#I have not made any attempt to search out such stories but they have found me nonetheless.

[mornyavie]

Are queer ecoterrorists a thing in speculative fiction right now or is this just a big coincidence in my own reading?

[lokissweater]

“i love you and i love you.” ᡣ𐭩

{yuta okkotsu x f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu has been hopelessly in love with you since he was fifteen. you, his muse and his reason to live as you took care of him growing up more than anyone else in his life. in fear of breaking your best friend pact and losing you entirely, yuta swallows his feelings for the sake of keeping you in his life, but he can only take so much.

warnings: college au, friends to best friends to lovers trope, lowkey ooc yuta oops, mentions of underage drinking, hopelessly devoted and lovesick yuta for reader, cursing!!! both reader and yuta cuss lol, lots and lots of fluff, ANGST, afab!reader, use of y/n, pet names, no smut in this one! slight sexual themes, reader is older than yuta by two years.

word count: 8.7k

authors note: YAAALLL i actually poured my heart and soul out into this one so i really hope it reaches your heart and soul as well! it is so so cute and i had so much fun writing it. this is definitely not the end of this au! i plan to write more short stories that take place after this one :) mwah.

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yuta was thirteen years old when he first saw you.

you were a casual friend of his older brother who had invited his entire group of friends over for a thanksgiving feast reunion amongst yourselves. yuta stayed locked in his room for the most part, from time to time lazily making his way down the halls and through the kitchen where you all sat to get a glass of water for himself, silently savoring at the food on the table.

eventually you had picked up on his lame attempts of coming into the kitchen for random excuses, concluding that he just wanted to gawk at the food and maybe score a bite or two of the pumpkin pie drenched in whipped cream, sitting pretty and proud in the middle of the table.

but after various unsuccessful attempts and various defeated stomps down the hall and back to his room after every shoo from his brother, he knew he wasn’t going to get even a lick. at the end of the night when the group settled down and many began to take their leave, yuta made his way back down one more time in search of any lucky scraps left behind.

but what he found instead was you, standing in the kitchen with a white porcelain plate in your hands, a slice of pumpkin pie drenched in whipped cream sitting pretty in the middle.

“for you,” you had said calmly, plate outstretched, beckoning him to take it. “i saw you come down a few times looking at it, and i think whoever brought it is taking the rest of it back home, so here.”

yuta had never spoken to a girl before, much less a fifteen year old one with the sweetest smile he had ever seen in his life on her face, but he timidly and awkwardly took the smooth plate from your offering hands, and muttered a squeaky thank you before stumbling down the hall and slamming his bedroom door shut.

from then on, yuta looked forward to the next time his brother would have his friends over, nagging at him constantly with questions of when, and even going as far as to straight up planning the hangouts himself (the location of all of them being at their house of course), but his brother would only shove him out of his room and lock the door shut.

luckily for yuta his wish was granted, and his curious eyes saw you around a lot more often than not, and you gradually became a close friend of yuta’s brother instead of just casual one. every time you came over to his house, you always greeted him with the biggest smile on your face before going into his brother’s room with the rest of the group. and over time, your greetings to yuta went from sweet smiles, to pats on the head, to ruffling up his hair occasionally, and to his personal favorite, the side hug.

you always were around in yuta’s growing life and always made sure he had gotten something to eat that day, or if he had a ride to soccer practice, or if his phone had enough battery to last him through his tutoring sessions, or even if he had someone going to watch his soccer games in the mornings (which was never).

yuta was fifteen when he realized he liked you.

“so no one is going?” you asked sharply, “again?”

yuta shrugged. “its at eight o’ clock in the morning. i don’t expect anyone to, not even you-“

“well i’m going,” you said simply, putting the rest of your textbooks away in your locker and slamming it shut. “geez not even your brother goes to your games? i’m gonna yell at him later.”

