#I get that surge whenever I hear those songs too

[iwatcheditbegin]

Nothing will beat the surge of childhood nostalgia I get from the fearless set

[bit-odd-innit]

They’re about 20 minutes into the movie when Steve feels the familiar dip of weight against his shoulder.

He can’t stop the pulse of fond bemusement that surges through him. After all, Eddie had insisted on picking the movie this week, insisted that it was “an unfathomable travesty” that Steve had never seen it, insisted they had to watch it despite the bruise-colored circles under his eyes, the discreet flex of his hands disguising the tremors he gets when he’s over exhausted. Steve says nothing, lets the movie run, and once Eddie conks out instead of switching to something more his speed, he keeps watching.

The movie’s not Steve’s taste, but it’s not bad. He hasn’t been big into cartoons since he was a kid. The animation is strange yet fascinating, the characters’ movements equal parts natural and off-putting. He drifts in and out of the story, though enough of Dustin and Eddie’s ramblings have sunk in that he’s able to follow along. Whenever a name or location he recognizes pops up he turns to Eddie and says, smugly, “I know what that is.” Eddie replies with a soft exhale that ends in a low hum. His breath skitters across Steve’s throat. Steve shivers.

Eddie’s got this little bank of noises he makes when he’s sleeping. When he crashes after drinking too much, he snores. When he’s asleep but not deep enough to rest, he mumbles—sometimes giggles, too, which is really unsettling if you’re not expecting it. And when he’s dreaming, good or bad, he hums.

They’ve been doing this—whatever this is—for long enough that Steve can tell when Eddie is having a good dream and when he’s having a bad dream. (It’s not weird, he counters to the tiny, horrible Robin voice that lives in his head.) The bad dream hums are low, dredged up from the base of his chest. The good dream hums are high, slipping out from behind his teeth. Steve can’t read music but he took chorus in middle school and he’s hung around Robin while she learned a new piece for band so he’s got an idea of how the note…thingy works. If Eddie’s dream sounds were a song, the good dreams would be at the top of the bar, and the bad dreams would be at the bottom.

Except now, as the movie nears its end, the song changes.

At some point Eddie’s legs had curled up beneath him, his face buried in the join between Steve’s shoulder and neck. Steve can’t hear as much as feel the noises vibrating against his skin. He feels the thrum of bad rising into good, then dipping into something in the middle and holding there. They’re stuck at the center of the stanza (Stanza! That’s what it’s called!) and Steve doesn’t know where to go from here.

“Eddie?”

The arm Eddie is leaning on has gone a little numb, so Steve uses the other to sweep aside the curtain of hair drawn across the side of Eddie’s face, his fingertips grazing his cheekbone. Eddie’s lips part. A new sound, a different sound escapes him. He pushes in close enough for those pink plush lips to press against Steve’s collarbone. Heat curves around the back of Steve’s ears.

“H~eeey.”

He doesn’t want to wake him if this is a good dream. Eddie’s an open book. Eddie’s told him he’s been sleeping like dogshit, that the night terrors have been particularly horrible this week. It’s a joke, a little. The two of them share weird hours. They create bits about how bad things are, how awful they feel about their relationships with people they love, how awful they feel about themselves. It’s fun, until it isn’t. Steve’s seen Eddie’s whole personality swallowed by the wet sand of sorrow. He’s seen him sink into himself and surface with something else, something bright and exuberant and loud and false. If Eddie feels good Steve doesn’t want to ruin it. But if Eddie feels bad—

“Hey.” Steve hooks his palm to rest beneath the ridge of Eddie’s jaw, his thumb pressed into his dimple. “Eddie. Wake up.” Eddie’s eyebrows cinch, a sigh gliding across Steve’s knuckles. His eyelashes flutter, dark and spidery, his lids hanging low over hazy eyes. He blinks, owlish, then tilts up to meet Steve’s gaze with a slow, dreamy smile. “Hi,” he whispers. “Hi,” Steve chuckles in reply.

“W…” Eddie’s mouth works like its full of sunflower seeds; deliberate, purposeful. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Why’dju stop?”

“Stop…what?” He glances to the muted blue static of the screen. “The movie’s over, bud.”

Eddie blinks again, slower. He’s so sweet like this, soft and syrupy, so when he breathes a laugh Steve can’t help but mirror it. “Oh,” Eddie exhales, then leans forward and kisses him.

The hum of Eddie’s dreams are now against Steve’s lips. Those lovely little middle sounds are now inside Steve’s mouth. He swallows them, feels them knife down his throat, wedge between his ribs, twist into the open valves of his heart. He pulls back.

Eddie giggles again. Pouts. “You stopped again.”

“Oh, honey,” The endearment wrenches out of him, involuntary. He smoothes the worry lines out of Eddie’s forehead. “You’re tired, huh?” Eddie makes a non-committal noise. “Okay.” Steve sets his feet and secures his arms behind Eddie’s back. “Okay,” he groans as he lifts him, spins him towards the stairs. “Okay. Time for bed.” Eddie’s still in a half-conscious limbo as Steve navigates him upstairs, mouthing indelicately at any piece of Steve’s skin he can find. It’s untenable, and Steve’s not proud at how he launches Eddie in the direction of his bed, sprints to the en suite to splash cold water on his face before helping him undress. “Take it,” Eddie murmurs when Steve unbuttons his jeans, and Steve needs to sit in the center of the floor for a moment before proceeding. “That’s not what this is.” “Wantchu t’aveit.” Steve shoves him into a pair of flannel pajama pants and stuffs him beneath the sheets. Eddie curves onto himself like a mollusk, and Steve sinks at his hip, brushing his bangs away from his closed eyes. Steve feels himself split down the middle: One part already downstairs; one part already nestled in the contours of Eddie’s body.

“Go back to sleep,” Steve says, and moves to stand. Eddie’s hand closes around his wrist. “Stay?” His eyes flit open, brief, earnest, pleading. “Please, stay.” And, well. They’re going to talk about it tomorrow. They’re going to talk about the movie they didn’t watch, and the moment they half-shared, and the reason its so hard to sleep apart yet so easy to sleep together. Not now. Now Steve shrugs into shorts and a t-shirt, slides in beside Eddie. Now, when Eddie’s limbs tangle around his own, he tugs him closer, lets something deep within himself settle. “Stay?” Eddie asks again. “Go to sleep, honey.”

And he does. And they do.

[ihatedtoadmit]

Art study

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: ...suggestive

warnings: nothing actually happens, so none besides teasing

word count: ~1.3k

summary: You're doing an art study on muscles, and who's a better candidate for reference than your wonderful boyfriend who keeps feeding his delulu fanbase with half-naked pictures?

a/n: Well well well, Nat, you don't have to pay to see me write something like this after all (if you will ever see this, because no chance am I tagging you or anyone, dear). Here, have fun, this is the most spice anyone can get out of my asexual ass.

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

You were a very reserved person, something your partner knew all too well. Every touch the two of you shared throughout the entirety of your relationship had no heat behind it, each one only fueled by pure adoration and love. Never once did a kiss turn hungry, hell, there had barely been any kisses the two of you had shared due to your lack of need for the action. Chan knew it all too well, and while he craved more, he also respected it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you uncomfortable, and so he’d never stepped over that line.

That was the exact reason for his current shyness, the confusion that wanted to sit onto his face hard to mask. There he stood in your doorway, the desk before your hunched form cluttered with pencils and little crumbs of dirty erasers. You were entirely too focused on the task at hand to notice your boyfriend's presence, the song that flowed through your headphones much too loud to hear any footsteps or even words. And so you continued drawing, clueless about anything as your lover watched you work, eyes flitting between your sketch and the endless reference pictures on your screen.

Pictures about him, his back fully on display and unclothed.

A touch broke you out of your concentration as you erased a line for the fourth time, scaring you into throwing away the pencil in your clutches just so you could tear the headphones off your head.

“Interesting art you have there, love.” - Chan mused, yet his skin was as flushed as ever.

You joined him as you could feel your own skin heating up, ashamed that you’d been caught like this. Eyes looked at everything besides your boyfriend, yet you found comfort in that warm touch of his.

“I was just… doing a study, on muscles.” - the words were but a mere whisper, hand quickly reaching to minimise your browser and just hide it from a certain pair of prying eyes.

Still, there was a feeling clawing at the cage of your soul, ripping at the flesh to be let out and rampage freely. It was feral and vicious, planting a thought into your head that seemed impossible to get out, no matter how alien it felt. You could feel your breath hitch at the image that popped into your head, memories of the images you had been staring at for a while now overlapping.

The hand on your shoulder gently squeezed, breaking you out of your derailing thoughts.

“I don't mind, baby, it just… caught me off guard? Glad you enjoyed my performances though.” - Chan’s voice was light, mixing well with the shyness he was trying to hide.

It only urged that fierceness inside to break free, granting you a surge of confidence you would have never had otherwise.

Without any words you finally glanced up at the man you loved, finding him utterly handsome; you would hone your artistic skills for the rest of your life just to capture a fragment of that beauty. His skin was dusted with a faint red, ears painted by the deepest of shades. Those eyes you loved to get lost in were alight with an emotion you had seen them only hold whenever he looked at the boys, and it took your breath away within a heartbeat.

Your body moved on its own, towering over him as you now stood. His hair was still slightly wet from the shower he must have just taken, and you just knew he had been originally on his way to his room to swap his bathrobe for those comfy, black clothes he loved to don in his free time.

He searched your gaze, unsure, yet trusting. His hands comfortably placed themselves onto your hips; their touch was warm, the man before you always running hot. It was something you loved as he balanced out your always cold hands wonderfully, reaching the perfect temperature you both enjoyed.

“Hey, love. How was work today?” - you asked, leaning closer than usual as you swiped those dark curls out of Chan’s face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing for a second as he thought about his answer.

“The usual, although Hyunjin managed to piss off Minho again. It was a shoe this time that was the weapon, by the way.” - there was an airiness of joy to his words, yet no laugh accompanied it.

No, Chan was entirely too enamoured with the look you were giving him, as if you were worshipping him with your eyes alone. And maybe you were. With each look you studied the way your lover's skin moved, the shadows conforming accordingly. It lured you in, as if Chan was the siren and you were his prey, fated to be drowned in the vast oceans and seas.

He didn't move as you took him all in, hands eventually unable to keep themselves away. Your fingers were cold against the warmth of his fair skin, and you could hear his breath hitch, the muscles inside his neck moving beautifully.

There was something different in your touch, that much he knew, yet he wouldn't have it any other way.

As if you had never seen anything like it before, your hands glided over any free expanse of skin you could reach, memorising how the muscles hidden beneath curved and jumped at your touch. Never once did your eyes stray, wanting to remember every little detail. You wanted your art to be perfect, after all, to represent the real thing as closely as possible and that meant every little detail in their complete glory.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the white robe blocked you off, and so you slightly slid it off from one of Chan's shoulders. His hold on you tightened and you glanced at him briefly, seeing an intensity burning in those dark eyes, one you had never seen before.

You were playing with fire, and you could feel the heat of the danger.

Despite the clear wanting signs, you ignored them much like Icarus, hands now gliding down your lover's arm. Each touch held meaning, praising him in silence, singing odes about this man’s beauty. There was something so intriguing about watching the muscles connect to skin and bone, oh so perfectly toned and reacting to every touch of yours.

You stepped even closer, breaths mingling together as you reached into his robe, mapping out the vast skin of your partner's back. Every dip, every rise and imperfection was noted inside your head, the scorching star in Chan's eyes only growing in intensity as time passed. Your eyes flitted between those deadly stars and his neck, seeing it strain, muscles so tight that they jumped out of the skin in that lovely V-shape you could never grow bored of.

Then, as if something snapped, he gripped your waist with incredible force, not giving you a chance to escape. Despite that, no fear took residence inside you, your now warm fingers still laid peacefully on his shoulders.

“And what do I owe this extremely special moment to, baby?” - his words were a deep rumble, eyes begging for an answer with desperation.

“For being the most beautiful human to grace this planet, my wonderful love. Be my muse, please. Let me draw you, let me study you.” - you answered, one hand now cupping Chan's cheek tenderly, despite the uniquely heated situation.

As if that was the magic word to undo his binding, your lover moved, hauling your taller form easily onto the bed with him. There you were now, sat on his lap as he looked up at you expectantly, the intensity and love never diminishing in those bright eyes of his. Your sketchbook was still sitting beside you on the bed where you had originally thrown it at, hands itching to take it and immortalise what you had engraved into your mind in the past few minutes.

“I'll be your muse whenever, baby. All you needed to do was ask.”

[bring-forth-his-sac]

Hiiii I’m the anon who sent the ask about whether I could send a request even tho it might take a while so I don’t forget!

I always have ideas for fanfics but I cannot write for the life of me 😭 so if you don’t wanna write this it’s all good :)

so I had an idea where it’s a non-apocalyptic world & the reader/character is famous? like they’re a singer & they just started dating negan & he hears the songs they wrote about him & it’s just fluffy? again you don’t have to write this it’s just an idea I had 🥺🫶🏻

sorry this took so long!! thank you sm for your patience <333 also my friend helped me with the actual lyrics in this which I am so grateful for because I don't have a musical bone in my body

pairing: Negan x singer!Reader

tags: alternate universe, established relationship, fluff, modern AU, famous AU, love songs, Negan needing to mention his dick in every convo lol

word count: 1.7k

It’s still early in the evening and yet there’s snores coming from the other room.

Negan sits on the sofa, legs stretched out. He was waiting for the melodic sounds of your piano to waft out of the room but after a few minutes, all that has emerged from your study are soft snores.

He debates going in and disturbing your solitude. While Negan knows you wouldn’t mind his company, he likes to give you your own time to indulge in music. 

Music has always been a big part of who you are and it’s something Negan has supported from the beginning.

He understands that for you, music is like your personal diary, a sanctuary where you pour out all of your emotions and transform them into a heart-wrenching ballad or the catchiest pop song he’s ever heard. 

With another snore drifting out from your study, Negan sighs and gets up. 

As of recent, you’ve been consumed by a wave of newfound inspiration, tirelessly working on numerous songs. It’s as if lightning has struck, igniting a sudden surge of motivation and encouraging you to put your heart and soul into your work.

Piano keys, the strumming of guitars and your voice has filled Negan’s ears as you put finishing touches on song after song. 

Even though he's been eager to hear a sneak peek, you've chosen to keep the new songs private until they're complete. Nevertheless, Negan has already tried to convince you otherwise. He can’t help it, as soon as he knows you’re crafting some new song, he wants to know everything about it.

But you’ve always remained steadfast and not let him have a sneak peek, even when he gives you those puppy dog eyes.

Creeping into your study, Negan’s eyes immediately go to your figure. Slumped over your desk with loose papers everywhere, you greet him with another snore. Negan smiles at the sight, immediately deciding that you need 100% relaxation for the rest of the night.

He weaves his way through the room, making sure not to step on the fallen guitar picks that have found a home on the fuzzy carpet. The walls of the room are lined with empty cases of instruments, music stands that have been pushed aside and Negan’s favourite armchair.

It’s what he always sits on whenever you invite him in to listen to what you’ve been working on. Although there are some more steamy memories too that truly cement it as being his favourite leather armchair.

Negan approaches your desk silently, careful not to disturb your peaceful sleep. Your laptop hums with life, displaying what he assumes must be a compilation of beats that are on the verge of being made into a cohesive rhythm. Making sure everything is saved, he shuts down the laptop for the night.

“Baby,” he nudges you carefully “you keep sleeping like that and you���ll be complaining ‘bout a bad back in no time”.

You respond with a soft grunt, your fatigue winning as you stay asleep.

Negan chuckles, finding your determination to nap utterly adorable. He takes a casual look around your desk, skimming over the various musical notes jotted down that he can't make heads or tails of, until he spots something else.

Lyrics.

Small fragments of verses, written out on scrap pieces of paper and sticky notes. His eyes impulsively scan what he can see, yearning for that sneak peek you’ve denied him.  

Moving carefully, he picks up one of the sticky notes and reads it.

“In every moment, I feel the spark. You’re the love that lights the dark”.

Negan has seen you weave song about your past experiences and the people in your life, but never has he thought that he might become the subject of your next ballad.

He glances down at your sleeping form as if you’ll pick up on his questioning look. Not fully believing it, Negan grabs another sticky note.

“A leather jacket, stories untold… with that smirk, you take control”.

As it is written, so it shall be. A smirk graces Negan's face as he looks down at the paper, slowly nodding to himself. Jackpot. 

You’re finally writing a goddamn song about him!

Negan doesn’t want to say it’s about time but he’s definitely been thinking about you serenading him with his own song for a while now. He blames his ego for that fantasy.

“Oh darlin’, you writing this for me?” He asks with a grin. Negan lets the sticky notes fall back to the desk and he wraps his arms around you, his chest against your hunched back and embracing you in a hug you don’t even know you’re in.

Feeling his arms around you, you slowly begin to come to. Your eyes flutter open, instantly feeling comfortable. 

“Negan?” You mumble groggily, your brain still waking up.

He hums, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek “Your world just light up?”.

“Wh-what?” a confused pout forms on your face as you move your head to look at him.

Nuzzling in by you, he reluctantly pulls back just enough so he can gesture to the first set of lyrics. “I mean, I am the love that lights up the dark, right?” he grins.

Your tired confusion suddenly shifts to panicked realisation, instantly straightening up. “Negan! Did you— No!“ you babble on hurriedly, your eyes darting to the notes on your desk “You can’t read those!”.

“Oh sweetheart, I think it’s too late for that,” he kisses your head before standing upright “and for the record, I am honoured to be your muse”.

You roll your eyes, knowing that you can’t be annoyed when you’re the one leaving bits of your next song scattered across your messy desk.

“I never said you were my muse” you point out.

Negan thinks for a moment, slyly looking for another scribble of lyrics. “Every word is his weapon, every laugh’s a tease, but in his dangerous charm is where I find my release” he reads out another excerpt, spotting it marked with musical notations.

“Hey!” You quickly try to cover the entirety of the desk, your arms spreading out over as many sheets as possible. You pout up at him, your bottom lip jutting out.

“What? I like it, it’s a good thing” he assures you, kissing your pout away “about time you let them damn fanboys know I’m your one and only. Maybe now they’ll fuck off and stop bombarding your DM’s”.

With a scoff, you warily stand and try to clear your desk. Gathering all the papers into a somewhat neat pile, you defend “Those are my fans you’re talking about!”

With a smug smirk, Negan lays a single finger on top of the stack of notes “And it’s me you’re singing about, so they can kick rocks”. 

You feign annoyance but it’s clear just how much this means to him. If you’re being honest, you weren’t sure how he’d react to a song about him. 

Despite Negan always being supportive, you weren’t sure if that extended to a pure love song all about him. A part of you was scared he would think it’s cringe or too much, but the look on his face says the opposite of that.

Maybe it’s your exhaustion but it’s as if Negan radiates a soft glow, reflecting the pride he feels. Those damned eyes, a perfect swirl of hazel hues makes you melt.

“Hmph… suppose you have a point” you let him take the win, giving him another kiss. 

“I always do,” he replies, leaning into your kiss “now, how’s about we have a nice relaxing night of being couch potatoes. Sound good to you or do you want to go back to snoring on your desk?”.

You can’t help but huff, denying his claim as you stretch your tired limbs. "I do not snore!" you protest, defensive humour lacing your tone. 

Negan wraps an arm around your waist, in case you’re unsteady on your feet considering you just woke up .

“How would you know? You’re asleep when you do it” he replies, helping you step over things within the messy study.

“But I don't…” you trail off, yawning.

He lets out a light laugh at the timing of your yawn. “What? Don’t sleep or snore?” Negan teases “it’s alright, darlin’… snoring is like singing in your sleep, it’s your musicality! Damn, I guess that’s means you’ve been giving me a private concert for the past twenty minutes”. 

It’s tempting to resist his claims but you give in to the small smile that tugs at your lips. No matter what, Negan has a way of turning every aspect of you into an endearing quality, constantly finding ways to appreciate even your most mundane traits. It’s a talent, truly.

Relenting, you lean against Negan, allowing yourself to melt into his embrace as you both move towards the door.

“Y’know, I could always help with the song too” he offers, making you laugh in an instant. 

“You? Co-write a song?” You question, turning off the light and wandering back through your home, Negan still side by side with you. 

“Yeah, I was thinking something like…” he thinks for a moment, mentally arranging the words in his head before saying “when my guy sees me, he gets hard as a brick, but how can I be mad, when he’s got that big dick”.

He gives you a grin, utterly proud of his lyrics.

You giggle, expecting no less from him as you drag Negan on to the couch with you. “Oh wow, I didn’t realise I was dating a poet” you praise.

“What can I say, doll,” Negan nuzzles in beside you “you’re not the only one full of surprises”.

With a wink, Negan gives you one last kiss before you both get comfy on the couch together, ready for a night of relaxation.

