any, please lmk.

wc. 1553

a speaks. well! here she is! the first chapter of the series. i'm not completely satisfied with it, but it's just the prelude, a little teaser for what's to come, she is on the shorter side because it is a prelude, regular chapters will be longer! and with that i have to plug my ao3, i will be dully posting her on tumblr and on ao3, so if you prefer the formatting of ao3 over tumblr's then feel free to head over there! there will be no explicit of vi within the prelude *wink* but the next chapters y'all will be fed, i promise! and lastly thank you so much from just the amount of sweet comments saying how excited you are for the series, it not only motivates me but also warms my heart. i love you guys, thank you for the support. happy reading <3

for the fame series masterlist. read it on ao3. series playlist.

YOU STARE STUNNED at your manager. Mouth agape, skin drained of all its color, and eyes wide, bulging even, to the point where if you even tried to widen your eyes further they’d pop out of your sockets and roll onto the floor ridden with fallen confetti.

“And you chose to tell me this now?” you questioned, voice fluctuating to a pitched shrill. Out of the frustrated and impending heavy stress-ridden weights you already feel stacking on your shoulders and in hopes that your manager could hear your distaste for the delivery of this news over the bumping music.

“I didn’t know when to tell you.”

There wasn’t enough restraint nor care to hold the scoff that bubbled up in your chest, up to your throat, and out your mouth. “So, here was the perfect place, Corinne?” quirking an eyebrow.

“I knew the news would get you,” pausing to look down the length of your antsy figure, a clear standout in the sea of swaying people against each other. Trying to gather the right words that won’t send you off your rocker, further. “wound up. And I was right. But you’re at a party, the environment is fun, loose, and light. Enjoy it, you’re with friends.” she eases, inching closer towards you, knowing what works with you in the near decade of being your manager.

Your eyes bore into Corinne's, squinting at her just before dropping to eye at the little glittery clutch in your hand that matches your skirt. Flicking at a few of the glitter specs on the clutch with a manicured nail before huffing, shoulders deflating upon the exhale from the involuntary hunch you had them in seconds before. 

Corinne’s words soak past surface level for a moment, absorbing, and trying to understand that, while unideal, being in an uppity environment could busy your racing mind from running laps around any and all possibilities on why your boss urgently wants a meeting with you. Yet, still, you would’ve much preferred this news in private. Wrapping your arms around yourself, looking over your shoulders to the people in the room—some faces you knew, whether they're fellow artists, celebrities of varying lists, or casual socialites who find their way into parties like these often, but most of whom you don't know, that's how it's always been; being in a room full of people who you have no idea who they are, yet they know everything about you. Turning back around to Corinne, “None of these people are my friends.”

“Then, colleagues.” she fixes, raising her voice when the music starts to roar.

Instead of scoffing a humble chuckle takes its place. “Colleagues who want to see me crash and burn into the Bermuda Triangle to never be seen again. Then, yes, they are.”

Corinne gives you a look you know all too well, a disciplinary look when the older woman thinks whatever you’d just said was inappropriate. Her head drops and a hand finds home on her waist as her body slants. “Morbid. These colleagues who ‘want to see you crash and burn’ are also fighting with each other to get a feature.” 

“There won’t be much to feature on if I get fired.” you gloom, grey, thundering clouds of pessimism altering your mood.

“You’re the label’s darling, no one’s getting fired.” she comforts, or tries. Even after all these years, it’s still foreign to her to properly comfort you in moments like these, but she does her best as the arm against her side raises. The coldness of her hand on your upper arm startles you, an icy comfort soothes over your burning skin, relaxing into her touch. ‘You’re the label’s darling’ runs on repeat like a record on a record player, the only thought that occupies the dark space of your mind right now, attempting to stomach the words in hopes that you’d digest them and be able to believe that Corinne is right.

The pressure of her hand leaves your arm, the pads of her fingers wisping down your upper arm as she catchers her arm to lay at her side once again, taking a step back from you with a click of her heels. Now, it’s Corinne’s turn to look beyond her shoulders to observe the room, everyone’s in their own fantasy land—maybe that’s due to the boos and drugs making their rounds through the room for each guest to get their desired fix—yet, she digress when she focuses attention to the younger in front of her. The pesky grey clouds persisting overtop of your head, your slumped figure reminding her nothing less than a kicked puppy; she pitties you.

“I’m going to network. I think I spotted that one videographer you’ve been wanting to work with.” She hoped that with this mention you’d perk up, but she got nothing more than a tight-lipped smile followed by a weak nod.

“It would be pretty cool if we got him to work on the new album visuals.”

Corinne shares her own tight-lipped smile with you. “Atta girl. Try to loosen up, yeah? You’re going to get more knots if you stay tense.”

A feathery light laugh falls from your lips that she turns her worries to the hypothetical knots you’ll develop. “Noted. I’ll see if I can find my friends.” contradictory to your earlier statement, but it’s a win-some-lose-some situation when all you’ve got is a small pool of people to refer to as a friend. Never genuine a friend, no, but you do develop a bond when mutual use of each other is used to forget the loneliness that is guaranteed with fame.

“You mean colleagues?” she quips, testing you on your past ideology.

There was a space that became as the two of you began to drift apart. “They’re starting to overlap for me.” you shrug, already knowing that both wish to see the same thing happen to you. Leaving Corinne to watch as you disappear into the abyss, pleased that you’ve regained even just a bit of pep in your step—she knows you too well to not know how to get your spirits back on track.

Working your way through the crowd you shout your fair share of “Excuse me’s” and “Right behind you’s”, refraining the best you can from elbowing your way through after a few shoves to yourself; although you’re almost positive that most deserve the elbow. 

Balling your fists up, still grasping your clutch in your grasp, as you bring your hands up to your chest, thinking you’ll move fast through the crowd without your arms at your sides. Just when you’re near the other side of the room you hear the shouts of your name—stage name, but name nonetheless—through the music, certain that when you exit the building your ears will be ringing and your heart still vibrating in your chest cavity from the blaring music the DJ is mixing up. Whipping around you squint, attempting to see the caller of your name past the blinding light effects. With defeat, you shuffle through the crowd, following the indicator of the person’s arm flailing in the air every so often.

Not knowing what happened next, if your foot got caught or if someone had shoved you again, but you end up bracing onto someone’s back. Taking a hold of their broad shoulders the best you can, cringing when the blunt sound of your clutch meets the person’s back in the abrupt moment, while your other hand desperately tries to get a grasp on them, but you end up just missing the mark as your sweaty hand (courtesy of the cramped space) slides down the leathery smoothness of their jacket.

It’s a blur when you crane your neck to look out to the crowd once more upon the call of your name, a hand snapping around your wrist and pulling you into their grasp—it’s Gwen, her model legs reaching you quicker than you would’ve ever been able to. Before you can process an apology for bracing on the random person, Gwen is already whisking you through the congested room. Too preoccupied with trying to catch a glimpse over your shoulder from where you previously were to pay attention clearly to whatever she’s rambling about, not that you could hear her anyway over the DJ’s newest mix. But as you move further along, you can no longer spot the mystery person, or well their back, who had generously been in the right spot at the right time for you to catch yourself on them. Not that you’d be able to know what they looked like, just going off of the fact that they’d be wearing a leather jacket—though who would wear a leather jacket in here?

The question would linger in your mind for the rest of the night, scoping through the crowd for anyone who had on anything eerily similar to a leather jacket. And when the night rounds out to an end you’re left with an irk buried deep beneath your skin that the question is left unanswered, with no real reason on why you’re bothered by this.

Yet, this incident out of many—the countless right times, right places missed—unknowingly brings you one step closer to the meeting that’s always been bound to occur.

thank you for reading <3 remember to comment and reblog!

for the fame series masterlist | next chapter (coming february 14th!)

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[beatlblog]

#once again a fact that sounds like something from a cliché-filled wattpad novel full of lazy writing and over the top drama#nevertheless this will never not be the funnies most deranged piece of beatles-knowledge (via @lingeronyourhazeleyes)

#just like biden in dc#likely place for him to be (via @sohardlovingyou)

#he was predestined to be fruity (via @silverdoe)

#sensational (via @thesunsethour)

lobachevsky tom lehrer voice

#in the words of paul mccartney come onnn (via @jamande)

#we went to menlove ave and everybody knew you (via @acasternaut)

#BL avenue (via @tranquil-slaughterhouse)

#the beatles#muzaktomyears#made me come here and look in all their YAOI BEDROOMS (via @yuhengwanye)

#yaoi... dools (via @enoraba)

#come ooooooooon -man who fell in love with another man on menlove avenue (via @menlove)

#john lennon? you mean that guy who grew up on yaoi street? (via @oneafter909)

#John Lennon as a concept is so funny#God had fun with him I can tell (via @nbymop)

#he literally just did not need to say that (via @lauraeastwood)

#guys be so fr its less than [redacted] away 💀 (I'm not doxxing myself)#why do i live so near menlove avenue and why did no one tell me#yaoi road here i come#ofc i find out on a beatles post. such is my life. i can never escape them. (via @thekittyburger)

#cary elwes (via @rats4taxevasion)

#PREV SHUT THE HELL UP (via @sjwomanroy)

#mr gay man from yaoi street (via @philgbtqochs)

#thank you fujoshi paul mccartney (via @cohendyke)

#every time there's like a gay implication to something paul has seen it first#........which could mean nothing (via @nonsensegnomes)

#??!&(&(&;&;&($#it’s paul bringing it up unprovoked for me like sir……. (via @moondogmatinees)

#need to go here next time i visit my aunt (via @ilexdiapason)

#house called mendip on yaoi street yeah that tracks (via @starpros-sunshine-sunshine)

#holy shit.. kamijou hiroki... (via @juroguro)

#nominative determinism (via @poughkeepsies)

#writing his own fanfic in the context of an interview I see (via @silvermarmoset)

#everything i learn about the beatles is against my will (via @salemruinseverything)

#i love that mccartney is very much cognizant of how things appear lmao (via @auxphonographic-dysphonia)

#the way no one had ever read significance onto that until paul himself said it is so FUNNY to meefhhfhfjf (via @friends2go)

#john lennon was not a homosexual said his ex husband#menlove avenue#sometimes the universe works in mysterious ways (via @tauruscats)

#the beatles scriptwriters are maaaad (via @camphorror)

#it was named mendips (via @harddaysnite)

#ahahahahaha from woolton lad why's that funny (via @prophetmuhammad)

john lennon grew up on yaoi street. never forget this.

[gf2bellamy]

Hi!!

I’m back with another request because I loved the last one (thank you btw)

Essentially Reader and Spencer are in a secret relationship due to the fact they both work for the BAU. However, someone in the BAU (I don’t really mind who) notices that Spencer starts doing things for Reader that he didn’t do before (carrying around her favourite candies or helping her with her go bag). That person proceeds to try and get a confession out of the two of them/ confront them

hopefully that makes sense, and I apologize if it doesn’t.

Thanks!! 🫶🏻

-B

observation — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think ? a/n: hii B !! thank you for your request <33 I had so much fun writing this i love penelope so much

“Thank you,” you said with a warm smile as you took the coffee from Spencer’s outstretched hand, fingers brushing briefly against his. He had remembered exactly how you liked it, down to the smallest detail, just as he always did. Your gaze flickered down to the other item in his grasp—a familiar, perfectly frosted donut from your favorite bakery. You accepted it with a grateful hum.

“You’re an angel,” you sighed contentedly, sinking your teeth into the soft pastry.

He didn’t say anything at first, just offered you that small, knowing smile, the one that made your chest feel a little lighter. His hazel eyes lingered on you for a second longer than necessary before he gave a slight nod and turned back toward his desk. 

Across the bullpen, Penelope Garcia perched on the edge of Derek Morgan’s desk, idly twirling a pen between her fingers.

She hadn’t been paying much attention at first—her mind had been occupied with whatever conversation she and Derek had been having—but something about the moment between you and Spencer made her pause. 

It wasn’t unusual for Spencer to do kind things for you; in fact, it had almost become routine. But there was something different this time. Something in the way he looked at you, the way your eyes met his in that brief exchange.

It was subtle—maybe too subtle for most people to notice—but Penelope was observant. And she knew a meaningful glance when she saw one. 

Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head slightly, watching as Spencer settled back at his desk, his posture a little too relaxed, his focus not entirely on the file in front of him. Then she looked back at you—still happily munching on your donut, a barely-there smile lingering on your lips. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Penelope’s eyes widened slightly as realization dawned, but just as quickly as the thought entered her mind, she shook her head, pushing it aside. Maybe she was imagining things. Maybe she was reading too much into it. 

Still… she made a mental note to keep an eye on the two of you.

Just in case. 

For now, she turned back to Derek, who was watching her with an amused smirk. 

“Something on your mind, Baby Girl?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Penelope pursed her lips, stealing one last glance at you and Spencer before turning back to Derek with a dramatic sigh. 

“Oh, nothing,” she mused. “Just… observing.” 

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s never just ‘nothing’ with you.” 

Penelope only smirked in response, filing her suspicions away for later. 

The next time Penelope’s curiosity was piqued was when the entire BAU team was making their way to the jet. It wasn’t often that she had to join them on cases, but when her technical expertise was needed in the field, she had no choice but to trade her cozy tech lair for the fast-paced world of profiling. 

As she strolled alongside Derek, chattering about the latest tech upgrades she wanted for her office, something caught her attention. 

Spencer. 

More specifically, Spencer carrying your go-bag. 

Her eyebrows lifted as she watched him adjust the strap over his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. You walked beside him, laughing softly at something he had said. He was smiling, too—not the awkward, barely-there smile ,but the warm, comfortable kind. 

Huh. 

Penelope’s eyes narrowed slightly behind her glasses. Her eyes were locked on the two of you as you boarded the jet.

And that’s when she nearly lost it. 

Because, oh. Oh. 

You sat down next to Spencer—nothing unusual about that—but the way you did it made her jaw nearly hit the floor. 

Legs touching. No space. At all. 

Not even the usual “oh, it’s a tight fit” kind of situation—there was plenty of room on the jet. But you? You had chosen to sit so close that if one of you so much as moved an inch, you'd basically be in each other’s laps. 

Penelope turned her head slowly, as if to make sure she wasn’t the only one seeing this. But the rest of the team didn’t seem to think anything of it. Emily was already flipping through the case file, Rossi was drinking his coffee, and Hotch, well—Hotch probably knew but was choosing not to acknowledge it. 

She turned back just in time to see Spencer shift slightly, angling his body toward you as he mumbled something. You responded with a soft chuckle, nudging his arm playfully. 

That was it. 

That was the moment Penelope Garcia officially entered investigation mode. 

“Oh, this is interesting,” she murmured to herself, a slow grin spreading across her face. 

Derek, who had been about to sit down, paused mid-motion. “What’s interesting?” 

Penelope shook her head, plastering on her most innocent expression. “Oh, nothing at all, my delicious chocolate thunder,” she cooed, reaching over to pat his cheek. 

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I know that look, sweetheart. Spill.” 

But Penelope just hummed, settling into her seat with a knowing smirk. 

Oh, she was going to figure this out. 

And when she did? 

Oh, you and Spencer were never going to hear the end of it. 

The next time something happened was a couple days later.

Penelope had seen a lot of things in her time at the BAU—gruesome crime scenes, mind-bending mysteries, and things that made her want to bleach her brain—but this? 

This was something else entirely. 

She had suspicions, of course. She wasn’t the team’s resident gossip queen for nothing. She noticed the little things—the way Spencer always seemed to hover a little too close to you and the way you looked at him like he personally hung the stars.

But this? This was undeniable. 

Garcia had just stepped out of her office, stretching after a long day of staring at computer screens, when she spotted you and Spencer waiting by the elevator. At first, she didn’t think much of it—just two coworkers leaving at the same time. Normal. Totally fine. 

And then she saw it. 

Spencer’s hand. 

On your lower back. 

The casual intimacy of it made her stop in her tracks.

And just when she thought she couldn’t possibly be more stunned—he leaned in and kissed your temple. 

Kissed. Your. Temple. 

Before she could even react, the elevator doors slid open, and you both stepped inside, completely oblivious to the fact that Penelope Garcia had just witnessed the biggest secret of the year. 

She stood frozen in the hallway, her mouth slightly open, her mind racing. 

No. No, no, no. She had to be hallucinating. Maybe she had spent too much time staring at screens and was now seeing things. Maybe someone had slipped something into her coffee. 

But no. This was real. 

Her hands flew to her mouth, suppressing the squeal threatening to burst out of her. 

“Oh. My. God,” she whispered to herself, eyes wide with a mix of shock and happiness. 

The entire night, Penelope tossed and turned in bed, her mind racing with one singular thought—How did you and Spencer hide this for so long? 

She prided herself on knowing everything about her team. Not just their work habits, but their favorite coffee orders, their comfort movies, even the ridiculous little quirks that made them who they were.

But somehow, somehow, she had completely missed the fact that Spencer Reid had been in a secret relationship with you—for who knows how long. 

It was unacceptable. 

So, instead of getting a good night’s sleep, she lay awake, replaying every interaction, every inside joke, every moment she had brushed off as just “friendship.”

And now? Now it all made sense. 

By the time morning came, she had given up entirely on rest and got to work earlier than anyone—which, for her, was unheard of. 

Hotch had to do a double-take when he walked into the bullpen, his brows lifting slightly at the sight of Garcia standing there, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the floor. 

He debated asking. 

Then decided, Nope. Not his business. 

With a subtle shake of his head, he continued toward his office. 

Garcia, meanwhile, was waiting like a hunter tracking its prey. She was ready. The moment you and Spencer stepped foot into the bullpen, looking far too relaxed for people harboring a massive secret, she pounced. 

“Finally!” she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the quiet morning air. 

Both you and Spencer froze mid-step, your expressions instantly shifting into matching looks of confusion. 

“Uh… good morning to you too, Pen?” you said hesitantly, giving her a small smile. 

You walked toward your desk—right across from Spencer’s—placing your bag down and shrugging off your jacket. But before you could settle in, Penelope cut in with a pointed, “You two. We need to have a talk.” 

Spencer blinked. “About what?” 

She scoffed, throwing her arms up. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Doctor Reid.” She turned to you. “And you! I expect this kind of top-secret, under-the-radar stealth mode from him, but you? I thought we were closer than that!” 

You blinked, completely lost. “Penelope, we have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Penelope scoffed again, crossing her arms as she glared at the two of you. “I’m so mad at you,” she huffed. 

“Why?” Spencer asked immediately, concern lacing his voice. His brows furrowed as he glanced between you and Garcia.

Penelope’s glare deepened. “Why? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you two have been sneaking around behind my back for—who knows how long?! And I had to find out on my own?” 

You felt heat creep up your neck. “We weren’t sneaking—” 

“Oh, please,” she cut you off, waving her hand. “I saw him kiss your temple last night at the elevator! I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, all googly-eyed and disgustingly adorable—and yet, nobody told me? Your best friend?” 

You and Spencer exchanged a look, and even without speaking, you knew you were both thinking the same thing. 

Busted. 

You sighed, rubbing your arm. “Okay, yeah… we’re together.” 

Penelope gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “I knew it!” 

Spencer cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention. “But—Garcia, please don’t tell anyone,” he said quickly, adjusting his bag strap. 

Garcia’s mouth fell open in offense. “Excuse me?” 

“Please,” you added, stepping forward with a pleading look. “We just… we wanted to keep it private for now. It’s not that we didn’t want to tell you, we just—we weren’t ready for everyone to know yet.” 

Penelope stared at you both for a long moment, lips pursed, clearly debating whether to accept this explanation or not. 

Then, finally, with a dramatic sigh, she rolled her eyes. “Fine. I won’t tell anyone.” 

Spencer let out a relieved breath, and you smiled gratefully. “Thank you.” 

“But,” she added sharply, pointing a finger between the two of you, “I expect to be the first one to know when you are ready to go public. I want details, I want stories, I want all the romantic fluff I was robbed of for—how long?” 

You bit your lip. “…Almost a year.” 

Her jaw dropped. “A Year?!” 

You winced. “Uh… surprise?” 

Garcia groaned, throwing her head back. “I cannot believe I missed an entire year of cuteness. This is a disaster.” 

Spencer shifted awkwardly. “Well, statistically speaking, keeping a secret this long in a workplace environment is actually quite rare—” 

“Oh, don’t you dare start throwing statistics at me, Doctor Love,” Garcia interrupted, narrowing her eyes. Then, her face softened as she let out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, you two are so lucky I love you.” 

You grinned. “We really are.” 

Garcia huffed but smiled anyway. “Now go, before I change my mind and announce it to everyone.” 