“it’s fine.” yuta shook his head and gave you a small smile, his insides twisting and contorting with an overwhelming boy crush for you. “a lot of my teammates parents don’t go either, usually only to the first two of the season.”

but not you. you went every single time, even going as far as dragging his brother with you so he could have family there to watch him play. yuta always made sure to turn and raise a hand to you from across the field, waving it side to side before getting back in the game, his heart thumping wildly in his chest with an insane sense of adrenaline to do good on the field and show off— because you were watching.

yuta was still fifteen when he realized you liked his brother.

firstly, he felt utterly stupid for not picking up on it before. yuta was always too busy staring at you and memorizing every inch and detail of your face to realize that you were looking at his brother the same way yuta looked at you. he was too busy running around in soccer fields and eating the ham sandwiches you always made for him after practices to realize how red your face would get when you sat next to his brother during his games, or when you gave him sandwiches. yuta was too busy drooling over you in his mind that sometimes you wouldn’t even notice him waving at you from across the field like he always did, your eyes trained on his brother instead, that sweet smile he was all too familiar with shining for someone else.

it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t fair at all. yuta felt like his brother always got everything and he always ended up with scraps. yuta never got a friend group like his, or a stellar reputation in a sport like he did, or people at his beck and call everywhere he went, or nominations for pointless shit like homecoming king.

but yuta didn’t give a flying fuck about any of that. he didn’t want any of that. he wanted you. just you.

but he couldn’t have you.

yuta was sixteen when he realized he was in love with you.

he had been for a while actually, and he knew it, but the thought alone of you liking his stupid brother only fueled the fire of denial to save himself from getting hurt more than he already was.

but it was absolutely pouring rain that day, his tutoring session having been cancelled last minute due to the weather, and because of this he had no ride home and no umbrella to even attempt at walking home, not that he could anyways seeing as it would take him thirty minutes to do so. yuta absolutely could not take that chance. he had his laptop in his backpack with all of his school work, and worst of all, his final project that he had been working on since the beginning of the school year, a precious green portfolio filled with notes worth more than gold to him.

yuta grumbled as he scuffed his feet against the concrete at the front of his school under a rooftop, lips pressed into a thin line in annoyance. his parents were at work, there was no way they could just drop everything and go to him (not that they would anyways), and his brother was too busy hanging out with you doing god knows what at god knows where— so even calling you was out of the picture.

at the mere thought of you hanging out with his brother, he sighed softly, sadly, and slumped down on a blue bench with his cold hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, eyes trained to the ground.

heavy pit pats of rain smacked against the ground as he sat there in thought, the sounds of cars zooming down the wet streets as the only source of life around besides himself, seeing as it was already late in the day and everybody else had gone home. without him even noticing, the front doors beside him creaked open as he sat there grumbling.

“yuta?”

his head snapped up upon hearing your pretty voice call out to him, his eyes wide as he saw you standing there with an umbrella.

“what are you doing here?” he asked softly, standing up. yuta looked at you then and noticed your eyes were red and tired, and a shock of worry shot up his spine.

“i was-”

“are you okay?” he asked quickly. “your eyes are red.”

“oh really?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with your palm, waving him off. “it’s nothing, i didn’t even notice.”

he pursed his lips, concern written all over his face as he took in your defeated expression, but before he could press any further, you spoke again.

“why aren’t you in tutoring?”

“oh they cancelled last minute,” he stuffed his hands further into his jacket and looked to the side. “i don’t have a ride home now because of it, and i can’t even walk home because it’s raining hard as fuck and i have my laptop in my backpack.”

you hummed in understanding, and even though it looked like the worst possible thing ever just happened to you, you gave him that same sweet smile he craved every time he saw you. “let’s walk to your house together. i have an umbrella we can try and fit under.”

he looked at you incredulously. “no no! it’s okay! you live down the street i don’t want to make you walk thirty minutes in the rain with me and thirty back-”

“it’s okay!” you laughed. “i would never leave you here by yourself yu, you know that.”

oh how he loved when you called him that.

his shoulders slowly relaxed, a wobbly cute smile spreading across his face, his cheeks a fuzzy pink. “okay.”

you walked together in a comfortable silence, your little umbrella just barely covering the both of you and yuta’s cheeks were still an intense pinky shade due to the close proximity, his steamy breath basically fanning the side of your ear as he huddled close to you.

after a few minutes spent walking on the sidewalk, yuta spoke up again.