[bullet-prooflove]

Give Me A Chance - EZ Reyes x Reader (feat: Michael 'Riz' Ariza)

Tagging: @annetje @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887 @the-wandering-lunatic @alwaysachorusgirl @anime-weeb-4-life @vannabanana1995 @multifandomloversworld @camelia35 @queeniesdiary @est1887 @justazzie

It was the briefest touch, a brush of fingertips across his when you handed him his beer and EZ was hooked. He didn’t know what it was at first. He’s felt love before, he thinks he had it with Emily but this thing with you, it’s different. It’s fathomless and deep, a compulsion he can’t seem to stop himself giving into, which is why he ends up at this bar night after night, talking shit with you in the quiet moments.

He watches out for you in the loud ones, when the game is on TV and your patrons are getting a little too rowdy, when two drunks knock into each other and cause a fight, when someone gets a little too handsy. He makes his presence known, sometimes all it takes is a glower before things begin to settle again. You don’t ask for it, you don’t need a knight in shining armour, at least that’s what you tell him, but you appreciate it none the less.

EZ’s read enough books to know what he’s feeling, to recognise the emotions that raise up inside of him whenever he’s in your presence. That surge of protectiveness when another man enters your personal space, the tenderness when you look at him with that smile on your face, the one that makes him feel like he’s the only one in the fucking room.

Once more he finds himself captivated by your motions as he perches on a stool at the bar beside Riz. There’s an elegance to your movements, a rhythm that he can’t hear. You move like a dancer; with a fluidity and grace he could never hope to accomplish. He wonders if that translates into your more intimate moments, if your thighs will fit as perfectly as he imagines above his hips, if your back bows, arching upwards as you come, taking him deeper. The thought of it makes his body flush with heat and his cock harden against the seam of his jeans. He’s thought about a thousand nights with you, about his hands running through your hair, the swell of your curves against him as he kisses you until you’re breathless. He wants to stare into those alluring eyes of yours as he loves you with slow languid touches that have his name rolling from your lips.

“Ezekiel…”

You tilt your head as you say his name, waving your hand in front of his face to get his attention and suddenly he’s brought back to the moment.

A busy bar on a Friday night, Riz’s girl up on stage, singing a song about how falling in love isn’t really about falling at all, it’s about finding that missing piece of yourself inside someone else. There’s an honesty in the words, one he feels resonating as he looks at you.

“Ezekiel.” You say again, tapping the back of his hand with your fingertips. It’s like a jolt of electricity underneath the surface of his skin, he wants to know if you feel it too. He almost asks you before he realises, he’s missed what you’ve just said to him. “I know you’re working some beautiful mind shit up in there but you still have to pay for your drink, just like everyone else.”

It takes a second for your words to filter through to his brain. When they do his cheeks flush because he’s been so fucking captivated by you that he hasn’t realised, his wallet is still sitting in his back pocket.

“Shit sorry.” His arm jerks, colliding with his beer glass, spilling the contents of it across the bar. Riz yelps as it soaks his elbow, twisting in his seat to assess the damage. “Fuck.”

You laugh off the spillage, snatching up a cloth from under the counter before wiping up the mess. Christ, even your laugh does something to him. It sets something alight inside of him, there’s a glimmer of joy in his chest and he finds himself grinning like a fucking idiot as he clutches his wallet in his hand.

“That one is going on your tab.” You tell him, holding up the empty glass to show him. “You still drinking what’s on tap?”

He nods his agreement before you turn your back to him. You’re wearing a black sheer shirt tonight with a high collar, he can see the etchings of floral tattoo creeping up your lower back and disappearing under the black vest top you are wearing underneath. He thinks about tracing it with his fingertips as you lay amongst his sheets, his lips trailing over each of the delicate petals.

“Jesus.” Riz utters taking his wallet from his grasp and removing one of the bills. “It’s like you and Angel aren’t even related.”

He removes a pen from inside his kutte and scribbles something along the outside of the bill. You’re already putting the fresh glass of beer down on the bar when Riz pushes the bill towards you, tapping the writing lightly with his finger.

“His phone number.” Riz tells you, jerking his head towards EZ. “In case the two of you decide you want to get together outside this place.”

You hold up the bill for a minute, examining it before sliding it across to EZ. “Is that a 9 or an 8?”

He leans in close, analysing the digits that Riz has scrawled block capitals on the note. The scent of your perfume floods his senses, a hint of jasmine and something that reminds him of spring. He’s never been great at differentiating; eidetic memory only works on a visual level, but he thinks he’ll remember that fragrance for the rest of his life.

“It’s an 8.” He finds himself saying.

You sigh and it feels like he’s been stabbed in the chest because he reads it as a rejection. He can feel himself withdrawing, he’s misread the situation clearly. He’s new to this, getting out of prison has fucked with his social skills, he’s pretty good with most situations but when it comes to romance, the only person he’s been with was Emily and that was almost a decade ago. He’s rusty at best.

Your hand comes to rest on his, thumb trailing over the scar on the back of his hand from a cut he’d gotten at the scrapyard in his first week working there.

“I like you.” You tell him truthfully, turning over his hand so you could follow the raised path of the scar. He inhales at the sensation of your fingertip caressing his palm. “I think you’re smart, funny and I think you have a kind heart…”

“But?” he questions.

“This bar takes up a lot of my time and a lot of my patience.” You tell him, your lips pursing together grimly. “The hours aren’t sociable; a lot of people think they can handle that…”

“…until they can’t.” He finishes for you. “You’ve been burned before.”

“Pretty much.” You summarise before meeting his gaze. “And I don’t do hook ups so that leaves with me pretty much with zero romantic prospects. I don’t have anything to give you to make this worth your while.”

Fuck those words hurt him. The fact you sound so listless, that you perceive your value to be based on what you can give other people. He wants to know who the fuck did that to you, who made you feel like you were worthless, like you have nothing to offer.

He entwines your fingers with his own before raising them to his mouth. His heated breath ghosts across your knuckles before his lips brush over the back of your hand, his umber eyes fixed on yours.

“I can handle it.” He tells you resolutely. “And you don’t have to give me anything. You finish up here and want to grab breakfast, I’m game. You wanna hangout somewhere and watch the sunrise, that works for me. You know what I do, you know my job isn’t linear. We’ll figure shit out, work around each other.”

“EZ…” You begin but he cuts you off.

“Just give me a chance.” He asks you, there’s a yearning in his voice, one that strikes a chord in your heart, because you want this with him. You want lazy mornings in the flat upstairs, him in your bed your fingertips ghosting over the shape of his tattoos as he sleeps. You want to see the sunrise from the water tower, the glow of it bathing the town in light with his arm slung around your shoulder. “Just give me one chance to prove I’m not like the others.”

He stares at you, and you stare back, you can see the honesty in his gaze, the resolution. He’d dedicated to this, dedicated to you and you want it to work so badly that you feel your resolve crack.

“Ok.” You tell him, covering his hand with both of your own. “Let’s get breakfast together.”

Love EZ? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[auxiliarydetective]

AP-01: Project Apocalypse

ch. 14: Blood in the Water

AP-01 Masterlist

This fic is part of the Academy Projects series, a full rewrite of The Umbrella Academy with the addition of an original character, Kassandra Hargreeves. Throughout the story, you'll stumble across a few songs. This is supposed to make the fic feel as much like the show as possible, so I recommend you don't skip them.

Warnings: Canon-typical issues, lots of blood, war flashbacks, substance abuse

Kassandra crawled out of the taxi and back into the Academy, dragging herself towards the stairs to her room. Her head was throbbing and her ankle ached, so she was just dying to get some sleep. Now that Five wasn’t there, seeing that he was still talking to Luther, she might even be able to sleep soundly. After all, she hadn’t ever had a dream of her own.

But those plans quickly dissolved into dust. As soon as she had reached the stairs, she was overwhelmed by a mental rainstorm, an unbelievable darkness, the pain of a bleeding heart. An incessant rumbling and thumping echoed in the distance, like a very distorted thunder crack. The rain was soft, almost gentle, but the air was ice cold, in a way that wasn't stinging but oddly empty. But, worst of all, she recognized who those brain waves belonged to, and it broke her heart. She wanted to run up those stairs but her body wouldn't let her, her heart feeling like it was about to tear through her chest. Finally, she reached the top of the stairs, her eyes widened like saucers.

“Klaus.”

He stood there at the top of the stairs in a torn-up soldier's uniform, a new tattoo on his arm, dog tags around his neck and scarlet blood on his hands. But worst of all, his eyes had lost all their warmth and joy, and his skin was pale and grey, only gaining color through traces of mud.

“Hey, Kass,” he replied in a shaky, flat tone. “‘S been a rough night.”

“I know,” she whispered, hearing his thoughts more clearly now.

The rumbling hadn't been thunder. It had been helicopters, gunshots.

I'm sorry, Klaus…

“Let’s draw you a bath, alright? Get you cleaned up.”

Klaus just nodded, so she gave him a gentle hug, rubbing his back and holding him close despite the dirt and grime. He shuddered at her touch and quietly sobbed, leaning his head against hers as he tried his hardest not to let his bloody hands touch her clothes. But she didn’t seem to care, taking his hands and letting the blood soak into her gloves, then kissing his muddy cheek. The kiss sent a wave of comfort through him, letting him relax just a little, yet it came as a surge of yelling to her, one she bravely took and locked away.

Gently, she led him into the bathroom and drew a bath for him as he peeled himself out of the uniform, leaving the dog tags on.

“Don’t worry, I've got you,” she muttered as he let himself sink into the water.

As she scrubbed the blood off his hands and washed his hair, she learned everything. About the kidnapping, the torture and the briefcase. About the shock of landing in Vietnam, about the chaos of fighting… about Dave. How much Klaus had loved him, how they had always been together, how they had promised they'd celebrate the end of the war together. Most importantly though, she learned about Dave's death, about the pain that Klaus had felt, about the yelling, the helicopters and the gunfire, about the agony of seeing the love of your life bleeding out in your arms and the violent helplessness Klaus had felt. But whenever she felt him slipping too far into his memories and into the past, she eased him back to reality, sending him comfort and grounding him in the present. Finally, she dried him off and, with one more kiss, sent him on his way to his room so she could clean up the tub.

Blood stains were always hard to get out. Always had been, always would be. Sometimes, she could still see the blood from various missions and accidents stain this room, hear the crying echoing from the tiles. That time Allison had had a “breakup” before a mission and gotten herself distracted and hurt as a result. But she hadn't wanted to admit it to neither Dad nor Mom, so Kassandra had MacGyvered the first aid and later stitched her up in the bathroom, with Luther holding Allison’s hand the whole time. All the little papercuts that Ben had kept getting. Vanya's scraped knees and scratched-open arms and shoulders. Kassandra could still recall exactly where the band-aids were hidden and her various other secret compartments for medicine strewn about the house. And the many times that Klaus had come back from a party, sometimes with Diego or Allison or very rarely Ben, and how she had helped them sober up in the bathroom every single time… Or that one time she had actually tagged along and Allison had held Kassandra's hair up for her all night, listening to her drunken rambles and regrets – a night that Kassandra found was a blur, the details locked away at the back of her mind and protected by sisterly secrecy. … Where was Allison when you needed her?

Quickly, Kassandra finished up her work and snuck into her room on the softest tiptoes. She closed the door behind herself and lifted up one of the floorboards, revealing another secret storage. Inside were painkillers, medical supplies, sleeping pills… Hectically, she put a few ibuprofens in her pocket, then popped a sedative in her mouth and swallowed it. With a shaky, she hopped onto her bed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She wanted to cry, she really did, but her body wouldn't let her, her eyes rebelling against her once again. So, she grabbed her pillow, burrowed herself beneath her blankets and screamed, knowing the many feathers would swallow up the sound. Again and again, she blew her vocal cords out until her voice wouldn't let her anymore and she collapsed, an exhausted little girl again, staring at the outlines of sticky stars on the ceiling. All the while, Allison’s words from that night echoed in her mind.

We made it, sweet sixteen. Things will only get better from here, I promise. … Happy birthday.

“Happy birthday,” Kassandra whispered, a single tear rolling out of her eye, her expression made of stone. Then, she wiped it away, and the memory faded back to her subconscious.

Only a little while later, there was a knock on her door. Kassandra took a deep breath as she already knew who was on the other side.

“Come in!” she called, her voice still slightly hoarse.

So, the door clicked open and Klaus peeked his head inside.

“Hey, Kass, wanna go on a road trip?”

“A road trip?” she echoed. “Where to?”

“Oh just… just somewhere in town. But I figured you might wanna come along. Y'know, emotional support.”

Emotional support. That was all he needed to say.

“Alright, sure,” Kassandra said quickly, swinging her legs off the bed. “Do I need anything?”

“No, nothing. C'mon, Diego's already waiting.”

“Oh, okay.”

Quickly, Kassandra slid a pair of gloves into her pocket, then reached her hand out to him so they could leave. Klaus linked his fingers with hers and they exited the room, headed down the stairs. For as much as the gunshots and grief were tearing at her heart, Kassandra couldn’t help but feel comforted by the way he trusted her, the way he leaned against her. It was just like old times. If she didn't look too hard, she could see a teenage Klaus in that black coat with the fluffy collar, ignoring the torn uniform shirt underneath.

Outside, Diego was already waiting in the car – and maybe it was good that Klaus was hitching a ride and holding him down, that way the vigilante couldn't go through with his original plan.

“Kass, what are you doing here?” Diego asked, watching through the mirror as Klaus and Kassandra shuffled into the backseat.

“It’s called ‘having a good relationship with your sister’,” Klaus cut in. “You should try it sometime.”

“Oh yeah?” Diego scoffed, but without the usual fire and vitriol.

He locked eyes with Kassandra through the mirror in search of answers, but when she couldn’t give him any, he started the car. Something told her he understood anyway. 16 years of living as siblings should’ve taught him how to see the signs. As they drove through the city, they sat in silence, Klaus nursing a heavy vodka bottle. That was until Diego broke the silence.

“Wow,” he remarked, “my brother Klaus is silent. Last time you were this quiet we were twelve. Ran down the stairs wearing Grace’s heels, tripped over and broke your jaw. How long was it wired shut again?”

Klaus didn’t respond, just kept staring out the window and sipping his drink.

“Eight weeks, I think?” Kassandra muttered.

“Eight glorious weeks of bliss.”

“Hey just… just drop me off here,” Klaus cut in.

They were in a far-off part of town and Diego furrowed his brows before doing as he was told and pulling into a “parking spot” in front of a square building. A dinghy bar, Kassandra gathered, a bar for veterans. Oh boy…

As soon as they had come to a stop, Klaus pulled his hand out of Kassandra’s grasp, muttering something like a thank you. Then, he tumbled out of the car, almost slamming the door in her face, though he didn't mean to.

“You sure you're okay, man?” Diego called after him, almost crawling out through the window.

But Klaus didn't respond, only sliding the vodka bottle into his coat and shuffling into the bar. So, Diego let himself fall back into his seat and shook his head.

“So much for holding down the base,” he commented, eyeing Kassandra. “What’s going on?”

Kassandra opened her mouth, only for her eyes to glow white again, so she quickly shut herself up. She had to tell him but she couldn’t… but maybe she could show him. With a deep breath and an instruction for him to do the same, she reached out her hand. At first, she only hovered two fingers over his forehead, but when he dipped his head, granting her permission, she placed her palm against his skin, lacing her fingers into his hair, knowing he would jump back as soon as he saw what he needed to see.

Diego felt like he was hit by a car when he suddenly found himself standing in a muddy battlefield that had once been a forest, gunshots ricocheting all around him and helicopter blades whirring somewhere nearby. He felt and didn't feel as Kassandra pushed him down, the bullets nearly grazing his scalp.

“The fuck is this place?!” he spat out, his voice weirdly echoing, disembodied.

“My way of showing you the things I can’t tell!” Kassandra shouted over the noise. “In other words, my imagination!”

“You’re telling me Klaus went to fucking war?! What is this, Vietnam?!”

Suddenly, a ball of fire erupted up ahead and it gave a terrible roar, like all breathable air was being sucked into the burning armageddon in front of them. Around them, soldiers fell like houses of cards. As Diego looked down he saw his hands covered in blood, shimmering dog tags hanging from his neck like a noose.

It was like no air reached Diego’s lungs when he faded back into reality. An expression of pure regret on her face, Kassandra let go of his head and caressed his cheek, sending him waves of comfort to make up for that pain she had made him go through.

“Oh shit,” he muttered.

Kassandra nodded. “And the worst part is: No one in there will believe him,” she mumbled, eyes on the entrance to the bar.

Diego fully shut off the car, slamming his head against his seat. But then, he paused.

“Wait a minute, Kass,” he said, beckoning her over to him with his fingers, his tone oddly soft. “Is that what you see? Y'know, every time we— Hey, don't—”

But Kassandra had already hopped out of the car, headed for the bar.

“Kassandra Hargreeves!” Diego called after her, following with long steps. “Don’t you dare avoid this conversation!”

“Klaus needs our help,” Kassandra interrupted, her voice slightly shaking. “So maybe stop thinking you need to be the one to fix everything and focus on the matter at hand, Number Two.”

Diego’s words got stuck in his throat, coming out as only a scoff of disbelief. Those words sounded wrong in her voice – and felt foreign in her throat. Out of all of the siblings, Kassandra was the only one who never called them by numbers. It was only natural since she had been the reason they had gotten proper names in the first place, even if accidentally, having found their numbers cruel and dehumanizing even when she had been too young for that level of conscience. Besides, she really had no reason to pull number since the 8 was the bottom of the barrel. For her to do it now… Diego called bullshit. But that was an issue for another day.

“Alright. Then follow my lead, Number Eight.”

General Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @bravelittleflower @box-of-bats

Academy Projects Taglist: @therantsofawriterrr @come-along-pond @the-wyvern-institute @cherrybombgigi

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

[otakugurl-11037]

Who Let Vampires Run Rock n' Roll?! Part 4!

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We got mentions of biting and blood. That's about it.

Part One! Part Two! Part Three!

Over 1,000 words.

Happy reading!

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I let his words marinate in my mind. This whole time, I’d been a fan of a vampire band, and I didn’t even know until now. Looking back at their name and some of the songs they put out, it made sense. Lucien then snapped his fingers, bringing me back to reality. He looked up like he was remembering something. “Ah, we’ve gotten distracted,” he said, looking back at me. “I have an offer for you. A proposition, if you will. Are you willing to hear me out, sweetheart?” “Um,” I said. “Sure, also, what’s up with that nickname?” “Oh, when I tasted you that night, you were as sweet as strawberries. Your little heart was racing as well. That’s where that moniker came from. I could stop calling you that, if you want to.” A surge of embarrassment attacked me as soon as he brought up that night. “No, no. It’s fine,” I said, shaking out any thoughts about the night at the concert. “You had an offer for me, right?” He smiled again, as if he was about to tell me something grand. “Yeah, I do. So, me and the guys were thinking that you should join us. Like, join our band.” …come again? “We heard your voice that night, albeit it was small. They agreed that you have some potential as a backup vocalist, with how your voice complimented mine. For you see, you have a delicate voice, like a fallen angel who’s been lamenting to her God each night, hoping to be brought back. It adds more…depth to us.” “I…I never thought my voice would be compared to a fallen angel’s,” I start. “Why that specifically?” “Hm,” Lucien looked at my wall in consideration. “It’s what came to mind when I heard you. You have gentleness, yet you also have melancholy. I believe it would fit a fallen angel’s voice.” “Oh, well, thank you.” “Of course. As I was saying, sweetheart, you would be the backup vocalist, but you wouldn’t have to be on stage if you wish to remain anonymous. But if you want to be on stage, you would get a unique mask just like the others’.” I nod, waiting for him to continue on. “You would also get access to Crimson Nocturne’s special secrets. Little snippets of stories we put in the music videos, the meaning of these masks, and many more. So much of our lore will be instilled into your mind and it is mind-blowing.” “Ah wait,” I said, remembering something crucial. “Am I going to have to feed you? And if so, will I be passed around your bandmates if they’re vampires too? “Yes and no. In that order,” Lucien replied. “The other girl that I fed on before I came here ditched me out of the blue and I haven’t been able to find another. As for the others, they already have their own respected meals. Alexzander has Ellie, Lysander has Amie, and Alistair has Charlotte. You will not have to worry about being passed around.” Oh my gosh… “Don’t worry, those feedings will be 100% private from now on. You won’t be bitten in front of a live audience unless you truly want me to.” “And another thing,” I said. “You better specify that you want blood. Not a drink. A drink could be anything.” “Of course, sweetheart,” he said, genuinely. “I won’t cross that line again.” “Anyway, what kind of benefits does your band offer?” “Benefits?” “Yeah, are you able to back my healthcare, dental, and other things like that?” Lucien looked away, in deep thought. He then turned back to me. “I could be your sugar daddy. Is that a benefit?” “No!” “Ah,” he said, shrugging. “That’s the only benefit we can offer, sorry. You don’t think that being treated to whatever you want whenever you want is a benefit?” “Shoot, unless you can help pay off these taxes.” “Vampires don’t pay taxes, sweetheart. None of that money goes toward anything that benefits us, so we just simply avoid them.” Vampires committing tax evasion was something that sounded outlandish yet it made sense at the same time. “Okay, so sugar daddying is your only benefit,” I said to confirm what he said. “What about the pay?”