You and Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. With one last grateful look at her, you turned to head toward your desks, your shoulders brushing as you walked. 

Garcia watched you go, shaking her head with an affectionate smile.

[justmymindandstuff]

Would thou spare a mere peasant a moment??

Imagine Targ!reader visiting the wall with Cregan (similar moment he had with Jace, and maybe Jace is there too, it’s up to you)

And reader forces her dragon to go beyond the wall by jumping off the top of it

I’ll leave the rest to you 😚❤️

jump scare - Cregan Stark x TargaryenReader

summary: you and your twin Jacaerys follow Cregans invitation to the wall. As your Dragon refused to fly over the wall he sees a glimps of your temper. At that moment he knows that you, as the future Lady Stark, will bring trouble into Winterfells halls.

words: 2.691

warnings: kissing, Cregan has a crush (but he doesn´t know it)

a/n: Reader is Rhaenyras daughter and described with black hair and purple eyes// no use of Y/N// English is not my first language // not proofread

I love this idea so much, soo thank you anon🧡, but I had a hard time writing this, so it´s a bit short and I not completely like how it came out

anyways I hope you like it.

Have fun and be kind 🧡

requests are open// main masterlist// hotd masterlist

Cregan shifts from one foot to the other as the elevator slowly jerks up the Wall. The brothers of the Night's Watch and Castle Black grow smaller beneath him. His breath forms white clouds in the cold air. The Warden of the North tries to get rid of his inner restlessness. He wishes the elevator would go faster, while at the same time hoping this ride would never end.

At the top of the wall, he will soon meet the Prince and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms again, of course with their two dragons.

Jacaerys and you landed in Winterfell's courtyard a few days ago with Vermax and Veraxes. And you brought war with you. At the thought, Cregan's insides twist.

Jacaerys made him an offer on behalf of his mother: Cregan and his men would ride south for the queen and support her claim, in exchange for a marriage with the princess. Rhaenyra Targaryen gives him her only daughter as a wife.

Cregan knows he can't refuse such an offer. Nobody turn down a Targaryen offer.

And he could have done worse.

He doesn't like the thought, but he knows he could have done worse. His future wife is beautiful. Long black hair that stands in stark contrast to your pale skin, delicate features, and those sparkling eyes. There is something in it, Cregan can't quite put his finger on it yet. You have a fire, a wildness behind your eyes that Cregan has never seen before.

A woman like you is actually worth his entire army. Cregan would theoretically have to arm every man, woman, and child in the North and send them south to redeem his debt.

But he can't.

He can only send 2,000 men, Greybeards. Cregan cannot spare more, he needs his men here for the coming winter. And like his House words are saying: winter is coming.

That's the reason why you are here, that's the reason for Cregan's invitation to the Wall. You and your brother need to understand why he can't send more men. You both need to see it. Before Cregan takes you as his wife in a few days at Goodswood of Winterfell and thus seals the pact of ice and fire.

"It is an honor for me to be able to fulfill my duty, and Winterfell is very beautiful. I look forward to making it my home."

More than that, you haven't said about your marriage. Cregan doesn't know if you really mean it or if you have memorized these words, because your mother told you so. He hopes you meant it.

He can't figure you out. In the past few days, Cregan was able to spend a little time with you, but he hasn't really gotten to know you yet. Also because Jacaerys was present at each of your meetings, of course Cregan would never do anything that would endanger your honor and reputation. He is a Stark, a man of honor. That's why you two always have your brother as achaperone.

What Cregan has learned in the short time is that you are definitely not a little princess who needs to be rescued from a tower.

You train with swords, fly almost daily on your dragon, can curse like a sailor, and are not too shy to give your brother a piece of your mind everytime he gets on your nerves.

On the other hand, you have a razor-sharp mind, smile kindly at Cregan, dance skillfully and make every move with an elegance that only a Targaryen princess possesses.

You attract him like light attracts a moth. Your attractiveness has captured him, and the fragments of your being that you show him only make him more curious about the rest. He wants to get to know you, everything about you. Cregan can hardly think of you without his thoughts and feelings swirling around inside him like a storm.

A loud crack next to him makes the Warden of the North flinch and snaps him out of his thoughts. Cregan looks to the side. Veraxes slams his claws into the ice of the Wall with full force, her body crashs against it, and the Wall seems to tremble under the impact. Cregan hears you curse loudly in a foreign language, high valyrian, he is sure. Jacaerys' laughter rings out above him and Vermax flies over him before the dragon lands on the wall, noticeably gentler than Veraxes.

Cregan takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment. He pushes all thoughts of you and your future marriage aside. One step at a time. First he must show you what the Night's Watch and House Stark do for centuries, protecting the realm before the dangers beyond the Wall.

The elevator stops at the top, the doors open. Cregan allows himself two more heartbeats to gather himself, then steps outside onto the Wall.

Immediately, the cold wind whips around his ears, but apart from a brief shiver it doesn´t bothered him.

Veraxes climbs the Wall, her claws break off large pieces of ice that fall down. Cregan hopes that no one gets hit. You and your dragon arrive at the top and you place Veraxes next to Vermax. You slide down her wing and land next to your twin brother, snow swirling around your boots.

Cregan's gaze shifts from you to the dragons. Vermax and Veraxes, twin dragons you told him on the first evening, both dragons hatched from the eggs in you and your brothers cribs.

The dragons make whistling sounds, turning their heads. They seem nervous. The young Lord finds his own thoughts ridiculous in the next moment. What could possibly make dragons nervous?

Cregan has to swallow and takes the last steps towards his royal guests. The siblings are completely engrossed in their usual bickering.

"I told you she wouldn't fly over." laughs Jacaerys, you jab him in the stomach and then jump two steps to the side so his counterattack doesn't hit you.

"She'll do it." you say as you look over the edge of the Wall.

"Please don't go so close to the edge." the prince's voice sounds alarmed.

"Don't be such a coward, Jacey."

"Don't call me that. I'm not a little kid anymore." the prince snaps.

"Then don't act like one." you say dry and still don't take a step away from the edge. On the contrary, you push your feet a little closer to the edge, the tips of your boots no longer have any grip.

Cregan cleared his throat to get your attention. "My Lady, your brother is right. You shouldn't stand so close to the edge of the wall."

You tilt your head slightly, a hint of a smile dancing on your full lips. "Good thing you'll only be my husband in three days My Lord and only then you can give me orders." you say, your cheerful tone doesn´t match your bitter words.

Cregan feels as if you had hit him in the stomach and looks helplessly at Jacaerys, but he just shrugs and gives him an apologetic smile.

Suddenly, the dragons move. Cregan manages at the last second to prevent himself from flinching as Vermax's claw strikes the ice beside him. The dragons make whistling noises again, Veraxes restlessly lashes her tail back and forth.

Cregan looks at the twins. "Is something wrong with them?" he can't manage to suppress the concern in his voice.

You look at him, smile again as if your last comment had never been made. "Do you know the story of Queen Alysanne Targaryen?" you ask instead of answering.

Cregan tries not to show his confusion about your behavior and nods. Everyone knows the story: The queen wanted to fly over the wall with her dragon, the dragon refused. That has never happened before.

"My dearest sister here thought she was better than Queen Alysanne and wanted to fly Veraxes over the Wall."

"I didn't think I´m better than Queen Alysanne." you interrupt your brother, but he simply ignores you. The prince turns directly to Cregan.

"You saw how well the attempt worked."

Cregan furrows his brow. "So the dragons refuse to fly over the Wall?" he asks just to be sure.

"Obviously. They don't like it here." you say, again your gaze goes over the edge downwards. "7000 feet, right?"

"Yes, My Lady," Cregan confirms. He doesn't know if his uneasy feeling comes from the fact that you are half leaning over the edge of the Wall or from the fact that the dragons refuse to fly over it. It doesn't matter right know. The young Lord has to swallow and suppress the urge to go to you and pull you away from the wall.

The dragons also lean further forward, but their noses never go beyond the edge of the Wall. You and Jace watch your monsters closely as they move. While Jacaerys looks worried, you are curious.

Cregan seizes the moment and looks at you. The winter sun shines on you, makes you glow, and gets caught in your dark braids. Your cheeks and nose are slightly reddened from the cold up here. Cregan's fingertips tingle slightl as the desire arises to caress the soft skin of your cheek.

Would you lean into his touch? Or slap his hand away? Cregan has no idea, but he's eager to find out. Again, he has to pull himself together to come back into the moment. Again, he reminds himself: one step at a time.

"Forget it, sister. Silverwing didn't fly over the Wall, Veraxes will do it neither." Jacaerys sounds annoyed. Cregan sees out of the corner of his eye as he shifts his weight slightly forward, ready to catch you if you trip.

"Just because you can't get Vermax to do it." you say, the challenge clear in your tone and the way your eyes sparkle. Cregan has the feeling that you are hatching something, and the way your gaze goes from him to your brother tells him that it won't be anything good.

"Veraxes won't fly over it either." Jacaerys insists.

A mischievous grin appears on your face, your intentions now clearly visible. "Bet?" you ask, turning to your brother. You say something in high valyrian that Cregan doesn't understand.

The next second you wink at him, spread your arms and let yourself fall backward from the Wall.

Cregan's heart stops for a moment, Jacaerys calls your name, his voice trembling. Both men run forward, but of course, neither of them manages to hold onto you anymore. Cregan looks over the edge and sees you falling quickly. His entire body tenses up in fear. Not only is he watching you fall to your own death, but it's happening under his watch as well. The Dragon Queen would probably turn the entire North to ashes if she hears that her only daughter has met her end in the North.

And he would never hear your melodic laughter again, Cregan immediately gets annoyed by this inappropriate thought.

Suddenly, he is caught by a gust of wind and almost falls off the wall himself as Veraxes flies just a few centimeters past him and throws himself after you. The dragon lets out a cry that sounds angry and desperate. The sound reminds Cregan of a mother weeping for her frozen baby.

"I'll kill her." Jacaerys murmurs quietly next to Cregan as they watch your dragon catch up with you, fly under you, so you land on her saddle. Cregan is sure that must have hurt.

Veraxes spreads her wings and catches her fall, the Lord of Winterfell isn't quite sure how much space there is left to the ground but from up here it doesn't look like much.

He has to take a deep breath, relief flooding through him. Thank the gods you're not dead.

You turn your dragon vertically and fly steeply up the wall. As you shoot past Cregan, he flinches a step back but can't take his eyes off you.

You throw your head back and laugh a loud, joyful laugh. The wind tousles your braids, and the winter sun makes your eyes sparkle. And there it is again, that freedom, that wildness in your gaze. Cregan's heart skips a beat at the sight. By all the gods, he knows in that moment that you are fearless, maybe a little insane, but definitely fearless. You will fit well in the North, you will fit well with him.

Cregan is impressed, he can't help but stare at and admire you as you let your Dragon land right next to Cregan at the edge of the wall. You are still laughing.

Veraxes stands so close that the sulfur smell rises to his nose and he feels the warmth of the dragon. Your dragon blows hot air from its nostrils, accompanied by a rumbling noise from its throat that makes Cregan's neck hairs stand on end. Her tail crashes against the ice on the other side, causing the ice under his feets to tremble. You are sitting on her back and sticking your tongue out at your twin.

"I told you so." you say, still laughing at Jacaerys and his shocked face.

"I swear to you if mother..." begins the prunce, but you raise your hand to interrupt him.

"You're just angry because you lost the bet." you say. "And besides, in a few days I won't be Mother's concern anymore."

Jacaerys opens his mouth to say something, but no sound comes from his throat. Then he looks at Cregan, and his neck turns slightly red.

"My Lord future husband." you break the silence with a gentle voice, and Cregan immediately turns to you. "A helping hand?"

His feelings are completely mixed up, still he steps closer to Veraxes without thinking, extends his hand to you and helps you dismount from your dragon. Even though you all know that you don't need help.

You land right in front of him, so close that he can make out the different shades of purple in your eyes. Your pleasant scent envelops him, for two heartbeats Cregan forgets everything around you. He recognizes that wild sparkle in your eyes again, and before he can react you stand on your tiptoes place your hand on the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. When your lips meet, the brief moment of surprise is dispelled by a hot shiver that runs through his body. Instinctively, his hand reaches for your hip and he pulls you closer to him. Your soft lips move perfectly against his, and his heart begins to beat faster at the sensation.

You part breathlessly from each other, for a brief moment you look deeply into his eyes. A smile dances around your lips. Cregans can't help but smile with you, this time it's him who winks. He is rewarded with a radiant smile from you. Cregan blinks, and the moment is gone.

While you turn back to your brother, Cregan has to take a deep breath to calm his heartbeat.

"Brother. It was nice to beat you again." you spit at Jacaerys and lift your chin. But when you turn back to Cregan there is a soft smile on your face, which makes his heart stumble again. "My Lord. Please excuse me. I want to look at the rest of the Wall." you nod to him and then turn away.

The Lord of Winterfell can do nothing but stare after you as you walk along the wall. You don't even have to call Veraxes, she takes off again and flies north of the Wall beside you.

Cregan looks at the prince again, fearing for a heartbeat that Jacaerys will now burn him with Vermax. After all, Cregan has dishonored his sister.

The prince, however, appears more annoyed than angry. Jacaerys bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head slightly. "Good luck with her, Lord Stark. She only causes headaches." he says then.

"Aye, probably." says Cregan, but can't suppress a grin. Yes, you mean trouble, but Cregan is ready for this journey. He is looking forward to it.

[iilmunchkiin]

"Behind the Scenes"

Below the cut includes unused panels, art and extra info about the comic! Including the storyboards and some words from yours truly! [CW]: spoilers for comic above (duh...), triggering scenes, disturbing imagery and death. ヾ(≧へ≦)〃

There was supposed to be an extra panel with Starlo desperately clutching on Ceroba's clothes after the "Your fault" scene before sliding off and kneeling in front of her, however it killed the pacing so it was left scrapped.

Extra panels I made during Starlo's breakdown, looking back I probably should've went for a similar approach like the one below this this since it gives off the feeling of doom due to the dark background making it gave emphasis to Starlo, but the current one gives off helplessness cuz everything looks so empty so it's all good. I was experimenting with the composition and give it a more manga-like appearance... which is what I was aiming for! I'm glad how it turned out! (❁´◡`❁)

Alternative face for Starlo in the content warning. Fun fact! The thing on his hat was supposed to look like a heart rate, was trying to show how much panic he was feeling with an increasing heart beat. No one noticed unfortunately but I dunno how to make it more obvious... ¯\_(ᵕ—ᴗ—)_/¯

My manager @trgr-mmaki messaging me during an... unfortunate moment.

Some more concept art and storyboards I made on paper, the amount of research I did for this was... a lot would be an understatement. I had to study the stages of decay and looked at pictures of it. Yes... pictures...

Another detail was the fight, flight or freeze response I was trying to implement here. Fight - Starlo Flight - Martlet (get it cuz she's a bird?) Freeze - Ceroba

I wanted to draw more, but I was already working on this comic for a weak and I was getting burnt out so I had to cut corners.

Originally, Martlet was supposed to be in this scene along with Clover's soul in the jar however there weren't enough space for the text so I had to cut them out. Here's what it would look like if I went with the original draft compared to the final.

Sketches

Thank you for being so patient with me and for liking my AU! It's still in development but I'm in love where it's going so far. Being completely honest, I wasn't planning on making it an AU in the first place but with all the love and support I got, it motivated me!! Thank you to everyone who's been helping me and giving me ideas, and to all of you who are still waiting!! Y'all are the best!! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

I don't know where to put this but I'd love to do more behind the scenes stuff like this, or even scrapped comics and updates on future projects! lmk what you think (￣y▽￣)╭ hihihihi~

"Rotting"

Post that started this: Link

[arbitrarykiwi]

HELOOOOOOO!! I hope you are having a good morning, evening and or night!

Before I go on with my request (with as much detail as possible) Your writing is PHENOMENAL! Straight up a blessing from God! It is impressive how spicy and delicious you create your fics! Like, PLEASE! keep serving!! I’ll eat it all up!!!

As for my request: I would like to ask for a spicy fic of Thanos and Nam-Gyu with a plus sized! female! reader, you know, big tummy, thicc thighs, stretch marks, all the benefits of a bbw.

To put in simple detail, the reader is insecure of her body because well, people judge her for her weight and assume that she is just a gluttonous freak. She always tries to go out with friends to see if a guy would approach her but is proven hard to do so when she is timid and wants to hide herself from glaring eyes. The reader is losing hope of finding love until one faithful night, when her friends dragged her into a club to get fucked up, she remained sober but doesn’t realize that has gotten the attention of the legend Thanos and his buddy Nam-Gyu.

I apologize if it’s a long description of what I want. But you get the whole point. I do also want to add a few key words: Creampie, Oral (f receiving, because I need their heads to be squished by the readers thiccc thighs like a watermelon) (and M Receiving) praise, name calling (of your choice), double penetration. (The rest is up to you!)

That will be all! And if you are alright with me sending another request similar to the one I asked at some point (not now obviously) please let me know! And don’t rush art!

Thank you and keep up the hard work! 🩷🩷🩷

More to Love and Double the Fun!

OMGEEE thank you for your kind words!!! 🫶🫶 this was so fun to write I hope I did it justice!!! Admittedly it is so hard to write threesome content but I love it so much it’s so worth the work!! We always gotta have application for thick thighs, stretch marks n tummies!!! And I know both of them would loooove a thick girl 😩 I apologize for the wait! I hope you enjoy 🤭🤭

Warnings: smut (18+) , threesome, oral (m and f receiving), deep throating, name calling (baby, pretty girl, pretty thing, cocksucker, probably more), fingering, face sitting, big thigh and stretch mark love, dirty talk, cum play, double penetration (2 cocks in pussy) , creampie, read at your own risk

You originally found yourself at a house party. You were sat on a couch in the corner of some frat guys apartment, watching anxiously as the people around you are doing all sorts of drugs and knocking back straight liquor like it was water. It wasn’t your scene. You felt out of place, this was not where you wanted to be.

You wanted to be home, cozied up in bed in your old sleep shirt that’s 5 sizes too big and the fuzzy pants that you’ve had for a couple months- watching some show and scrolling on your phone. Alone. In your peaceful home, away from potential judging stares.

But nope. Your friends somehow convinced you to come out to this party, and got you to wear something you never thought you would. So there you sat, playing with the end of the dress that stopped at right under your ass. You kept trying to tug it down over your plush thighs to no avail.

You felt like you had to constantly adjust your posture, sit up straighter, trying to hide your figure in anyway possible. You felt like you looked horrible, you didn’t think you looked like the other girls at the party who were thin and long legged. And fuck, they all looked stunning, but you? You didn’t feel like you were anything compared to them. You honestly had given up on ‘looking’- you knew your luck for relationships or even just hookups was never good, so you had no other hopes for tonight at this party.

You just wanted to go home- and home you would eventually go. But not your home.

You didn’t notice how they spotted you at the house party like drug dogs sniffing out a big bust. You didn’t notice how they slowly began to move closer to you. You didn’t even notice them at all until they’re sitting down next to you- one on either side of you.

They’re effortlessly swooning you. To your right is the purple haired male who introduces himself as Thanos. He’s suave, confident and just the perfect amount of cocky. To your left is Nam-gyu, seemingly more calm than the purple haired friend he was accompanied by but he had an aura of mystery, a wicked grin, a smooth talking mouth, and a carelessness to him that makes him all the more enticing. When they introduced themselves you already felt like you were under their spell, it didn’t take much for them to get you wrapped around their fingers.

They find you charming, not taking a single sip of alcohol, not partaking in the various drugs that are passed around, and squirming under their gazes when they’re squeezing even closer to you. “Not enjoying the party, cutie?” The one with purple hair asks, his hand beginning to dance along your thighs. You are fixated on the thigh black like tattoo that travels up his arm and disappears under the sleeve of his shirt.

You shake your head, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Yeah….thought so…” The man to your left says, his hand lifting to grab your chin and turn you to look at him. His hair is dark black, tucked behind his ears, strands falling in front of his face. “We’ve been watching you, pretty thing…don’t look like you’re having too much fun…” he says, eyes looking over your face like he’s studying you. “Would you let us take you out of here? Maybe do something a little more fun?” He says, a grin playing on his lips. You find yourself nodding.

And that’s how you ended up at one of their apartments. You’re not even sure who’s, maybe they lived together. You didn’t know and couldn’t be bothered to care. You’re guided into the bedroom in a mess of kisses, they’re passing you back and forth- if you weren’t kissing one their mouth would dance along your neck, only releasing to attach back onto your lips.