“why are your eyes red?”

you immediately froze, but relaxed quickly.

“just tired s’all,” you responded weakly, but the little wobbling of your bottom lip told him otherwise.

yuta slowly lifted his hand and reached out, placing it softly on top of yours and clenching over the stem of the umbrella. the action caused you both to stop walking, your curious eyes snapping to his.

his palm felt like it was on absolute fire at the feeling of your soft hand under his, yuta’s breath trembling as he breathed out.

he swallowed. “can you please tell me why.”

your eyes flooded with tears then, and you shut them tightly as you dropped your forehead solemnly to rest against his shoulder, your frame shaking with quiet sobs escaping your lips.

yuta’s eyes softened and he quickly took the umbrella from you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a tight hug. his heart thumped so hard against his chest that he could hear it ringing through his ears.

he patted the back of your head gently. “what happened? what’s going on?”

you shook your head against his chest.

“y/n..” he sighed worriedly, running a soothing hand over your shaking back now.

“i have a crush on your brother,” you sobbed.

he knew. god he knew. but hearing you say it out loud broke his heart ten times more than it did when he found out on his own.

yuta slightly pulled back, bending his knees a little to look at you at eye level, his hand on your shoulder.

“i know.”

your eyebrows furrowed, more silent tears spilling from your eyes. “you know?”

yuta nodded, smiling sadly at you as he wiped your tears with his thumb, your eyes closing as he did so. “i spend almost every second of my life with you, of course i know. i noticed.”

you sniffed.

“weren’t you just with him now?” he asked.

your eyes shut tightly again, eyebrows contorted in pain as you nodded. “i confessed to him. i wanted to tell him before we graduated next month.”

you lifted your hands and covered your face, sobbing into them. “i’ve loved him since middle school.”

loved?

yuta’s shoulders slumped as he stared straight ahead, feeling like he wanted to crawl into a deep dark hole and stay there.

“he-“ you hiccuped. “he rejected me.”

his head snapped down immediately, eyebrows furrowing in a mix of disbelief and anger. “huh? he rejected you?”

you nodded, dropping your hands from your eyes and burying your head in his chest.

“why? what did he say?”

“he said he didn’t feel the same way—” you stopped for a moment to even out your breaths. “and that he was sorry.”

yuta scoffed, shaking his head. “what a big fucking loser.”

you snorted at that, and he looked down at you fondly, relieved you laughed.

“he… he thanked me for everything that i’ve done for your family though, especially you.”

he stayed silent.

“he said he was thankful that i was like another sibling for you, and that i took care of you.”

another sibling?

yuta didn’t say anything, that phrase like a slash through his heart while he still thought about how much of a fucking idiot he was to reject you. you, out of anyone deserved to get everything you wanted. you were selfless, incredibly sweet, the most gorgeous human being to ever walk this earth, and you had done so much for everyone that you neglected your own needs all of the time.

how could he not love you back? how could his brother not see the angel in his life that loved him, that sentiment alone an absolute privilege to have? something he would kill for?

yuta knew he shouldn’t make this about himself. he knew you were absolutely hurting and heartbroken, but he just had to know. it was eating him alive inside and out and over and over again as he kept thinking about it.

“is that how you see me?”

“hu-huh?” you hiccuped, picking your head up from his chest to look at him.