“Oh, these venues pay a LOT,” Lucien said with a wide grin. “It’s much easier to divide the check up by 5 than it is 4, so everybody would get an even cut. That last concert we did paid us $250,000. So if you were in it, you would get $50,000.” I have to admit, that is some good money.

“So what do you think,” Lucien asked. “Will you join us, the Crimson Nocturne?”

I brought my hand to hold my chin to think. Am I really going to toss my old job and life to be in a band? I don’t even work in music, I’m an editor for a health newsletter. Not only that, they only heard one performance of mine--it’s not enough to determine if I can truly do it.

With that in mind, I give him my answer.

•••

I lay in bed, a puddle of drool on my pillow. It’s been days since I turned down Lucien’s offer. For whatever reason, he didn’t seem disappointed nor sad. He did try to convince me further, but I told him no and he left.

I’m not sure what those guys heard from me that night, but I am not going to embarrass myself in front of all those people. I haven’t sung since that night, what if my voice cracks and instead of a “aaaa,” I go, “aaaAAAaaa?” I would leave as soon as that happens.

I get up and head downstairs to cook breakfast. Some pancakes, eggs, and bacon should do me well today.

•••

I sat back on my couch, having finished my breakfast. I picked up my phone and checked my notifications--Mai had texted me.

Mai(Bestie ❤ ️ ❤ ️): AHHH OH MY GOD

Mai(Bestie ❤ ️ ❤ ️): GRIL YOU GOTTA COME OVER IMMEDIATELY!!

Mai(Bestie ❤ ️ ❤ ️): ◉▢◉

Me: wait what’s going on??

Mai(Bestie ❤ ️ ❤ ️): Youll see when you get here! 🤭I bet she’s found an old trinket from the summer camp we went to when we were kids again. Me: omw I get up and head to my room. I open my dresser and grab my fresh clothes before walking to the bathroom. After showering and dressing myself up, I grab my keys and head down to the car. Mai’s place is about a 3 minute drive from here, which is perfect. I lock the front door behind and enter the car, turning the key into the ignition. By the time I pull up to Mai’s place, a large black car is already in her driveway. “Huh,” I said aloud. “That’s definitely not concerning at all.” The car was bulky, it could hold a handful of people inside. Not only that, but the windows were tinted to near black. Anything could happen in that car, and people outside would be oblivious. That’s scary. I park nearby and walk on the sidewalk. Normally when she invites me to come over, her door is already unlocked. I told her not to do that before, but she insisted. If it’s one thing about her, she has a great tenacity. I open the door to hear her giggling and laughing in the living room. Her house is smaller than mine; she doesn’t have a second floor. Yet it’s one of the comfiest spaces I’ve been in. I walk to the living room, waving at Mai. “Hey Mai, you wanted to see me-” I stopped right at the door frame to see that she was laughing with Lucien. That SAME Lucien who bit me then offered a spot in his band. “Aah, oh my gosh, you’re so funny,” Mai said, tears in her eyes. “My sides are starting to hurt!” Lucien giggled, then glanced at me smugly. “Oh, hey!!” Mai ran up to me and embraced me, I returned the embrace, staring back at Lucien. “My gosh, you won’t believe it! He came over to see me!” Mai was practically hopping up and down from the excitement. She soon let me go, a huge smile on her face. It’s like seeing a child getting to play with Legos for the first time. Lucien giggled and stood beside her. “Your friend is a sweet girl, sweetheart,” Lucien said, Mai blushing profusely. “I can see why you two are buddies. She told me about how much you two were such big fans of my work. Even to the point where you’d dig into our lore. It’s admirable.” “Oh, you gotta tell us! We’ve been trying to figure you out for ages!!” “No can do, only those within our dark circle may know.” Mai let out a ‘wah’ before looking back at me. “How come you didn’t join the band, girlie??” How’d she know?? “I…have no idea what you mean by that,” I said, looking away. “Yeah you do, Lucien told me about it earlier!” Damn. He threw me under the bus. “Look, this is a super-cool opportunity that’ll never ever come again! You gotta step out of your comfort zone, girl! Try new things! And if it doesn’t work out, then that’s okay!” “Crimson Nocturne isn’t forever, sweetheart. We can let it go after you’ve tried it and you didn’t like it,” Lucien added. “See? Please, can you just perform one gig with them? If you hate it, you can always come back.” I was about to turn her down again, but she had to hit me with her most brutal weapon known to man. It could defeat an army of a million men. Those freakin puppy dog eyes. I have no clue how he managed to get a hold of Mai and convince her to convince me to join, but man. It’s working. “Fine,” I said, earning the celebration of Mai and the content countenance upon Lucien. He knew this would work, I could tell by his face. “But ONLY one performance,” I add. “If I like it, I’ll come back for more. And if I don’t, that’s it.” “Fair enough, sweetheart. So it’s a trial. As for this trial, I welcome you with open arms to our darkness.”

I dunno what happened to the spacing, but I'm too tired to fix it right now. Part 5 will come someday.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

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For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

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Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

[dimitrescus-bitch]

Closer (Lady Dimitrescu x Reader)

Smut

Song: Closer by In This Moment

You sat in front of your mirror and fixed your outfit to look just right for Alcina. She was dealing with some pesky man that Heisenberg let slip through his fingers. Hopefully, it wouldn’t have taken too much longer. Daniela and the other girls were absolutely terrible at taking care of the baby that had been dropped off, so that was added to your duties around the house. Even if it was tiring, you had to admit that you were glad to actually have a role other than Alcina’s “pet.” 

“But Mother,” Daniela’s voice called out from the other side of the door. Alcina’s footsteps were light, much lighter than you’d expect from a being of her stature. You could still hear the click of her heels on the hardwood floors. 

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror before turning to grab your robe. You shrugged it over your shoulders and loosely tied it. The midnight blue lingerie set that you had managed to sneak into the house was barely covered by the black silk robe that Alcina had ordered for you. You stared at the door in the mirror as you picked up a comb and began to comb through your hair. 

“There are no buts about it. There are three of you and one of him,” Alcina told Daniela. The doorknob creaked as she turned it and pushed the door open. Alcina ducked under the doorframe as she sauntered into the room. The door shut behind her and she walked over to where you were sitting. 

“Is your pest problem taken care of?” you asked Alcina as she leaned over you to hang her hat on the edge of your mirror. 

“For tonight, it is not a concern. I have a much better subject to focus on.” Alcina’s voice was teasing and playful. You loved it whenever she was in such a good mood. 

“Whatever could you mean Lady Dimitrescu?” you asked her as you dramatically fanned yourself. You turned your neck to the side and watched as her eyes traced along your jugular. 

“You seem very coy tonight. No use playing around when I can sense how badly you want me,” Alcina told you. She pulled you onto your feet and enveloped you in her warm embrace. It was soothing and you allowed yourself to completely relax against her body. She turned you around so that you were facing the mirror once again. 

Alcina made sure that you were watching her as she untied the rope to your robe. The silk parted ways and you felt a chill as the air hit your skin. Alcina placed her right hand just above your left hip bone so that her arm was draped across your body. Slowly, she dragged your hand up and across your torso until she was groping your breast. Alcina moved her hand up a bit more until it was over your chest. 

Then, she leaned down and whispered to you, “Does your heart race for me?” 

“Always,” you told her as you stared into the reflection of her eyes. Alcina pulled you away from the mirror and laid you out on the bed. She took great care in moving you, like she did not want to break her fragile little human woman. You normally hated being thought of as fragile, but Alcina did not do it in a way that made you feel patronized. 

“Good.” Alcina leaned down and pressed her lips to your neck. You felt her tongue dart out and lick over your pulse point. Alcina brought her head up again and you couldn’t help but to pull her towards you for a kiss. She was quick to take control over the kiss. You did not mind, it was often much easier for you to follow her lead instead of trying to keep her on edge in regards to what you were going to do next. 

Alcina’s hands moved up the sides of your body before dipping behind your back. You winced a little at the sound of fabric ripping and the feeling of a her nails scratching your back. You broke the kiss to hiss at the slight pain you were feeling. Alcina nipped at your bottom lip before trailing her kisses down your neck and to your newly exposed breasts. 

“Fuck,” you swore as she bit the underside of your breast. You felt her teeth piercing your skin and just as quickly as the pain had been there, her tongue was running over the wounds to soothe you. You moaned at the familiar sensation and whined at the loss of contact when she decided to continue trailing kisses down your body. 

Unlike with what she had done with your bra, Alcina did not use her claws to tear your underwear. Instead, she took great care with removing those. That gave you a chance to admire her before she did something to your body that would deter your ability to focus. 

“You are such a beautiful creature,” Alcina told you. “You look at me like I’ve still got a soul to sell. You’ve allowed me to ruin you time and time again. The things that I’ve done to you, they’re not good.” 

“My existence has always been flawed, but you bring me closer to God,” you told Alcina. That managed to break the whatever power had been holding her back. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around her neck as she slid her hand in between your legs. 

She hummed as she felt how absolutely soaking you were. You moved your hips in time with how her fingers were surging in and out of you. Alcina leaned down a bit and placed her lips on your neck. For a moment, she didn’t do anything, but then you felt her teeth pierce your neck. The timing was perfect, she began to drink from you just as you approached your orgasm. 

Your body twitched in her arms. The more she drank, the harder you came around her fingers. Your body felt light and like you were floating. A fear that Alcina would let go of you and you’d get lost in space washed over your body as she moved her mouth from your neck. You clung to her with the bit of strength you had left as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep. It was true what you had told her, there was nothing closer to heaven than when Alcina had her way with you. 

[marrys-dream-world]

Imposter

Read on AO3

Summary:  Adrien's mother is kind and sweet and loving. The only problem is that it isn't her at all.

Notes: This is based off on this post by @infinitysgrace and a post athat I can’t find anymore, but was about how Emilie’s eye color could be wrong in the wishmaker flashback because it wasn’t her, it was a sentimonster. I took some liberties with sentimonster lore because I’m not 100% sure about all that, but I think it turned out well. 

One of Adrien’s earliest memories is of crying. 

He was young, perhaps three or four, and his room was blurry through his tears. When he grew older, he would get used to his father’s insistence that a night light was coddling Adrien, but at the moment, all he knew was the darkness surrounding him. The room was too big and his bed was in the middle of it, the light from the huge windows playing shadows that tricked his eyes. So he started crying, hoping it would call his parent’s attention and that they would come to him.

(When he grew older, he would learn that crying was useless.)

He felt more than saw his mother coming in, leaving the door open in a crack of light. Her arms wrap around him and she hums soothingly, the sound filling up his chest. She’s warm and smells sweet, like her favorite lavender perfume. He sinks into her, tears drying and sobs reducing to whines. He has tired himself out with that and would probably fall asleep even if left alone, but his mother doesn’t leave. She tucks him in and stays as his eyes close.

The last thing he sees are her wide blue eyes. 

-

Both his parents have drastic mood changes, but Adrien would say that his mother is the most prominent example of this. His father is usually just stoic and, if Adrien pushes him enough, gets annoyed with him. At worst, he’ll get angry and rage at Adrien, calmed down only by his mother’s calm words as she diverts his attention so Adrien can get away. His mother, though, always feels like whiplash.

“Why can’t I go with you?” Adrien, aged seven, asks his mother. He’s sitting on her bed as she packs her bag for another trip with his father. He stopped keeping count of them after the fifth. 

“You’re too young, baby.” She said and even the pet name didn’t stop the sting from her dismissive tone. “Next time, okay?”

He bits back a ‘you said that last time, too’. 

“But I’m already- “

“Adrien.” His mother chides, frowning. Her (disappointed) green eyes held him down. “I said you could stay here with me if you weren't going to be disruptive. Can’t you behave, just this once?”

He swallows back a lump in his throat. “I-I’m sorry, mother.”

But she already turned her back to him and packed the rest of her bag in silence. His mother leaves out her customary goodbye kiss when she leaves for the trip. He isn’t allowed downstairs to see them go and Nathalie insists it isn't a punishment, even though it feels like it. Adrien mopes in his room, not feeling up to enjoy his free day, no tutors or photoshoots, when all he can think about is his mother.

That’s why he’s taken back when she walks in his room.

“Mother?” He gaps, unable to hide his surprise. “I thought you left. Aren’t you going to miss your trip?!”

“I changed my mind, Adrien. Your father and I decided that the trip would be more productive with just him.” She said, eyes warm. Adrien always thought it was beautiful how her eyes could look blue or green, depending on the light. 

“But why?” He asked. She had been so excited for the trip!

“To stay with my precious son, of course.” His mother said, taking him into her arms.

All his questions evaporated right then and there. 

-

After their last trip, his parents decided to take a break from traveling. To network, his father informed him, which meant more boring family dinners and stiff ties. His mom always tuts when he complains about it, so he stays silent this time. At least it’s a dinner with Chloé, his best friend, and her family, so he and her are really only required to have dinner and then they can go off and play in the hotel rooms. 

“Arnold- “ Mrs. Bourgeois starts during dinner, before being nervously corrected by her husband.

“It’s Adrien, dear.”

“Oh right, Adrien. You grew up really well, you look more like your mother everyday.” Other people say it gushing, followed by a ‘so cute’ and pinches to the cheek. Mrs. Bourgeois says it like it’s a fact she approves of; Chloé even copies the small nod her mother makes. “You have her eyes.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I don’t think so.” He says as politely as he can, but everyone in the table still throws him confused glances.

“You don’t think you look like your mother?” His father asked, raising an eyebrow.

Adrien shook his head. “No, I just don’t think I have her eyes. Mother’s eyes are blue and green and mine are just green.”

The Bourgeois family looks at him like he grew a second head. His parents, however, become tense all of sudden.

“Emilie, Gabriel, I think your son might be colorblind.” Mrs. Bourgeois says dryly and Adrien waits for his parents to come to his defense. They don’t. 

“Maybe. You know how children are.” His mother says, lightly. “I love your hat, Audrey. Is it new?”

The topic changes to Audrey’s new fashion exploits and Adrien and Chloé are finally allowed to go play. 

(Nathalie takes him to an eye doctor Mr. Bourgeois recommended the next day. The colorblind tests come back as negative.)

-

At age eight, Adrien was already used to working on fashion shows for his father’s brand. It didn’t make them easier to go through, however. 

It’s a summer one, this time, and his clothes are light and airy and his skin felt itchy and hot in the air conditioned cat walk. Looking at the bright lights around him hurt and the camera felt like it was looking uncomfortably deep into his soul. Was it too obvious that he wanted to run away? The crowd claps everytime he comes and everyone is smiling. Except for his father. 

After the show, his father spends the rest of the ride in silence as his mother tries to defuse the heavy tension that permeated the air with small talk and gushing compliments about the clothes and Adrien’s performance. It falls flat as she hardly looks like she’s up for talking, dark shadows under her eyes and skin paler than usual. Whenever Adrien asks her if she’s sick, she denies. As soon as they arrive home, he drags Adrien from the car towards the house, grip strong on his left upper arm. 

“Do you enjoy embarrassing me in front of everyone, Adrien?” His father asked calmly, but his hand tightened on his arm. 

Adrien couldn’t speak. It felt like it was happening to someone else, his mind weirdly detached from the situation. The only thing stopping him from floating away was the pain in his arm. 

“That’s enough, Gabriel.” He heard his mother, voice muffled. It felt like he was underwater in the pool and she was speaking from far away. Her hand, though, he felt acutely as she extricated his father’s hand from his arm. “Adrien, go, please.”

He runs away without second thought, only pausing guiltily at leaving his mother with his irate father when he starts hearing his father’s screaming. Adrien hides under the blankets in his room, heart racing long after the noise stops as he tries to focus his mind into anything else. He startles when he feels a hand touching his blanket cocoon. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby.” He hears his mother’s voice and frantically tears his blanket away. 

Adrien relaxes as he looks into her wide blue eyes and comforting smile, trying to leap for a hug. She stops him. 

“Let me see your arm first.” She says and he reluctantly takes off his jacket, wincing. The bruise on his arm doesn’t look pretty, so it’s for the best that he doesn’t go out much after fashion shows. “I can’t believe I let you get hurt.”

Her tone is soft and she looks, weirdly enough, genuinely confused as she touches the bruise on his arm and coos in apology as he flinches. 

“Father is just stressed.” Adrien parrots back his mother’s usual spiel after his dad does something less than exemplary. “It’s just how she is, it’s okay.”

"It 's not okay.” His mother says right away. “I’m supposed to not let anything hurt you, Adrien.” 

She says that with such a passion that he can believe she actually means it. But instead of the elation he expected when he heard it, all he felt was a surge of anger. Because why now? After all those moments when she scolded him for avoiding his father or not looking him in the eye, why now?

“There isn’t anything we can do about it, is there?.” He snaps, echoing her words to him from what felt like yesterday. 

She deflated. “I’m sorry. There isn’t.”

-

His father went away from a trip again and his mother, once again, decided to stay. 

Spending time with his mother during father’s trip was great, especially since she was in such a good mood and looking much healthier than she did these days. She lets him have an extra scoop of ice cream for dessert as soon as Nathalie turns her back on them, she spends the whole day playing with him in the garder, she helps with his homework and makes him a snack between classes. They play the piano together, making up different tunes and giggling. 

“Don’t I have to practice this?” He asked, pointing to the sheets of the classical song he was supposed to learn. 

His mother wrinkled her nose.

“You already work too hard, Adrien, it’s nice to have some fun once in a while.” She said, twisting her wedding ring on her finger. She usually didn’t wear it when spending time with him, only when she spent time with father, so it caught his attention. “Besides, nobody has to know.” 

They watch a movie he picked that night. His mother rarely did that and when she did, she was very picky about it. Artist stuff, he supposed. This time he got to choose, though, and he picked on based on a manga he liked, Astroboy. His mother seemed excited in the beginning, but her mood quickly subdued as the movie went on. 

“Are you not liking it?” He whispered to her and she shook her head.

“I am, baby, don’t worry. Are you?”

“Yeah. It's not really like the manga, but I like it.” He said. “I just think it’s a little unfair, you know. How he doesn’t know he isn’t really the scientist’s son, that he’s just a robot.”

His mother’s arms tighten around him. “I don’t think it’s unfair.”

“Really?” Adrien watched as the images from the screen played on his mother’s blue eyes.

“Really.” She repeated. “Him knowing would be crueler.”

-

At age ten, Adrien is awakened on a rainy night by his mother shaking him.

It was the night his father was supposed to come back from a trip and he had spent a fun day with his mother, studying and playing (“You need both to be a healthy boy, Adrien!” She grinned at him and he beamed back at her). His mother had looked a little skittish earlier, looking over her shoulder often only to just find Natahalie and fidgeting with the ring on her hand, that she usually wore every time his father was traveling. She wouldn't tell him what was wrong and insisted she hadn’t been sick. Nevertheless, he worried. 

“Mother, what’s wrong?” He asked, sleepiness fading away as he noticed how frantic she looked. 

“Adrien, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Every moment I’ve been conscious, it’s been on my mind. Can you trust me?” She asked him, stroking his head with the hand that wore her wedding ring, and he nodded. “I need you to pack a small bag and come with me, okay? We’re going on a trip, just you and me.”

“A trip?” It was all he ever wanted, but the look in his mother’s blue eyes made him hesitate. “Is everything okay?”

“No, baby.” She said, kissing the top of his head. “But it will be. Hurry up, I need you to pack while I handle some things. Meet me downstairs in five minutes, okay?”

With anyone else, even his father, he would have asked more questions. This was his beloved mother, though, so he just got up and started to pack his clothes and some of his stuff that he couldn’t do a few days without. He carefully closed his door, running down the stair and to his mother by the door. She looked damp, her outfit changed and an umbrella hanging by her feet along with some bags. 

“Adrien?” She asked, turning her green eyes to him. In her left hand, she held her wedding ring.

“Mother? Are you okay?” He asked, noting how much paler and shakier she looked than when he saw her upstairs. 

“Yes, of course.” His mother said as she put her wedding ring back on. “Whatever I said to you upstairs, forget it, okay?”

“W-what?”

“I didn’t know what I was saying.” She said, eyes staring straight at her ring. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. Go back to bed, baby. Your father is back earlier than expected and he won’t like to see you up so late. ”

He nodded, unwilling to argue, and took his bag back with him to his room. His mother suddenly acting weird and standoffish wasn’t anything new, it was fine. She would go back to being his sweet, kind mother soon enough. He was sure of it. 

(She never did.)

[writertitan]

The Swan

pairing: levi x reader

word count: 2398

themes: musician!reader, v soft levi, just fluff, Levi’s POV

requested by anon

The day Historia was crowned was important to Levi for two reasons. One was that, of course, he felt a surge of pride at one of his cadets rising to her full potential and becoming queen. He had always been slightly concerned about Historia; she was small - even smaller than him - and admittedly, he’d always viewed her as the weakest of them.

The second reason that day was so important to him was a reason he wasn’t quite ready to come to terms with. 

That day was the day he’d noticed you. Noticed you fully. 