When you’re led into a bed room, Nam-gyu releases your lips from his. You’re left breathless. Thanos is pulling off your neck and stepping back to admire his work. Your neck is spotted with red, purple, and blue marks on either said. From both of them. It’s a macabre work of art that has both of them feeling the blood rush to their cocks.

“Though I love this cute lil’ dress you have on…” Thanos says, his hand pulling on the strap of your dress, beginning to pull it off your shoulder, “I really rather have it off you.”

“Mhm…” Nam-Gyu agrees, his hands running up the curve of your waist. You’re suddenly worried, what if they don’t like what’s underneath. It’s a irrational thought, you know it, but years of seeing girls who look nothing like you easily sweep men off their feet while you were hardly able to score a date- left you feeling a little more than self conscious.

You hate that they can sense it, because they’re both drawing closer to you, Thanos capturing you in a quick kiss while Nam-Gyu runs his hand down your waist to your hip. “Easy, pretty girl..” Nam-gyu coos, his hand reaching up to brush his knuckles against your cheek. “We wouldn’t both bring you here if we didn’t think you were so. Fucking. Attractive.” Thanos finishes as he pulls away from your lips, kissing your neck to punctuate his last three words.

“Let us make you feel good, princess…you deserve it.” Nam-gyu says his nose running along your jaw, breath dancing along your skin. “F-fuck o-okay, yes.” You say nodding erratically your hands reaching up to tangle in their hair, one hand on Thanos and one on Nam-gyu.

With your word they’re pulling your dress off in a swift motion and pushing you lightly on the bed. They physically don’t give you any minute to become self conscious being so exposed in front of them because they are joining you on the bed, one on either side of you. They mirror each other, their elbows resting on the bed their faces propped up on one hand. Their other hands runs up and down your stomach, feather light touches that has your body tensing.

“So pretty….” Thanos mumbles, his fingers dancing under your breast, right under the wire of the lace bra you had on. “Ain’t she?” Nam-gyu says with a smile his hand lowering itself to your lower stomach, fingertips dancing along the hem of your underwear, fingers stopping to play with the small bow on the front. “Wearin’ the cutest little matching’ set too…” the raven haired man says, dropping his head to your chest to place open mouthed kisses along the swell of your breast before pulling away and placing his head back against his palm.

You think you’re biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, your panties are clinging uncomfortably to your cunt, soaked with your arousal. “Look good enough ‘ta eat.” Thanos mumbles as he drops his head down to your neck, licking a stripe up your neck, teeth stopping to bite at your ear lobe. You finally break, releasing a moan when one of Nam-gyu’s hands comes up to grope the flesh of your breast. He’s kneading the flesh in his hand over the fabric of your bra, his hand only pulling away to begin to rub his thumb over your nipple. Even under the fabric of the bra, your nipple begins to harden at his touch.

Thanos silences the moan that comes out of you by kissing you. His tongue enters into your open mouth, twirling with your tongue in a sloppy kiss. Nam-gyu’s hand moves down your body, returning back to the hem of your panties. Thanos tattooed hand is meeting his, resting next to his counterpart’s hand, fingers dancing along the hem of the lace fabric.

Thanos pulls away, wanting to hear the sounds you make as both their hands slip into your panties. They’re deft fingers working messily against your cunt- feeling you. “Ohhhhh….” Nam-gyu is humming out when you let out a high pitched whine, “that’s a cute sound…gonna sound so pretty when you’re full of our cocks..” he muses, his nose running against your jaw, his fingers tapping against your clit.

“Pussy ‘s so fuckin’ soft….” Thanos hisses through clenched teeth. “Already so wet for us…bet you could just take us right now..” he’s whispering in a hushed voice, eyes locking with yours, watching as your eyebrows turn up and you moan. “Mhm…you like that idea…already wanting to take our cocks…good girl..” he rasps but he shakes his head. “We can’t do that yet pretty girl, gotta savor all of you…can’t rush the finale.”

With that, Thanos is using his free hand that’s not circling your tight hole to pull down your bra, your breasts spilling out over the fabric. Nam-gyu is working to do the same thing on the other side, releasing your tits fully. “God you’re fucking picturesque..” Nam-gyu is growling out, mouth immediately latching onto your nipple, sucking it into his mouth greedily and rolling his tongue around the flesh.

Your back is arching off the bed and your breath comes out in coked gasps, your hands gripping the bedsheets until your knuckles turn white. Thanos is following in Nam-gyu’s footsteps, his mouth beginning to suck the flesh of your breast around your into his mouth to leave purple bruises anywhere he put his mouth on. The feeling of their fingers working against your cunt in differing patterns, leaving you no room to catch your breath and their mouths working along your tits has you writhing against the sheets, even more our your thick, milky arousal spills out of your pussy and around their fingers, soiling your panties even further.

Nam-gyu is pulling away from your breast with a lewd ‘pop’, a string of his saliva connecting your nipple to his tongue. He’s scooting down on the bed, Thanos hand coming up to replace Nam-gyu’s mouth, painted nails pulling at your nipple. Nam-gyu is kissing down your chest and stomach. You whine, trying to tense up, to suck in, even with the pleasure you’re receiving you can’t help but be self conscious. You jump when you feel his teeth nip at your flesh.

“None of that. We’re all over you, playing with your pussy…don’t need to try and hide from us when we want all of you.” He punctuates his words with a kiss that’s placed right over a group of stretch marks on your lower stomach. It makes you kick your head back and moan out, your body relaxing back under his touch.

Nam-gyu’s hand removes itself from your cunt, both his hands then coming to grip at the sides of your panties, beginning to pull them off of you. They’re discarded somewhere in the room and both of them are working together to push your legs open. Thanos releases himself from your breasts to look down at your pussy.

They’re both just admiring you, taking you all in. Your cunts leaking, your arousal smeared around your thighs thanks to the both of them. Thanos is groaning at the sight, the hand that’s still between your thighs spreading into a ‘V’ shape to give them a better view. “Perfect body and a perfect cunt…” Nam-gyu is muttering, eyes trained on your throbbing pussy. Thanos is nodding in agreement, “ohhh look at you….” He’s humming, “she’s fucking soaking… needy fuckin’ thing. ‘S all you needed huh? Someone to fuck you like you deserve? Pretty fuckin girl with a pretty fuckin’ cunt, it’s a miracle no one’s claimed you yet…” Thanos rambles.

They’re pulling away from you for just a moment to rid themselves of their shirt and pants leaving them only

In their boxers. You can see the large tents that are formed by their hardened cocks. It makes your mouth water. Your attention is pulled away when Nam-Gyu speaks again.

“Well now someone has..” Nam-Gyu finishes, looking to his purple haired counterpart then to you, “we’re gonna treat you right…give you..” he says placing a kiss to your inner thigh, “and her…” he says, a kiss pressed to your pubic bone, right above your clit, “the attention you deserve.”

Their filthy words make you shiver, your eyes screwing shut and your lip becoming caught between your teeth once again. They manage to rid you of your bra and underwear, their hands working against you in such a skillful way that it has your mind hazy. They maneuver you the way they want, and you’re bonelessly allowing them. Their hands still working along your body as they situate you exactly how they wanted.

They stand up off the bed, pulling down their boxers in similar manners. Your mouth falls open when you see their thick cocks spring free from their confines and slap against their stomachs. They’re back on the bed and crawling over to you in an instant.

You’re laid back on the bed, Nam-Gyu’s lips working against yours in a languid motion that makes you feel like you’re drunk. You don’t even realize Thanos is situating himself down on the bed and in between your thighs until he’s beginning to push your thighs open. You’re pulling away from the kiss to look down at the purple haired man. A bashful, almost worried expression on your face as he pushes your thighs back.

It’s weird that he seems to read your mind, shaking his head with a soft laugh. He’s turning to the side to begin leaving kisses over the inside of your thighs, tongue running over the stretch marks that litter the skin. The feeling has your head dropping back to the pillow and a blissful breath falling out of your lips. “Pretty fuckin’ girl….” Nam-gyu says lowly, dropping his head to place open mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck.

“And prettiest fuckin’ pussy.” Thanos is mumbling against the skin of your inner thigh, light kisses moving inward until he’s playing a kiss directly on your throbbing clit. A gasp rips its way up your throat, your body jolting at the sensation. Nam-gyu pulls back from your neck to turn and look down at Thanos.

Thanos is pushing your thighs back and tilting your hips upwards- he wasn’t going to be selfish! Nam-gyu deserved to see your cute pussy too! “Ohhhhh…” Nam-gyu coos, reaching down to run his fingers along your cunt, wetting his digits with his arousal, “such a pretty fuckin’ cunt. Already so wet…” he hums, fingers dropping lower to scoop up the arousal that’s dripping from your pussy.

He removes his hand, bringing it up to his face and sucking his fingers into his mouth, moaning around his fingers when he tastes you for the first time. You have to look away, it’s embarrassing. “Taste so fuckin’ good..” he growls out as he removes his fingers from his mouth and drops it to your neck, squeezing lightly before running it up to cup your jaw and forcing you to look at him. “It’s cute. Ya’ tryna hide when you got two men about to fuck you like the perfect slut you really are.” He says in a soft voice, his hand squeezing your cheeks together.

You whine in response, eyes fluttering shut again when you feel Thanos release your thighs and lay them over his shoulder, his breath fanning your cunt. He places a couple kisses on your clit, sucking it into his mouth briefly each time. Nam-gyu watches diligently as your face contorts each time Thanos makes contact with your pussy. It’s precious really, he can’t help himself but to kiss you once more. His kiss is hypnotizing and as Thanos mouth captures your cunt in a messy kiss, Nam-Gyu is swallowing your moans.

Thanos’ tongue works wonders on your pussy, lapping at your folds like a dog, swallowing down every ounce of arousal that seeps out you for tight hole. His tattooed hands are gripping at the plush of your hips, gliding upwards to grab at your waist. As he feels along your body and eats your pussy he swears he’s in heaven, the feeling of your soft flesh under his hands and the taste of your cunt has him reeling.

Nam-gyu pulls away, dropping his head down to latch his mouth onto your pebbled nipple. Without your mouth occupied in a kiss, your moans echo throughout the room. Thanos is relentless, slurping at your cunt like it gave him some sort of life essence. He grinds your hips down onto your tongue, sucking your labias into his mouth messily as he’s swallowing down every drop of your thick, sweet arousal that your cunt offers him. Your thighs are squeezing around his head but he doesn’t shove them open. He’s moaning into your cunt the harder your thighs squeeze around his head. It’s hard enough that it cuts off his hearing, allowing him to hear his own rapid heartbeat.

He shifts up, sucking your puffy clit into his mouth, tongue flicking it back and forth before releasing it. You can only sob out choked and garbled praises, the sensation of Nam-Gyu sucking on your tits and Thanos devouring your cunt having you a mindless heap on the bed. “O-oh fuck.” You cry out, tilting your head up off the bed with all your strength to look at them. Both their eyes are on you, watching your every reaction. Nam-gyu pulls away from your breast, tongue falling out of his mouth to flick at your nipple- eyes never straying from yours as he makes a show of playing with your nipple, lathing his tongue on the rock hard peak for you to watch. And Thanos is the same, dark eyes on you as he sucks your clit in and out of your mouth, pulling away to spit on your cunt before diving back in to circle his tongue around your clit.

Your head falls back to the pillow, the visual proving far too much for you to handle. Your eyes are screwing shut and you’re shaking. Nam-gyu is pulling away from your breast and turning down to look at Thanos. The view of the purple hair rapper eating your messy pussy only serves to make his cock even harder.

“I need to taste her cunt fucking Christ…” Nam-gyu is hissing out, hand reaching down in between your legs to grab a fist full of Thanos’ hair and pull him off your cunt. Thanos’ tongue is lolled out of his mouth, still flicking at your clit. He fights against Nam-guy’s hold and dives back in, a loud slurp resounds in the room as he gets just a bit more of your sweet arousal to coat his tongue.

He’s pulling back with a laugh, “Alright, alright! You can have your turn.” Thanos chuckles, looking towards Nam-Gyu with a wicked grin. His face shines with your arousal, his tongue running over his lips to get the excess off. “Sweetest fuckin’ pussy…it would be criminal not to share.” He muses, pulling himself so he’s sitting.

You’re out of breath, your mind hazy, you can feel them pulling you up off the bed, maneuvering you. You end up facing Thanos who’s standing up off the bed. His knees touch the edge of the mattress. His hands are holding your face, brushing your wild hair back and out of your eyes. You just a little when you feel Nam-gyu’s hands hook around your thighs. You look down to see him lying on the bed below you. His breath tickles your pussy, your arousal damn near leaking out of you.

“Sit on my face pretty girl…wanna taste you.” He mumbles, looking up at you through thick lashes. You whimper and begin to lower yourself. Admittedly you’re still hovering but he lifts his head off the bed a bit and his tongue licks a long, wide stripe up your pussy. A high pitched moan is ripped from you as you swivel your hips on his tongue. When you begin to be pulled down further, Nam-Gyu desperately pulling you closer to him, you let out a worried gasp, one hand planting itself on the bed to keep yourself hovering, even if it was just the slightest bit.

His hands grip at your thighs, you head tilting down to look at the raven haired man between your thighs. “W-wait, I-“ you choke on your words. He looked up at you through thick lashes, hands gripping at your thick thighs, eyebrows screwing together in irritation. “Don’t give me none of that bullshit..” he growls, breath fanning your cunt as he spoke. He knows you were about to say something about being too heavy. He turns his head slightly to bite at the inside of your thigh, “I said sit on my fucking face. Not hover. I’m well aware what I’m asking for.” He says lowly, one hand releasing your thigh to move back and slap your ass. “You’re a good girl. Now fucking listen.” He mumbles, turning his head back forward and pulling you down fully onto his face. His tongue is vicious, lathing around the entirety of your cunt and quickly sucking your clit into his mouth.

You cry out, falling forward into Thanos. Your head connects with his bare torso. Against your sternum you can feel his hard cock. He laughs at your reaction to Nam-guy’s tongue beginning to lap at your puffy cunt. The purple haired rapper looks down at you, hands coming to cup your face and hold your head up/ forcing you to meet his gaze. Nam-gyu is moaning into your pussy, the obscene slurping sounds coming from between your thighs just makes you whine.

Nam-gyu’s hands are creating a bruising grip on your thighs, guiding you back and forth over his tongue. “H-holy fuck.” You moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head. The raven haired man under you pulls away for a second, his breath heavy as he stares at your sopping cunt. He’s back on you soon after, shifting you upward so he can fuck his tongue into your tight heat. Your eyes fluttered back open, moans falling from your lips like a recited prayer as you open your eyes fully to look at Thanos.

“He eating your sweet cunt good? Hm?” Thanos coos at you, bending down a bit to get closer to you. “Bet you’re fuckin making a mess out of his face.” He muses, his thumb beginning to pull at your lower lip. You nod frantically in response, he’s laughing and mimicking your nod, “Uh-huh…why don’t you feel him how good it feels, pretty girl.”

“S-so Fuckin- fuck!!” You’re cut off when Nam-Gyu grinds his nose up into your clit, pulling you down impossibly further onto his face. He could be smothered between your head and he would die happy. The feeling of your thighs clenching around his head anytime his tongue trusts itself deep within your tight walls has him groaning into your cunt, the vibrations only making more of your thick, syrupy arousal pour out of your pussy and onto his tongue. “So f-fucking good ohmygod.” You cry out, your hips grinding down onto his face.

When your full weight sinks on to Nam-Gyu’s face you can hear him growl into your pussy. Your head tilts down to catch how his eyes flutter shut, rolling so far back into his head that you’re sure he can see his own skull. The sweet, saccharine taste of your arousal that costs his tongue is a taste he could get addicted to.

Thanos is pulling your head back up to face him, “hmm,” he hums, his thumbs circling your skin. “slutty pussy just wetting his face.” The purple haired rapper muses, his hips canting forwards just a bit, the tip of his cock rubbing against your pillowy lips. You look up to him and your mouth drops open. You’re leaning forward taking him eagerly into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his tip, the salty taste of his pre-cum overwhelming your taste buds and urging you to suck him into your mouth farther.

Nam-Gyu removes his face from your cunt to look at his work. Your pussy is raw and swollen from both their ruthless onslaught of devouring your cunt. It’s a beautiful sight thats making his cock jump against his stomach. When he tilts his head backwards ever so slightly to see you begin to take Thanos’ cock down your throat he’s growling, his dick twitching against his stomach again and he’s back on your cunt.

This time he moves himself lower, pulling you back down fully onto his face. His tongue thrusts itself into your cunt his nose bumping against your clit. Your moans are muffled by Thanos’ cock that begins to shove itself down your throat. One of his tattooed hand cradles your face, rubbing at your jaw that’s stretched impossibly wide around his dick. “Look at you…” Thanos coos down at you, “suckin my cock like the good cocksucker you are…” he hums, patting your cheek.

You look up at him, tears brimming your eyes as his tip begins to squeeze past the tight ring of your throat. “Doin’ so well even while Gyu’s devouring your sweet pussy.” He praises, nodding when you moan around his cock in response. “Your mouth feels so fuckin’ good”

Your eyes flutter closed at his praise and your hips begin to grind down on Nam-gyu’s tongue. You’re letting out choked and garbled gags around Thanos, lashes becoming wet with tears. The sounds ringing through your ears only messy Nam-gyu’s face further. Nam-gyu is moaning and growling into your cunt as he laps at your folds like a dog and Thanos is in front of you rambling off sentences filthy praise cut off by groans as he thrusts into your mouth.

“F-fuck sweetheart I could cum down your throat.” Thanos rasps out trusting balls deep into your mouth once last time. He holds you there, nose pressed against his pelvis for a few seconds before pulling you off of him by your hair, you’re coughing and gasping for air looking up at him in a mess of tears and spit. “But I really want to cum inside your pussy.” He finishes, his voice a low growl.

Nam-gyu is pulling away from your cunt in a mess of spit and your arousal, “need to be inside this precious cunt I know she’s fuckin’ tight.” The black haired Malle under you emphasizes his words by sucking your puffy clit into his mouth once more.

Their minds clouded by their own excitement to sink balls deep into your tight hole, they’re moving your fucked out form into the next position they wanted you in with expert skill.

Your back is pressed to Nam-gyu’s chest the fat mushroom tip of his cock pushing at your entrance. Thanos is shifting closer, settling in between Nam-gyu’s legs. Thanos’ tattooed hands run up your thighs, pushing them back towards your chest, the leaking tip of his thick cock settling above Nam-Gyu’s. You can already feel the stretch that’s to come when both their tips dance along the tight ring of your cunt. “I-“ you choke on your own words, eyes trained on the view of the two of them nestled close to your pussy. “There’s n-no way I’ll be able to take both of you.” You whine, but as you speak your hips are moving on their own, trying to push yourself down onto them.

“Oh you’re gonna take it..” Nam-Gyu growls from under you, hands gripping at your stomach and keeping you from moving any more, “you’re practically tryna’ fuck yourself down on us, sweetheart. You can take it, like the good whore you are.” Thanos echos with a tantalizing tilt of his head.

Then they’re pushing into you. The stretch is brutal, you think you’re being split in half- but fuck does it feel so good. “Fuuuuckk that’s it…” Nam-Gyu hisses. The feeling of his tip slipping into your cunt, pressed against Thanos’, accompanied by a wet ‘pop’ causes his whole body to shudder under you. You’re letting out a silent scream one hand reaching back around you and grip at Nam-gyu’s long black locks and the other reaching in front of you and pressing against Thanos’ pelvis.

“Greedy cunt’s just suckin us both in.” Thanos growls, hands pressing your thighs back even more, your knees practically touching your ears. It makes them sink in deeper, the feeling of their two thick cocks sinking into you- stretching you out and ruining your sweet cunt for anyone who fucks you in the future- has you seeing stars already.

“So fuckin’ wet.” Nam-Gyu hisses, his words right behind your ear causing a shiver to run up the entirety of your spine. They keep inching into you, gaping your cunt around their cocks. Thanos is above you, bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyebrows upturned. The feeling of your messy pussy gripping around his length and the secondary sensation of Nam-gyu’s cock sliding against the underside of his thick length. It’s a beautiful sight and you can only imagine that

Nam-Gyu has a similar expression on his face. You’re moaning out a choked sob when one of Nam-gyu’s hands slid down your stomach to splay across your pubic bone. Two of his fingers connect with your clit, rubbing slow, light circles on the throbbing bud.

You let out a high pitched, wanton cry, your back arching heavenward. Your head tilts down to watch how the two cocks that push into you. It’s a mean stretch, your pussy looks like it’s about to be split in half, but fuck it feels so good. “‘S right..almost in sweet girl…” Thanos hums, hand coming up to pinch one of your pebbled nipples. You moan out a babbled mix their names as you feel them begin to push in the rest of the way.