“as another sibling. is that how you see me?”

you blinked up at him, your eyes trailing over his furrowed eyebrows and worried gaze, and you hesitated for a moment, not knowing exactly why.

but you nodded, slowly. “you’re my best friend, yu. you’re not just anyone to me i care a lot about you. more than most people in my life.”

for a moment, yuta looked at you blankly, his mind unable to properly register your words. he didn’t know whether he wanted to cry, call up his brother and yell at him, kiss you, or run away.

a part of him knew that too, that you only saw him as a sibling. but like everything else in his life, he buried it down and chose to pretend like it didn’t exist for the sake of his heart.

but regardless of you not returning his feelings, he would rather be something to you than nothing at all. he would rather make some type of difference in your life and have a special spot, than be an absolute nobody to you.

so he smiled. he smiled with soft sad eyes and nodded, pulling you back in and resting his cheek against the top of your head. “you’re my best friend too.”

yuta didn’t see you around much at his house after that, which he understood.

but you still texted yuta everyday and hung out with him sometimes at school, and you still went to his games and practices and made him ham sandwiches after, and you still gave him that sweet smile he loved so so much.

but he never missed how sad you got around his brother, even at the mere mention of him. he never missed how your eyes stayed glued to the ground or had a far off look to them, your arms wrapped around yourself with a safe distance between you both.

when you graduated high school, yuta was a brat the entire ceremony. he was pissed. so pissed that you were two years older than him and that he wasn’t going to see your pretty self around school anymore, which was pretty much the only reason he tolerated it in the first place.

but when your graduating class threw their caps up into the air and his family went down to congratulate his brother, yuta made a beeline for you instead.

and behind that scowl on his face that he had the entire day, his eyes were glossy.

yuta never cried.

when you noticed, your shoulders instantly dropped and you ran to his open arms, practically throwing yourself on him. “yuuu! don’t cry for me!”

“who said i’m crying?” yuta grumbled into your shoulder.

you pulled back and smiled at him, “i’m gonna miss you the most.”

yuta smiled, but then faltered, and a sliver of fear shot up his spine. was this the last time he was going to see you? was this the start of you both slowly distancing, and then ultimately falling apart? were you still going to call him and text him everyday?

as if you could sense his fear, you quickly shook your head. “you’re literally stuck with me for life. you will never find another best friend to replace me, you got it?”

you waved your little index finger at him sternly, and yuta laughed. “i got it.”

yuta was nineteen when he almost kissed you.

after you graduated high school, luckily you went to a college that was only about a thirty minute drive from his place. you were still in yuta’s life, if not way more than it was before, which he thanked his lucky stars for. you went from being a best friend of his brothers, to being only his best friend, as you and his brother didn’t really talk anymore after high school.

and to that, yuta was happy.

and when he graduated high school, you of course were there, crying and pinching his cheeks and hugging him so tight his back cracked a little bit.

he didn’t go to the same college you did (although he definitely tried but didn’t get in) and went to one that was about forty five minutes away from home, one he commuted to everyday like you did for yours.

you both got so much closer that you obliviously acted like a couple, when you weren’t. yuta would pick you up from class and drive you to lunch, pay for all of your meals and anything you practically wanted despite you fighting him every time on it. he would kiss your forehead and your cheek and throw his arm around your shoulder when you walked, he would call you baby and compliment you every single day, and he would sleep over at your house almost all of the time, your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around your torso.

he knew best friends weren’t really supposed to act like this, but did you? you both had grown so accustomed to it that it wasn’t a weird thing for you both, but the constant questions from your mutual friends or even each others parents was a dead giveaway that it in fact, was not how best friends were supposed to act.

but neither of you seemed to care.

“stop moving yu!” you whispered harshly as you applied an aloe vera mud mask to his face. yuta snickered, dodging your fingers every time they came close to applying the mask, with the only reason he was doing it being because it made you laugh.

you were both sat on your fluffy pink rug in the middle of your room in your pajamas, surrounded by all of your skincare essentials and even the fancy products you only pulled out on special occasions. it was one in the morning at this point and you both were still up, trying to keep your laughter to a minimum in attempts at not waking up your parents downstairs.

“baby this stuff smells kind of funky,” he commented as you applied some to his cheek.