You had always kept to yourself and Levi hadn’t chosen you to be on his squad. He barely had time to keep track of his own squad, let alone remember all the other scouts. Not that there were many scouts left. Still, you’d joined right before this entire mess had happened. Most of those who had been around before knowledge of titans being humans were dwindling off now. Except for you. 

But you being a survivor wasn’t what had caught Levi’s attention. In fact, you hadn’t even been the one to catch his attention. Not literally, not physically. 

After the coronation, Levi had stepped away, just for a breather and to take a break from socializing. It was exhausting, being around so many people, and being around so much celebration. 

He walked down this hall and that one, turning corners and essentially losing himself in a maze. There wasn’t a soul in sight. 

And that’s when he heard it. Very soft and faint at first, and growing stronger as he made his way down the empty hallway. Someone was playing notes on a piano, and beautifully so. Levi couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard music like this, where it wasn’t being played by some drunk outside at the markets, or being played in jest on base by slapping pots and pans and bringing out a worn out guitar. 

Soldiers didn’t get to hear refined music like this. So, Levi stopped. He stopped walking once he was right outside the door to the room where the music was. He stopped and he listened. It was so...rejuvenating. The exhaustion and stress he felt seeped away just the slightest bit, but it was enough. 

Out of curiosity, he leaned in just the slightest bit to peek his head into the room and figure out who was playing the piano like that. To his complete and utter surprise, he knew who you were immediately, even though you looked...different. 

There was the you that he had seen in passing at base. The you who saluted him and carried an air of respectfulness. The you who gave respect and followed orders and did what a soldier did. 

And then there was this you. The you Levi would have never thought you to be. The you that demanded respect instead of gave it, just from the way you poised yourself over the black and white keys and moved purposefully, eyes closed and face peaceful but concentrated. He barely recognized you and yet he knew exactly who you were.

He shrunk back into the shadows and leaned against the stone wall, his head resting against it as he let himself, for once, relax. 

Each time you stopped playing, letting the last notes die out and fade away, Levi felt his heart sink in an unfamiliar way, only to swell in his chest when a new song began playing from your fingertips. He stayed like that all night, slumped against a wall and out of view while you played song after song as the night wore on.

Even though he understood that eventually you had to stop and everyone had to leave, it still pained him when you stopped for good, the dying song accompanied by the scraping of the bench you sat on moving on the wood floors as you shifted to stand up. Levi sighed to himself and let reality creep back into his mind. The stress that had melted away was slowly weighing back on his shoulders, and made him feel heavy again. 

He was gone before you left the room. 

-

After that, Levi couldn’t stop watching you. It was like you made music with everything you did. He noticed how you’d hum a tune to your horse. He noticed how you even managed to form some sort of gentle melody just tapping your fingers against a table. 

You were constantly making music. He heard music whenever he was around you now. It was starting to get ridiculous, because it wasn’t like anything had changed, really. You still greeted him the same way, treated him the same way, acted and performed the same way. You had absolutely no idea that Levi had changed towards you. 

He was good at keeping his distance, at masking all of his inner thoughts and feelings. That’s what he was good at. And he was good at convincing himself that his choices were sound. Maybe he’d just been a little drunk that night and your music had moved him because of that. There was nothing different about you. You were just another soldier. He didn’t know you. 

But why did it feel like he knew you? Why was he catching himself being more observant? The tune you hummed to your horse never changed. When you’d been put on stable duty, that was when another tune escaped you. He’d only caught it while passing by the stables, but he immediately noticed it was different. 

He also noticed how you stopped and listened to the musicians at the markets when you’d all ridden into town for some supplies. He saw the way you eyed the man with the fiddle, your eyes watching the way his hands produced music from it in an almost careless fashion. The music Levi once thought was atrocious was of course still not as good as the music you had brought into his life, these drunken fools were still atrocious in some sense, but now he listened to it differently. It wasn’t that bad. Not when it had you smiling. 

-

It drove Levi crazy that you still looked at him the same way when he was bursting at the seams with wanting to tell you his big secret. You looked at him the same, you talked to him the same. All surface level. Levi often caught himself staring at you. And, when he had a few minutes of spare time, he filled those few precious minutes with thoughts of you and what it would be like for you to look at him so serenely, the way you did when you made all that music. 

He hoped he wasn’t being too obvious. He had honestly convinced himself that he was the same as always and nobody knew his little secret. It didn’t matter that he was gentler with you, went out of his way sometimes just to say hello to you, made sure you were eating enough and sleeping enough. You didn’t notice, which calmed him down and also made him a little crazy. Although it was better, easier this way, he still hated that he couldn’t tell you what was happening to him. How could he tell you that he was constantly thinking about you, even when he wasn’t supposed to? How could he tell you that those songs you hummed were stuck in his mind? How could he tell you that he loved music now because of you? 

There was an irrational part of his brain that screamed at him to tell you, but it was not as strong as his rational parts that told him to never even take the opportunity should it arise. 

Levi was sure his rational brain was winning. Until the day he sat down next to you in the mess hall and handed you his bread when he saw you giving half of yours to Sasha. 

“Don’t starve yourself,” was all he said, and fought the twitch in his lips when you replied with, “I could say the same to you, Captain.” 

He ate quietly beside you, heart thumping wildly in his chest the entire time. He’d never said so many words to you all in one breath. 

-

It had taken so much work and, truth be told, he almost didn’t give it to you. Levi felt the rational part of him slowly succumbing to...hope? And he understood why so many people clung to this feeling. 

He hoped that if he gave you this gift, you would see. You would be able to understand what he was feeling and thinking and fighting himself about. And maybe, just maybe, you would be flattered. Maybe you would be willing to reciprocate. 

But Levi found himself not caring about what the endgame would be as he walked to your room, gift clutched tightly and clumsily in one hand as he knocked on your door. After a moment of waiting, he deflated, wondering where you could be right now. It was evening, after supper, and there was some down time to be had tonight. Could you have gone out, were you with someone els-

Then suddenly, you were there, surprise etched on your face at the sight in front of you. Levi hid his gift behind his back just in time, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever been this nervous. Had he ever been this nervous? 

“Captain,” you greeted him, voice trailing off so it sounded more like a question. And then a real question. “Can I help you with something?” 

A real conversation. Levi hadn’t really prepared himself for this. Whatever he’d planned on saying was suddenly forgotten and he cursed his now completely irrational brain. 

“I got you something,” he managed to say, shifting uncomfortably and no longer able to meet your eyes. He pulled out his gift from behind his back to show you, eyes snapping to your face at the gasp that came from your mouth. 

The look in your eyes was enough to make the whole endeavor worth it. But the way you were so gentle with taking it from his hands and examining it closely, it made any regret, any hesitance, leave his body. 

You scrunched up your nose and looked at him, violin close to your chest as you almost cradled it. 

“Captain, this looks expensive...I can’t accept it. Where did you get it?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured you almost instantly, panicked at the thought of you not keeping his gift to you. “Really, nobody wanted the damn thing. I thought you’d like it.” 

“How did you know I could play the violin?” you asked him, genuinely curious. 

Levi gulped. He hadn’t known for sure, had only guessed based on one encounter, and hoped that you’d at least just like the gift. So, he told the truth as best as he could without incriminating himself. 

“I saw you eyeing one of those musicians at the market once, the one that always plays that goddamn fiddle,” Levi explained, voice as stiff as his body. “Figured maybe you knew a thing or two…” 

You broke out into a smile then, though it was bashful, and Levi looked away again before his face got too hot and he flushed in a way that gave him away. If you noticed anything amiss, you said nothing. 

“Thank you...this is the best gift,” you said earnestly, then paused, voice growing soft as you asked, “Would you like to hear a little something? I haven’t played in years so I can’t promise it’ll be any good. But maybe you could critique me.”

“I’d love to.” The words came out of his mouth before you could even finish what you were saying. 

You let him in your room and closed the door behind him, and suddenly, the atmosphere was much more intimate. Levi tugged at his collar, wondering why it was so hot all of a sudden, but kept a polite distance as he settled into a chair by the corner and you surprisingly got comfortable in the middle of your room. Levi didn’t know much about music, but figured it would have been more comfortable to sit down or something. 

When you started playing, it was a song he’d never heard before. Hadn’t heard you play it on the piano before, hadn’t heard you hum it or drum it with your fingers before. It was new. And it was beautiful. 

This was the song that told him he was in love. How silly was that? 

But he listened, enraptured by the way you put your heart into every note. He took note of how your eyes closed in that way that was somehow familiar to him now and how your brows furrowed slightly in concentration. But you still managed to look so serene. 

He never took your eyes off you. Levi watched you play out the entire song, feeling his heart move with the strings. You played his heart like you played the violin, in the most purposeful and melodic way. It was pure music. 

Even when you stopped playing and got a little shy, the confidence in the musician version of yourself slipping away, Levi didn’t look away. He was in awe and didn’t care if it showed on his face. 

“You’re not rusty,” he promised you. “You’re incredible.” He meant it in more than one way. 

He wouldn’t have been able to know the way your heart swelled at the sweet words of praise. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

He stood up slowly, not wanting to invade your privacy any longer, but stopped at your door and turned to look at you, that damned nervousness seeping back into his veins. 

“Do you think...do you think I could hear you play more often?” he asked you, the words forcing themselves out before he could catch them. But who was he kidding? He didn’t want to stop himself from asking. 

He didn’t fail to notice the way you brightened at his question. He was relieved at the eager nod. 

“Anytime,” you replied. Then you held up the violin; you held it so gracefully, and knew exactly how to handle it. Levi warmed at the sight. “And thanks again for this gift...I love it, Captain.” 

“Levi. Just Levi,” he corrected you. And you gave him a grin. 

“I love it...Levi.” 

It was music to his ears. 

[you-didnt-see-that-cuming]

Mirror’s Image | Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Being with Javier feels like paradise. Being fucked against a mirror by Javier feels like euphoria.

Rated: E

Word Count: 2.7k

AO3 Link

Masterlist

A/N: I’ve been on my loving pedro bullshit again so here is some mirror sex with javier peña

When working as a DEA agent in Colombia, there were rarely ever moments that called for celebration. However, the raid based on information that Y/N had spent countless hours and sleepless nights collecting and deciphering was definitely one of those moments. Several tons of cocaine, crates of firearms, and multiple high-ranking and very wanted narcos had been seized with no casualties, along with new information about how Escobar was smuggling things in and out of Colombia. 

Even Carillo, who rarely ever smiled, had seen all the work Y/N had put into organizing the raid and was hiding a grin when he announced a celebratory dinner at a bar down the street from the embassy. Y/N was heading back to the police cruisers for a ride back to the embassy when Javier appeared suddenly at her side, his voice low and his hand sliding into her back pocket. 

“You have no idea how sexy you looked pointing a gun and shouting orders hermosa, I almost took you right then and there,” he whispered, leaning closer so that only she could hear him. Y/N could feel her cheeks heat and a spark tugging deep in her stomach. The two of them had been secretly seeing each other for over a year, not even clueing Murphy in on what they were behind closed doors. 

“Javier! What if someone sees us?” Y/N whispered harshly, although she wished she could lean into him and finally feel his hands on her properly after the long day they had had. His hands were always warm and soft against her skin, a juxtaposition from his perfectly calloused fingertips that would leave marks on her sides for weeks. The thought of him holding her up against the wall, bruising her thighs as he drew orgasm after orgasm from her was enough to make her feel an even more powerful surge of sparks in her abdomen. 

“Don’t worry hermosa, I’ll have you all to myself tonight,” Javier leaned into her neck and lightly bit down on the edge of her earlobe, sending shivers down her spine and intensifying the sparks in her core. Her eyes fluttered shut as Javier pulled away, walking in the opposite direction as if nothing had happened, a confident swagger in his gait. 

Y/N had to bite her lip to keep from moaning, now frustrated and wanting a certain someone between her legs, and it wasn’t until Carillo’s voice startled her out of her thoughts that Y/N took her eyes off of Javier and his immaculate frame. 

“You alright there Y/N? I thought you’d be heading back to get ready for tonight?” Carillo was an intimidating man, his shoulders and chest broad and a no-nonsense sort of look that was plastered on his face at all times. 

“Oh! Yes, um, I was just distracted for a moment, yes I’m heading back right now, I think I’m going to take a shower and get all of this grime off of me,” Y/N chuckled nervously before she rushed into one of the cruisers getting ready to leave for the embassy. She still had a couple hours before she had to arrive at the time Carillo had given everyone, and although Carillo was a stickler for punctuality, Y/N would still have time to unwind in the shower and prepare for the night. After all, if she wanted to spend the night with Javier like he had teased her earlier, she might as well make it worth her while. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N’s shower was the first time that she had been able to fully relax over the past few months. Almost all of her time had been spent pouring over evidence and tracking down witnesses and information, so the steam was a welcome treat for her aching muscles. Y/N stood beneath the rainfall setting of her shower, slowly kneading at the knots in her shoulders. She hadn’t realized just how long it had been since she had done something as indulgent as taking a hot shower for longer than 20 minutes. Her only true indulgence had been Javier’s company whenever they decided to spend the night together. After a long shower that was desperately needed, it didn’t take long to finish getting ready and begin the drive to the bar. 

It wasn’t a long drive, only about 10 minutes, but it gave Y/N the opportunity to listen to the radio and reflect. So much had happened within the two years that she had been working with the DEA in Colombia. The first 10 months or so had been filled with helping Javier and Murphy on cases, all while dealing with dangerous narcos and dodging the flirtatious advances of Javier. 

It wasn’t until Y/N had gotten shot in the stomach on one of their assignments that Javier had realized that the reason why he hadn’t been frequenting the best brothels of Bogota for the past couple months was because of Y/N. Only 4 weeks later, the two had begun secretly seeing each other after work, meeting up at restaurants where no one they knew could run into them. 