“Biiig stretch….” Thanos is cooing out and then they both skin into your tight cunt fully. When they both sink balls deep into you, you’re letting out a silent scream, feeling unbelievably full. They both let out echoing moans, it’s a delicious sound. They settle inside you, stilling to let you get adjusted. “O-oh f-fuck.” You let out in a shaky, strangled cry, your eyes never leaving from the view of the two of them gaping your cunt with both their cocks. Nam-gyu’s fingers work deftly against your clit, smearing the arousal that leaks out of you. His two fingers splitting into a ‘V’ shape and moving down to feel along the sides of your cunt- feeling how wide you were split on the two of them.

“Ohhhh…look at you…” you hear Nam-Gyu coo in a low rasp, his lips tickling against the shell of your ear. “Takin both of us allll the way in your tight fucking cunt.” He growls, thrusting up into you the slightest bit. The movement makes you moan out, trying to squeeze your legs shut.

Thanos hisses when he feels the sensation of Nam-Gyu’s cock drag agains his and your cunt spasming around him. His tattooed hands push your thighs back more, keeping them open. “Nuh-uh. You’re gonna keep them fuckin’ open. Gonna take it like the good girl you are.” Thanos says, leaning down closer to you, beginning to rock his hips ever so slightly, the man under you following suit.

The feeling of both their cock pumping into in alternating thrusts has your eyes rolling back and your tongue falling out of your mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever felt this stretched out, this full. It was a painful, delicious stretch that has your mind completely blank. It was a feeling you know could never be replicated, less it happens again.

“Ohhh there you go, that’s it sweet girl. Taking it so well…we stretchin’ out your cute cunt good?” Thanos coos down at you, you can’t even think of a coherent sentence. Nam-gyu’s hand that’s not playing with your clit reaches up and grip at your jaw harshly, forcing your gaze forward to Thanos. “Answer ‘em sweetheart, we’re treatin’ ya real nice, the least you could do is answer us…” he hums out in your ear.

“Mhm! Mhm! S-so fucking good.” You cry out, words slurred your head nodding frantically in Nam-Gyu’s grasp. You feel them pick up the pace, hammering into your cunt. A sick, wet squelching begins to echo through the room. It only makes you moan more, just more evidence of how much you enjoy the two cocks gaping your cunt.

Thanos is watching the thick white strings that dirty your ass and connect his thighs to you any time he draws his hips back. He can see the milky white ring that’s forming around the base Nam-gyu’s cock any time the man under you draws his dick out of your cunt to push it right back in. The wetness that leaks out of your pussy only making their cocks slide into you easier and against each other easier.

“Sloppy fuckin’ thing.” Nam-gyu coos in your ear from under you, he can hear the squelching coming from your weeping cunt grow louder as their thrusts pick up speed.

It’s shameful how quick you’re fucked into a mindless heap, eyes crossing and rolling back, mouth agape, moan after moan after moan coming from your chest. Every drag of their cocks along your tight walls feels like you’ll be split open but it makes your pussy weep. Your arousal is coating their cocks in a thick white sheen, any time their cock pull out of you more is added to the mess.

“Tell us how it feels, sweetheart.” Thanos directs at you, bringing you somewhat out of your fucked out haze. You turn your head to face him, opening your mouth to respond but all that comes out is broken syllables. You cry out, head throwing back before you’re sucking in a huge breath and trying to speak again.

“F-feels…oh fuck!…’s so much. B-both s-so big, ohmygod.” You’re screaming out a mix of their names, your sentence getting cut short when Nam-gyu adjust his legs, bending his knees and planing his feet into the mattress. This position only made them reach even deeper inside you.

Nam-gyu’s fingers were still working on your clit, messily spreading around your arousal, his cock jackhammering up into you at a faster pace. The new adjustment also allowed Thanos more room to shift closer to you, driving his cock deeper with in you.

You’re pretty sure you’re crying at this point, you can’t help it! It feels too good! The room is hot and the air is thick with sweat, you’re sure the neighbors in the apartment complex could hear as you screamed out in ecstasy as they fuck you down onto their cocks.

They both begin to feel the way your cunt begins to spasm more erratically, squeezing both of them in a diabolical rhythmic motion that has both of them growling out a mixture of profanity and praise. You can feel yourself getting close, the two cocks relentlessly pounding your tight cunt making you begin to slip into your orgasm unusually fast.

“Gonna cum, baby? You close?” Thanos questions, grinning down at you as he pile drives his hips into your cunt. “Can feel you fuckin’ chockin’ my cock.” Nam-gyu’s fingers pinch your clit making you let out a choked sob as response. You’re drooling at this point, a mess of your saliva collecting on the pillow beside you. “Mhm! Holy fuck!” You squeak, your hips rolling down to meet every thrust of their cocks, trying to push them as deep as possible. The feeling of both the tips of their dicks hitting your cervix as they stretch your cunt out obscenely wide is a feeling that you think it’s as close to heaven as you’d ever get.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum so deep in this perfect fucking cunt.” Nam-gyu is growling out, “Were both gonna fill this sweet pussy up, ‘s that what you want pretty girl?” He adds, teeth biting at your ear lobe. “Y-yes oh my god…hah!…yes please!” Your words are broken up by wrecked moans everytime they both sink balls deep into you. They’re ruthless, alternating thrusts so you never had a moment to truly breathe.

Thanos moves one hand off your hip up to your breasts. He’s gripping at them as the bounce with each thrust, only adding to the pleasure you’re already receiving. His grip is harsh, nearly painful- but that what makes it all the more better. “C’mon cum f’us pretty thing. Wanna see you make a fuckin’ mess of our cocks…” he’s growling. And as if they communicate telepathically, they’re both speeding up their thrusts, each thrust having a mean upward angle that pounds both their cocks into your g-spot every single time.

Nam-gyu’s fingers return to making deft circles on your clit, your wetness allowing his finger to glide over the bud with such smoothness it has you arching your back off of his chest, “ohmygodohmygod…” you’re beginning to babble out, it’s a mixture of choked sobs and high pitched moans more than it’s actual words, “‘m gonna cum h-holy fuck!!” You scream out. You cum violently, gripping their cocks in such a vice it keeps their cocks stuck inside of you. When they both try to pull out to fuck you through your orgasm and find they can’t because you’re greedily sucking them in- they cum one after the other. “Oh fuck!” Thanos growls before he’s painting your walls white. “‘M cumming, f-fucking take it.” Nam-gyu rasps from under you.

They opt to sink balls deep into your tight pussy, wanting to cum as deep as possible- wanting to feel the full effect of having your wet, spasming walls around their thick length’s as they pump you full of cum. They roll their hips in deep grinding motions, dragging out your orgasm in the most delicious way.

The deep groans and growls, even higher pitched moans they let out as they cum deep within you is music to your ears, it’s something you’ll surely replay in your head over and over for weeks to come. It’s so warm, it’s so much. You can feel every thick rope of their cum fill you to the brim.

You’re sandwiched between them, feeling so unbelievably full. You can feel the way their cum leaks out of you in an obscene thick white mixture, making a mess on Nam-gyu’s pelvis. You’re shivering, body jolting against them, “T-there’s so much..” you’re whining out pathetically, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, hips subconsciously rolling, trying to shove their cum back into you.

They’re both hissing out, Nam-gyu’s hands rapidly coming to hold your hips in an iron grip, the cool metal of his rings digging into your flesh. “Q-quit that, girl, shit.” He’s hissing out through gritted teeth. Both their cocks are so sensitive and any slight movement of your hips drags their cocks against each other. It���s so sensitive it nearly hurts.

“D-did so good.” Thanos says breathlessly, leaning down to place lazy kisses across your breasts. “M-milked me so fuckin good princess.” Nam-gyu is echoing his share of praise once he gathers himself. You have a fucked-out smile on your face that only grows bigger with each word that comes from their lips.

“We’re gonna take real good care of ya.” Thanos says, it’s a soft cooing tone almost like she’s talking to a child. His hand is brushing back your hair that’s stuck to your face by laser of sweat. “Gonna be all ours, sweet girl…” Nam-gyu says in a low tone, his hand trailing up from your hips to your jaw to turn your face towards him.

It’s a messy kiss given it’s all open mouthed and tongue. The way you’re lying on him doesn’t give him easy access but he does what he can. Thanos is gawking at the spectacle, his cock already beginning to harden inside you once more. “Hm….i don’t think she’s full enough…she spilled an awful lot..” Thanos mumbles, his fingers brushing around your cunt where you’re still stretched around them to collect the cum that spilled out of you.

He holds it up and shows it to Nam-gyu who pulls away from the kiss and lifts an eyebrow like he’s in deep thought. “Yeah…you’re right. Can’t have her be so wasteful.” He pouts from under you. A silent gasp leaves your throat as you feel both of them begin to draw back out of your abused cunt to only thrust back in.

This was so much better than the party.

Thank you guys for reading and thank you all for your continued support. This is so fun to me and is a great way for me to relax!! And I love getting to hear all your silly thinks and make em come to life!! - <3 kiwi

Queue for requests : loser!Nam-gyu x Innocent/naïve!reader smut , deadbeat babydaddy!Nam-gyu x reader smut , Nam-gyu x reader angst into fluff , Thanos x reader x Myung-gi smut

If you don’t see your request on the queue just yet, don’t fret 🫶 I’m working my way through them and after each one is posted the queue will update to the next 5 requests that I have in my inbox. I try my best to work in the order of which they were received. Requests are still open just be aware that it will take a bit for me to get to it, but I absolutely will get to it!

[yenyu1s]

girls never die.. underground boxer!kang sae-byeok x f!reader written by @yenyu1s ( ˶˘ ³˘(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)

pairing(s) : kang sae-byeok x f!reader

contents : fluff/comfort, angst if you squint, reader has a bad relationship with their parents, violence, sexual and physical assault, mild cursing synopsis : underground boxer kang sae-byeok hides her life in the ring from her brother, knowing he hates them—but it was their only lifeline. to make it up to him, she takes him out for lunch.

on the way, they spot a drunk creep harassing you. your punch wasn’t enough, but sae-byeok’s was. with one swift move, she puts him in his place and disappears into the train station, leaving you dumbfounded.

you trailed behind them, curiosity and gratitude pushing you forward—offering lunch in exchange for answers. wc : 5.02k request (dt) : @saebyeokbliss

(a/n) thank u sm to one of my fav mootie @saebyeokbliss for requesting this! i had so much fun writing teehee~ i have NO IDEA how to write fight scenes! also to all my triples wavs pls moot me

(for more, masterlist)

kang sae-byeok felt a strain in her muscles walking out into the arena. floodlights illuminating her sweaty face and slender frame. she slapped her muscles and shook of any weight she had in her body, flexing her tatted arms and back, cracking her neck, popping her knees and punching in her exposed stomach.

the crowds chanting got louder and louder by each second, frothing in anticipation. each and every one of them placing their bets on their biased boxer. a restless tide crashing against the shores of the fighters' silence.

she felt around inside the foam boxing gloves, getting used to the tight space. punching and swishing her hand in the air to break it in. her sports bra beginning to tighten around her, suffocating her.

sae-byeok glared at the woman standing in front of her. tall, lean, poised and unshaken. her crazy hair going in all sorts of directions. a sharp disgusted look painted her opponents face.

a silence stretched between them.

sae-byeok tilted her chin. perceptibly flexing her fingers as the muscles under her skin move. a silent but deadly action, sending a clear message to her opponent:

i don't fear you.

the bell rang through the thick air. there was no going back now.

sae-byeok's opponent strided towards her, covering her face with her red gloves. a jab snapped towards sae-byeok's face sending electric shocks throughout her lower jaw.

sae-byeok had barely ducked in time, taking a half-blow to her cheek.

she was not going to give up. the woman's eyes were unreadable in the dim lighting of the ring. sae-byeok saw the glint in her teeth. the subtle action of the woman smirking fueled sae-byeok's desire to win.

sae-byeok struck the woman in the nose, a trail of crimson ran down her lips. the impact sent her into a whiplash for a second before sae-byeok continued hooking on her ribs. the collision was rock solid, a satisfying crunch of leather and flesh rang throughout the arena.

her rival didn't back down, however. instead, she pressed forward, forcing the short-haired girl back with low-blows, the rhythm of the fight shifted, both fighters were relentless.

sae-byeok managed to send a punch to her underarm, disabling it from pushing her forward.

the berserk woman stumbled but didn’t fall. Instead, she spat onto the canvas, rolling her jaw with a grim, almost amused smirk.

sweat trickled down sae-byeok's spine. tracing her visible back tattoo. she wasn't going to give up now.

they were now circling each other, the back to back coming to a halt as they put their gloves up, footsteps light and calculated.

sae-byeok watched the expression of the woman creeping before her change, this made her curl her fists inside the gloves tighter. ready for any attack the woman had against her, waiting for the next strike.

the woman took two quick and heavy steps before her arms flailed into the air, ready to knock out the slender girl infront of her.

an opening.

sae-byeok ducked low before her opposition could lay a hand on her, her weight shifting onto her front foot before driving an uppercut right under the crazed woman's jaw, knocking the air out of her and snapping her head back.

with this advantage, sae-byeok gave her a low-blow. making her crash into the plush ground.

3..

2..

1..

the crowds were split in two, the roars of victory overtaking the disappointed, angry sighs and complaints.

sae-byeok sighed deeply, relishing in her triumph before looking back at her rival who was on all floors, clutching her jaw in grimaced pain.

"good game." sae-byeok taunted, her voice low, just for the woman to hear and stare daggers up at her, before spitting on the ground next to her and walking off, wiping away the dried blood on her temple.

the atmosphere at the children's home was.. serene. it was too quiet. too unusual for sae-byeok. she could hear the faint rustling of oak trees outside and the light chirping from house sparrows, circling the air.

she crouched on the small red chair of the visitor's room, her pouty lips were pressed into a line, studying her brother, cheol's mannerisms as he picked on his food, swishing and splashing the miyeokguk with his wooden spork beside her.

"stop doing that will you?.. you know, something's up with you today." sae-byeok doted, brushing off the hair that covered his cheek, revealing a freshly placed bandage.

before sae-byeok could question and pry at her brother for answers, cheol started :

"you went back didn't you?"

"what?"

"to fighting, in the place with bad people in it." cheol reminded sae-byeok. his face was stern and solemn.

"i told you i didn't like seeing you get hurt, and i don't like seeing you hurt others."

her usual apathetic expression quickly turned into a slight frown that shined in the golden haze of the afternoon.

"cheol, i've told you this a million times.. that place.. it gets us the money we need." the short-haired girl ducked to catch her brother's gaze.

when she noticed cheol avoid eye contact with her, she frustratedly ran her slender fingers through her hair.

"cheol." the north-korean cleared her throat, biting and licking on her chapped lips.

"the money that i've earned from today alone.. it could pay for all of this week's meals and necessities. it's a huge sum. if we are able to save up and spend our money wisely, i would be able to get mom out of the north, i'd be able to get you a real home, cheol. you, me, mom."

cheol lifted his gaze from the seaweed soup. his teary eyes caught sae-byeok's tired ones.

"all the kids say that you're lying. that you're just making fake promises." his voice broke, tears started to run down his puffy cheeks.

sae-byeok couldn't believe what his brother was saying, shaking her head frantically before wrapping him in a bear hug.

"don't listen to them. what they say doesn't matter, they don't know the reality of our situation."

sae-byeok could feel her brother shake under her arms. quiet sobs escaping from his quivering lips. her grip on him tightened.

her tough heart saddened at the condition of her brother. echoes of apologies directed to her brother invaded her mind.

"how about we go to that favorite night market of yours? with the kind auntie who sells tteokbokki?" the short-haired girl whispered into his ears, the mention of his favorite dish made him quirk up his head.

the pair were hand in hand. sae-byeok's left hand was holding a folded envelope full of money she had earned from the fight, her opposite hand was intertwined with cheol's tiny hand.

the streets was quieter than usual, a few cars and tour buses had passed by them, the vehicles hummed under the red traffic lights.

sae-byeok admired the horizon as she strolled. you would've thought the gradient afternoon sky was made for a humid, sunny day, but it was freezing outside. a gust of wind past by them, the cold breeze made sae-byeok zip up her jacket close.

the sister-brother duo was quiet throughout the walk to the station, they both enjoyed the silence, however.

the quietness was just a gesture of comfort and reassurance to them.

they entered the sterile looking train station, sae-byeok's boots and cheol's sneakers squeaked at the slippery floor, the noise pierced through the barren entrance of the station.

cheol was curiously admiring the colorful, tattered posters that decorated the station's wall, his eyes following the pattern of colorful posters as they walked.

the trance that cheol was in was interrupted by a long hallway of the train station coming into view beside him. a man walking behind a girl suspiciously close to her.

cheol stopped in his tracks.

the man was dressed in an all black tux, he was following behind the girl, his phone was sneaked right under her skirt.

you instinctively turned your head back, feeling somebody's presence behind you. your weary eyes met with the disgusting face of a man, maybe in his 30s, in a full tux, his saggy eyes bore unto the camera he held under your skirt.

you panicked at the man's action, quickly slapping his phone to the ground, a shatter rang through the narrow hallway.

you stumbled back as you interrogated the man, your expression grimaced.

"ya! what do you think you're doing?!" your grip tightened around your briefcase. your high-pitched yelling startled cheol, who was frantically tugging at sae-byeok.

sae-byeok eventually noticed the scene that was unfolding in the long hallway beside the pair. her eyes narrowed, finding your stiff body, backed against the wall by a drunk businessman. a feeling bubbled up in sae-byeok's chest, an ugly feeling that she's never felt before. her jaw ticked.

"noona, what's wrong with them?" cheol questioned, looking up at his agitated sister.

fear and disgust clawed your skin.

your lips that held a content smile from the great work day you had today turn into a harsh scowl.

"oh baby, don't tell me that you don't like it when i do that." the man slurred, his steps slow and wobbly as he cornered you into the cold walls of the station, kneeing you against the wall.

"go away!? seriously you people are disgusting!" your voice gruff, shoving the man away from you with your hands with a hundred percent of your power.

the force may have made the man stumble back, but it had made him even angrier, he charged towards you.

"crazy bitch!" he barked, gripping your shoulders shoving you aggressively into the wall, making your back arch in pain.

sae-byeok bolted towards the commotion, her face sour.

she stuffed the brown envelope on her hand into the pocket of her bomber jacket, replacing it with her swiss army knife, her grip on it tightened as she flicked it open, the blade reflected the white lights of the station.

her ears rang, drowning out cheol’s shouts as she walked away. each step was deliberate and heavy, the sound of her feet striking the slick floor shifting from a faint squeak to sharp, forceful stomps.

you cowered under the drunk man's grip. shutting your eyes, accepting your fate.

suddenly, you felt the weight of the man that was leaning towards you being lifted off. you gasped for air before frantically averting your gaze to a tall short-haired girl pinning the man down beside you, gripping the collar of his cheap tuxedo with her other hand handling the knife, pressing it under his chin.

"didn't you hear what she said? go away, bastard." sae-byeok's voice grumbled, threatening the sloppy man infront of her. "mess with her, you mess with my knife."

"what is wrong with girls nowadays? i can take on both of you." his croaky voice mocked you.

you were in disbelief, your mouth agape. how could someone be such a disgrace..? you thought.

with that comment, sae-byeok harshly kneed the creep's diaphragm, causing him to spasm. she grasped his shoulder blades before throwing him on the ground, a loud groan escaping his mouth.

you stared in shock at the scene, covering your mouth as you winced at every time the girl landed a punch or a slap on the man.

the man managed to violently strike sae-byeok to the ground, making her lose touch of the blade, the swiss army knife skidded away to the opposite side of the wall.

before the man could kick sae-byeok's curled up frame, you decided to help by throwing in a measly punch on his nose, you felt his cartilage shift at the force of your knuckles on his nose, making his eyes water.

you had never punched anyone before, so with the impact, a jolt of electricity ran throughout your body, making you yelp in pain, your knuckles reddened.

"gosh, that hurts!"

the punch worked, making the man trip over his own foot.

he scoured back on the ground seeing that sae-byeok had already gotten up, eyes firing with rage. the blade held firm on her hand.

sae-byeok kneeled down and reached for the man's head of hair, grasping it, making him lean his head back.

the chilling blade ran through his neck, the force wasn't enough to cut through.

you watched in fear as you saw the kneeled down girl run her knife across the man's neck as he pleaded.

was she actually going to kill him?

you closed your eyes with a heavy sigh when you watched her merely slash the knife on his cheek.

blood dripped down his oily, defined cheekbone as he winced in pain.