“the funkier the better,” you responded, focused. “kind of smells like you.”

he pinched your side and you giggled, flinching away. “i’m kidding! i’m almost done, don’t move.”

yuta listened and stayed still, watching your concentrated pretty face that was practically inches away from his as you applied the mask to the rest of his face, his poor heart almost giving out.

once you were done, you smiled triumphantly and wiped your fingers with a warm damp towel. “all done!”

yuta smiled fondly at you and kissed your cheek. “thanks. is this what you put on every night?”

you shook your head, “not every night, only when i want my skin to look extra good for special occasions.”

“which is..?”

“it’s usually when you invite me over to your family events or when we eat dinner at that one really nice place by your school.”

yuta stopped at that and he felt his heart clench at your words. he didn’t know why and he usually didn’t let it, but his mind was making him believe that maybe…

no.

he relaxed again, humming in acknowledgement. you picked up a circular pink little tub compartment thing and unscrewed the cap, dipping your ring finger in the shimmery product.

“what’s that?” he asked softly, nodding his head to it.

“it’s my lip scrub!” you responded enthusiastically, lifting your ring finger and scooting closer to him. his eyes looked straight at you as you slid your finger over his lips. “it has kind of like a rough texture, it’s supposed to exfoliate your lips and make them really soft.”

his cheeks slowly turned pink, his eyes trailing down to your lips as you sat back, finished.

“here— put some on me now so you can feel what i’m talking about,” you handed him the little tub and he dipped his index finger in, swallowing the lump in his throat.

he timidly lifted his hand and pressed his finger to your waiting perfect lips, softly and gently running the product on your bottom lip before going to the top, his eyes mesmerized and nearly drooling.

yuta was practically tracing you, wanting to burn forever the shape of your mouth into his brain to remember for the rest of his life, wanting nothing more than to press his lips on yours.

but he inhaled sharply and quickly dropped his hand. “i’m finished.”

you pressed your lips together and spread the product around, “did you feel it?”

he shakily nodded, wiping his finger on the warm damp towel before handing it over for you to do the same.

you held up a corner of the towel to his lips and gently wiped the scrub away, “and now they’re soft.”

you passed the towel back over to him, and you sat back, eagerly waiting for him to do the same.

yuta swallowed again and mimicked you, except he was much slower, much more gentle over your plush lips as he subconsciously leaned closer to you that by the time he was done, his nose almost bumped with yours.

with eyes half lidded, he stared at your lips in a daze, licking his bottom lip slightly as you looked at him with wide eyes. he wanted to, so badly, to just grab your face and press your lips together, to pour the love he’s had for you for the past four years out and cherish you with everything that he has.

“yu?” you spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your breath fanning against his lips.

his eyes immediately snapped to yours and he flinched back like a deer in headlights. “so— so when do i take this off?” he pointed to his face. “the mud mask.. when does it come off?”

you looked at him curiously, your eyebrows slightly pinched together as you tried to make sense of what was happening, if anything even really happened.

“almost..” you responded, unfocused. “in about five minutes.”

yuta quickly nodded and pressed his lips into a thin line, his hands clenched so hard into tight fists that his knuckles turned white.

he couldn’t look you in the eye. what the fuck was he doing? he was going to scare you away if he kept doing things like this, if he kept almost slipping up and doing something that could jeopardize your friendship with him.

your trust.

you nudged his shoulder with your finger, and he finally looked at you.

“is the face mask bothering you that much?” you said with a silly smile, and yuta physically deflated, affection pumping through his system.

“no baby,” he shook his head. “i like it! i think i should keep it on for the rest of the night and go to class with it tomorrow morning.”

you snorted and shook your head, “don’t be mean.”

he raised his hands up frantically, “i’m not! you think everybody has the privilege of getting a free facial by their pretty best friend?” he held up his index finger and wiggled it side to side. “i don’t think so.”

you giggled, so much, and grabbed the warm damp towel again, scooting closer to him by your knees. you began wiping away the mask on his face, being careful of not going too rough in fear of accidentally irritating and hurting him. yuta held you by the hips, assisting in keeping your balance and rubbing little circles into your stomach with his thumbs.

your cheeks went a little pink after a bit.

as the rest of the night went on, and when you both finally settled into bed facing each other— his hand on the side of your hip, you softly traced the rather dark bags under his eyes and frowned.