But Javier had promised that once Y/N had gotten her big break on a case, they would go together to HR and officially fill out the paperwork stating that they were a couple. Y/N had just gotten her big break on a case. She knew that the raid wouldn’t be the only thing that she would be celebrating that night.

~~~~~~~~~~

After a couple of drinks, everyone seemed to have loosened up and were engaged in loud conversation with one another. Y/N, however, kept glancing over to Javier, who was seated next to her. He always looked attractive, but Y/N could practically feel the sex appeal that was coming off of him in waves. He was wearing a button up with the top few buttons left open, revealing his smooth, tanned chest. She didn’t blame the lingering eyes of other women in the bar, after all, she had been one of them not too long ago. 

So far, they had been careful about any public displays of affection, but after the stunt that Javier had pulled back at the raid, Y/N decided to throw all caution to the wind. Carefully, she placed her hand on his knee under the table. She could feel how he tensed slightly under her touch before relaxing again. Y/N waited a few moments before she began slowly running her fingers up his thigh, taking her time to draw flowing patterns like vines.

It wasn’t until she was only a few inches away from his groin when his hand suddenly seized her wrist. He leaned in close, just as he had done at the raid, but this time there was an edge to his voice, like he was straining to get the words out. 

“What do you think you’re doing hermosa?” his words were almost like a growl with how deep his voice had gotten. 

Y/N blinked innocently at him, an expression that did not match what she was attempting to do with her hands. 

“What do you mean, Javi?” a smile was starting to spread across her face at Javier’s raised eyebrow. His grip tightened slightly around her wrist before he released her, standing up abruptly. Pulling an almost empty pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, he stalked off towards the back door of the bar, presumably to smoke in the back alley. 

Y/N had certainly gotten a reaction from him, he was always so… responsive beneath her touch. She would pay for it later though, a thought that had her mouth watering and her thighs clenching together. Recalling the memory of his face between her thighs or her front pressed against the balcony window as he pounded into her from behind, teasing her and forcing her over the edge more times than she could count was enough to make her desperate for his touch. 

Y/N waited until the song that was playing over the speakers had begun transitioning into the next before she stood to follow him. Y/N knew where to go, the door to the back alley was in the service hallway next to the bathrooms, a trip she had taken multiple times before for various drunken smoke breaks.

She almost had no time to react when she was suddenly pulled into one of the bathrooms and pushed up against the door, forcing the air out of her lungs. Javier’s mouth was on her neck within seconds, tracing the line of her jaw and down to her shoulder.

“Querida, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” he murmured, his lips still tracing her neck. 

“Mmm, why don’t you show me, mi amor?

Javier’s lips were on hers within seconds, his hands roaming across her body like he couldn’t get enough of her touch and the feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips. 

Y/N couldn’t help but moan, Javier tasted of his usual whiskey and cigarettes, a combination that was always intoxicating to her. He wasted no time in beginning to unbutton the buttons of her blouse, trying to rid her of as much clothing as possible so that he could touch more of her. 

Their kiss quickly became frenzied, both of them chasing a high that only the other could give. Within moments, Javier’s hands were on Y/N’s waist, turning her around and pressing her up against the mirror covered wall.

“Look at how perfect you look for me querida, looking like a fucking angel for me,” Javier’s voice was deep and raspy as he mouthed kisses over her neck, slowly and with purpose.

Y/N used her arms to brace herself against the mirror, looking at her reflection through her lashes. She looked absolutely wrecked, her hair was a mess, lips puffy, and the heaving of her chest from her panting was on full display. Javier stood behind her, giving open mouth kisses to her neck as his large hands traveled up her abdomen, squeezing one of her breasts in his hand. 

“Look at how beautiful you look for me, hermosa,” his voice now a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. 

“Javi, please! Do something, I- I need you to touch me,” Y/N was pliable beneath his touch, she could feel his cock gliding over her folds, teasing her as she arched her back. 

Without warning, Javier thrust forward, sheathing himself within her in one, swift movement, forcing a gasp from her lips. He stilled for only a moment before setting a punishing pace. Each thrust drove deeper and harder into Y/N, slowly pulling her apart and driving all rationale from her. 

Y/N moaned as she watched their reflection in the mirror, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, the glimpse of Javier’s curls from behind her shoulder, the indentations of her waist where his fingers held her, and the way his cock looked every time he entered her. All of it made her stomach spark in arousal. 

With one particularly hard thrust, Y/N let out a cry, her arms giving out and her body pressing up against the cold mirror. She could see the condensation building from their gasping moans and the heat of their bodies. 

“Oh my god, Javier, r-right there, fuck-” a broken moan escaped her lips as he continued fucking into her, his fingers coming to grasp her thigh roughly.

“You like that princess? You like how I fuck you?” Javier growled, his hand pressing even deeper into the flesh of her thighs and waist.

“Yes, oh my god, yes!” Y/N’s moans echoed slightly off of the tiled walls. “God you feel so good, don’t stop Javi,”

“Always look like a fucking vision on my cock, don’t you? Always feel so fucking good for me, because you are all mine,” he said, biting down on her shoulder. A thin sheen of sweat was layered over Javier’s beautiful, tanned, olive skin, emphasizing the flexing of his muscles with every movement.

With his right hand, Javier threaded his fingers through her hair, grasping it in a vice-like hold at the back of her head, and roughly pulled her up so that they made eye contact through the mirror, Y/N’s mouth falling open in arousal at his actions. 

“Look at how gorgeous you look for me, coming apart on my cock,” Javi had a smirk on his face, like he knew that she was completely at his mercy. “You like it when I fuck you like this? In the bathroom while everyone thinks you’re out smoking?”

Y/N couldn’t even attempt to answer properly, her mind too clouded with euphoria and the building of her orgasm, each rigorous thrust pushing her further over the edge. 

“Come on, answer me amado, you like being fucked like this?” Javier’s brought his hand down in a firm slap to Y/N’s ass, drawing a shocked yelp from her lips. 

“Yes! Yes, I love it Javi, please I- I’m going to cum, don’t stop!”

It only took a few more thrusts before Javier’s hips began stuttering and losing their steady rhythm.

“Where do you want me querida?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper in her ear.

“Inside, please I want you inside me Javi,” her voice was a breathy moan, a sound which always drove Javier over the edge. 

Y/N’s orgasm washed over her, her vision temporarily going white from the euphoria she was experiencing. Only moments later, Javier’s low moan registered next to her ear as he came, filling her up with his cum. 

Javier was still pressed to Y/N’s back, both of them panting as they tried to catch their breaths.

“You always look so beautiful after I fuck you, mi alma, I swear its like you were sculpted by the gods,” Javier mumbled as he pressed gentle kisses to her shoulder, just like he always did after he made her fall apart beneath his touch. Y/N loved this Javi, this was the Javi who woke up early on the weekends to go to the farmers market to get fresh fruit for her, the Javi who danced slowly with her in his living room to his old vinyls, the Javi who no one else but she got to see. 

“Mmm, you always take such good care of me, amado,” Y/N was met with a soft grunt as Javier wrapped his arms around her midsection, pulling her even closer to his body. 

“I’m going to show you just how well I can take care of you tonight, after all, you deserve to be worshipped,” he said as he continued pressing kisses to wherever he could reach. Javier had always been soft and gentle after sex, after years of meaningless sex with informants and prostitutes, he craved the caring touch he only got when he was with Y/N. 

A comfortable silence passed between them before Javier slowly pulled out, his cum slowly beginning to drip down Y/N’s thighs. Y/N barely registered that Javier had taken a damp paper towel and was cleaning up the mess he had left inside her. 

Y/N turned, leaning back against the mirror to watch Javier as he began getting redressed. Only a moment later, he began redressing Y/N, tenderly moving her body to put on her blouse and skirt. 

Y/N hummed, her hand coming up to caress Javier’s cheek lovingly.

“See? Like I said, always taking such good care of me,”

A longing look crossed over Javier’s eyes before he took her face in his hands, pulling her into a slow, passionate kiss. When they finally parted from their sweet embrace, Javier rested his forehead against hers, letting his eyes flutter closed in content and happiness.

“Te amo, mi alma,”

“Te amo, Javier,”

[hongism]

call me maybe - s. mingi 18+

day 22 of kinktober: guided masturbation - song mingi  warnings: video call sex, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, camboy mingi, client reader, cum eating, daddy kink, dirty talk wc: 1.6k genre: pwp, smut, 18+

“Touch yourself for me.” The command is spoken in a clean and crisp tone, one that compels you to obey without any hesitation. A chill takes over your whole body and surges through your veins. You snake a hand down the bare expanse of your chest. 

On any other day, you would feel embarrassed to be so exposed and on display in front of a total stranger. However, the sight of his hard and leaking cock before you makes you gain much more confidence in the show you’re putting on. Somehow you wouldn’t call Song Mingi a total stranger either — he’s a camboy you’ve been watching for several months now, so you’ve had the pleasure of seeing him in intimate and exposed positions like the one the two of you are in now, but this is a whole different level.

As his hand drags over his thick length, you release a small whimper. You want nothing more than to be able to reach through the computer screen and replace his large hard with your significantly smaller one, see the way his cock sits against your palm and makes you look even smaller. His tanned skin glows under the yellow lights of his room, causing the sheen of sweat over his chest to glimmer. Were you able to be there in person, you’re confident that you would ravish his whole body with your tongue and leave his covered in sweet love bites. Almost as though he reads your mind, Mingi hums and reaches up to tweak his nipple. It draws a deep moan from his full and swollen lips. Just as he moans, your own hand finds your sopping folds. The amount of arousal there should be embarrassing, but Mingi merely arches a brow as he looks at the display before him on his own screen.

How did you get so lucky again? Manage to win a one on one video call with your favorite camboy? Is this even real life? Surely it must be a dream because you would never dare to believe that you could have such a stroke of good luck. You must not be paying enough attention to Mingi now; he clears his throat to garner your attention – which you give to him in less than a second, mind you – and he speaks once again in that low, gravelly tone. It sends shockwaves of arousal every time you hear it, but now it feels so much more intimate having him one on one in this manner.

“I said to touch yourself for Daddy, baby girl.”

The whine that escapes you is borderline pathetic. You turn your cheek to avoid Mingi’s heated stare, although your hand doesn’t stop moving between your folds. 

“Good girl,” he praises when your fingers slip through the wetness there. “Keep touching yourself just like that for me.” 

You wouldn’t dream of disobeying him now, so you build up a steady rhythm, drawing small circles over your clit as Mingi watches on with a hawk-like gaze. He refuses to touch his twitching member for what feels like hours; instead, he settles for surveying your movements while roaming his hands across the skin of his chest. You follow each shift and shuddering muscle, letting your free hand dance up to brush over a nipple. The bud hardens under your touch. It leaves you wanting more, but Mingi lifts his chin and stops your needy touches before they can even begin. 

“Not without my permission, baby girl.” He clicks his tongue against his palate. “Bring your fingers to that pretty little cunt. I want you to fuck yourself nice and slow for me.” You do as told and push two fingers into your fluttering hole. The pressure builds between your legs, the sounds of your pleasure coming out in the wet pulses of your hand as you work yourself open before Mingi’s eyes. “Mhm, just like that. Such a pretty baby, opening yourself like that for me. Can you spread your legs a bit wider?”

“Y-Yes, Da-addy,” you stammer and press your legs further. Mingi leans closer to the camera as though by instinct, enraptured by the sight of your fingers fucking in and out of your squelching cunt.

“So, so good. I bet your walls would be so tight around my fat cock, don’t you think?”

“Yes, yes, Daddy.”

“More,” Mingi commands. Your lips tremble as you push your hips forward, thrusting your fingers into yourself at a new angle in attempts to reach deeper. It’s almost too difficult for you to handle; your fingers aren’t nearly long enough for this kind of activity, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping Mingi. If anything, it causing his teasing to grow in quantity. “Aw, poor little baby. Your fingers aren’t enough, are they?”

“N-No,” you whimper before sinking your teeth into your lower lip. 

“Wish they were my long fingers instead? I bet I could fill up that tight pussy with just one.”

“P-Please,” you beg, and at this point, you aren’t even sure what you’re asking for. Mingi’s hand snakes back down to his dick. He collects a bead of precum on his index finger then brings the large digit to his lips, lapping at the wetness on the tip. Your mouth falls open without you meaning for it to, and you can almost taste his seed on your tongue. Oh, the things you would give to be under him right now. Or on top of him. You don’t care really as long as he can be here with you in person. Sadly, you have to settle for this. 

“You’re gonna cum with me, aren’t you?” He speaks it like a question, but the underlying demand is more than present. You nod like a madman, hair bobbing with the motion. Mingi gulps air down like it’s water, and his Adam’s Apple protrudes a bit more as he swallows. His head falls back, hand jerking over his thick length, and possibly the hottest moans you’ve ever heard in your life tumble from his lips. It’s a bit self-centered really, but you can’t help but to feel like you’re the one drawing such noises out of him. It causes you to moan back, wanting Mingi to know that he is having a similar effect on you as well. He seems to appreciate the gesture from what you can tell; his cock twitches weakly in his grip as your noises reach his ears. 

“I… Daddy, I’m gonna – I’m gonna cum,” you warn, thumb flicking over your sensitive bud. You twist your fingers deeper inside your cunt and try to pump them in rhythm with Mingi’s hasty jerks on his cock.

“Cum for me then, darling. Fall apart for me, knowing that I’m the one giving you this pleasure right now.” 

His words spur you to a mind-blowing orgasm. It’s the best one you’ve ever given yourself, assisted by Mingi’s grunts and sweat-stricken body. He follows close behind you. Bright white ropes of cum spurt from the head of his cock, painting his bare chest and catching on his defined muscles. Without hesitation, Mingi brings his hand up and collects the seed onto his fingers, thrusting those same fingers into his mouth a second later. He laps at his long digits until every drop of cum has disappeared behind his tongue. You can only stare on in surprise with a new curling heat in your gut. 

“Your turn,” he murmurs once he pulls his hand back. You offer a hasty nod and tug your own hand to your mouth. If you’re going to eat your own cum like this though, you want to put on an excellent show for Mingi in return for all the shows he puts on for you. Your tongue drags over each finger at a languid pace, spending extra time to swirl the wet muscle through each crevice between your fingers. Mingi watches on with a heavily lidded gaze, eyes so blown out with lust that you can hardly see his irises in the dim light. 

“All done,” you say with a certain lilt to your tone, pulling off your last finger and letting the wet pop resound. 

“Fuck, that was… you’re hot as hell,” Mingi huffs out through a laugh. 

“I guess that’s all then?” You inquire. It’s hard to conceal the disappointment in your tone, but a deal is a deal, and this is all you agreed on before starting. “I’ll see you at your next stream, I suppose.”

“I’ll be on the lookout for your name again, Miss… Y/N.” Mingi’s full lips twist into a playful smile as he leans closer to the camera. That’s the last thing you see too, because the screen goes black a second later, and you’re suddenly left all alone in your room once more. You almost think that’s it, that you’ll never hear from Mingi again and have to go back to the much less exciting activity of merely watching Mingi through his streams. Then your message box on the site dings, and you hastily click on the notification when it pops up.

Message from: fixsong_mingi99

Figured you might need my number for our next visit. Feel free to call whenever.

And there below that short and sweet message lies a phone number, inconspicuous digits showing you exactly what you wanted to hear throughout your whole call with Mingi. That he wanted you too. 

...

a/n: okay this was new and exciting and i really had a lot of fun writing it omg im surprised

link to kinktober masterlist

taglist: @noonawriter @daniblogs164 @felixity @okokokok123-45 @jeonartemis @crescent-hwa @wheresmymoniat @nlost21 @lonely10vely @monbecaratstayarmy @hello-its-ya-boi @onyxblade01 @kimnamshiks @poutychangbinnie @toothlessshiber @xxbluestrifexx @lokihoeforhyunjin @ice-cold-taeyong @essantial @blueish-sun @etaerealboy @notbeforelong @wideawakeficrecs​ @adestinyuwu​ @simpforhyunjin​ @naajix @lilyliline21 @leaz-kpop-life​ @hyunjinsicedamerican0​ @marigold-bebee​ @changbinswifu​ @xcookiemonsteer​ @ddalgi-yong​ @succulentpk​ @immabiteyou​

unable to be tagged: @sailing-goddess-of-ateez @gingerale-addict @jertazz @seoha 

[sailorhyunjinz]

𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖘 𝐈𝐈

© 2021 SailorHyunjinz ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Pairing; Bartender!Changbin x Fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warning ; ANGST!!! SMUT!! skz side characters, semi-slow burn, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, depiction of mental disorders, consumption of alcohol, tobacco use, dysfunctional families, mentions of undereating, vague hints to eating d-sorders mentions of crimes, mentions of blades, fainting, mentions of dr-g use, arguments, mentions of savior complex, mentions of childhood neglect, depiction of depression, mentions of needles, mentions of blades, yelling, mentions of hangover, parental issues (lmao cherry just say daddy issues), arguments

𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 ; PIV, unprotected sex, hair pulling, drooling, getting caught, masturbation, fingering, clitoral stimulation, orgasm (f). 

(fic header made by @yjeongs! thank u cora <33) 

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 10.0 k 

From one survivor to another; cheers you guys. 

O N E ｜ T W O

                        ⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ Playlist ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Drugs N Hella Melodies - Don Toliver, Kali Uchis

Life is a Bi... - Bibi 

cigarette and condom - Bibi 

Empty Trash - LØREN 

Noir - Sunmi 

NEED - LØREN

Pretty Boy - The Neighbourhood

(hint hint look at the lyrics <33)

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣��𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈 ; 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚

Three months.

Three months of booze, questionable substances, friends and most importantly. 

Him.

Seo Changbin. 

You never knew you could feel this deep about someone, there hadn’t been a reason earlier in your life since everyone in it either used you or abused you. But you knew he was different from the first time you saw him that night in the dark room, injured and surrounded by 7 other boys that were now your closest friends. Why would anyone ever want to leave this place? There was everything! Free drinks, ear-deafening music and your boyfriend. This was heaven for a hurt soul like you, so why would anyone search for an exit in this box of traitors? 

“O-oh fuck! Changbin!” you cried out as the momentum of his thrusts made you jolt forward, hands desperately trying to grab onto the black leather of the sofa you and him had made love on countless times, the door always being unlocked since there wasn’t a lock and this damn parallel universe wasn’t gonna install one anytime soon. 

Changbin grabbed your hair, twisting it around his hand as he pounded into you from the back, the supple valleys of your ass wobbling with each movement. Your voice became frail, stuttering and moaning his name in broken syllables along many other pleas and swearwords, the way your words became incoherent the longer he fucked you made his head lull backwards, pure music to his ears unlike that shitty music that blasted through the speakers on the dancefloor that was just next to the tiny dark room that was currently filled with the scent of sex and lust. Your head was tilted up, eyes tightly shut as you clenched around Changbin’s leaking cock that was jackhammering into your wet cunt, his dick glistening with your slick every time his hips moved away from you and reflected in the minimal light of the room. He grunted as all kinds of lewd sounds were heard from you, the skin slapping against each other and the squelching noise of your pussy being filled with his cock. His hands had a tight grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as the pleasure surged through every nerve of his body, sweat beading around on his temples. Your arms could barely hold you up, quivering and risking to collapse under you causing you to put your head towards the seat, warm cheek against the slightly cold leather. With your back fully arched your ass perked up, Changbin hitting exactly the right place in this position, a small stream of drool hanging from the corner of your swollen lips. You were so close to your release, hanging on by a thread to not tip over the edge and be sent spiraling down an earth shaking orgasm. 

“C-changbin, I’m gonna f-fucking cum” you stutter, reaching your hands backwards to which he let go of your hair and instead grabbed your wrists, holding you in place and pushing you down onto his cock. Your voice was no longer a whimper but instead a scream, goosebumps erupting on your soft skin as you panted, Changbin viciously thrusting inside you and being fueled by your pleasured sounds, he got off by the fact that you felt good. You were so close. So close.

“QUICK!! FELIX FUCKING FAINTED” Jisung said, bursting through the door but immedietly regretting his decision as he yelled out into the room that was now filled with your yelp and the loud club music from outside. 

“For fuck sake Jisung! Knock!” Changbin growled at the boy, you trying to grab your clothes off the floor and desperately covering yourself as Jisung stod in the doorway with panicked eyes, flailing his arms around in an anxious state. He was more appalled by seeing Felix passed out than he was seeing Changbin fucking you from behind. 

“NO TIME FOR KNOCKING, JUST FUCKING MOVE” he said, signaling his hands to follow him. In a haste you put on your clothes that weren’t much more than a skirt and a tight shirt, oh and of course your sexy panties, you had leveled up from your previous looks that made you look like a distressed mother of 4. Now you knew when you were gonna pass out and you even teleported in the phonebooth instead of injuring your head against the wall as you fainted. Changbin did the same, putting on only his pants as he ran after Jisung, you following shortly after, scared about what you were gonna witness.

The main dance floor looked like it usually did. People high, drunk or both, dancing and singing their hearts out, falling over and tumbling down on the floor. The whole place reeked of straight liquor and the music was loud enough for anyone to go deaf. You held Changbin’s hand as he dragged you through the crowd, not letting his eyes go from Jisung’s figure that was leading the both of you to the back end of the club, pushing through people and muttering small apologies that couldn’t be heard by even yourself. When you got to the end of the big place you saw Felix, his back and head against the table as he was completely knocked out, his legs dangling from the end of the rectangular table. You climbed on top of the soft seatings of the booth, putting your cheek near his nose and mouth. You didn’t hear if he was breathing but you were assured as you felt his cold breath against your hot flesh, sighing in relief. 

“How is he?!” Jisung yelled, “is he dying?”

You shook your head, grabbing his limp wrist and putting your pointer and middle finger on the underside of his limb, his veins not visible in the dark lighting of the club. His pulse was stable, beating faintly. 

“He’ll be alright!” you yelled back, the concerned gazes of the other boys standing around the boy exhaling as they heard your words, Changbin going closer to Felix and putting his hand on his shoulder, shaking the boy and repeating his name over and over again but to no avail. Seungmin rubbed the palm of his hand against his exposed forehead as his hair was pushed back.

“I’ll stay here with him, Changbin fetch me a water bottle and,,, wait,,, why did he even faint in the first place?” he asked, the boys looking at each other until they landed on Jisung that looked distressed, his pinkish lips quivering. 

“Probably a nice concoction of no food and only alcohol” he said, peering down at his black boots, his hair flopping onto his face, too shy to meet the gazes of his friends as if he had done something wrong himself. Seungmin could only sigh, you patting Jisung on the back as you walked through the jumping crowd again, the song changing as you heard Seungmin say “get him something Changbin”, their voices fading into the beat as you walked with Jisung behind you. 

Jisung slammed the door as you two were back in the room that had only moments earlier been filled with helpless whimpers and pleas. You threw yourself on the wrinkly couch, looking away in shyness when remembering that Jisung had caught the two of you even if everyone knew that you guys fucked in that very same room whenever there was time and Changbin wasn’t standing in the bar. The young boy sat down on the dark floor, leaning his elbow against the seat of the sofa as his twinkling eyes met yours. 

“I,,, just don’t understand” he said, you tilting your head in wonder as he uttered those words.