"consider this a warning, yeah?" sae-byeok gave him a cold, manic smile. she relished in the fear that gleamed in the man's eyes.

the man nodded frantically before scrambling and picking himself up, retreating to the other side of the station.

"noona!" cheol gasped at the sight of his sister's bloody knife and bruised knuckles. "are you okay?"

you softened at the sight of the little boy running towards the older girl, your gaze travelled upwards to find her face.

your savior.

you couldn't've imagined what would happen if she wasn't there in your defense. your heart swelled with gratitude.

your hands reached for the taller girl's shoulders, "oh my. are you okay? thank you so much for saving—"

you were cut off by the sight of the girl fully ignoring you, her expression turned cold, hastily darting around the corner with her brother.

you were at such a state of confusion that your face scrunched.

what just happened?

you wanted answers to the unsolved mystery of the girl that had saved you. you felt an unfamiliar magnetic pull towards her, it made you trail behind her, your steps light and breezy.

sae-byeok quickly noticed you following her.

the agitated feeling quickly crawled up the back of her neck again, shooting you a look that screamed : leave us alone.

but you were persistent. without a word, you followed her to the faregates. swiping your metro card to whatever place she was going to. strutting past the open gates to continue pursuing her.

cheol looked back at you, slightly worried at the sight of your determined face.

"noona, i think the lady wants to talk to you." he whispered innocently. "is she okay?"

"don't look back, cheol." sae-byeok demanded, her face grim. her subtle walking turned into long strides.

just in time, the train pulled up to the station, waves of people pool out the just barren platform and sae-byeok was quick to enter the last car.

you picked up your pace and pushed your way through the sea of people, stubbornness evident in every step.

you manage to squeeze in the last second before the train doors closed, cramped in a crowd of businessman, high school students and office workers.

you squeezed your way right in front of the tall girl. furrowing your brows as you looked up to her.

she was already staring at you as you make your way to her, her head slightly tilted upwards, expressionless. the little boy hid behind his sister, his tiny hands held the hem of the sleeves of her jacket.

"what was that?" you asked, batting your eyelashes in dismay.

radio silence.

you waved your manicured hands in front of her face. "helloo? you just saved me?"

"it was nothing."

"nothing..? oh right, nothing. now imagine what would've happened to me if you weren't there."

your words made sae-byeok stiff, she loosened the grip she had on her brother. she couldn't imagine what would've happened to you, she seethed at the thought.

you frowned at the change in her expression.

"at least let me thank you, please. where are you guys headed?" you diverted your gaze to the girl's brother, who was shyly peeking out his sister's back.

cheol looked up at sae-byeok, looking for signs he was still cowering behind her.

she gave him a look, signing him to not answer to you. but cheol being cheol, mistook it for the opposite.

"we're going to the.. uh.. street food market." cheol mumbled fixing his puffer jacket that was too big on him.

sae-byeok mentally facepalmed at her brother's response, throwing her head back, before instinctively looking through the train's windows into the abyss.

"gwangjang? the one in jongno district..?" you questioned, earning a nod from the little boy. "i live in that area, please as a sign of gratitude, let me treat you both to lunch!"

cheol looked up at his deeply troubled sister, catching her tired, narrowed eyes.

he had realized his mistake now, pressing his lips into a thin line and hung his head in embarrassment.

she took a deep sigh looking at her moping little brother, pinching her nose bridge, "if we accept would you please leave us alone?.."

"yes! yes, of course, i will get out of your hair." you smiled sweetly from victory, the taller girl's face twitched.

so with that, she looked you dead in the eye before her eyes trailed up and down your body. making you shift in your position.

"whatever." sae-byeok mumbled, too hungry to argue back.

gotcha.

you squealed internally, a wave of relief washed over you.

you turned towards the trains windows, your right hand steadily held the train car handles, you left arm cradled your briefcase, your face brightened up with a satisfied smile, pleased with the short-haired girl's reply.

sae-byeok's head was still turned towards you. observing every inch of you, the way you smiled and hummed to yourself, the way your eyes flickered from the ground then to her brother, the way you lowered your head after sae-byeok finally accepted your offer..

amongst the deep irritation inside of her towards you, there was also a sprinkle of curiosity.

why were you so determined to thank her?.. if sae-byeok was in your shoes, she would've definitely just went back in the comfort of her own home.

the north-korean rolled her eyes, not wanting her thoughts to be clouded with you. instead, she put all of her attention to cheol who was also inquisitively staring at you, furrowing her eyebrows at the sight.

like sister, like brother i guess.

the cold afternoon breeze felt comforting on your skin, even though a piercing silence went on between you and the girl next to you.

cheol skipped ahead of you both, admiring the city scene since he hasn't really had the chance to be in the city ever since he was enrolled in the children's home.

his eyes wandered around the tall buildings, the high-end department stores, worn-down shop houses and hole-in-the-wall fast food stores.

you and sae-byeok strolled right behind the boy. your eyes were fixated at his amazed demeanor, smiling at the heart-warming scene in front of you.

sae-byeok was just bitterly walking in brooding silence, deep in thought.

the silence between you two was awkward, the only thing breaking the ice was cheol's frequent "what's that building?" and "look it's tayo!" commentary.

"what's your name?" you asked gently looking up at sae-byeok, testing the waters. wondering if it's safe enough to ask questions to the stone-cold girl.

"none of your business."

"what? so do you want me to call you blade girl then?" you teased, flicking your hair.

she shot you an annoyed, stern look. "please don't."

"tell me your name then!" you whined, looking at her properly this time. your eyes lost in sae-byeok's brown ones, the shared gaze lingering for a little too long.

the taller girl contemplated, clearing her throat before she tore her eyes away from you, now looking at cheol who was speeding up his pace.

"noona, we're here!"

she looked back at you still waiting for an answer, and instead of giving you what you want, she repositioned herself next to her brother, leaving you asking more questions in your mind.

you entered the market right behind the duo, taking in the vibrant hue of warm lighting. the air was thick with the scent of mouth-watering street food.

the market wasn't as packed as it usually was, but you could see that there was still crowds of people sitting by the stalls, stuffing themselves with comfort food. the hum of conversations blends with the rhythmic chopping of knives and the sizzle of oil.

you followed the pair to a more secluded side of the street food stalls, they stopped to take a seat in a bench in front of a cozy stall, a kind-faced auntie greeted them with such gentleness.

sae-byeok looked at you, she looked hesitant, pressing her lips together before starting.

"can.. can we eat here?"

you were surprised at the sudden vulnerableness the girl had, you would've thought she'd just grab and take whatever she wants, drain out your bank account.

not that the food was that expensive, though.

"yeah.. of course." your voice softened, nodding in assurance before smiling at the boy next to her, "get anything you want, okay?"

cheol's eyes lit up, taking a seat, sandwiched between you and sae-byeok before asking the auntie for the usual and some other dishes.

sae-byeok couldn't lie, but your gesture has brought an excited expression to cheol that she has rarely ever seen, and it tugged on her heartstrings.

sae-byeok nodded in appreciation, "thank you."

"it was nothing." you giggled, mimicking the girl's words from before, earning an awkward, tight-lipped smile from sae-byeok.

you smiled at her sweetly before ordering a twigim platter and a glass of sikhye.

it was humid inside the market, especially in the narrow space you three were crammed in, so you took of your gloomy, grey, cropped work blazer and placed it beside you, on top of your work briefcase.

sae-byeok mimicked your actions, zipping open her bomber jacket, rolling up her black, loose t-shirt's sleeves to reveal her tatted upper arm.

your eyes widened while your cheeks flushed at the sight of the pretty red ink trailing down her arm, the girl's arm flexed as she stretched. a red dragon tattoo wrapped around her biceps, it somewhat matched the short-haired girl.

"i like your tattoo." you commented, wiping your hands with sanitary wipes before using the steel chopsticks to take a bite of tempura seaweed roll.

sae-byeok looked up from her plate of kimbap, her eyes caught yours that was reflecting the gold hue from the single bulb that hung above the stall, before shyly looking down at her arms.

"thank you." she mumbled, tying her hair into a half up half down style.

you nodded, taking a sip of your rice punch. an unfamiliar comfortable silence appeared between the group.

you'd hate to admit, but the raven-haired girl beside you was attractive. you went dry mouth when you saw her jaw tick open, taking a bite of her food. the way her freckled nose twitched at the scent of cheol's tteokbokki being cooked, the way she gave him a delighted slight smirk when he excitedly retrieved the styrofoam plate full with tteokbokki from the auntie.

"excuse me, noona?" cheol looked up at you breaking your trance, his hands hung in the air, holding a spoonful of tteok. the boy was still a tiny bit skeptical about you, but his curiosity pushed him to his limits.

"yes.. uhh?" you trailed off, quirking your eyebrow up.

"cheol.." he hummed, you nodded, "what's inside your bag?"

"oh, my briefcase?" you quipped, shifting to place the briefcase on your lap, clicking the lock open.

the brother-sister duo looked at you curiously with a similar expression on their face. sae-byeok's eyes lingering on you a bit longer as she chewed on her food.

"i study architecture, so i'd have to have my tools with me you know." you smiled, voice like honey.

your hands trailed on the neatly stored scale rulers, cutting knife case and tracing papers.

the pair's eyes followed your hands as you flipped the case over, another section of books and a colorful array of pens and pencils were revealed.

"wow! so many colors.." the little boy gasped in awe.

you giggled at his reaction, finding it cute. you slipped out your thick sketchbook and flip through the pages, bringing it close to cheol so he could see.

"mhm, i also draw from time to time, they're mostly of sceneries around me." you explained gently. sae-byeok took quick glances at you and cheol from time to time, in between bites.

she wondered how cheol was so open to talking to you, he was typically a quiet kid at the children's home, reserved. he kept to himself, if someone insults him, he'd go hard on them.

"i also really like drawing, but i don't think i'm as good as you, noona." he acknowledged. his eyes stuck on a sketch of a stray cat by a tree.

your heart swelled at the compliment, how could someone sweet like cheol have a tough-hearted sister like blade girl? you thought.

"it takes practice, you know. i could teach you if you want." you offered, his mouth curved upwards,

"really? thank you noona.." cheol's eyes crinkled at you before digging into his plate of tteokbokki once again.

the market lights flickered, casting long shadows through the plastic tarps that lined the food stalls.

occasionally, sae-byeok would glance up, as if about to say something, only to decide against it, instead nudging a piece of her kimbap towards you.

you eyed it for a moment before taking it without a word. a silent acceptance.

sae-byeok could feel her guard slipping away from her every second, but she rebuilt that wall over and over again throughout the evening.

the afternoon turned evening turned in to a warm conversation, mostly between you and cheol about your shared interest of drawing, cheol's dream of going to a public school and all of "your favorite.."s

"what's your favorite insect, noona?" cheol asked innocently.

"do you seriously want me to answer that?"

sae-byeok also joined the conversation when you asked where'd she learn self defense from, you were clearly amazed on how she handled the creep the way she did.

"so.. where did you learn how to fight like that?" you queried, swishing a prawn tempura around the styrofoam plate.

sae-byeok nudged cheol, giving him a stony glare. his mouth was already opened wide to answer the question for her but he was quickly reminded of his place, so he slumped back into his seat before he stole a single kimbap from sae-byeok's plate.

"i..i do taekwondo."

you raised your eyebrow at the odd interaction of the two strangers, but quickly shrugged it off.

to you,

there was no need to fill the space with words.

the warmth of the meal, the quiet sounds of chopsticks clinking against bowls, the soft presence of a brother and sister duo who wasn’t asking for much—

it was enough.

you thought about why did you insist on having lunch with them for a second as you sipped the remnants of your sikhye and realized that you're having the sweet indirect family time you've always longed for.

the simple act of sharing food—none of it was grand or dramatic, but it filled a space inside you that had always been empty.

you have been dismissed by your parents your whole life, they say it's to train your independence skills but that clearly did nothing.

instead, it made you deprived of social.. heck, any interaction.

but being next to the mysterious girl you had deemed your savior and her adorable little brother, they simply existed beside you, allowing you to take up space by answering your questions without asking for anything in return. they'd even spark up conversations of their own.

you stared down at your empty cup, tracing the rim with your thumb.

“thanks,” you murmured, barely above a whisper.

sae-byeok looked up, chopsticks pausing mid-air, her face still stuffed. "for what?"

you hesitated, then shrugged. "for not telling me to shut up."

she blinked, then snorted softly, her tough exterior breaking for a second. “you barely talk.”

"no, i know, it's just.." you let out a breathy laugh, trailing off.

sae-byeok shared a silent understanding that you didn't want to continue with the subject of the conversation, going back to her food, the corner of her lips twitched up ever so slightly.

"kang sae-byeok."

"hm?"

"my name."

"oh." you muttered, nodding your head, trying to fight the excitement that burned in your chest at the sound of her name.

"kang sae-byeok." you repeated, testing her name on the tip of your tongue.

the sun began to set in the horizon, the air had grown colder, crisp enough that you unrolled the sleeves of your blouse, letting the last traces of warmth from the meal linger in your chest.

sae-byeok stood up first, letting cheol intertwine his fingers with hers.

"we should go. he has curfew." the short-haired girl mumbled, "thank you.. for the food."

you nodded, remembering how cheol talking about how he was staying at a children's home while sae-byeok worked.

sae-byeok bowed lowly first, cheol following shortly after.

"ah~ no need to thank me so formally, besides, you saved my ass back then." you shook your head, deep inside, you wished time would stretch just a little longer.

"thank you, noona! i hope we can play again." cheol gave a shy smile, waving his hands.

"see you, cheol." your voice softened at the sight of cheol, waving.

sae-byeok wrapped her arm around her little brother, before looking back for the last time, pausing.

"you should head home."

you huffed out a quiet laugh. “are you worried about me now?”

she didn’t answer immediately, just glanced at you, her expression unreadable beneath the market's glow. then, with a small shake of her head, she turned. “goodnight.”

it was just one, singular word. but it held weight, something unspoken hung in the air—an acknowledgment that the time spent between three strangers together mattered.

you watched as the pair merged in to the crowd of visitors.

you sighed softly before turning your heels towards the other direction, disappearing to the night yourself. the loneliness you had grown so used to didn’t feel quite as heavy tonight.

maybe you weren't as alone as you thought.

[pleasantboatpress]

Tarnished Gold by @primtheamazing / prim_the_amazing

Becoming emperor of the cultivation world will start with a first step as small and basic as becoming Head Disciple of Huan Hua Palace. For that, he must steal the position away from the current Head Disciple. Luo Binghe will sabotage, upstage, and completely and utterly best him. The road to destroying everything and everyone who has ever wronged him, to becoming the highest ruler so that no one will ever have the right to control him ever again - it will start as simply as ruining Gongyi Xiao’s life. Compared to everything else he’s already done, this should be easy. - Luo Binghe brings all his skills of cunning and brutality to bear on Gongyi Xiao, Head Disciple of Huan Hua Palace Sect. It… doesn’t go too well for him.

title/chapter numbers/drop caps: Almendra body text/page numbers/headers: Ibarra Real Nova

118,837 words | 342 pages

First of all I really want to say thank you to the author for such a wonderful fic, it was both my first big fic I read in the fandom, AND it is the reason that I have been absolutely CONSUMED for the last 9 months or so reading SVSSS fic. I enjoyed this fic so much when I first read it that I reread it not even a month later, and bc of that I really wanted to do it justice ❣️ it is suchhh a good Luo Binghe character study!

For the design I really wanted to try out some things, so I used my foil quill pen to foil the chapter heads. For the edge decoration, I tried out painting the edges using this Glenn Malkin youtube video which while very satisfying with the finished product, it is also quite disheartening if you don't sand enough. I went up to 1500 grit to get the edges looking good. I would really like to thank @copticcowgirl a whole bunch for all the hand-holding and cheerleading she did, along with all the tips she so readily gave. I really appreciated it. I made my cameo do the hard work for me by cutting out the lotus design on the back cover and the little goldfish on the front using some gold paper and marbled paper, respectively. The front is representative of the important scenes in the fic that take place near the goldfish pond, and the back is for the golden medallion one of the key players in the fic wears.

I had fun designing it! And then after designing it, I procrastinated 5 months on making it and despite the fact that literally every step was a struggle I am very proud of this book ahh! This copy was gifted to the author, and I am very keen to make my own copy. Probably in a couple months time haha. Thank you so much for the fic, prim!!!!

[handlemehyuck]

ohmygod 🥺 printing this out to hang up on my bedroom wall. thank you so much 🥺🥺 i’m listening to hold on as i write this. it’s a song i’ve never heard before, but i’m loving it. it’s def my style and feels well aligned with this piece, so thank you for the beautiful rec 🤍

it makes me so happy to read what you liked about this piece and everything that stood out to you, especially how i chose to build the environment yet still feeling grounded despite the minimal details.

i’ll always include consent in any fic with physical intimacy i ever write. i see so much beauty in that moment. i look forward to writing it in more ways, and i’ll always find it incredibly sexy too.

originally, it was titled golden hours. my friend and i had a conversation about the kind of lover we think jeno and jaemin will be. they brought it down to two simple lines for each man, and my final title happens to be my friend’s line for jeno. it resonated with me, and i’m fascinated by the way one chooses to metabolize feelings—how they work through them and shed the weight. i’m fascinated by the need and desire for help but having a hard time asking for it. i love the idea of having an attentive partner who wants to help and turn it into something pleasurable—take that ball of stress and sculpt it into something beautiful and intimate, fun and sexy, connective, euphoric.

the title does have a dark hue, and i actually wondered if it wasn’t the right choice at first, but it spoke to me—made more sense than golden hours.

thank you again for this detailed response. it brought me so much joy 🥹✨✨

take what you need from me . lee jeno

・❥・ cockwarming (reader falls asleep during) + light fingering 18+ mdni fluff, stress relief, jeno x female reader 1.2k

thinking about cockwarming with boyfriend jeno, and its presence in your nighttime routine—the hints he receives in texts throughout the day, and that’s how this all started: your stress.

one evening, the energy that joined your arrival back home weighed down your shoulders, clouded your gaze, and kept your lips in a tight line when you approached your boyfriend after kicking off your shoes. so he took your hand, led you to your bedroom, and started undressing. every article of clothing shed enhanced the light in your eyes, straightening your posture with intrigue. when he was naked and perched on the edge of your bed, his fingertips flicked the buttons of your blouse, “may i?” the permission was easy—immediate, and he began undressing you slowly, taking his time, each movement made with care; there was no need to rush. once you were naked too, he leaned forward to kiss the stripe of skin beneath your breasts, squeezing your waist as the gentle ministration started the heavy task of clearing your head.

“i want to try something.” you watched with curiosity and awe as jeno pushed himself back until he was leaning against the headboard, muscles flexing, slivers of sunshine brushing his skin in a perfect glow. your lips parted at the sight, instinctually moving forward and taking his outstretched hand. you knew what this was. you had mentioned it before, when you were on his lap in the living room. it was a sunday night, serenity in the air and you half-dressed after a shower. he didn’t bat an eye, said you should try it while tracing your delicate lines of ink, wondered aloud if you already had. only a couple of times. with the wrong person, but a seed of something was still planted: closeness—a complete union.

your knees sink into the mattress, distance closing as you approach his waist, cock hard against his taut stomach, but his eyes are gentle and soft. jeno smiles at you, something reassuring as your legs widen to accommodate the width of his thighs. a guiding hand placed on your hips as you sink down.

the stretch is familiar. his hands on your thighs are warm. your locked gazes send a chill down your spine. for a moment, all you do is watch each other, feeling his length exactly where you want it, loving the warm buzz of need but knowing you won’t give in. you tilt your head, eyes closing as the waves of sweet euphoria lap at the edges of your mind, begging for a total flood. jeno draws you closer. your chests collide. your head dips, lips meeting his skin, grazing his neck, and sucking your favorite spot behind his ear—the place that always pulls a delicious sound from his lips. his strong arms hold you in a soft possession, fingertips kneading over your shoulders and down your back, searching for the spot that wakes you up in the middle of the night.

the feeling of your body going slack in his arms is electrifying because jeno knows what it means—how significant it is to be trusted completely, reminded of a moment so early on it feels like a lifetime ago when he told you: take what you need from me. he remembers the surprise that shifted your features. it widened your eyes, parted your lips, and warmed your cheeks. in that moment, his words meant a million things. neither one of you could know exactly where they’d begin and where they’d end, if anywhere at all. in the moments you feel like you’re taking too much, all jeno experiences is satisfaction and safety in your heart as the man you decided was worth letting in, letting yourself be known by, letting yourself connect with, and fall and tumble into something so intertwined you don’t doubt it’s cosmic.

jeno knows you’ve fallen asleep and readjusts himself ever so slightly, propping up another pillow behind him before closing his own eyes to focus on the rise and fall of your chest. the beat he feels against his own is recognized by his heart, and his breath matches yours.

you wake up to the sound of your name mumbled against your skin, an apologetic tone. “baby, i’m so sorry. i’ve got to piss.”

you hum, amused and start to lift yourself, but jeno stops you, catching you in a blissful kiss. his thumb teases the side of your breast, hardening your nipples. no fair. when he pulls away, you kiss his nose and finally disconnect with a sigh. one that melts into his own.

he’s still taking his time, and you lay propped up on your side to admire all of his solid lines, finding the soft and round places with ease. “are you sure you have to pee?”