“you need to get more sleep, yu. i think you’ve had these bags since you were fifteen.”

“it’s because i always grind so i can buy you a big white house with a wiener dog and a picket fence.”

you laughed a little too loud and slapped a hand over your mouth, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his as your shoulders shook. when you settled down, you removed your hand and smiled sweetly.

“only if the house comes with you.”

yuta’s breath hitched, and his eyes searched yours desperately, for any indication that maybe, just maybe, you…

no.

“what… you want me as a roommate?”

you playfully rolled your eyes and gently shoved his shoulder.

yuta was twenty years old when he confessed to you.

it was also the first big fight you guys ever had in your entire years of knowing each other.

your relationship stayed the same, two peas in a little pod through college that never seemed to go to one place without the other, so much so that when you did, people would often ask where the other half was. he loved it. he loved you so much, and he found it harder and harder and more heart breaking for him as the years went by watching you not be his in any way shape or form.

every time he visited your campus or went with you to your college parties, he noticed the lurking eyes it seemed like every guy had on you everywhere you went, and it agitated yuta more than anything else. he was still a stubborn brat, and instead of doing something about it and maybe telling you how he feels, he just endures the pain and scowls at their glances, leading you through crowds by the hand or by the small of your back.

he never really indulged in the traditional college experience like you did, and never ever talked to any other girl besides you. he never wanted to or had any interest in doing so, regardless of you returning his feelings or not. you also never really talked to any other guy besides yuta or made any mention of your dating life, people mostly assuming you both were.

yuta weaved through the crowd, trying to spot a place for the both of you to sit while you went to get drinks from the kitchen. upon finally breaking free from the pile of dancing sweaty bodies, he recognized one of your girl friends and a couple of others sitting on a long lounge sofa, her eyes perking up.

“y/n’s boyfriend! you came?”

he stopped a bit, then smiled wide.

“yeah! she’s in the kitchen now by the way, she’ll be over here in a second.”

and when you did come over, already a bit tipsy from the line of shots you got pulled into while getting drinks, you walked over to where yuta sat while greeting your friends, handing him a red solo cup. and instead of sitting in the spot yuta had saved for you right beside him, you settled neatly on his lap.

his eyes nearly bulged out of their eye sockets as you swung an arm around his shoulders for support and made yourself comfortable. you had never done something like this, and he swallowed the huge lump in his throat as trembling hands settled around your waist and over your lap. his arm tingled with the feeling of your thighs underneath, afraid to put his hands anywhere near them in fear of making you uncomfortable or accidentally grabbing your face and making out with you.

but the chance of that happening wasn’t anywhere near impossible, as he was already tipsy by his drink and his hand was already gently caressing over the skin of your soft plush thighs.

best friends don’t do things like this.

and he did not give a single fuck.

your boobs were practically shoved up in his face, his pinky cheeks absolutely blazing as his eyes darted to every corner of the house and anywhere else that wasn’t your tits, his lips itching to feel, to taste.

the night progressed and the both of you got increasingly more and more drunk, clinging on to each other on the couch or stumbling through the house, laughing when one of you would trip and almost face plant on the hardwood floors, leaning on to each other for support.

“your boyfriend almost knocked over the tub of tropical mix in the kitchen!” your girl friend yelled over the loud booming music, laughing.

yuta expected you to correct her, but you didn’t, and only laughed along with her.

“no it wasn’t him! it was me,” you giggled drunkenly, your arms around his neck as his were tight around your waist, your group standing off to the side of the dance floor. “he had to grab me and pull me from it!”

and that’s how it often was, just you and him. you taking care of him and him taking care of you in every way possible, trying to pay you back for all of the years you spent being there for him when he was younger and way more, simply because he wanted to.

and on a night where yuta was studying for finals in his room, his brother that was visiting from college came in and sat down on the edge of his bed.