“Don’t understand what Sungie?” you said, the walls almost vibrating from the bass of the song from outside. He sighed as he momentarily looked away from you. 

“Felix,,, like it’s so clear that he needs help, just over the last few months his cheeks have sunken in and his eyes are completely matte and lifeless” he said, his voice trembling as a lump of tears was stuck in his throat. 

“But aren’t you the same Jisung? You need help too, help to stop thinking that everyone is your responsibility. I understand that you want to help him,,, but you carrying everyone's emotional baggage has landed you here. Felix will get help by those that are capable of getting him that help, you aren’t Jisung.”

His eyes shot up at you, dark as his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenching in anger. He felt attacked, commenting on his actions usually made him feel offended. 

“I am capable of helping him. What about you then huh? You can’t even help your own boyfriend” he snarked, running his hand over his hair in frustration. You rolled your eyes at him, watching him as he bit the inside of his cheek. He needed to do that, he couldn’t tell you the fact that one day your boyfriend is just gonna disappear since he’s actually taking matters into his own hands and getting help. 

“Don’t say that Jisung, we both try our best,,, let’s not fight over something we can’t control” you say, your voice getting frail by the end of the sentence.

“Can’t control? We can, we can help each other!” he said, banging the palm of his hand against the warm leather of the couch, making you jump in fear. You dropped down on your knees, your eyes being on the same level as his as you looked at him, the young boy diverting his gaze immediately.

“Jisung, look at me.” You grabbed his other hand that was resting in his lap against the rough material of his jeans. “We try, that’s the best we can do. Change comes from within. Nobody can save us if we don’t save ourselves.” Jisung sighed loudly, swallowing harshly, the both of you flinching when somebody burst through the black door. Changbin was carrying Felix on his back, the male still passed out on his broad shoulders. Your boyfriend looked puzzled at the scene before him. His girlfriend holding hands with one of his closest friends, sitting close enough to feel his breath against her cheek, both looking like two helpless deers caught in headlights. He furrowed his eyebrows as he walked into the room, throwing Felix off his shoulder and positioning him into a semi-prone position in order to open the airways. You and Jisung stood up, looking at the blonde boy and how his eyelashes layed gently against his lower eyelid. Changbin looked at Felix for a while before turning to you with a serious expression. 

“So,,, what happened here?” he said to which you shrugged.

“Me and Jisung just talked,,, about Felix” you answered, Changbin uttering a little “oh” as his previous rather unfaithful suspicions were proven to be false. “There’s no need to worry, he’s breathing so he won’t be in any medical danger as of right now but somebody needs to keep an eye on him,,, in case something changes.” You smiled at him talking.

“Alright doctor Changbin” you said while giggling, hugging him and him wrapping his sturdy arms around you, looking at Jisung’s mellow expression, eyes brimming with tears as he sat down on his knees on the floor once again, pushing a lock of hair from Felix’s delicate face, cupping his cheek that was once plump but now gaunt. Changbin pulled away from your comforting embrace and patted Jisung on the shoulder, bending his knees to get closer to him. 

“Do you wanna keep an eye on him, Ji?” he asked to which the boy nodded, not answering with words, not even a gaze at the male that was talking to him. He turned around to look at you, pointing his chin towards the door, signaling for the two of you to get out and leave the two boys alone to which you nodded, following Changbin out and gently closing the door behind you by turning the knob and releasing it slowly. The music got louder and louder as you two walked in the long corridor before ending up on the main floor, the corridor going to the bar and you could only get onto the dance floor by exciting through the wooden gate of the bar. 

“I’ll go find the others, you should work!!” you yelled through the music and Changbin nodded, giving you a kiss on the lips before you exited through the gate, being careful to knock any of the liquor bottles on the walls over and causing a ruckus like you’d done once before, being black-out drunk and trying to hobble your way through to god knows where, accidentally swinging your arms towards the shelfs. Luckily everything restores itself in this universe.

People were doing their usual activities in all corners of the club, making out against a wall or jumping, spilling their drinks on the floor that Changbin would have to mop up afterwards when he steps in the sticky liquid that pressed up against ones shoe. It was impossible to see who was who in the dark room, the neon lights on the roof changing colors but not making it easier for you, especially not with the commotion around you, individuals bumping into each other. In the distance you saw a hand waving, a familiar hand that was decked out in maybe a thousand silver rings, all with intricate designs that could only be seen from up close. Next thing you see is Hyunjin jumping, the bedazzled hand belonging to the long haired blonde male that always made sure to use the most expensive perfume. You made your way over to him, the male smiling brightly as he sat down on the edge of the cubical sofa, the other males being around the table that Felix was lying unconscious on just a brief moment earlier. The table was filled with half empty beer bottles along with red glimmering packs of cigarettes that belonged to some of them. Hyunjin patted the seat next to him, scooting closer to Jeongin that was ruffling his slightly sweaty hair, putting the bottle green top against his lip and taking a sip, his adam's apple moving as he swallowed. 

Hyunjin was different, different from anyone else in this place. You’d expect him to have the best life imaginable due to his family background. His father was the CEO of an influential business and his mother being his fathers assistant, both living a lavish life and providing for their only son, Hyunjin. But no amount of wealth can buy happiness. You don’t know the entire story but what you have heard when he was drunk and barely able to speak is that he was bullied all throughout school, struggling with the pressure being put on him by his parents to become a businessman just like his father. It ate Hyunjin alive to everyday go to sleep and feel like a failure that wasn’t able to live up to his parents expectations. He wasn’t worth this lifestyle he thought as he mindlessly doodled on the edge of his college application papers, it was easier to end it. He felt like a coward, always taking the easy way out but that’s how he’d lived his entire life. Getting help wasn’t an option, it would bring shame upon the family if anyone found out that he went to therapy and besides, his family didn’t believe in mental illnesses, it was simply to “go on a run” to feel better. “Then why the fuck am I not feeling better? I’ve ran miles but my mind runs faster” he wrote in the small black notebook he kept in his bedside table, hiding it together with his cigarettes under piles of papers and books. That’s how he ended up here, being together in a little group consisting of Chan and Minho along with some other people that had already departed from the place he felt the safest. 

You gave a smile to Hyunjin, grabbing the beer bottle in front of him, earning a little “hey!” from him but you drank it anyway as you laughed at his reaction, the bitterness spreading throughout your mouth. You exhaled, putting the bottle down harshly, the loud sound being drowned out by the music. Hyunjin laughed along with you, he seemed kinda distant, his pupils dilated. With furrowed eyebrows you looked at the other boys that looked back at you in a confused manner. 

“Something wrong y/n?” Seungmin asked, his cheeks slightly red from the heat that was radiating off everybody in the room, the tension heightening the temperature. Your eyes landed on Minho who looked equally as dazed as Hyunjin, looking up at the ceiling as the crown of his head rested against the dark walls in an uncomfortable manner. 

“You guys definitely did something” you said to which Hyunjin laughed, now stealing Minho’s drink since he was completely immersed at how the colors changed. 

“Of course we did,,, if we were gonna do it, why not here?” he said, looking at you through hooded eyes, his gaze sharp as pin needles, the black smudged eyeliner around his eyes not making it easier to escape the way you drowned in them. It was true, here was the place where you could be yourself, do whatever you pleased and act reckless as long as you didn’t hurt anybody, a rule Minho found difficult. It’s not that he wanted to hurt people, it’s just that he couldn’t help himself. Something bad was gonna happen if he didn’t. So that’s what the switchblade was for, not to hurt anyone but just in case he needed to add another felony to his list. You didn’t even wanna know what substances that ran through his veins but you felt bad for him. He was a slave to his own thoughts, sometimes even his own actions. He had no other choice but to obey them, do everything that the voices whispered faintly into his ear, a serenade of revenge to everyone that has never believed in him, considered him a shame and neglected him. No, not him. His inner child. 

Seungmin grabbed the red carton of cigarettes, the crimson wrapper unfolding itself when he opened the lid and grabbed one of the deathsticks whose orange ends were looking up at him. He picked one up, putting it to his lips and patting down his sides in search for a lighter but to no avail. He sighed out of the corner of his mouth, gesturing towards Hyunjin by flicking his pointer finger upwards, the blonde boy reaching over to his pocket and retrieving a white lighter that he put on the glossy mahogany table and scooted across it, Seungmin grabbing it as it nearly fell to his feet. He thanked Hyunjin by lazily saluting with two fingers before igniting the cigarette, the deep purple fading out into a light orange at the tip of the flame, the smoke evaporating around Seungmin as he puffed, exhaling straight ahead of him, poor Jeongin beside him coughing. 

“What’s even the purpose of these?” Jeongin said, grabbing the packet and examining it closely, twisting and turning the small box.

“What’s the purpose of your life?” Seungmin answered with an evil laugh, you wanting to bend over the table and smack him across the face for talking like that to the youngest. Jeongin shrugged his shoulders, smirking at Seungmin.

“Touchè I guess” he said, a smile hiding his pain. “Can I get one?” he said as he nudged Seungmin on the shoulder, the boy already taking his second puff. Seungmin didn’t answer, simply placing the cigarettes and Hyunjin’s white lighter in front of him. You stared at Seungmin in disbelief for a moment before throwing yourself over Hyunjin’s lap, grabbing the two objects and clutching them tightly in your hand. Hyunjin flinched at the sudden commotion, all the boy’s eyes were on you, tilting their heads like confused puppies. 

“Don’t you even dare Yang Jeongin” you said, him looking at you with twinkling innocent eyes. He nodded and you turned your head back to Seungmin. “And you, no actually all of you, quit it” you said, a moment of silence flew by before all of them bursted out in laughter.

“fucking,,, tell that to your boyfriend first” Minho said, him finally awake from his trance “if you manage to get him to stop then we’re all with you y/n” he said, laughing, his two front teeth poking out like a rabbit. You sighed, looking at the four boys but noticing Chan was missing. 

“Where’s Chan?” you asked, Seungmin shrugging as he exhaled grey smoke again.

“He hasn’t arrived yet,, don’t know what he’s up to” he answered, putting the orange end to his plump lips, pink in color but this being impossible to see in the changing neon lighting. “I wonder how Lixie is doing,,,” he added with a sigh. Good you hoped, the last three months have been nothing but a downward spiral to hell for the boy, everyday the gleam from his eyes got duller and duller until they were matte with fatigue. You remember a distinct moment that happened in the first couple of weeks in the club, you still getting to know the peculiar characters that moved around in this place. Felix was sitting in the bar, you sitting right next to him, the whole conversation was difficult to hear due to the music and chatter from people but you guys made do. 

“You know that song? By Radiohead?” he said. You shrugged and shook your head.

“Which one?” you asked, taking a sip from your drink that was unfortunately made by another bartender, Changbin not being there yet. 

“That one where they sing ‘I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul’” he said with a giggle, grabbing his glass and taking a swig of the poison in his glass, decorated with lemons and limes. You laughed with him, not knowing what he meant, thinking he was just spewing random words at you from being intoxicated. 

“Yeah, what about it?” you said, the young boy’s smile fading away as he gulped, placing down the drink. 

“I don’t know,,, I often listen to it on the bus or home alone,,, it tells me something but I can’t place my finger on what exactly” he said with a loud sigh, resting his cheek on his hand that was bent against the dark wooden bar. 

“Isn’t it the lyrics?” you said, “the fact that you want to be perfect in every way?” Felix hummed for a minute before nodding his head slowly. 

“It’s not even that I want to be perfect because that’s what society taught me,,, it’s because I live in a false reality where I believe that people will love me and appreciate me more if i tweak everything” he blurted out, going silent and sipping his drink slowly. 

“I’m happy that you know that it’s false but,,, what’s stopping you?” you asked, looking at the boy whose eyes were gazing at the wooden stick inside his drink, stirring it over and over again. 

“Because,,, if I stop,,, I won’t be sick enough” 

The both of you got silent after he remarked those words. Felix got silent because he thought he’d said something wrong. You got silent because you knew how that felt, that someone was going through your struggles. 

“You don’t prove anything by that Felix. I k-know this is gonna sound stupid and you’ve heard it so many times but,,, just know that I love you no matter how you look. I’m happy that you’re here Lixie” 

You looked at him and his dark brown eyes met yours, glittering once again, rounded as if he’d heard the best news of his life. He opened his arms and you stood up on the floor, hugging him and squeezing him by the sides.

“I’m happy that you are here too y/n” he whispered in your ear, barely audible from the loud bumping of the music. You pulled off the hug and shimmied up the bar stool again, putting the transparent glass edge to your lips and feeling the liquor trickle down your throat. 

“I was thinking of getting those words tattooed on me but now that I think about it, I want those words tattooed on me but with a big red x over it.” You smiled together with him, his dimples being carved into those freckled cheeks along with his bleak eyeshadow, his lips a cherry tint. 

“You should.”

“Oh fuck-” you cursed as you woke up on your living room floor that was covered in dust and crumbs that was a trail all the way to the kitchen. You sighed every time you were back in reality, in the cursed world that wanted nothing else but to crush you under its fingertips. A patter was heard from outside, gentle raindrops decorating your windows as they were falling from the dusky skies. The rain was at least better you thought, in the sun you felt immense guilt for not being as happy as everyone around you, scrolling through your phone and seeing pictures of old classmates on trips and drinking out in the basking sun, wearing sundresses and hats. Being picturesque.

You made your own fun. Late wine nights and therapy appointments early in the morning where you get drilled with information that you could actually use to get better but you decide to cancel it all out. It was impossible to take in. Or maybe you wanted this now? Like Felix said, you wanted to remain sick enough even if there is no such thing. It used to be about not wanting to leave your comfort zone as odd as it sounds. You had struggled with your mental health for as long as you could remember and getting better would mean that you would have to make active changes in your life that at the moment didn’t seem appealing. But now it wasn’t about that. It was about Changbin. Getting better would mean that you would have to leave him, not only him but all the other friends you made at the club for the last months. They felt closer than family especially since you’d barely had one in the past. You wanted to stay by Changbin for forever but did you want to suffer for just as long?

Little did you know, Changbin didn’t. 

You stood up from the wooden floorboards, stepping closer to the balcony door and seeing the rain cover the streets, lonesome people walking with umbrellas and rain jackets through the storm, probably on their way home to a delicious home cooked meal, a comfortable bed and a stable mind. You only had one of those things but you, in contrast from before the club, didn’t get jealous when you saw those people down at the rainy street. You had your own happiness that was Changbin.

Every time you said his name your heart started racing, your knees almost bent underneath you as you walked back to the couch, no lights turned on in the entire odorous apartment. With a thump you fell with your back against the comforting material, once again being swallowed by a fort of pillows and clothes that you haven’t been bothered to put away. The tv display stood blank, your silhouette reflecting in the matte sheen of the screen, your face almost hanging low with boredom. What was there to do when you weren’t in Changbin’s secure arms? 

It was as if his name rolled off your tongue. Smooth as butter, sweet as syrup. You closed your eyes, eyelashes fluttering against your cheek, tickling the sensitive skin on your face. Underneath your lids pictures flashed by in bright colors, not from imagination but from memory. The pictures radiated their energy through your entire body, sending shivers down to the tips of your toes as you saw the faces of your best friends and boyfriend, their smiles creating red apples on their cheeks. 

You wondered how many of those smiles were fake. 

A wave of arousal shot through your body as remembered the events that took place before Jisung had a chance to ruin them, how Changbin grunted next to your ear, his hot breath teasing the shell of your ear as he whispered, the movements of his hips going from rolling to pounding, the room filling with the lewd noises of skin slapping against each other accompanied with your tiny whimpers, pleading him to make you cum. You couldn’t help but to rub your legs together, shifting in the grey sofa that was decorating your trash pile of a living room, the other decor pieces being empty bottles and white used tissues that were tiny houses to your tears. You peeked down quickly, seeing that you were still in your party clothes that consisted of a shirt and a short skirt that was sitting kinda lopsided on the base of your hips, hugging your skin tightly. With a rapid hand you removed the garment by unzipping it by the side, kicking the fabric towards the end of the couch with your feet that were bare, you managed to toss your sneakers away whilst you were deep in your imaginations. Except for the bright colors in your mind, the rest of the apartment was dark, not a single light being switched on. Your light source for many of your lonesome nights were the grey poles on which a bulbous light hung, a so-called street light. The blue cold light shone inside, deep dark shadows being casted on the walls by the trees that decorated the sidewalk. 

Lines started to blur between the real and the fake, not sure if you actually felt Changbin’s hands wrapped around your neck or if it was just yet another illusion your mind has decided to put forward. You could feel the warmth from his hands surging down your neck, soothing your heart in a comforting way. It was as if you were being held in a way that made your blood run south, loved and aroused at the same time. It was as if a ball of warmth bubbled inside you, encapsulating you in its aura of happiness and distraction, your hand teasing the the skin on your lower abdomen before it plunged beneath the small pair of cotton panties that had been violently pulled off by your boyfriend some time ago, exactly how much was something you couldn’t tell, the universe simply didn’t allow time. 

Time is an arrow. 

It always goes forward. 

Under the thin elastic your fingers started moving on their own, like they knew what to do, almost imitating what Changbin had done so many nights prior to this one on that murky couch. You couldn’t help but to wonder if he missed you right this moment. Was was he doing? What was he thinking? You wondered if he thought about you whenever he pleasured himself, if it was your name that echoed in the four empty walls of his broken down apartment whenever he came. The thought of his hand wrapped around his cock as he groaned made you sweat, the skin on the underside your knees sticking to each other as your knees were bent, soles flat against the frowning sofa. Automatically you spread your legs, one resting against the wallpapered surface as the other one hung out from the edge of the sofa. With your middle finger you felt the slippery surface, gathering your slick as you swiped up your finger, coating the sensitive bud in stickiness. You clenched around nothing, thinking about how Changbin whispered his praises in a sweet tone like a serenade.

“You’re doing so well y/n, fuck,,, you’re so pretty princess”

You nodded despite there being no one to see, small whimpers forcing their way out of your throat as two fingers circled your clit, spreading one pussy lip with a third finger, widening the area of contact. Your spine arched at anticipation, a faraway feeling approaching with quick strides as you squirmed your hips, butt digging into couch cushions as your gently pinched your slick-covered clit. Your hole was practically begging for more, velvety walls throbbing for pleasure that you didn’t mind giving, slowly inserting your middle finger, followed by a second finger, hissing at the initial stretch and getting used to the feeling, wiggling your fingers inside just like Changbin always does but his fingers filled you up better accompanied by the small marks he left all over your torso and tits, sucking on your delicate nipples with his wet tongue, leaving a trail of saliva as he licked around the valley of your tits, the ticklish feeling causing you to throw your head back. 

“f-faster binnie” you said into thin air, there being no one to answer your request except your fingers that started going faster in and out of your squelching hole, using your thumb to nudge on your clit, desperately trying to move it in circles and moaning as pleasure built up in the pit of your core. You licked your lips, coating them in a thin sheen of spit, imagining his soft lips pressing up against yours, his tongue coaxing yours as he licked your bottom lip, nibbling on it before slipping it into your mouth, the soft surface meeting yours, a languid kiss being exchanged as he panted into the kiss, you whining gently in between breaths. Your hair stood in a mess as you rubbed your head against the fluffy pillow under you, a couple of stray pieces sticking to your forehead that was covered in a lustre of sweat, reflecting in the small amount of light that was looming in the room together with you. Your mind blurred with lewd scenes with him, curving your fingers inside you in order to reach your g-spot and being startled by your own moan when you did, it simply felt too good, especially when thinking that it was his fingers that plunged into your wetness. 

“Just a little bit more y/n,, o-oh shit,,, f-fuck i’m gonna cum”

His voice ringed in your ears, it didn’t have to be loud to be memorable and make your head spin with pure amativeness. Your fingers started to hurt from how vigorously you were pumping them inside yourself, bringing yourself to the edge as you imagined that it was Changbin’s cock, twitching and begging from release, wishing he would cum inside you and paint your walls in his milky white cum, the hot liquid oozing out of your swollen pussy. Your clit throbbed, your breathing getting uneven between your parted lips, your hand being slightly restricted by the fabric of your underwear. 

“Cum for me baby”

It was an automatic response. Your hips convulsing upwards, high-pitched moans bouncing off the walls as you continued to tease your clit, pulling out your fingers and rubbed the swollen bud up and down into overstimulation until you it hurt, your eyes tightly squeezed, small droplets of tears teasing the corners of your shut orbs. The high washed over you, from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, every body part rushing with adrenaline before coming down in a state of repose. Slowly you withdrew your hand from beneath the fabric, the elastic snapping gently against your skin, fingertips glistening with your juicy release that now also coated your panties as it rubbed against the inside fabric. You slowly opened your eyes, vision blurry before focusing correctly, seeing nothing but darkness and vague outlines of objects. Night had fallen. You sighed, you were alone.A part of you wished at Changbin had been there whenever your glittering doe-eyes sprung open, your plushy lips being met with his but alas you couldn’t get everything in life.

Except that you couldn’t even get anything. At all.

“Binnie!!!” you shouted as soon as you opened your eyes as you woke up on the floor, looking around confused as your voice echoed in the room. You rubbed your eyes, the familiar automated voice and its words still stuck in your head.

“Uh? Over here y/n”

You heard his voice, the sweet tune hitting your eardrums, you looked at the direction of the sound and noticed that you were lying on the main dance floor. No music. No people. You stood up with wobbly knees, looking around and being shone on by a spotlight on the ceiling, watching Changbin drying off a couple of glasses with a kitchen towel, a brown apron sitting snugly around his waist, another piece of useless fabric that hid his well-sculpted body. 

“W-why is there no one here? Are we glitching again?!” your voice panicked as your gaze was busy, landing everywhere from the meaningless neon green exit sign pointing to nowhere to the colorful transparent liquor bottles on the shelves behind your lover. Changbin let out a little snark as he put the glass down, throwing the cloth over his shoulder and leaning on the wooden bar counter.

“No y/n, sometimes many people are busy and that’s when you don’t teleport here,,, you know that already”

You let out a small “oh” in realization before walking over to the bar and throwing yourself into a chair lazily, tapping the table with your pointer finger twice, a quiet signal for help. The kind that alcohol provided. Changbin didn’t say anything, simply scooping some ice into a low glass with pretty carved out details at the bottom, the black haired boy filling up the glass with whiskey, the brown liquid seeping between the cubes of frozen water. It was oddly silent in the club, not from the fact that there wasn’t anyone else there but there was this awkward feeling between the two of you, as cold as the ice cubes that the champagne bottles were resting inside a iron bucket full of ice underneath the bar on one of the shelves. 