“my leg’s asleep.” his smile is lazy, eyes shrinking to crescents. a light laughter follows, spilling a similar glow to the sun’s throughout your bedroom, its light gone until morning.

“should i stab it with a pen?” his expression sends you into giggles, and you settle for gentle squeezes along his quad muscle. “not my jen, i could never.” you fall onto your stomach and pepper kisses just above his knee. “better?” jeno hums, encouraging you to keep going.

you kiss his body until jeno stops you, groaning about the damn bathroom again, knowing his hard on will create an unfortunate struggle. “don’t go anywhere.” like you ever would.

you coo loudly, embarrassing him as he waddles through your closet and into the attached bath. “shut up!”

you turn to lay flat on your back, drawing a fingertip up your abdomen and through the valley between your breasts, completely immersed in euphoria. “don’t you dare come back in here without washing your hands.”

“who do you think i am?” the faucet turns on for a full 30 seconds - yes, you count them - before your boyfriend is back and standing over your body. he admires you: the curves he’d recognize with his eyes closed, your blissful expression, the swell of your chest, faint bruises from the weekend decorating your hip. “should we make love, baby?”

“please,” his thumb traces your lips, and you watch his face with wide eyes, eager not to miss a thing.

“you always ask so nicely, doll.”

“jen,” you moan as he pops his thumb into your mouth. your tongue circles it on instinct, satisfied, he draws it out. “please don’t make me wait.”

“i wasn’t going to,” he kisses your nose and then your forehead. sinking into the mattress, his knees entrap you this time. his thumb is coated in your saliva, not that he needs the help—your folds are already soaked. “mmm, always ready for me too.”

“you make it easy, jen.” you squirm beneath him, close to steering his thumb exactly where you need it.

he’s being playful, knowing there’s hours ahead of this, and you’ll be orgasmic until the sun rises. it’s one of the reasons why he has a thing about middle of the night lovemaking. he can only see so much of you in the moonlight. the shadows are exciting, lines of light find you in the lewdest places. but, his favorite part is watching you clarify—his love all over you as the sun stretches and yawns before you’re completely coated in light. light that sticks to your swollen lips, messy hair, bruised skin, the place where your bodies intertwine, his hand around your neck, your eyelids fluttering when his name is the only thing left to say because you know it makes him cum.

[bloomstream]

just saw your cheerleader x bhna boys and 🤯🤯 I LOVE ITT

could you do this but with musical theatre reader and maybe add shinso?? 💗🤗

⋆˚࿔ behind the spotlight

— includes : kirishima, kaminari, sero, & shinsou (in that order)

𓂃　♪　𓈒 cw: mostly gn!reader but eiji and denki say girlfriend once, fluff, established relationship, babe and baby used

𓂃　★ 𓈒 a/n: thank u for the request anon! i’ll take this as a sign to never exclude shinsou again lolol so i added a little extra for u shinsou fans

⋆˚࿔ e.kirishima

eijiro is your biggest fan, making you feel like a mainstream actor. when you tell him you landed the lead role in newest musical, he seemed to be more excited than you! “i know you could do it, you’re the best!”

eijiro acts like your manager—a super nice one of course—he helps you rehearse your lines and guides you through warming up your voice.

he comes to every rehearsal he can make it too. eijiro cheers for you and your peers. your peers actually love him, how could they not? stage crew like to use him to carry and lift things, he enjoys doing these things knowing they help you in the long run.

secretly memorizes all the songs (and learns the meaning behind each of them) you’re singing so he won’t only be watching but also understanding.

his favorite musical is legally blonde! he thinks it’s super fun and elle woods quickly becomes his new inspiration.

on opening night, he gives you a bouquet of flowers before you go and stage. even in a rush he can’t help but encourage you, “can’t wait to see you on stage baby, i’m so excited.”

he is cheesing in the front row seats, his eyes not leaving you for a single second. he’s the first one standing when the show is over, clapping as the curtains come to a close.

“you were so good!” he engulfs you in a bear hug and you laugh. he is also brought to tears when he sees your glowing face, you’re like a real-life star and he gets to live in your glory.

after another bouquet of flowers and a million praises, he finally takes you home.

for the next three week he’s singing non-stop, the songs from the musical stuck in his head.

⋆˚࿔ d.kaminari

denki doesn’t know much about musical theater but after watching your first performance he finds that it’s his new eye candy.

when you tell him you landed the lead role denki grins, “what do i always say? my girlfriend is crazy talented!” his arm is draped around your shoulder. he pulls you closer, leaning down to kiss your cheek, “you’re gonna do amazing, i know it.”

tries his best to help you rehearse but gets distracted. “wait so, she has a crush on her sister's husband? that’s fucked up man.” even with his confusion he still manages to be super into the drama of it all.

denki lets you practice your stage makeup on him and is actually excited when you ask him to. thought by the end of it, he’s unsure, “are my cheeks supposed to be that… pink?”

would lose his mind if you had to do an onstage kiss. “can’t you just high-five instead! i mean you don’t have to kiss!” he says while he crosses his arm, practically pouting.

his favorite musical is heathers, no explanation needed. spongebob is a close second.

has tried to help backstage once but accidentally bumped into a switch and caused a power outage. the stage crew has been a little more cautious around him after that.

arrived to your show right as it starts so he can’t see you face to face until after the show, he’s devastated about this.

runs backstage as soon as the curtains fall, screaming. “BABE! YOU DID GREAT OUT THERE!” crushing you in a hug. he pulls back to hand you some flowers, the bouquet looking a bit shabby because he got fidgety during the show. “you're a star, should sign with broadway.” he teases as he walks you out.

denki somehow convinced the other theater kids to have an after party. so you spend the night celebrating with your boyfriend who makes this accomplishment feel special.

he may have auditioned for the next show to surprise you but didn’t get the role so he never told you about it.

⋆˚࿔ h.sero

hanta acts chill, but in the inside, he is amazed on how you keep on becoming more and more perfect, “lead role? holy shit babe that’s huge!” he brings you close and ruffles your hair “looks like i got an actor on my hands now.” he teases.

hanta is an absolute sweetheart, but he’s no actor. “oh no, how could you do this to me. i’m in completely despair.” he reads off the script with not a single hit of emotion behind his words. he then looks up with you with a grin, “did i do it good?” he’s trying his best to help you.

if you have a dance-heavy role he’ll joke about being jealous of your dance partner (he is not joking, he is jealous). he offers to help you practice dancing; this is mostly for his own pleasure.

tried to harmonize with you once but his voice cracked. hasn’t attempted to sing again since that day.

adds little encouraging doodles in the margins of your script. some with encouraging messages like, “you got this superstar!” others are… not so encouraging “i should’ve been cast as your super hot and cool love interest.”

got banned from watching your rehearsals because he would cheer every time you said your lines and boo everytime your love interest spoke. (denki was there supporting—booing—too)

his favorite musical was matilda, but after finding out that it’s originally british he changed it to mamma mia. now he can’t help but cry whenever he hears slipping through my fingers.

brings you chocolates and flowers on opening night. gives you a forehead kiss before you go on stage. “i’m might be more nervous than you,” he lets out an airy laugh and you end up having to comfort him. “break a leg!” he says as you walk off, his voice still weary.

he pretends to be causal when he sees you preform for the first time but how could he? you were perfect in every way and so impossible to ignore.

“you are so awesome.” is all he can say when you come off the stage. he is absolutely starstruck. he pulls you a long hug because he is just so freaking proud of you.

⋆˚࿔ h.shinsou

hitoshi is a part of the tech/backstage crew for the theater. he’s seen all the shows and actors before. so it comes to no surprise to him when you tell him you got the lead role, knowing how good you are. “of course you got the lead baby, you’re the best actor here.” he almost laughs at your modesty.

you both being theater heads leads to a lot of helping each other out! arriving at the theater early to help him prepare the stage speakers while you warm up your voice.

hitoshi is ecstatic when you ask him to adjust your mic or move the lights. he’ll take any chance he can to help you out.

if you’re alone in the theater rehearsing, hitoshi sometimes likes to mess with you through the intercom “that’s not how you said the line last time!” he calls out. you didn’t even know he was watching you.

lets you ruffle his hair and mess with his headset.

maybe the other actors don’t know it, but the stage crew does. hitoshi makes sure the stage crew never hears the end of your achievements. he doesn’t even mean to, he just finds himself commenting on your performance.

“she’s really good at that.” he watches from backstage with a smile, speaking to no one in particular.

“be careful with that set piece, my girlfriend is on stage.” he says it deadpan, but eveyone knows he’s serious.

his favorite musical is the addams family, obviously.

consoles in izuku about color theory so he can learn what color stage lights will match best with your skin tone.

you get ready for opening night together. he zips up your costume and you tighten his tie. he gives you flowers and a high quality pair of sheer tights, you almost propose to him right there.

hitoshi is happy he has the pleasure of watching you backstage, seeing you from an angle no one else is.

you stand next to each other when the show is over, and the time comes to bow for the crowd. he doesn’t let go of your hand when the curtain drops. before you can even open your mouth to ask, he speaks “perfect, fucking perfect.” he praises as guides you into a gentle kiss.

[littlefireball]

ʏʜ|[ᴍ]|ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪʙʀᴀʀʏ

ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍɪᴄ ʀɪᴠᴀʟ ʏᴜɴʜᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ|ɴᴏ ᴘʟᴏᴛ|ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ|ᴏʀᴀʟ (ꜰ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇᴅ)|ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴜʀʙᴀᴛɪᴏɴ|ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴇx

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.2ᴋ

You tiptoed and stretched your arm to grab the book perched on the top shelf. Ugh, no matter how hard you tried, it just wouldn't budge. Out of nowhere, a hand swooped in and snagged the book. You turned to face the last person you wanted to see—your rival, Jeong Yunho.

You really couldn't stand him. The way he always loved to mess with you was so annoying. It felt like he never had to put in any effort to study. You could hit the books for days, and he'd still end up with the same score after just an hour of cramming. Even when you managed to outscore him, you knew he'd come back and ace the next test, leaving you in the dust. Sometimes, it felt like he intentionally flunked just to see you happy, only to surprise you later with a killer score. It was like you were just a plaything to him.

"Need that book too?" you asked, pouting and crossing your arms.

"Not really, but it looks like you do," he said with a smirk as he handed it to you. You could tell he was just looking for a chance to mess with you. Hesitating, you reached for the book, but he suddenly lifted it above his head.

"That's not very fun," he said, placing the book back on the shelf, just out of your reach.

"You…!!"

"What? Can't get it?" He laughed, clearly enjoying your frustration.

You huffed and shot him a glare, knowing he'd never pass up a chance to get under your skin.

"I'll just go find a ladder!"

Yunho couldn't help but chuckle as he watched you march off to find a ladder. You were always easily riled up, and he found it amusing how you seemed to get even more annoyed when he played his little games. He leaned against the bookshelf, his smirk never leaving his face. 

Sure enough, a few moments later, you were back, lugging a tall ladder behind you. Yunho watched you set it up, trying to climb up to reach the book while also not making it too obvious that he wanted to see you struggle a bit longer.

His gaze drifted towards your legs for a brief moment, admiring the small glimpse of skin that was revealed as you climbed. He quickly snapped his gaze back up, though, not wanting to be caught staring. Yunho chuckled silently at the thought of you getting even more irritated if you knew. 

"Be careful, you may fall off, you know?" 

"I'm perfectly capable of climbing a ladder, thank you very much." You rolled your eyes, trying your best to maintain your composure but failing miserably. 

"Really?Because it looks like…" He stepped closer, his face was an inch near your thigh. "You might fall any minute now," he teased, his smirk growing wider as he noticed the small slip in your step. 

"I'm…I am not.." "Is it?" You suddenly felt Yunho's hand on your thigh, and the contact sent a shiver up your spine. You looked down at him, a smirk on his lips. 

"What're you doing?" you asked, your voice a little more shaky than you intended. 

"Just making sure you don't fall." He said in a sly tone, his grip on your thigh tightening ever so slightly. 

His touch caused you tensed up, and you tried your best to stay focused on reaching  the book on the top shelf. Although, you couldn't deny the way his grip on your thigh was making your heart race. 

His hand slowly moved further up your thigh, inching towards your inner thigh. You couldn't help but inhale sharply as he was toying the hem of your panties, gently tugging at  the fabric as if testing its limits. He kept his gaze fixed on your face, watching as the mixture of frustration and desire flickered across your features. 

You gripped the ladder tightly, trying to steady yourself against his touch and control the heat that was building within you. 

"Stop that…"

"Why? You seem to be enjoying it." He laughed a bit, his grip only tightening as he leaned even closer, dropping a soft kiss on your skin. 

"I'm not…enjoying it…" you bit your lips, trying your best to suppress your moan. 

"Your body seems to disagree. I can feel the heat radiating off of you," He moved even closer, his hand slowly sliding higher up to your panties. "Just admit it." Without a warning, he pulled down your panties, a sharp inhale escaped your lips as the cold hit your core. 

Yunho's head finds its way between your thighs, his hot breath sending jolts of pleasure through your body. He looks up at you with a devilish gleam in his eyes, his smirk replaced by a more intense expression. 

"Mmm, you taste even sweeter than I imagined," he murmured. His tongue teased your entrance, licking and exploring every inch of you, never letting up the pressure. A soft, involuntary moan let out from your lips as your grip on the ladder tightened, your knuckles turning white and your toes curled in your shoes. 

"Don't…don't you dare…"

"Or what?" 

"I…ah~" 

Your words were cut off as he swirled his tongue around your most sensitive spot, his movement slow and deliberate. A moan left your mouth, you could feel his movement become more urgent and purposeful. He explored every part of you, flattering his tongue to skim over your core and making sure no juices drip on the floor. 

He continued to tease you and tantalize you with his tongue, but then his fingers suddenly found their way to your entrance, gently sliding in with an ease that took you by surprise. You let out a gasp as he slowly moved his fingers rhythmically and precisely, as he knew exactly what to do to drive you wild. 

"You're so tight, and so wet," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Just wait and see what I have in store for you." His fingers continued their exploration, moving with a tantalizingly slow pace that was both infuriating and absolutely pleasurable. 

You felt your body responding, arching towards him involuntarily, your grip on the bar tightening as you let out a whimper.

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp for air, and he chuckled softly against your thigh. He was enjoying the way you were reacting to him, and it only fueled his desire to drive you over the edge. With each push and pull, his fingers continued to work their magic, while his mouth latched onto your most sensitive spot, sucking and teasing with a fervor that left you reeling. 

It was a sensory overload, the combination of his fingers and his tongue licking and swirling, sending you to the brink. You tried to speak, to say anything, but all that came out were incoherent moans and whimpers. The tension was building within you, the pressure mounting until you were at the breaking point. Just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he suddenly stopped, causing a frustrated whine to leave your lips.

"Beg." His voice was firm, commanding. He knew he had you right where he wanted you. 

"Please…Please don't stop. I need you. I need more." 

He let out a low chuckle, satisfied with your response. "That's a good girl," He was enjoying every moment of he had you completely in his power. 

"You want more, huh?" 

"Yes…please…more…I need you…" 

"Good girl…" He murmured against your ears. "You know what comes next." 

He withdrew his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and wanting. But then you felt something else taking their place – hot, wet, and oh so good. It took you a moment to realize what it was, his tongue sliding inside you, exploring and teasing. He made a quick tap on your entrance, his tip touching everywhere to send electricity through your whole body. 

"Oh…oh gosh…Yunho…it's too much…" 

"Shut up." He alternated between broad, slow strokes and quick, darting movements, driving you wild with pleasure. You were teetering on the edge, your toes curling in your sneakers as the sounds of your breath, heavy and ragged, echoed through the hallway.

"Fuck…I can't hold it…" Yunho was completely aroused at this point, his own breaths coming in ragged gasps as he continued to focus all his attention on pleasuring you. He was rock hard, his member straining against his pants, the fabric doing little to hide the erection. 

Without breaking contact with you, he suddenly pulled back, his hands going to his pants and quickly undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. He lifted his hips to slide his pants and his underwear down, revealing his big, long cock. 

He grabbed your shoulder to flip you over, now you were sitting with your legs wide open in front of his face. Your clit was swollen and reddened because of his rough move and he clearly enjoyed the sight. 

Yunho captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting more of his touch, more of his taste. He parted from the kiss, kneeling back down to your clit to kiss it. Your back arched from his touch, burying your hands in his hair to push him deeper. He let out a small smirk as he felt the grip on his hair tightened each time his fingers collided with your sweet spot. One of his hands reached down to his hardened cock, circling the tip with pre-cum and starting to rub himself. 

"Hm…hm~" The more friction he applied on his cock, the more moan he spit out. Each vocalization caused vibrations that drove you insane and almost the edge of brink. 

"Yunho…yu…more…I need more." You gasped out. A little more and you could come.

Suddenly, you two heard the sound of footsteps echoing in the distance, growing louder and closer with each passing moment. You froze, pulling Yunho to leave from your clit. "Stop…stop it…" But no matter how harsh you tugged him, he remained unmoved, still eating you out like a last meal and jerking himself off. 

"Yunho…ah~stop…" 

"You're too loud."  He covered your mouth with his hand, muffling your moan as he kept going. His heart raced and jumped like a thump, the sight of being caught causing him anxiety but excited him at the same time. He had to make it quick, not until you both came. 

"Come, now." He abruptly gave you a hard bite on your thigh, that one small pain was enough to send you over the edge. Your body convulsed as you experienced the most intense orgasm you had never felt. "Fuck…" he whispered against your clit as your juices soaked his nose and mouth, making him completely mess but also bringing him to the climax. His face left your core, looking down at his cock while jerking off with a high speed. "Damn it…ahh~" With a long throaty moan, he came on your stomach, soaking your shirt with his hot sperm. 

Yunho quickly straightened himself, pulling up his pants and underwear, while you hurried to fix your clothes and sit up straight, trying to look decent. But your legs gave out, and you lost your balance, tumbling off the ladder. Thankfully, Yunho was there to catch you just as someone entered the hallway.

"Ooh~~ what's going on here?" It was San, Yunho's friend and the librarian, looking both surprised and amused at the sight of you two so close together.

"Nothing! I just… lost my balance, and Yunho caught me," you said, forcing a smile while Yunho nodded awkwardly.

"Seriously?" San raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah… the book was just too high up…" you replied, trying to mask your anxiety.

"Yah…" Yunho added, helping you back onto the ladder. San looked skeptical but eventually nodded and went on his way. "Just be careful next time."

Yunho let out a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair as he shot you a sideways glance. "That was a close call," he said, sounding relieved. "We should probably leave before we end up in another awkward situation." You agreed, still trying to regain your composure.

"But hey… we're not finished yet…" He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist to steady you as he helped you down from the ladder.

"What…" He leaned in closer, pressing against you, clearly still aroused.

"I think there's an empty locker room next to the library?"

"Huh… wait—" Before you could finish your thought, he scooped you up and carried you to the empty locker room.

—--

San was making his rounds in the library as it was nearing closing time. He paused in the hallway when he spotted you two close together. His expression shifted to concern as he noticed something white on the floor.

"What the heck is that…?"

He approached, kneeling down to get a better look. It appeared sticky, and combined with the expressions on your faces…

"Wait… wait… WAIT!!!" He couldn't believe what he was seeing.  "WHAT THE FUCK YOU JEONG YUNHO!!!"

—--

Yunho let out a sudden sneeze, and you shot him a worried glance. "Are you feeling cold?" "Nah, I'm fine…" You both exchanged smiles, and he leaned in to kiss you, gently pushing his member into you. 

tag list: @angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615, @monsta-x-jagi

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter VI

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 8.928 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW (p in v, unprotected, implied m!masturbation); Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

OMG Bonnie what is that? A JJ chapter? Yeah, maybe I went insane. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

JJ takes a slow step forward, his shoulders rolling back, his fingers still coiled tight around the handlebars of his bike. There’s a heat rolling off of him, a barely contained energy that makes your stomach twist.