“you studying?” he asked.

yuta nodded, not bothering to take his eyes away from his notebook, still scribbling down his notes. he never really had the best relationship with his brother, much less after what had happened with you getting rejected by him.

his brother took a deep breath through his nose and nodded. “i um… are you still friends with y/n?”

that caught his attention, and yuta’s eyes lifted from his notes to look at him. “yes? i’m with her like, most of the time. if you haven’t noticed.”

“no i have,” his brother murmured. “how is she?”

yuta took a second to respond. “she’s good.”

“that’s good that’s good. does she um- does she still have the same number?”

yuta put down his pencil and leaned back against his desk chair. “why?”

“i wanted to just catch up with her is all,” he shrugged. “i saw her when you brought her here for mom’s birthday and i hadn’t seen her since graduation.”

“catch up with her?” yuta mumbled. “since when do you give a shit about y/n?”

his brother scoffed. “i always have, yuta.”

“didn’t seem like it when you rejected her and started dating one of her close friends like the next day.”

his brother didn’t say anything, and yuta rolled his eyes at the lack of response, picking his pencil back up to continue his work.

“i still have her on social media and see what she’s up to… she posts you a lot. are you guys like— a thing?”

yuta bit the inside of his cheek. “no.”

his brother visibly relaxed for whatever reason and nodded. “i just want to talk to her again, is all. maybe buy her dinner—”

yuta pushed his textbook away, dropped his pencil again and spun around, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “fuck no.”

his brother scoffed. “i’m not asking for permission—”

“fuck no.”

“yuta i’m your brother i literally took you to school everyday and took care of you—”

“y/n did that.” yuta cut him off. “y/n gave me rides to school when i didn’t have my license and bought me food when i didn’t have a job. she also came to every single one of my games regardless of the weather and helped me with my homework when i was too stupid to figure it out on my own, everything you should’ve done.”

“that’s not true—”

“yes it is.” yuta crossed his arms in annoyance. “she didn’t have to do any of that. she never had to take care of me the way that she did but she did it anyways. she took on your role because you were too busy being a dingus doing god knows what and she knew that. y/n has done more for me than you’ve ever done in your entire twenty two years of living.”

his brother sat there in silence, yuta’s heavy angry breathing being the only thing heard in the room.

“okay well—” his brother stood from his bed and walked over to the door. “i’m just going to text her—”

“why the fuck are you gonna meddle into her life now? what… are you bored? are you not satisfied with whatever fucking girl you find up there at school?” yuta threw his arms up in irritation, his blood beginning to boil. “you treated her like shit. like absolute dog shit when you ignored her and avoided her for months after she confessed to you. do you understand how disrespectful that is?”

“whatever man it was high school—”

“and what, that gives you a pass to treat her like that? when that happened i was sixteen picking up the pieces you shit all over at your grown age—”

“i’m leaving.”

and with that, his brother walked out and slammed the door shut, and yuta was left absolutely red. red with anger he had never felt before in his life as he grabbed his notebook and chucked it across the room. he hated how casual he spoke of you, like you were just another girl he was going to try and get to know and fuck— to then leave without another word like his brother’s been doing his whole fucking life to girls. but not to you, it couldn’t happen to you.

and it was like yuta was going through the five stages of grief because then he was afraid. what if you let his brother back into your life? what if you fell for him again? you’d done it before the chances were not zero of you doing it again.

yuta didn’t want to lose you. he would rather gauge his eyes out and eat them for breakfast.

with that, yuta stumbled through his room putting on his shoes and snatching his car keys from his night stand, running down the hall and slamming the front door shut before getting in his car.

the drive was only about fifteen minutes to your house, and he felt so bad that it was nearly two in the morning and he was most likely going to wake you up, but he couldn’t stand it. he was going absolutely crazy, everything in him gnawing and eating him alive, his brother having pushed every single button in his body and more.

his tires screeched as he pulled into your driveway, thankful that your parents were away on a getaway trip as he slammed his car door shut and made his way up to your front door. yuta rang your doorbell twice before you finally opened it.

slowly, you peeked your tired eye through the slit, and your body immediately relaxed at the sight of him. “oh my god yuta, you scared the absolute shit out of—”

you stopped, your face falling at his livid expression and the way his chest heaved erratically. “yu? are you okay? what’s going on—”

but yuta only pushed passed you and trudged up your stairs without another word. dumbstruck, you closed your front door with a click and locked it, following him up the stairs and into your room.