“So uhm,,, was everything alright yesterday?” he asked in a low voice, peering at you through hooded eyelids as he tilted the glass, pouring another liquor bottle and pouring the substance in. 

Memories of the night prior flashed past your eyelids causing you to almost choke on your saliva. Changbin looked at you suspiciously, furrowing his eyebrows as he put the glass on the coaster in front of you, watching you gulp down the poison. He had something on his mind, the words were basically danging off his pink lips but he hesitated, something stopped him every time he tried to open his jaw and let the words pour out in a puddle of word-vomit on the floor. The words were lodged in his throat like a boulder, he didn’t know how to say it.

“Something wrong binnie?” you asked with a confused expression, your eyes filled with concerned. What if something had happened in a universe you couldn’t even reach, the boy wandering alone with his concerns? 

You took another sip from the glass, frowning as the alcohol stung your tongue and descended down your esophagus like a ball of fire, observing the contents that you were drinking partly because you were interested in what concoction your boyfriend had made but mostly cause you didn’t want to look him in the eyes in this frigid atmosphere. He shook his head, giving you a non-verbal answer. 

You didn’t believe him. 

By the way his jaw clenched to the awkward posture as he stared at you, he had something to confess and you weren’t sure if you were ready for it, thinking that maybe it would be easier to not ask about it anymore and live in oblivion. 

“Come on~ I know you well enough to know that something isn’t quite right” you said, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, eyeing your boyfriends godly figure, practically drooling over him on the spot. 

“Hmm,,, y-yeah ok,, I do have something to say but,,, I’m not sure how to” he started, your heart starting to beat faster with each syllable he pronounced, thinking that this was the end of your world because he was indeed your entire world. The reason you still smiled.

“Just say it baby, I won’t be angry” you said but not sure if you could keep your promise. 

“I got a place at rehab” 

You started laughing sarcastically, the boy standing perplexed behind the counter. 

“Wh-what’s so funny?” he asked shortly after. 

“You obviously said no, right?”

Silence erupted throughout the establishment, your smile was wiped off your face as you waited for an answer but you felt the tears start bubbling up in your glossy eyes as the silence went on, brimming and coaxing to fall down onto your warm cheek, his expression was blank, a canvas without a paint. In a rage of fit you threw your glass at the nearest wall, the glass shattering in a million pieces just like your heart, impossible to glue together. 

The ice cubes melted on the floor, liquid splattered on the dark glossy floor. There was no saving the broken pieces, it was simply to throw it in the trash. You couldn’t blame Changbin for being startled, backing to the wall that displayed the bottles of alcohol, small lights above them causing the flasks to reflect tiny fractals.

“What the fuck do you mean Changbin, huh?!” you yelled at him, salty tears streaming down your cheeks, hanging off your quivering lips. He could only exhale loudly from his nose, his dusky complexion losing its color the more stressed he got. 

“No, what do you mean? Are you actually serious about letting me rot in my life and not take help when I’ve finally gotten it?” he said, his tone growing louder with each word, him practically growling like a feral wolf. You couldn’t believe the word coming out of his lying mouth. Rot in his life? Why? He had you now. You were all he needed, right?

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier then?” Your voice was expressionless, a string tinted red with betrayal laced in your tone. 

“I was scared.”You scoffed, feeling the frustration in the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight, tears glittering in the bright lights that were on currently, shining down on you as if another dimension had opened. 

One without Changbin. 

With dark eyes you looked at him, a dumbfounded smile causing the corners of your lips to turn upwards, tasting the salt of your sadness as a droplet rolled down and into your mouth. “

I never want to see you again Changbin”

“Don’t say that y/n, p-please don’t say that.” 

His voice was drowsy like he hadn’t slept in days, your theory being more believable as you saw the dark bags under his blank eyes. He had been worrying, worried for your reaction. He took off the apron and put the kitchen towel on the nearest surface before hurrying to exit out through the gate and took strides towards your standing figure but you distanced yourself every time he got closer. You felt yourself getting smaller and smaller as his shadow towered over you, his face not showing compassion but rather irritation. 

“GET AWAY!!” you screamed in a ear-deafening screech, him barely flinching as he had seen worse things in his life than his heartbroken girlfriend getting pressed up against a wall with dark streaks of makeup and tears staining her face, plagued by treachery that was brought upon by the only one she trusted in her life.

Maybe this was deeper than just your boyfriend leaving you. Maybe this was a silent cry to stay and not leave like your father once did. Sure, he was around in your childhood but that’s the thing; he was around, never actively invested in what happened in the life of his child. You didn’t like to look into it. Hell, you barely wanted to talk about it but you couldn’t help but to wonder if that was the reason as to why you had a difficult time with goodbyes. It replayed memories, memories you’d rather forget. Or wish you never had in the first place. 

“The fuck-” said a recognazible voice that belonged to Minho, the male staggering out of the toilets in a hungover haze, scratching his hair as he yawned.

“Huh,,, how long have you been there?” Changbin said, him turning his head to look at Minho whilst standing mere inches from you, sandwiching you between his body and the dark walls. 

“I have no idea,,, just woke up and heard a scream” he replied lazily, still not really registering the situation that was unfolding in front of his very own eyes. You glared at Changbin before pushing him by the shoulders, thinking you would make a big impact but him only losing his balance for a few seconds, with fierce steps you bolted to Minho, the boy sliding his hand down into his pocket the closer you got causing you to stop dead in the tracks. 

You’d rather be heartbroken than deceased. 

“Did you know about this? Did you know that this motherfucker was going to fucking rehab?!” you yelled hysterically towards the boy that picked up a packet of cigarettes instead of a switchblade. He smirked as he put a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, not breaking eye contact with you for a second throughout the entire process, almost hypnotizing you with his looks. 

“Yeah,,, we all knew” that devilish smirk only signaling that he liked the pain he saw in other people, the white lighter in his hands flicking and emitting an orange and purple flame that slowly burned the tip of the deadly stick. 

You wanted to scream on the top of your lungs, break every single one of the bottles on the shelves in a fit of rage before breaking Changbin’s heart, shatter it in pieces and step on it like glass even if it would make shards stick to your wounded and bloody feet. But that’s life. You can never hurt someone without getting hurt back. 

“And so you all decided to be on his side? To defend a liar was the best your stupid fucking head could come up with?” you couldn’t even filter your words, whatever came to your mind rolled off your tongue as smoothly as the words “i love you” once had. 

“Hey y/n! Don’t say that! He had nothing to do with it” Changbin roared, stepping closer with his heavy black boots that could probably smash someone against the concrete by the telephone booth where thousands of stray souls wandered every hour of the short 24 hours we humans have in a day. He put his hand on your arm but you shoved him away, freeing your hand from his grasp and yelling inaudible words at the boy. 

“And that’s why you don’t date a psycho, am I right Changbin?” Minho laughed, lodging the cigarette between his pointer- and middle finger, blowing the smoke towards you as a careless gesture. Changbin looked done, rolling his eyes at the other boy before shaking his head, his hair bouncing in a fluffy manner as he moved. 

“Not now Min” he answered simply, keeping his composure but you on the other hand were boiling with anger, feeling your heartbeat in your ears. You let out a half laughter filled with sarcasm.

“Somehow the real psycho has the audacity to say that to me, huh? Who the fuck do you guys think you are? You guys think it’s cool to live like this?” you said, your voice becoming frail at the end of your sentence, breaking as new tears weighed on your eyelashes and dropped down on the floor beneath you. 

“No we don’t y/n and that’s why Changbin is getting help. Don’t you see it? You are hurting him by keeping him here.”

Minho’s words stung more than a thousand needles piercing through your raw flesh. 

He was right.

The entire relationship rested on a foundation of suffering that you fed with repeatedly withdrawing from help that could make you blossom into the person you once were. Deep down you knew that this relationship was impossible, you knew it before you even fell for him but the thing is that you didn’t choose to fall in love, it happens. There’s a reason as to why it’s called ‘falling in love’, because once you’ve jumped you can’t expect to stand on the top of the cliff again. Only at the view from halfway down do you realize that maybe this wasn’t the right time and space. 

You looked at Changbin that held his hands out, wanting to hug you and make everything feel alright, like it was before and you couldn’t help but to melt at how his eyes rounded, twinkling by the thousands of lights around the room and reflecting in his teary eyes. With the arm of your sleeve you wiped off the tears, makeup rubbing off on the fabric but you couldn’t give less of a thought before Changbin wrapped his hands around you, tears falling at a rapid pace as you sobbed into the neck of your boyfriend, breathing in his musky scent that infiltrated your bloodstream and made your heart stop for just a brief moment before pounding harder than before, powered by longing. 

“I’m s-sorry Changbin” you said in between sobs, words coming out in broken syllables, it was difficult forming a sentence let alone an apology. Changbin shook his head as he put his hand on the back of your neck, descending down and rubbing your back soothingly.

“Don’t apologize y/n, you didn’t do anything wrong” His voice ran down your spine, the boy pulling away from the hug and holding you by the shoulders, looking deeply into your eyes as he spoke. 

“I love you and I will never forget you”

You nodded, your face in distress with tears and snot, puffy eyes looking back at him. 

“W-when are you leaving t-then?” you asked timidly to which Changbin responded by breaking eye contact.

“In two days.” You sighed, not sure if you should be sad. What kind of partner tells you that important of an announcement just two days prior? But you understood, he was just as scared as you. 

Scared of the unknown. Alcohol had been a part of his life for a long time, it was his comfort and now suddenly he needed to adapt to a life without it, a life in sobriety. You weren’t the only scared one. The both of you heard Minho picking up the shards of glass with his bare hands, throwing it in the trash as he smoked, not even needing to remove the cigarette from between his lips in order to exhale the smoke, grey clouds billowing out of the corner of his mouth and filling the area with the scent of over 70 harmful substances. 

In the distance you heard footsteps coming from the dark room that was pretty much the only private space in the building, Felix and Jisung walking out, their expressions changing from happy to confused upon seeing your face and Minho cleaning up. 

“W-what,,,” Jisung started but Minho put his pointer finger to his lips before removing the cigarette from his lips and mouthing to the younger boys.

“He told her”

Both Jisung and Felix nodded slowly, their eyes big as saucers as they mouthed a small “oh” back before casting a glance at the two of you, two bodies melting in a touch that could be the last one.

“What will I do without you Changbin?” you said, looking down at the ground. He sighed before smiling at you. 

“What you’ve always done y/n,,, fight for yourself because one day you will make it” he said, cupping your cheek in his hand and swiping his thumb across the tears on your cheek, the dampness remaining on the rough pads of his thumb. 

“B-but don’t worry y/n! It’s in two days,,, maybe I’ll be back tomorrow” he said, you seeing that the boys nodded their heads in the corners of your eyes. 

“Alright,,, I’ll trust you,,, I always do”

“You guys can go and I don’t know,,, talk in that other room,,, we’ll take care of stuff out here” Minho said, flicking the ashes off the end of the cigarette one last time before throwing it in the sink, the boy standing in the bar together with the the other two boys. You and Changbin nodded, making your way past them and entering the dark room that had now become a place where only memories live. With hesitance you sat down on the couch, Changbin doing the same. You glanced over at him, slowly tilting your head against his shoulder and exhaling loudly through your nose. 

The momentary silence wasn’t awkward. It was comforting. 

Silence was what this place needed, moments away from everything related to partying and drinking until your liver failed. 

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he said with a laugh, you giggling with him.

“Of course I do, it wasn’t even that long ago but,,, it feels like forever.” 

He nodded, glancing at your hand for a moment before grabbing it, his warm hand wrapping around your cold one, lacing his fingers with yours. 

“I don’t want you to leave binnie,,, t-this is unfair.” Tears started bubbling up in your throat again, your breathing getting unstable as your gaze was fixed on the ground. 

“I don’t want to leave either y/n but,,, what if we meet in the right dimension? What if that’s what happens? That when you,,, start loving yourself for who you are,,, maybe that’s when you meet the one that will continue to heal you?”

Changbin’s words made a lot of sense. Nobody knew what happened to the people that descended to the real world again. What adventures they were on or who they were loving at this point in time so maybe that did happen. It made you smile, your heart filled with hope, something you hadn’t felt since he said those doomed words earlier. You turned to him, his lips lingering dangerously close to yours to the point where you could feel his hot breath brushing up against the apples of your cheeks. He leaned in, attaching his lips on yours one last time, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear and holding you by the back of your neck, his thumb caressing the knuckles of your hand. You kissed him back, slipping your tongue into his mouth in a deep exchange of saliva intertwined with yearning. The kiss formed an even pace, you tilted your head to the side causing the kiss to get intense, his wet tongue gliding against yours, your pout swelling as he bit your bottom lip, blood rushing into it. He could almost feel yours eyelashes fluttering against the bridge of his nose. He pulled away, landing a final peck on your soft lips before nibbling the inside of his cheek in nervosity, unsure as to why he was nervous in the first place. Maybe the thought that he would never kiss you again. You put your hands around him, rubbing your dark tinted cheeks against his shirt that was luckily in a darker color as well. He smelled like home, like comfort.

A murky scent mixed with tobacco and ephemerality.

 You haven't seen Changbin since that day. 

“How have you been y/n?” said the woman sitting opposite you, tapping her pen against the A5 block of secrets that rested against a folder that has your name on the side, filled with results of various psychological tests. You shrugged your shoulders, looking out the window where the ivys growed over the glass.

“I’ve been alright,,, although I miss someone” you answered, your eyes meeting the curious ones of your psychologist that observed your body language, your foot shaking in the air as your legs were folded on top of each other. 

“Who do you miss y/n?” she asked. You thought about telling her the truth but then had you ever done that in this office?

“Doesn’t matter,,, Just someone” you answered shortly to which the lady nodded. 

“Longing is a very difficult feeling, sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it since the only thing that will cure it is seeing that person again but of course, that’s not always possible” she said, you observing the marbled pattern on the vinyl floor. You agreed, not knowing what else to do before she started talking about something else that was connected to your well-being, wondering how you are coping with still being on the hunt for a job and having your mental health to care about in the meanwhile. 

The session ended as it always does. By you walking out of the office with an orange post-it note where the next appointment was scheduled in messy writing and with a warm goodbye to your psychologist that was a nice person. It was just that you didn’t really care for her advice and you yet again felt horrible for not taking the help you got when other people in the world couldn’t afford the same experience. The wind hit you in the face as you exited out to reality, out from the solace of the office and the building that held countless of skin-crawling memories. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, walking with quick strides towards the convenience store in order to buy gum and something sweet that could stop the world from leaving a bitter taste in your mouth at all times. A bell above the door tinkled as you stepped into the store, the grey welcome mat being a soft surface to step on with your sneakers. You casted a glance at the staff, seeing the gum you always bought by the cash register and the back of a young man in a black jacket with a baseball cap, looking upwards at the cigarettes and talking to the cashier in a husky voice. You walked past aisles of various snacks and other necessities, hearing the man talking in a voice that made your head spin, sending you into a deja vu feeling.This voice, this very voice was familiar. 

“That one,, yeah,,, thanks! Oh,, just gonna grab something real quick” he said, his footsteps getting closer to you that were hunched over, looking for the banana milk on the lower shelves and squinting your eyes as tried to look further back to see if you missed a bottle by mistake. Your eyes lit up as you saw it, stretching out your hand but in that moment you didn’t feel the cool plastic layer of the yellow manufactured drink but instead a slightly warm hand that was bigger than yours, clad in a couple of silver rings. You quickly apologized and peered upwards, your eyes landing on a couple of dark hooded eyes that made your heart start to race. The lips were plump, a bit dusky in color from the cold weather. A sharp jaw that led to a prominent chin. A triangular nose that connected to a pair of strong bushy eyebrows. A face you had so longed to see. A hand you hadn’t held in what felt like an eternity. There the two of you were, holding the same bottle of banana milk in the flickering light of the store, the coldness emitting from the refrigerated shelves.

It was him.

It was Changbin. 

He was right. 

Only when one decided to heal was it destined for you to meet in a dimensions that was real. A dimension that didn’t consist of an odd phone number and a crimson telephone booth. A world away from the loud music and booze and instead entering a world that had earlier been dark but now got lighter, your tunnelvision ending and objects getting their color back. The world seemed real again. Alive like the way scent of a rose made its way down your lungs and into your blood, feeding the feeling of love from within.

You met him. 

In a different place, in a different time. But you met the same person.

The person you were destined to meet. 

Taglist ; @minholuvs @liz820​ @skztrashbag @lix-freckle3​ 

[7spaceace7]

Secrets (A Donatello x Reader)

This is incredibly self-indulgent and was really just a fic for me to obsess over tesla coils, but my girlfriend convinced me to post it- so here it is! It got kind of long too, but I hope you enjoy! 

Word Count: 3236

Reader is given feminine terms in this one

Mild cursing (thank you Raph)

Absolute fluff attack, the sweetness will rot your teeth

Singing was your greatest passion. From a young age, you had been roped into music, the emotions it could represent with just a few notes and some relatable lyrics. It was happiness, it was sadness, it was anger and excitement, and it was everything you couldn’t express well enough with just words. Being a writer, sometimes that would get frustrating, but music helped you overcome the most challenging spots in a new piece or story. This is why you would constantly have earbuds in as you sang along to every song you’d memorized on your Spotify shuffle. 

And Donnie noticed this. Every time you would enter the turtles’ lair, he would see you unplug and pack-up your headphones. Hell, he was even able to detect your singing from the sounds of the sewer tunnels echoing with every step you took closer. He’d hear you talk about the music or soundtracks of your favorite games and movies, analyzing what every slight twinge or reprise would allude to. And he loved every part of it. He loved getting to see those moments where music was all you could focus on. Your heart rate rose exponentially in anticipation and excitement. Your eyes would screw shut while you broke into a grin. Your hands would mimic motions to the beat as you played on invisible drums, or strummed a nonexistent guitar. 

It was adorable to him, to say the least. But he never told you so. He never said a word, in case this might scare you off for coming across as “creepy” or weird. He knew most people probably didn’t pay this close attention to little things like that, but then again, he also knew that most people weren’t madly in love with you. 

Which Donatello was. 

He couldn’t tell you, because once he started rambling about you, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. And if he didn’t stop, then he’d run the 89.07% chance risk of telling you how he’d been in love with you since the day they met you. That was way too high for him to be comfortable. No, he couldn’t tell you, no matter how badly he wanted you to know.

“Okay, so what if you just show ‘er you’re interested instead?” Raph asked, half paying attention to his brother’s predicament, half pounding the punching bag before him into the ground. Leo was in the dojo meditating, and Mikey was playing video games in the living room, which left the two middle brothers to their own devices. For Donnie, this was literally. His three-fingered hands fiddled with his latest electrical circuit. It was bound for sending the right amount of voltage into his inventions without needing four power strips and a generator all on their own. Unfortunately, he was too distracted to actually delve into its components, and settled for breaking and piecing it back together again.

“Show her? How would I do that?” Donnie’s voice trembled at the thought.

“I dunno, you’re the genius here,” Raph huffed, “There’s gotta be somethin’ in this place that you think she’d find cool. She loves music, right?”

“Yeah, like a lot, she even-”

“Rhetorical question, Don, heard the rant plenty,” His brother cut him off. Pausing his violent onslaught of the dummy, he turned to face him. “You’re nervous ‘cause you ain’t ever done somethin’ for a pretty girl before, I get it. So do somethin’ you know you’re good at. That’ll take the nerves off, your plan works, and then I won’ have to listen to you babbling about whatever new fuckin’ thing she did today. Win win.”

The younger turtle paused. “That was...actually pretty sound advice, thank you, Raph.”

“Anytime,” Raph nodded, a smug smile tugging at his lips from being able to help. Problem was, now he was invested. He’d listened to his brother’s rants and rambles and failed plans of possibly confessing for weeks now, what was gonna happen once he finally did it? Raph plopped onto one of Donnie’s bean bag chairs. He didn’t bother to pick up the training dummy. “So what ya gonna do, smart guy?”

Donnie blinked a few times, glasses twitching on his nose as he pushed them up. He didn’t know it, but you coined this his “brainstorming face”. He fiddled with the circuits once again.

“Uh...I’m not sure,” His tongue went dry. A million ideas fly through his brain each minute, and this decides to be the time that he can’t think of a single one good enough. Figures. “I could build her something? Maybe a new stereo, or upgrade the one she has.”

Raph made a noise of disapproval. “You can do better, any old fix-it guy could do that.”

“Fair. Maybe I could- ow!”

A short buzz of the air cut him off as his fiddling paid off. To the world’s great irony, a light bulb several inches away lit up.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good, I…” Donnie trailed off. The purple-clad turtle’s eyes widened as he registered what happened. “I’m better than good, I just had an epiphany!”

“Epipha-what?”

“An epiphany, sudden realization, an idea!” Donnie flicked his goggles back down, enhancing his vision with the magnifier on it. Wires were tugged in and out, and a transmitter was displaced. With a snort of triumph, he raised it to the air for his brother to see. “This is the answer!” 

“A tiny board thing. Just what she’s always wanted,” Raph rolled his eyes, but Donnie was prepared for this.

“Not just a tiny board, a tiny board with this!-” With great haste, Donnie was next to Raph, holding the board out properly. “My side-side project, this little thing, look at the coil here, this is it! This is a tesla coil, capable of transmitting thousands and thousands of volts of energy surging through the air, powering anything within its radius, which is perfect and exactly why I needed to reconfigure it to power my lab and this one new machine I’m working on, but that’s not why this is the perfect idea!”

“Wow, please continue, professor, I’m dyin’ to know.”

“Glad you asked! Watch this!” One aux cord, T-Phone connection, and light-dimming later, the lab went dark in anticipation. And suddenly, with the press of a play button on Donnie’s shuffle, music started to fill the air. But it wasn’t coming from his phone. It was coming from the coils, surging and creating not only electric energy that was visible to the human eye as it sparked, but music. Sound. The beats and notes of the song playing sprouted out in the form of electricity.

Raph’s green eyes became transfixed on the sparks flying out. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right!” Came the squeals of utter nerding out, “This is only a tabletop version of an SGTC circuit, my own type of it anyway based on Tesla’s original designs, but if I reworked it, made it bigger, made it lifelike and maybe four or five of them, I could create the most advanced musical performance this city has ever seen!”

“I’m gonna pretend I know everything you just said because clearly this is your nerd thing,” Raph started, utterly confused. Even still, a reassuring smile framed his features. “But this looks pretty damn cool. This right here? Exactly what ‘m sayin’, Don.  This is you.”

“Do you think she’ll like it...?” Donnie asked in a hopeful voice. He wasn’t just asking about the invention. 