His gaze drifts over to you. The rage burning through his eyes as he climbs down, drifting through Rafe’ arms, how they wrap around you, how close he’s holding you to him. – What’s going on, huh? – His voice is taught, barely restrained. You think of the hiss a rattlesnake makes before pouncing, the barely restrained violence simmering under each sound. – What are you doing here?

– I could ask you the same thing, Maybank. – Rafe hums. You call his name, trying to reel him back before it gets dangerous, but he seems entertained more than anything. – We’re a little far from the salvation army. Not much for you to do around here.

– Rafe!

The kook holds your hand to his chest when you push him, smiling down at you like it’s the funniest thing in the world. – I’m just having a little fun with him, that’s all.

– Get off of her, Rafe.

He’s looking at you with a focus that’s never a good sign, but don’t miss the way his eyes flick to where Rafe’s hand still lingers at your waist. The moment stretches, thick with the weight of his anger, but you can’t bring yourself to move first.

Rafe doesn’t bother hiding his grin. If anything, it grows, slow and deliberate, like this is the most fun he’s had all night. – Why? You scared she won’t come back when she realizes there’s more to life than being leeched off of by her brother’s friends?

– Rafe, this isn’t funny.

– JJ must think it is, it’s the only thing he does well. – Rafe drawls, tilting his head as he finally steps back from you—but not without dragging his fingers along your side, a pointed reminder. – Right, JJ?

JJ’s lips press into a thin line. His fingers flex around the handlebars, his nostrils flaring as he exhales hard through his nose. His gaze cuts to you now, sharp and demanding. – What the hell are you doing with this asshole?

His voice grates you. Every word echoing in your head like nails on a chalkboard.

– This is none of your business, JJ.

He doesn’t even pretend to hear you. – Kie told me what happened at work. We were all worried about you.

You open your mouth, but Rafe hums before you can speak, stepping in again, loose and easy, barely putting in effort but still commanding all the space between you. – Worried? Were you worried that you’re finally gonna have to get a job and deal with your own shit?!

– You don’t know what you’re talking about, okay?! Shut the fuck up!

– Or what? Are you gonna freeload off of me too?

JJ moves before you can stop him. His bike crashes to the pavement as he lunges, fists already clenched, fury twisting his face. Rafe barely shifts, like he’s been expecting this all along, like he’s been waiting for the moment he can finally push JJ over the edge.

– THIS SHIT ISN’T ABOUT YOU RAFE!

You step in fast, hands catching JJ’s arm before he can swing, your pulse hammering. – JJ, don’t. Fuck off. Don’t fucking do this right now.

– He’s the one who needs to fuck off! We’re talking right now, it’s none of his fucking business! – His breath is ragged, his muscles stiff under your grip. But Rafe just grins, smug and taunting, eyes alight with something dark. – Tell him to go away.

– You can’t tell me that yourself? Is that how much of a bitch you are, JJ?

JJ lunges, nearly pushing you into the asphalt by mistake. Rafe’s the one that catches you, his hand steadying you as you hold JJ back. – LET GO OF ME!

– JJ step the fuck back, I’m not even kidding you.

– He started it!

Rafe whistles lowly, laughing just under his breath as his arm wraps around you again. – Your brother really knows how to pick them, doesn’t he?

– Not helping, Rafe.

– I’m just trying to enjoy myself while you talk him down from his tantrum. I’m great.

– Stop fucking talking to her like that!

– Or what? You gonna hit me? – He muses, tilting his head, like the thought actually amuses him. – Go ahead, man. Take your shot. I bet it’ll feel real good.

JJ’s jaw tightens, his arm twitching under your hold. You can feel the war inside him, the barely restrained urge to throw that punch, to finally give Rafe the fight he’s clearly asking for.

But you don’t let go.

And JJ doesn’t swing.

For a second, the only sound is the thick silence between you.

Then Rafe sighs, exaggerated and disappointed. – Shame, – He mutters, stepping back, shaking his head like JJ’s let him down. – I was really hoping you’d play along, JJ. It’s been what? A week since you last got arrested? Has it ever been so long? I bet they’re missing you down at the station.

He flashes a grin at you, sharp and knowing, before brushing past, hands moving over your back like he owns you. – Y’know what, baby? We should really get going. I’m getting kinda bored.

– You’re out of your fucking mind if you think she’s going anywhere with you.

– JJ. – You warn, but he doesn’t seem to hear you.

– She came here with me, buddy. Maybe you wanna look around you. – He glances at you, blue eyes gleaming as he takes you by the arm. – C’mon. It’s getting late, right? Your brother’s probably struggling to figure out the oven right now.

– You don’t know what the fuck your talking about. – JJ growls.

– You’re gonna go home with this pogue? –The question comes out in a hum, almost condescendingly. His laughter thrills up your spine like a shiver of fear. – You’re gonna let him strongarm you like this?

You swallow, breathing in deep.

Rafe’s grip on your arm tightens, fingers warm against your skin, but you don’t move. His smirk twitches—just barely—before he tilts his head, watching you with curiosity, even if the smile he’s giving you doesn’t seem too pleased.

JJ notices too. He exhales sharply, barely holding himself together. – You’re not leaving with him.

His voice is low, coarse. And he’s clinging, moving his arms within your hold like a whiny kid. But it’s not a plea. It’s a demand.

Rafe hums under his breath, low and pleased, like this is all going exactly how he wanted. – She’s not staying for you, JJ. – He flicks his gaze over, like he’s looking at something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. – You have John B’s useless ass to thank for her not leaving with me right now.

JJ clenches his jaw so tight you swear you hear his molars crack. – Shut the fuck up, Rafe.

Rafe grins, slow and knowing. – I will if she makes me. Right, baby? Maybe you can give me a goodnight kiss before I go.

JJ takes a step forward, but you press a hand to his chest, stopping him. He seethes, nostrils flaring, but you shake your head. – Just go, Rafe. Please. – Your voice isn’t sharp—it’s tired, annoyed.

And that’s exactly why Rafe thrives on it.

He tsks, squeezing your waist in his hold on you before pulling his keys from his pocket. – That’s okay. We’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow, right? – He leans in, voice dipping lower. – You can make it up to me.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. – Rafe—

– You’re cute when you get all flustered. – He laughs, tapping your chin with his knuckle. – I’ll call you later.

JJ lunges, and it takes everything in you to shove him back.

Rafe just whistles, all relaxed amusement, stepping back with an easy grin. – Damn, Maybank, you’re really gonna let her hold you back like that?

JJ is shaking in anger, chest heaving.

Rafe doesn’t wait for an answer. He shoots you a wink and a lazy salute before finally turning away, tossing over his shoulder, – Don’t miss me too much, baby.

JJ exhales sharply, shaking off your hold. His head drops for a second, his hands clenching at his sides before he looks at you, eyes blazing. – What the hell was that?

You swallow hard, the weight in your chest pressing down heavy. – JJ—

But he shakes his head. – Nah. No way. You don’t get to brush this off. – His voice is rough, disbelief coating every syllable. – Tell me you’re not— He stops himself, exhaling sharply again before taking a step back, shaking his head like he’s trying to make sense of it. – Tell me you’re not seriously falling for this shit.

You don’t know what to say.

Because maybe you don’t have an answer he wants to hear.

– Oh my God. – You don’t know what exactly in his face shifts, but you feel the air around you thicken. – You are, aren’t you?!

– Spare me the outrage, JJ. I’m not in the mood for your lectures.

– The guy is a fucking psychopath! There’s no fucking way you do’t see that! He’s insane!

You roll your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips before you can think of it. – You say that like you’re some sort of model of normalcy.

– I can’t fucking believe you!

– I don’t fucking need you to believe me, JJ. Clearly you fucking don’t. It doesn’t matter what I say, you already have your pitchfork ready! So what exactly am I supposed to be getting out of this?! Huh? Tell me. – A beat of silence lingers between you, as you turn your back on him. It’s long past 6 PM. The sky is pitch-black. – Can we just go? I don’t wanna do this.

You can see the gears turn in his head when you speak. His eyes soften, jaw unclentching. – I’m trying to look out for you. – You scoff. – Look, I know you’re stressed and all, but you don’t need to be taking it out on me, okay?! Chill out.

– Thanks, Mother Teresa. I feel much calmer now.

– Can we just put down the boxing gloves, right now?!

– I don’t know JJ, can we? I can’t put my guard down with you for a moment. Because that’s what you do. You tell me I should calm down, and when I do, you come up with some insane shit to piss me off all over again!

JJ watches you, chest still rising and falling like he’s trying to catch a breath that won’t come. Then his expression shifts—like something clicks into place, like he’s realizing something he doesn’t like.

His lips curl, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek. – Are you serious? – His voice is quieter now, almost disbelieving. – This is where we’re at?

You shake your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat. – I don’t want to do this right now, JJ.

– Oh, that’s rich. You don’t wanna do this right now? – He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. – You wanna pick a better time? Should I make an appointment? Because it’s like you never have time for me these days! You’ll speak your mind, talk all the game you fucking want, but when it’s time to talk about my feelings, suddenly you’re too tired to deal!

Your stomach twists.

JJ scoffs. – You know, I keep trying. I keep trying to get through to you, and you just— He stops, shakes his head again, shoving a hand through his hair like that’ll help get rid of some of the frustration bleeding off of him.

– Trying to what, JJ? What is it that you’re trying to get through to me so much? That I can’t even talk to people while you go around fucking whatever girl you want? – The words come out before you can stop them.

– That’s funny, I don’t remember leaving with your mortal enemy!

– And I don’t remember kissing your best friend after leaving your bed, JJ. But here we are!

JJ goes still.

For a second, neither of you speak.

Then he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head like you’ve just confirmed something he was trying not to believe. – There you go again, – He mutters, half in laughter, half in scorn. – You’re insane. Like. You’re actually sick in the fucking head. You and Rafe are perfect for each other. Maybe that’s why you’re here right? I was too normal, so you got bored. And that’s why you’re here in the Country Club, fucking that psychopath!

You stare at him, heart still pounding, but there’s something else gnawing at the edges of your mind now—something off. Something you didn’t notice in the heat of it all.

The country club.

You’re not at your job.

You’re not at home.

You’re not even on your side of the island.

Your stomach twists again.

– JJ, – you start, voice quieter now.

But he doesn’t hear it, or he doesn’t care. He scoffs again, throwing his hands in the air as he turns away, pacing. – I should’ve known. I should’ve listened to John B. He always said you were fucking twisted! But leave it to me! It’s my fault or thinking you could act like a person for once!

Your pulse stutters.

You don’t even register his words.

You don’t remember telling him where you were.

Your job isn't anywhere near the Country Club. You didn’t text him. You didn’t call him.

So how did he find you?

Your skin prickles as you stare at him, the words barely coming out. – JJ... how did you know I was here?

– What?! – He laughs, like you’ve just said something stupid, but you’re not gonna let him do this. Keeping your face neutral, even while your blood runs cold, you repeat:

– How did you know where I was? – He looks at you for a moment, frozen in place. You don’t even see him breathe. But the thoughts run wild behind his eyes, his mouth hanging open, unable to keep up with the speed at which his mind is running. – Answer me. How did you know I was here, JJ?

– I— He swallows, looking between each of your eyes frantically. – I was gonna pick you up at work,

– At a quarter to seven PM? You know I get the bus. It leaves at 5:20. You know that.

– Why are you making a big deal out of this?! I was driving to the wreck and I saw you here—

– No you weren’t. The wreck is East. To get here, you need to be going West.

He’s quiet again.

– Are you following me? How did you even— Realization dawns on you. JJ and John had your phone all day after you left. The notification you saw when you finally got it back, was from your maps app, which you’ve never opened in your life. You pull your phone out of your pocket. The location is on, but you don’t remember activating it. You open your messages. The latest contact is JJ. But you haven’t texted him in days. The chat is empty. – You sent my phone location to yourself, didn��t you? You and John are fucki— Your voice dies within your throat. The hair at the back of your neck standing. – John doesn’t have my password, though.

– You’re acting insane.

– How the fuck did you figure out my password, JJ? It’s a thousand characters long. I expect that shit from Pope, but— You stop again, opening your settings. A second fingerprint is set there, next to yours. – What the fuck is wrong with you?

– Don’t turn this around right now!

– That’s rich, JJ! And I’m the one who’s insane?! You’re a fucking stalker!

JJ scoffs, but it’s different now—less angry, more… wounded. Like you just slapped him in the face instead of uncovering something deeply fucked up. He shakes his head, stepping back like he needs distance from you.

– Are you serious right now? – His voice is quieter, rougher. – After everything?

You stare at him, blood still thrumming in your ears. – After everything? JJ, you just—

– No, you don’t get it. You don’t fucking get it. – He lets out a breathless laugh, dragging his hand down his face. – I knew something was off. I knew you were pulling away. I knew you were sneaking around, lying to me—

– I’m pulling away because you’re messing around with Kie!

– I’m not! Baby, I— He’s slapping himself, pulling out his hair. – I was trying to make you jealous, okay?! I just want you to pay attention to me! But you’re either glued to your phone talking to Barry, or you’re around John B, doing everything for him, everything I want you to do for me!

– What the fuck are you talking about?! He’s my fucking brother, JJ!

– BUT HE DOESN’T DESERVE IT! – He screams, the vitriol burning against his lips like acid. – He was always horrible to you, and I was there! I was there! I wanted you!

– What are you talking about?! You’ve hated me since we were kids!

– NO! I— I wanted you to look at me. I just wanted you to—Please. Just look at me, okay? I don’t want you sneaking around with Barry or with Rafe, or whatever! I want you here! With me!

– Sneaking around—JJ, you broke into my fucking phone—

– Because you wouldn’t fucking talk to me! – His voice cracks on the last word, and it throws you for a second—because the anger is still there, but there’s something else now, something desperate. His hands are in his hair, gripping like he’s holding himself together. – Do you even hear yourself? Do you even care? Or are you just gonna act like I’m some fucking psycho and not the guy who’s been there for you? The guy who—who has wanted you since I was kid?!

Your breath catches.

JJ exhales sharply, jaw clenching like he hates himself for saying it, for letting it slip out in the middle of this.

– You were there for me. – He continues. – When your brother couldn’t be. When my dad started— When he drank. You remember that, don’t you? You took care of me. You always took care of me. John B couldn’t get that! Even if he tried, y’know, who knows, maybe he did! But he was always this golden boy! Your dad, he— He treated him like he could do no wrong— He’d never get it. But you did! You always got me!

You’re quiet. Because you remember.

You remember taking a beating for JJ the day John sent you there to give him his surfboard. You remember laying there on the floor, his dad pulling you by the hair, because you stood there while JJ ran. You remember the face he made when his dad threw you out.

How he fell apart in your arms.

How you remained there, holding him, as he bled through your clothes.

And it tears you apart.

Because the way he spoke to you before, is exactly the way his father used to speak to him.

– But yeah. Sure. I’m the stalker. I’m the crazy one. – He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. – You’re so fucking worried about me following you, but you don’t care that you’re running straight to him! – His eyes flash with something sharp, something dark. – You think he gives a shit about you? You think Rafe fucking Cameron isn’t watching your every move, waiting for you to fuck up so he can sink his claws in? Like Barry did? – He steps forward, voice lowering like he’s telling you some ugly secret.

Your heart jumps in your chest at the mention. JJ knows this is a low blow. – You don’t know anything about Barry and me.

– I know he hurt you. – He’s almost pleading. – He hurt you because you were with him, when you should’ve been with me.

– JJ—

– I did this to protect you. Let me protect you. Like you protected me.

There it is. The flip.

You feel like you might faint.

JJ exhales shakily, his fingers flexing like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. The anger is fizzling out, but what’s left is somehow worse—smaller. He looks at you, really looks at you, and suddenly it’s like all the fight drains out of him.

– I can’t keep doing this. – His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. He shakes his head, eyes flickering away like he’s embarrassed, like you’ve just torn him down completely. – I don’t—I don’t know how else to prove it to you. How else to make you see that I just wanted to keep you safe.

His shoulders drop. He looks exhausted.

– But you don’t believe me. You won’t ever fucking believe me, will you? – He laughs, but it’s hollow, broken. – It doesn’t matter what I do. Doesn’t matter that I would literally die for you—Jesus Christ, I would, and you don’t even fucking see it. I’d do anything for you, and you’re just standing there, looking at me like I’m a fucking monster.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

– I mean—fuck, what am I supposed to do? Huh? – His voice cracks. His eyes are glassy now, but he swipes a hand over his face before anything can fall. – You want me to apologize? I will. You want me to beg? Fine. – He laughs breathlessly, shoulders shaking as he sinks down onto the curb like his body just gave up. – I’ll fucking beg.

Your stomach twists.

– Just— he exhales, hands clinging to your hips. – Can we go home? – His voice is so quiet now, so defeated. – Please. I don’t wanna fight anymore. I don’t wanna—fuck, I don’t even care. Just let me take you home. That’s all I want.

He looks up at you, and for the first time tonight, he looks fragile. Worn down. Like he’s carrying something too heavy for him, and the only thing keeping him from collapsing is you.

And God help you, part of you wants to believe him.

– JJ. – Your voice is sharp, but your hands are shaking. – This isn’t about that—this isn’t about you wanting to take me home. This is about what you did—

– I know! – he cuts in, his breath coming too fast, too uneven. His hands fist in his hair, like he’s trying to hold himself together by sheer force. – I know, okay? I fucked up, I fucking know— He stumbles over his own words, gasping, like the weight of it is physically pressing down on him. – But I can’t—

His voice breaks.

– I can’t lose you over this. Over Rafe fucking Cameron and his bullshit.

The air between you shifts. Something inside him just collapses.

– Please. – His chest is heaving, his eyes wet, his whole body trembling like he’s about to snap. – I don’t—I don’t know how to make you stay. I don’t know how to fix this. – His voice cracks again, and this time, his knees buckle.

You barely have time to react before he’s falling into you, grabbing fistfuls of your clothes, his breath hitching against your belly. His whole body is shaking.

– I’m sorry. – His words spill out in a frantic, broken rush. – I’m so fucking sorry. Please—please don’t go. Just—just let me take you home, baby, please—

His arms tighten around you, like if he holds on hard enough, he can force you to stay. And God, you shouldn’t. You should push him away, make him listen, make him answer for this.

But he’s crying.

JJ Maybank—loud, reckless, impossible JJ—is sobbing into you like a little kid, like he’s breaking apart right in front of you.

You inhale shakily, your hands hovering before you finally give in, falling before him on the ground, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his hair.

– It’s okay, – you whisper, even though it isn’t. Even though nothing is.

But it’s all he wants to hear.

JJ exhales sharply, his whole body collapsing into yours with something like relief. – Don’t leave me.

– I won’t.

And maybe you mean it.

Maybe that’s the scariest part.

You let him fall apart against you, his body wracked with silent tremors as he clings to you like a lifeline. His breath is uneven, ragged, hot against your skin, and his fingers fist into your top, desperate, like letting go isn’t an option. He presses closer, his whole body sinking into yours, like he’s trying to disappear inside you, like that’s the only place he might be safe.

And you let him. You hold him as his shoulders shake, as he fights to keep from outright sobbing, as the weight of whatever broke him presses down so hard you swear you can feel it, too. He’s unraveling in your arms, piece by piece, like he’s been holding himself together for so long that the second you touched him, he lost the strength to keep pretending.

So you kiss the top of his head, soft but steady, and something in him shifts.

JJ exhales, a long, shuddering breath against your skin, like you’ve reached inside him and pulled all that tension from his chest. His body, wound so tightly, begins to loosen—his grip on you eases, but only enough for his hands to smooth over your back instead of clutching desperately. He leans into you now not just from pain, but from something quieter, something softer.

You feel it in the way his breathing slows, in the way the tremors start to fade as your fingers trace slow circles over his back. His arms tighten around you again, but it’s different this time—not frantic, not desperate. Just… needing you. Needing to be here, against you, in your warmth, in this small, quiet moment where he can finally let go.

His face stays buried in the crook of your neck, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse but steady.

– I’m sorry, – He murmurs, again and again, lips moving against your skin.

You shake your head slightly, your fingers still stroking his back. – It’s okay.

And maybe for him, it actually is. Maybe just for a moment, with your hands in his hair and his body wrapped around yours, he feels something like peace. He doesn’t let go—not yet. He holds on, reveling in the comfort you offer, pressing into you like he never wants to leave. Like you’re the first real breath of air he’s had in a long time.

You stay like that, until the silence grows too heavy and you sigh. – We should go.

JJ doesn’t argue. He pulls back slowly, blinking, his eyes still red-rimmed but calmer, softer. His fingers linger at your waist before he finally steps up, exhaling like he’s reluctant to leave the space you created for him.