“Course she will.”

~x~

A couple weeks had passed since that fateful conversation with Raph. He’d been in and out of the lab since then, but between patrols and the mandatory bathroom breaks, there was hardly a time he wasn’t working on his great new project. You weren’t even allowed to go into the lab, per his request, for all his time there.

However, he always made sure to make at least one movie whenever you’d come hang out at the lair from work.

Finally, one Friday night, the set up was complete. Pride swelled in Donnie’s chest as he looked at his creation: six symmetrically placed tesla coils sprung up from the ground and walls all around his lab space. The coilings wrapped around metal frames, spiraling into a beautiful arrangement of engineering, if he did say so himself. Mikey said it looked like the lasers out of a DC comic, which was also not a bad thing to be. He just hoped that you would like it. All of it was for you, of course, but over the weeks that he’d been preparing it, he found more beauty in the music of tesla coils than he ever had appreciated before. 

Donnie thought he might thank you for that, if he could get his nerves around it.

God, he was so nervous. Anxiety rushed through his body like the electric pulses he was perfecting. They were already done, but it was all he could do to distract himself while waiting for you to arrive. Maybe the frequencies weren’t in the right key. What if they sounded better this way? Or maybe the firing power wasn’t enough? Trajectory looked alright, maybe it just-

“Donnie?”

“Gh! Y/N, hey!” Stammered the surprised terrapin after knocking his head against the top of a coil. His goggles were on the setting of night-vision, but that didn’t account for night-spatial-awareness, it seemed.

“I got your text to come,” You tried to smile at him, but the dark laboratory proved to make that difficult. “How come it’s so dark in here?”

“Uh, well, that’s p-part of the surprise! Eheh. Gimme just a second-”

You waited patiently outside of his lab, vision still applicable, but grew concerned the more strange noises and clangs you heard coming from inside. This was definitely a whole new level of “Donnie Surprises” just by how nervous he seemed about it.

You yelped when his hand grabbed your arm and dragged you back inside the darkness.

“Okay, uh,” He started, before clapping his hands together for the lights to switch back on, “This is what I wanted to show you.”

Your gaze spun all around the lab. After adjusting to the light, you could clearly see giant mechanism after mechanism placed strategically around in a dome-like setup. Coils that protruded like round-edged spikes circled you both, and in the center was a metal cage. 

“Oh my god…” You almost whispered. A large grin broke out onto your face as you stared in quiet marvel at the scene. His plan was working, and Donnie lit up with an outstretched arm in presentation.

“These bad boys are called tesla coils-”

“Tesla coils!” You squealed in imperfect unison to what you assumed was the start of an explanation. “You made tesla coils, Donnie, holy shit!”

“You’ve heard of them?!” Donnie exclaimed, eyes widening behind his glasses.

“YES!” Your hands began to wave around excitedly, “Oh my god I used to be OBSESSED with these things! I heard about when I was a kid from that old movie, oh what was it, it was like the apprentice’s-”

“Sorcerer’s Apprentice!”

“THAT! Yes!” 

“I haven’t seen that movie in years!”

“Me neither! All I remember is that Hiccup’s voice actor totally nerded out and programmed his giant tesla coils to play music for the girl he wanted to impress, and it was the coolest thing because these giant machines were playing music, music out of nothing but sparks of electricity at different frequencies, which to be honest probably would have caused more of an energy problem than the movie suggested because goddamn do they take up a lot of power, but I was like six and didn’t care!” You laughed  in an energetic burst of word association, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Donnie could have kissed you then and there for that alone. 

A grin crept onto his lips as he watched you ramble on about the movie, leaving all anxious thoughts to fall from his mind. For once, someone actually understood one of his passions. Better than that, she was explaining the process to him of all people! Sure, she was intuitive enough to know he didn’t need it, he literally had just built them after all. This was just out of pure excitement. Someone in his life was talking about science and technology like they were the most fascinating things on the planet, just as the purple-masked turtle believed it was. Well, second only to the ecstatic girl in front of him. 

“-And so, I randomly remembered it again not that long ago, so I looked it up and found so many videos on YouTube about it. I kid you not, I listened to tesla coils and tesla coils alone for a solid week.” 

You breathed heavily, a little winded after such an intense info-dump. God, he always loved when you got excited about something. 

“This is kind of surreal,” Donnie chuckled a bit, pushing up his glasses when they tumbled down his nose, “I had no idea you’d get what these were, much less have known so much about them.” Donnie’s eyes widened at his own panicked-fueled blabbering. “N-Not that I think you’re stupid! I just-- I mean it’s not-- common? It’s more of-”

“A niche interest, yeah. No worries,” You finished for him, signaling his stuttered words hadn’t fallen on offended ears. Donnie quietly sighed in relief. Time ticked by in seconds, but even that was much too fast for this martial artist to grasp. If he could have constructed a device to pause the fabrics of time, he would have long ago, simply to relish the moments with you that meant everything to him. It wasn’t your fault your eyes captivated him more than any element he’s worked with.

“So,” You began eagerly, startling him out of his thoughts, “Are we gonna listen to some zappy poles go brrr or what?”

Donnie snorted at your juvenile word choice. “Yeah, totally. Now, ah,” He walked over toward the large cage in the center, stepped inside, then poked his head out with a dorky grin. A large, green hand stood outstretched towards you. “I think you’d better step inside my cage.”

“If you keep quoting the damn movie like this, I am going to explode from excitement, and it will be your fault!” It was a wonder how you hadn’t caught onto his plan yet, honestly. You made no sense of hesitation before grabbing his offered hand (even though your hands were small enough that they hardly matched his palm’s size), and clambered into the cage in front of him. This was a great excuse for you to be close to him without it being weird. And now, with your back brushing up against his plastron, the butterflies in his chest told him it was totally a good call.

Donatello would take this secret to his grave, however.

“Put your hands on the rail here, yep just like that,” Donnie nodded after your hands found the safeguard rail. A couple buttons tapped into a laptop later, he settled his own hands next to yours. “Let the magic begin.”

Magic would have been the understatement of the year. A coil in front of you quickly shot out its first spark. Familiar music breached the sound barrier to your ears. The one behind you both caught it instantly. Spark after spark sent back and forth between the coils, soaring through the lab like the most incredible game of electric catch.

“Whoa!” You laughed when the sparks would bounce off the cage itself, pressing closer to the turtle behind you (much to his surprise every time). Your shining e/c eyes never left the electric bolts shooting out. “This is insane!”

“Heh, glad you like it!” Donnie watched you closely that entire time, more entranced by your excitement and wonderstruck self than anything he’d created. He could power up the tesla coils anytime of day, but this was a special moment he’d never be able to recreate in a controlled environment. This was no experiment, this was real and it was happening right now. 

The only thing left to do was tell you how he felt. 

“Y/N, I have to tell you something,” He began, stepping away to give you a bit of space. His heart rate was increasing by the second. The way you turned to look at him wasn’t helping, either. 

“What is it?” You spoke softly, somehow able to be heard over the music. Donnie could hardly meet your eyes, so he took your hands in his instead.

“I...I don’t know how to say this exactly,” He started, “I’ve been trying to do it for months, going over every possible conjuncture of words, something that would be heartfelt and honest, poetic even? But the truth is, words aren’t my thing, th-they never have been. I’m a science guy, I take things apart and put them back together again, I figure out what makes them work, I see life as a million tiny parts to analyze.”

He paused his quickened speech to take a breath. Your hands squeezed his larger ones as an offer to continue.

“And so, I’m...bad at feelings. I see it all as chemicals and components used by the brain to create action and reaction. But now I’m not so sure if that’s all they are, and really the only thing I am sure about is that it’s because of you that I’m questioning everything I ever thought I knew. Maybe, maybe life is more than atoms and chemicals, and instead it’s about..moments. Moments like this. Moments that...that I..that I really want to keep forever and play over and over again.”

“Donnie…” You spoke. This time he squeezed your hands.

“I know I’m rambling and I should really get to the point, so what I’m trying to say is,” He took another breath, steady this time. His gaze met yours again. “I want to live these moments with you every day. You’re special to me. You’re part of our family, but this is more than that, this feeling is-”

“Love.” You finished for him. Both of your eyes widened as you realized the other felt how you each did.  

Donatello nodded slowly, hesitant to be so certain, but knowing it was true. There were no more words to be exchanged after that, only actions, only movements so soft and gentle that the large terrapin was certain he’d break if they could fit in his hands. Your hands left his and instead reached up to grab the long ends of his mask, and tugged gently for him to reach you. He leaned down without a thought. A three-fingered hand found your waist this time. 

You kissed. Soft, human lips connected to his slightly chapped reptilian ones. The turtle had waited for this moment since he realized the attraction he felt towards you was not just powerful chemical reactions, but true feelings. It wasn’t biology, it was chance and fate and one-in-a-million all at once. As the sparks continued to (literally) fly, Donnie let his eyes close. This was the present. He was here, he was holding a great new adventure in his hands, and there was a brilliant future just around the corner. 

The song may have finished, but this is what would last forever. 

[kaetastic]

Secrets Not To Be Told

pairing: Lucius Malfoy x Pureblood!Slytherin!Reader

summary: Draco invites his circle of friends to his manor for an allegedly said-project. This brings a friend of the boy into his father’s attention. [requested: @queenofmankind​]

word count: 3k

warning: fluff, cheating, smut, fingering :)

note: the only reason i made the reader a slytherin and pureblood is because i needed her to be in the draco circle if you know what i mean. i hope this is alright! thank you so much for this request!! i truly love lucius <33 i think after posting one more request i’ll be closing it for awhile to spend more time on my posts :3

The scurrying of petite feet grazed across the stone floor, squeaking a screech every time the bare skin of the creature slapped the ground. Although the manor had been exceptionally cold the past week, the temperature had wrapped a blanket of icicles around the walls of the once a cosy home. If that ever existed with the infamous beliefs of the previous and current owners. 

The floppy ears of the elf danced with every stomp of feet he took, bouncing into the air just like that of the choreography of his heart. Arms swinging by his body, he could hear his heart thrum against his eardrums. Almost as if someone had plunged their fingers through his chest to pluck out the pumping organ. There was nothing else pinned on the board in his mind, just the change of events. Need to tell Master. 

The words echoed in his head, a reminder for him to get to the desired room as soon as possible. Even though the creature had been serving the Malfoys for longer than he could count on his hands, he couldn’t help but realize the different personalities of each owner. However, the ground remained stable with the current master. Slightly more merciful than the previous ones. The elf couldn’t help but shudder at the memories of being bruised to punishment. With the tainted thoughts of those who he had served, he passed a second to slam his head in the frigid wall. Bad Nory. Bad, bad Nory.

The elf barely had time for his lungs to increase to its maximum capacity and his head to digest what he was to do, his boney knuckles rapped against the wooden door. As the noise echoed into his ears in surges of wailing, no different to that of his spilt tears the night before, the creature finally understood what he had done. There wasn’t any time for him to waste by sprinting away to leave the master to be answered by silence. 

Master Malfoy had ordered a clear instruction; this issue was to be solved with the towering wizard of the home. Running away was an option, but the elf couldn’t see himself walking away from the scene without punishing himself. No sound seemed to seep out of the cracks of the sealed door. With a gulp, the elf took this as a reply. So, with his blood vessels quivering set an energetic speed, he opened the door with a creak. The noise that indicated the ancient hinges lingered in the air, longer than he wanted it to be. Almost as if it was to taunt him of his grievous mistake. Was it a mistake if he was to inform a sudden issue to his master?

“What is it?” The man who occupied the lavish green armchair practically hissed, his words swerving out the cracks of his teeth in a body of a slithering serpent. Even when he had found comfort in the tranquillity of the air, nothing fell into place to his desire. 

Lucius was a lucky man, some would say. The pureblood wizard had inherited money which seemed to be an endless body of water, the main reason why he had found no need to occupy a job. However, the demands he had asked, such simple ones, was of no use. His son had dragged his friends to the manor, individuals Lucius had approved of as their status. 

The pureblood wizard wished for the school his son had been educated at, to find the true meaning of blood. Blood purity. There would be no use of those with half-poured blood of muggles while the other half were to be species who held great power in their hands. Not to mention the wavering group of barely a tint of magical blood in them. Draco would have his fun while his wife had occupied herself in Paris. The beginning of Christmas looked fun as Lucius was left alone.

There was no need to wait for the creature to bring up its excuse to its... excessive, boisterous noise of walking. No matter the times the wizard had scolded the elf for creating such irritating sound, the habit was ingrained in the creature. 

“Master, Nory is sorry,” The elf stuttered, its eyes blaring onto the polished ground before it brushed over the overlapping strings of the carpet. “There’s a woman at the door, she said she’s Master Draco’s accompany.”

Lucius’s eyes snapped to the quivering elf, his peripheral narrowing onto its raggy clothing. Placing down the crinkling newspaper, he clicked his jaw, “I only assume that you have brought her inside because we treat guests at our utmost respect,” The elf watched as honey dripped from the wizard’s lips. Not sweet honey, never sweet honey. Venom embedded honey. The viscous liquid was ready to pierce blades. “Bring her in.”

Nodding (almost beheading his own head at the incredible speed), the creature’s feet echoed into the tranquil air, “Come in, come in.” Lucius listened to its muffled hearing before the noise of shuffling of feet amplified into the dining room. 

Towering over the elf was a figure, the cloak heavily rested on her shoulders, “I’m sorry if I caused any problems. I’m Y/N, Draco had invited me.”

Lucius quirked his eyebrows at her accent, “Draco came in with his friends.”

“Oh, yes,” Y/N let out a faint laugh. “There were some problems that needed fixing, so I was late.”

Lucius noted before standing, his stride towards the door halted to stand next to the witch, “Well then, I’ll show you to Draco.” The creature was long gone, knowing its presence was not needed by the two. 

Silence sang in the air, only their steps mumbled into the long hallway. Long for Y/N; a short path for the man who had grown in the manor. The same hallway his father and previous generations had sauntered through, “You’re not British, are you?”

Y/N couldn’t help the quirk of her smile, “No, I’m not. I’m a transfer from Ilvermony.”

“Your blood?”

“Pure.” That was all Lucius needed.

Lucius munched on the gentle texture of the egg, its creamy yolk caressed the muscle of his tongue with every so softness. Just the way he liked it. The bright yellow paint smeared against his porcelain teeth, cladding around to cover the source of sparkling glitter whenever the wizard was to shoot a smile. Not a smile of joyfulness because lately, life had been lacking in supplying said-happiness. Everything seemed to rather get on his nerves; no one seemed to comply with the pureblood wizard. Something that had infuriated him. Almost as if they had mocked him. 

With the freshest Daily Prophet hovering on the table, blocking his view of the wide-opened door, he was too caught up on grazing his eyes over the lines of the commotion of giants. Just kill the lot if you ask me. The wizard couldn’t help but curl up the corners of his lips from his thought. While he showered himself in the enticing idea of him ruling over the wizarding world (too brutal of gushing blood to clean out the bad blood), Y/N made way into the dining room. 

Too lost in the golden imagination, she took the time to take in the room. It was like no other. The rest of the house, those she had only stumbled into, of course, had been rather gloomy and full of lurking shadows compared to this one. While she had enjoyed her time in the Malfoy Manor, most of the moments of exploring the vast home with the owner’s son, she couldn’t help but be in doubt to why the room had been more... brighter. 

“My wife wanted more light,” Lucius answered the question she had quirked up in her head as if he had read her mind. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, had she said it out loud? With a flick of his wand, the swooshing noise of the newspaper slicing through the air to land its back on the grand wooden table crackled. “She said she could barely see what she was eating, hence this.” Following his gesturing hands towards the window wall that had been adorned by curtains that had been hugged at their waists to prevent it from closing, Y/N hummed. The morning light glistened through the glass panes, streaking lines of golden paints against the sombre-coloured table. 

The dining table was long, separating the dining room into two halves equally. Despite the enormous room, it didn’t feel spacey at all. There were clusters of iron armour statues decorating the walls, alongside moving paintings of landscapes and what Y/N would assume were family. Pushing the table aside, the twinkling chandelier was a sight to behold. Its arms, no different to that of an octopus. Teardrops of creatures that resided in the body of water draped from each rod, singing a faint song with every quiver despite the room being impeccably still.

“So, may I ask what you’re doing in my home?” Before she had the chance to think of what she was to do, a faint chuckle fell off her lips.

“Oh, right. It seems I had forgotten an item of mine.” 

Lucius quirked his eyebrow, “Well, wouldn’t it have been easier for you to just send an owl?” 

Y/N scratched the nape of her neck, “I have, it seems Draco had not received it.”

The wizard nodded before the clanking of metal slamming against ceramic echoed into the dining room, “Come, where was the last place you’ve left it?” Y/N was sure, with him being a pureblood- it would’ve been easier to accio the lost item. She didn’t question.

“Are they your family?” Y/N quirked up, slicing a blade through the thick air. Now that she had noticed, the hallway had not been occupied at all. Just the head of the family and her. Well, she wasn’t sure where Draco would be as Lucius had informed her that he was to do additional training.

“Yes, they are.” Lucius answered, the words lingering longer in the air as his eyes grazed over the paintings. The green wall had been plastered with squares of paintings and moving pictures. It would surely be just a cluster of dots if viewed from afar. The heads of similar blond hairs had tint features of what had been passed on onto Lucius. No doubt, it was his parents as the young Lucius sat on the chair with their hands planted on his shoulders. Oh, to be young again.

Turning her head to face the man, she inquired, “What were they like?”

Lucius pondered, a second of silence poured into the air, “Loyal.” Despite his short description of his family, Y/N knew it was more to it. There was never just one adjective for pureblood parents. However, she didn’t even bother pressing onto the manner. She gazed upon his eyes grey eyes.

The still air she once had cut into two loaves of bread had tightened around her chest as her lips rested on his. Her fingers hovered over his chest, awkwardly quivering at the peculiar position. Lucius saw a coat of darkness while his body had been leaning on hers, his ears fed with the sound of their lips; his tongue had been given a treat of the taste of her. Y/N watched as the familiar absence of light entered her peripheral, holding a sheet between her sight and her.

Although it had felt as if she had been snoozing off to the lullabies sung by the devil, she was soon shaken to her core at the realization. Yanking back to snap the sudden noise of their lips ripping away from one another, she stared at the towering man, chest heaving, “We can’t...”

“Why not?” Lucius questioned, eyebrows shooting up as his eyes narrowed at her.

A minute passed, and she had no answer to his question. Maybe it had been the captivating man who had sucked out all of her ability to grasp on reality. Or air was just not enough to supply her head, “I’m Draco’s friend, and you are his father-“ She hated that she stuttered. However, it had all to be blamed on her intermittent flickers of thought to come up with a reason. A reason to push away the man. A reason to stop him. 

“You are of age, aren’t you?” Y/N nodded, though, quite reluctantly as she feared for what he was to say. 

“Still, isn’t this wrong?” The words squeezed out of her throat, almost as if she didn’t want to say it.

“Nobody has to know.” Although the first thought that had popped up in his mind was his wife who was possibly sauntering on the roads of Paris, it was soon wiped off from existence as the familiar warm puffs of air-filled every crevice of his mouth. The wizard’s hands crept up, fingers trailing from his side to gingerly grasp her waist. 

Nothing was uttered in the air as the two lost themselves in a rhythm they soon fell into. With her hands plastered on his shoulders, she couldn’t hold back the shudder when her fingers grazed over the chilly ornament on his neck. The pureblood wizard pulled away, his eyes brushing over her confused orbs, “Not here, come.”

Breezes of wind kissed his skin, piercing an inch of skin as if a missed arrow that had somehow managed to caress his cheeks. Lucius didn’t know how fast he had paced towards his room. Maybe it had been a foolish thing to do, but he didn’t care. Nothing else mattered but the thrumming of his heart for what he was about to do. 

A cane in his hand for preventing any consequences he was to face, no walls would stay up high with the persistence of the wizard. Lucius wasn’t sure if he had felt relief when he had not seen those scrambling creatures in the hallways or up the stairs. He could’ve just pulled up the punishment cards or obliviate the house-elf. It would’ve been amusing for him to watch, but there was a slight clench in his chest that had been more than glad at the absence of the elves. What would’ve Y/N thought?

Flinching only slightly at the abrupt, boisterous noise of the door slamming shut, Y/N could barely let out a gasp before her lips were sealed shut once again. With her back against the wall beside the door, there was no time for her to gaze upon the room the wizard had dragged her into. That was until Lucius had somehow urged himself to pull away. Mumbling in a raspy voice, Y/N felt wind crawling down her back, “Undress.”

So she did. There were sprinkles of chest heaving from the air-stealing exercises despite the two shredding off their clothing. Lucius couldn’t hold himself back. The way her tongue brushed against his; the way her fingers would gently grip onto his chest was as if she had handled glass. It was entertaining, to say the least- Lucius liked it. It was different. Different than his wife. 

A sharp gasp fell off her lips as the mouth that was once smeared over with freezing paint which now had been warmed up as if it rested next to a fireplace landed on her neck. Lucius’s ears trickled with wanton sounds of her moaning, quivering down his body. She knew what it did to him, yet, her body was not placed in a position for her to decide. 

Tightening her grip on the crumpled cover of the bed, a staggering moan caressed her lips. Lucius pumped his sole finger at a languid pace, the corners of his lips curling up at the way her hips buckled. While she had been melting her head into the soft pillows, the same ones his wife would slumber upon, his lips descended down to flick his tongue on her pebbly buds. Y/N wasn’t sure if it had been from the second finger he had added or the way his tongue had suckled on her breasts, or both, but she didn’t bother. 

She arched into his body, fingers weaved through the long locks of his hair. Lucius grunted at the sudden clench of his fingers. Her legs thrashed, wavering in shudders when he drew quick circles on her clit. Then she felt as if she had been chunked down the mists of clouds. Y/N watched as his fingers that had been coated of her coat his tongue. If there was any slight drop left, it was to be mixed with the tint of his saliva.

His fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking the hardened shaft while his eyes watched hers. Inch by inch, his pelvis had splayed against her skin. Youthful skin. And oh, if Lucius had let down his walls, he was sure he would’ve lost at the tightness around him. Breathless puffs were then dancing in his lips. 

Lost in the way his tongue danced with hers, she let out an unexpected whimper as his hips pulled back. The emptiness of the inch was prominent. The feeling lingered in her. However, it was soon thrown out of the window when he had snapped his hips. The first of the many wanton noises were forgotten in a blurry haze as his thrusts started a series of moaning and groans, “Lucius...”

Her moan fell into his ears in a bouncing string, just like that of a fishing rod with bait at its hook. Y/N’s legs wrapped around his hips, another surge of pleasure crawling through her body. With his head bumping into her temple, it wasn’t long before they plunged into the sea of a familiar feeling. 

Still breathless, he huffed out, his skin finally screeching of pain from his back, possibly the clawing of her nails, “Listen, my wife shouldn’t know-”

A knock on the door sliced through the still air, “Father, mother’s home.” 

The faces of the two could have been seen as that of a permanent freeze.