The drive is quiet, with him pulling your arms tighter around him everytime he gets the chance. You don’t protest. For a moment it's almost comforting, sitting on the back of his bike, without a word being spoken between you. But the feeling sits there, in your chest, that shiver you got when you realized he’s been following you.

It's not just caution.

It's not strangeness.

It's fear. A real, tangible fear of what he did, of what he can still do. Of what he might have continued doing had you not realized it. —It curls up around your throat, that fear. Pressing against your windpipe. You almost struggle to breathe.— You remain there, arms fastened around him as he slows down, pulling the brakes just before your house, even when he finally stops.

JJ leans back into you, breathing deep, clutching your hand to his chest, his body completely relaxed against yours. You’re still wondering. Mind still running.

How long had he followed you for?

Had he been trailing you? Close behind, just out of reach, or had he stared at your location, waiting, watching you without seeing you?

You don’t know which is worse.

– John B’s with Sarah tonight. – JJ mumbles, his head thrown back against your shoulder, the ends of his hair tickling your face. – I saw him sneak out. He’s probably gonna sleep there. – You hum, not really sure of what to say. – Pope and Kie are gone too. – His thumb brushes over the back of your hand slowly, his voice growing deeper, lower. – It’s just the two of us now.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t know what to say.

JJ looks back as you throw your leg over the other side of the bike, and climb down. He still clings to your hand like he’s got you on a leash: you have to remain there as he pulls the key from the ignition, as he sets his things in the top-box, as he leans back against the seat, pulling you in for a kiss.

You meet his mouth briefly, close-lipped, his fingers interlocking with yours as he pulls you in for another, and another, and one more. – I missed this. – He whispers, eyes barely open, already leaning in again.

– It’s been two days. – You remind him, but JJ only laughs.

– Two too many.

You don’t resist when he pulls you closer. His hands find your hips, sliding beneath the waistband of your jeans, calloused fingers pressing into the small of your back like he’s trying to mold you against him. He kisses you again—deeper, messier, his breath warm and tinged with something desperate.

JJ doesn’t just want this. He needs it.

That's what you like about him. He takes like he can’t get enough. He begs, and he grasps and he clings and he needs you like he needs air to breathe.

His hands are restless, traveling up your ribs, down your waist, over your thighs, like he’s trying to make up for lost time, like touching you might steady him, might ground him. But it doesn’t. The more he touches you, the more insatiable he gets. He’s humming against your lips, sighing into your touch, a little frantic, a little unsteady.

You pull him inside, but JJ can’t seem to break the kiss. He takes your hands to the hem of his shirt, tugging impatiently, his lips dragging from your mouth to your jaw to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin between whispered pleas.

– Touch me, – he breathes, his voice cracking like the weight of everything is still right there, lingering beneath the surface.

Your fingers slip into his hair, threading through the strands, and JJ shudders. He melts against you, knees almost buckling as he exhales a sharp, shaky breath.

– Fuck, – he mumbles, almost laughing, giddy and drunk on your touch. He’s clinging to you now, pressing his body into yours, murmuring against your lips, deeper, please, until you give in, kissing him the way he wants. The way he needs.

He moans softly, hands gripping your waist, pushing your top up just to feel your skin against his palms. He’s lost in this, lost in you, smiling against your mouth in that dazed, breathless way, like nothing else exists beyond the way your body fits against his.

Like everything is fine.

Even it isn’t, not really.

You lead him to your room, kicking the door behind you as he falls back on the bed, tearing his shirt off of him as if it were burning. He doesn’t even give you the time to think before he’s pulling you on top of him.

You try to guide him through the motions, letting his hands explore, letting him pull you closer, letting him bury his face in your neck, all while your mind is somewhere else. Detached. Floating.

Because underneath it all—beneath the heat of his mouth and the weight of his body and the way he pleads for you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart—there’s that feeling.

That cold, creeping thing at the back of your mind.

That fear.

It wraps around your throat, pressing tight, squeezing, reminding you of what he did. Of how long he must have followed you, watching, waiting, just out of reach.

Of how much worse it could’ve been if you hadn’t noticed.

JJ doesn’t see it. He doesn’t feel it. He only sees you, only feels your hands, your lips, the comfort he’s so desperate to take from you.

– I missed this, – he murmurs again, voice slurring slightly, hands still moving, still searching. – Fuck, baby I missed this so much.

You swallow hard, exhaling slowly, before finally answering.

– I know.

And you let him keep touching you, let him revel in this, let him have this, because maybe if he does, he’ll calm down. Maybe if he does, you’ll feel safe again.

JJ exhales against your skin, his body completely unwound, pliant beneath your hands. – Take it off. – He groans, hands shaking against his breeches. – Take it off of me, baby. Please. I just want you to be on me. I need it. Please.

You don’t need to be told twice.

He watches, almost breathless while you strip him bare, moaning at every touch, hips bucking every time you brush against him.

That doesn’t last long though.

It isn’t enough that just your hands are on him. So he drags you onto his dick, still clothed, and he grinds himself into you, eyes rolling back.

There’s something raw about the way he touches you—like he’s savoring every inch, like he’ll be going through withdrawal unless he doesn’t hold on tight enough. His fingers dig into your sides as he pulls your hips into his, his laugh breathy, almost delirious.

– God, I fucking love this, – he mutters against your shoulder, his hands slipping beneath your top, his thumbs brushing lazy circles over your skin.

This.

Not you—this.

The warmth. The closeness. The way you let him touch you, take what he needs. – You love this too, right baby? Your hips— He moans, head thrown back when you roll your hips against his cock, the fabric of your jeans giving just the friction he needs to work himself up. – You're so fucking good at this.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he kisses up your throat, his lips tracing familiar paths, his breath hot and unsteady. He hums when you card your fingers through his hair again, pressing into your touch like he’s melting from the inside out.

He's getting wilder, humping you with this reckless abandon he never seems to shake off. But you can see him unraveling. Just the friction isn't scratching the itch.

He needs more.

– Take it off, baby. Please. Please. – he sighs, voice catching, eyes blown out. – Fuck, give it to me. Just ride me.

You hesitate. Your fingers still against the nape of his neck. The sounds he makes, strangled, anguished. Like he’s going mad.

You actually hear him whine when you lift your hips, and his hand flies down to palm himself while he watches you pull the jeans down.

He tilts his head up, catching your mouth again, dragging you deeper into him. His hands slide down, gripping the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer until he's practically in you.

But you don’t let him sink in just yet.

It's more fun when you drag it out.

When you move against him, teasing him, watching him twitch and moan and plead with nothing but the wetness, the softness, the warmth.

There’s a slow, creeping sickness curling in your stomach.

Because you’re leading this. Because you know what he needs, and you’re not quite giving it to him. Because you’re letting him press closer, letting him unravel, letting him forget—for just a little while—that anything is wrong at all.

And a part of you wants to forget too.

It feels good.

It doesn’t matter what he did, what he would do, because he needs you. He can’t get enough of you. He won't leave.

– Please. Please. – He repeats it like a mantra, writhing beneath you, clutching you so fucking tight. His hips go rogue, bucking wildly. – Please let me fuck you. I need to fuck you. Please. Fuck, I can't take this anymore!

The laughter that falls from your lips almost seems to stoke the flames.

He groans out loud when tip pushes into you, and for a second, his entire body just collapses against yours, heavy, needy.

Then his hands slip under your bra again, tugging at the fabric, his breath hot and desperate against your skin.

– Let me see you, – he murmurs, voice thick, rough. – G-Go ahead, baby. I need you to move. Please.

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his lips kiss-swollen, his expression open in a way that makes you ache.

JJ wants you. That much is obvious.

But more than that—he wants to disappear into you.

To sink into your warmth, your touch, your body, and let it drown out whatever’s eating him alive from the inside.

Your stomach twists.

His fingers have long stopped tracing slow patterns against your ribs, now he's bruising you, nails digging in, shaking, waiting. Pleading.

You could give him what he wants. It would be easy. So, so easy.

But for the first time since this started, you wonder if you should. – And who said you deserve that, JJ?

– Huh?

– Because with the way you talked to me before, I don’t think you do. – You move, just slightly, and he folds, back arching. – I think you’re gonna have to convince me.

– Please. Baby, please.

– You think I'm pathetic. – You tsk, your hips rolling so slow his eyes flutter when they roll back. – I'm not the one who’s begging, though.

– Please! – He's screaming now, and you’re moving faster. The bed creaking beneath you. – I need it! Faster, baby. Faster!

He's splayed out, a puppet with the strings cut loose, yet he's anything but relaxed. You can feel him tensing, hands fisting the sheets so tight his knuckles have gone white.

He screams.

Almost yelping when you start going at the pace you know he likes. And it still isn't enough. He still grabs your hips, pulling you closer, and closer, again and again, banging against that soft spot within you like it's the only thing that can relieve him from this torture.

And you let him.

You ride him like a bronco, as if he’s trying to fuck you off instead of closer. As if he isn't begging for it. Screaming for it. – MORE, BABY, PLEASE!

You want more too.

At some point you lost yourself in trying to punish him, and it started to feel good. You're biting him, teeth dragging against the skin at the crook of his neck, the spot that always makes him shudder, that always makes him writhe.

Your nails have mapped half his body over.

He's red. —His face, his eyes, his lips, his scratches.— He’s gasping. Shaking. His whole body trembling, his eyes rolling back. You can’t even make sense of what he's saying anymore.

The only thing that leaves his mouth are these incoherent pleas, these oohs and aahs that make you laugh, humming to yourself as you ride into your orgasm, feeling him fall apart.

– F-uck, fuck! Don’t stop! Feels so fucking good baby, so fucking good! – He pushes it in faster, but it's still not enough. He needs more, he was going mad! Grabs you by the waist, tosses you on the bed, rutting like a wild dog, head thrown back, eyes rolling upwards. – Fuck! Fuck! Feel s-feel so fucking good!

All that was heard was your laughter, the pleased little gasps that escape your mouth as he fills you up over and over and over again, animalistic and heaving, laughing as well, but out of his mind, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure, by the building release. He crashes against you, once, twice, getting careless. But by then he couldn’t hold it in. More! More! is all you heard from him.

And then you felt it.

His body shudders all over again, still rutting like his life would end. – God. God! I need to cum— fuck! I need— I need— Keep going! Don’t fucking stop baby, don— FUCK! FUCK!

You felt him coat your walls, white, hot, and endless. By then, you were shaking as well, the waves of your own climax washing over you as you arch against him.

He collapses over you, trembling and crying as he smiles, moaning your name in that shaky, adoring voice, eyes clinging to you in utter joy as he pumped lazily, through your climax and his, he still needed more of you. – It won-won’t stop. Fuck, there’s so m-much of it. – Laughter. Yours, his.

Your mind is blank.

He's heavy, heaving, still inside you.

JJ's breathing is ragged, each exhale a shaky whisper as he remains, still there, still trembling with the aftershocks. His hands wander aimlessly across the sheets, his body warm and heavy, as though he's been consumed entirely. His eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, and a soft whimper escapes him as he reaches for your hand.

– Baby... can you...? – His voice is slurred, broken, as if he’s still caught between the pleasure and the exhaustion of it all. His hand gently tugs at your wrist, his fingers brushing against your skin. – Just... touch me. Please... softly.

There was that, too.

He was always sweeter when he was done.

You give a soft, reassuring smile, your fingers gently grazing his messy hair, pushing the strands out of his face, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before you speak in the same soft, soothing tone. – I’m here, JJ. I got you.

He hums in response, his eyes fluttering closed, a content sigh escaping his lips as you run your fingers through his hair, the action slow and comforting. – I’m... Fuck— Laughter buzzes against your skin as he presses his lips on you again. – I'm never getting used to this... I’m not used to this, – he mumbles between shaky breaths, his hand coming to rest on your arm, the weight of his touch grounding him. – Feels... too good. I need you to... keep me close. Just... just a little longer.

You hate the way your heart skips.

But you love the way he says it.

The way his voice brushes against your skin when he pleads, so softly, so sweetly. Like he could never do you harm.

You shift slightly, pulling him into your chest, the warmth of his body a constant reassurance. His hand rests over your heart, the frantic pace of his pulse now slowing, but his face is still pinched with that lingering tension, a mix of exhaustion and need for reassurance. He lets out a soft groan as you press your lips to his temple, whispering, – I’m right here. You’re okay.

His breath evens out, and as the minutes pass, you keep stroking his hair and kissing his head, each kiss lighter than the last, until his body relaxes fully, his grip on you loosens. – Love you.

You feel yourself tense up.

It’s not the first time he says it.

But it might be the first time you know he doesn’t mean it.

Still you smile down at him anyway, pressing another gentle kiss to his forehead before whispering back, – Sure you do, baby. Go to sleep, okay?

He doesn’t need much encouragement.

JJ's never been easy to tire out, but when he does, it's immediate. His ear is pressed to your chest, to your heart, and you wonder what kind of dreams he’ll be having with that soundtrack, but it doesn't take long for his breath to even out.

The house is quiet.

Completely so.

And though you're glad John wasn't there to hear it, laying there, without his snoring to lull you into even halfway into reality only means that it crashes against you like a bucket of cold water a soon as JJ is out.

The day dawns on you, as it has done several times, but still the loathing blooms in your chest and spreads through your body faster than your mind can process.

You're broke.

You're jobless.

The girl you thought was your best friend is a snake.

The boy that's sleeping on you is a stalker.

Your best prospect right now is famously the most spoiled and volatile person on the island. That, because your best friend, the person that could actually get you out of this, has faded away after abandoning you, and you have no idea if he’ll even come back.

What's funny is that this is the thought that hurts you most —Not that you're unemployed, that your now previous boss could ruin you forever, that your relationship with only family member is as unstable as your financial situation, or that the people you thought you could trust don’t care about you— that Barry is gone.

Something he has been plenty of times before.

You lie there in the stillness, the weight of JJ's body pressing against yours. The sheets feel too warm, too much, a world you can’t find a way into. JJ’s steady breathing is a lullaby of sorts, pulling you toward the edge of exhaustion, but it’s not enough to quiet the thoughts tumbling relentlessly in your head.

Barry's absence gnaws at you —You know he’s not gone forever, not really. Or at least you hope so. He’s done this before, pulled away just long enough for you to convince yourself it doesn’t matter. And yet, it hurts like it does. Like it’s different this time.

You turn your head to glance at him—JJ, still sleeping soundly, unaware. His face is soft, the usual edge to his features dulled by exhaustion, but even now, with him so vulnerable in your arms, you feel the invisible distance between you grow. He’s a comfort, but only in the way a warm blanket can make you feel safe when the storm is too loud. And it is too loud. So loud you can barely breathe through it.

Your fingers trace patterns along his skin, but it’s absent, mechanical—the world outside the room, the boy in your arms, the life that’s slipping from your fingers, and the ghost that won’t stop haunting you, and you don't even know why.

Barry.

You know, deep down, that it’s not about him being gone. It’s about the fact that, despite what JJ has just tried to convince you of, Barry actually is the one person that was there for you.

When your father went away, he celebrated with you. When he was declared missing, he comforted you, even if you said you didn't care. Even if you didn't even know you needed it.

And maybe that's the problem: He saw you better than you saw yourself. He knows you. Really knows you.

But does he now?

So much has changed in two days.

You can’t even tell yourself it was real anymore because everything you thought you knew about him, about you, is shifting—becoming something else you can’t identify.

There’s no way to put a name to it, though, is there? That dull ache you’ve learned to live with. Not quite loneliness, but not contentment, either. Just an empty space where hope used to live, and you're so used to it now that you don’t know what it would feel like to fill it.

You let your gaze fall to JJ again, watching the way his back rises and falls with the easy rhythm of sleep. Maybe this is it—this is what you have now. A boy who doesn’t even know what he’s asking for when he whispers his need into the quiet night. And you, too tired to push him away, too lost to turn to anything else. You can almost convince yourself it’s enough, and for a second, you do.

But then, Barry’s face flickers in your mind again, like a ghost.

You wonder, just for a moment, if you would’ve been able to say anything if he were here. If you would’ve told him how much you needed him to help you, how much you needed him to be here, not just physically, but with you in the way that only he ever did.

But he’s not here.

And you’re not sure when he will be again.

The buzz of your phone slices through the silence. You freeze. What's the likelihood that he would call you right then, when you needed him most?

You slide from under JJ, and he grumbles, hands reaching for you even deep into sleep, but you don’t see it. All you see is the unknown number flashing on your screen amidst the darkness, and your heart races as you bring the phone to your ear. – Bee? – The word falls from your lips almost fearfully. You don’t want to know where he's been, what he's doing, or how much of what he had to take to call you like this, in the middle of the night. But you’re impatient to hear his voice, you just want to know if he's okay. – Bee, is that you?

The line scratches softly, the familiar sound of skin whispering against the microphone echoing in-between the two phones. Your pulse thrums against your ear. – Not bee. – You finally hear. – Are, actually.

– “Are”? Barry, what are you talking about? What did you take?

– It’s not Barry, baby. – The edge of his words resounded even through the distance. Pleased, but not quite satisfied. – It’s Rafe.

You let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

– Oh, “R”. Okay I got it.

He chuckles, a long, breathy noise. His breathing is heavy. – Did you put the cry-baby to sleep or is he still up whining?

JJ turns in his sleep. His arm, still lying, lax, over your lap shifts, and he pulls himself closer, brow brushing against your thigh. – JJ is… gone.

– Good. Thought I was gonna have to call CPS or some shit. – He scoffs, turning, in bed, you gather, since you hear the squeak of furniture.

– How considerate.

– Well, baby, I'm nothing if not considerate. – He hums. – What are you doing awake?

Regretting your life decisions, pondering the benefits of suicide. – Thinking of you. – It was meant to be a joke, but it didn’t sound like one as it slipped from your lips.

There's half a second of silence from him before you hear that laugh again, like you shocked him.

Rafe Cameron was shocked.

That's definitely a headline.

You can almost hear the smirk on his face. – I was thinking about you too, baby. What are you wearing?

You scoff, almost rolling your eyes. – Rafe.

He laughs again, even breathier. – Sorry. Was that too soon? – His bed creaks again. – You don’t seem like the kind of girl who needs a lot of foreplay.

– Hilarious.

– I was really hoping you'd give me a taste of what you’re wearing tomorrow, though.

You look down almost unconsciously. The only thing covering your skin is sweat. – Definitely not what I'm wearing right now. Unless you're hiring for a job other than personal chef.

Rafe’s quiet again. He moves around. You can hear him breathing. – Maybe I am. What kind of job are you thinking?

– Well, aren’t you the little hiring agency? Should've met you before. There’s some things on my resume I'm definitely not proud of. – He laughs with you now, though there's something strange in his tone. – Did you talk to your governess, or that other guy you said you didn't know the name of?

– Did. We'll be waiting for you.

– Well, you call and I come. – He laughs at the double-entendre, another noise escaping his lips. – What time should I be there?

– How's 10 AM sound?

– Perfect, Rafe. Thank you. Again, really. I can’t thank you enough.

– You're welcome, baby. You really are. – He groans, the bed creaking. JJ moves around again, his head on your lap, hands around your knees, and he mumbles something unintelligible. – What was that?

– Sorry, uhm. Just… thinking out loud.

You swallow, but Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. – And what are you thinking about?

– About… What I'm gonna wear. – Improvising was never really your forte.

Rafe hums, a long stretch of the M, then something smaller, a sound you can't quite catch. – That skirt. – He sighs. – The blue pleated one.

You pause.

– What?

– It's pretty. – Is all he says, then a groan, or a purr. The phone falls on his pillow, you can hear it scratch against his skin as he moves. But the way he says it, as if he’s seen it a thousand times in the two days you've known each other, as if he can picture you wearing it right in front of him. – Fuck, baby. You’re so pretty.

The compliment grates at your ears.

How does he know your clothes?

You think of the skirt. Your blue pleated skirt. It's been ages since you've worn it. It's way too short. You’ve outgrown it a while ago. – What else, baby?

– Hm?

– What else are you wearing for me?

His bed creaks again, over and over, and he doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just sighs.

– I, uhm. I don’t know. – What even is this conversation?

– Far as I'm concerned you don't need to wear anything. You can come— He laughs, low and unsteady, a strangled “yeah” cutting through the word. – Come as you are.

You feel a trickle of repulse run down your back. You don’t wanna talk to him anymore. You don’t want to talk at all.

– Talk to me, baby. – He groans, again.

– I, uhm. – You kick the nightstand, the noise echoing loudly around your room. – Shit, uhm. Sorry, that's my brother. I'll see you tomorrow.

You kill the line before he can say anything else.

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