“what’s wrong?”

“my brother is visiting from college.” he mumbled, sitting stiff on your desk chair. you moved to stand in front of him.

“…you mentioned that yeah—”

“and he… he told me that he wants to reach out to you.”

your eyebrows furrowed, taken aback. “me? for what?”

“he says he wants to catch up with you, see how you’re doing. be friends again i guess.”

yuta’s eyes remained stuck to the floor like glue, and you remained silent as you processed his words, confused out of your mind.

“i mean… i mean i guess? i guess that’s fine—”

his head snapped up, “that’s fine?”

you shrugged, “yes? i don’t see the big deal i don’t—”

“baby—” he shook his head in disbelief. “he absolutely broke you and treated you like nothing in high school, and you’re fine letting him back into your life? great.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “why are you being like that? he just wants to be friends again and that’s fine with me—”

yuta scoffed. “he doesn’t deserve it! he doesn’t deserve you—”

“yuta, whatever happened between your brother and i was years ago! i’m over it! this isn’t a big fucking deal!”

you hated fighting with him, god how much you hated it, and the way that he looked at you now was making you absolutely sick.

“so you’re just gonna be friends with him again?” he shrugged, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“yeah?”

“you’re fucking stupid,” he spat, getting up from your desk chair and walking over to the door, reaching for your doorknob.

you instantly grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face you. “what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“what’s wrong with me?!” he raised his voice, jabbing a finger to his chest. “what’s wrong with you! do you not remember how bad you got when he did what he did?! do you really think i would stand here okay with you rekindling your little love for my brother?”

you scoffed, “my little love?!”

and before you knew it, angry tears were streaming down your face. you hated the way he was talking to you, and you didn’t know how your argument escalated so quickly and so drastically as you wiped your cheeks furiously.

and at the sight of you crying, yuta faltered slightly, his eyes softening.

“why do you think i still love him? i don’t! i haven’t since he rejected me!—”

“who says you won’t start again?” he spoke lowly, arms crossed over his chest. “my brother never had to lift a fucking finger for you to be head over heels for him. you don’t give a shit about yourself and you’re willing to throw yourself at him again—”

“shut up.” you spat, sobs raking through your body. “the fact that you’re stuffing a bunch of fucking words into my mouth and assuming i’m going to jump into your brothers arms is bullshit.”

“i—”

“is this how low you think of me?”

“no baby i don’t—”

“yes you clearly do because everything that’s come out of your mouth—”

“no! no i’m sorry i don’t—”

“then why—”

yuta shoved his hands into his hair exasperated, “because i love you!”

he let his arms fall limp, his eyes glossy and red with the most gut wrenching look on his face that read pure exhaustion. you had never seen him so torn.

“i love you and i love you and i have since since i was fifteen,” his voice shook with each word, hands trembling at his sides. “more than a best friend, more than anything in this world, and i never saw you like another sibling like you did for me.”

“fi.. fifteen?” you spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear you.

he nodded sadly, silent tears slipping down his cheeks and you automatically reached up, softly wiping them away with your thumbs as he closed his eyes, much like how yuta did when you got your heart broken by his brother on that rainy day.

yuta never cried.

“i swallowed it. you loved my brother and i swallowed it. i didn’t give a shit if you only saw me as a sibling because i would rather make some type of mark in your life and be in it than not have you at all. but i can’t take it anymore.”

he let out a sob, and he instantly shoved his face in the crook of his arm in embarrassment.

“yu…”

“you mean absolutely everything to me baby,” his voice was muffled a bit by his elbow, and after roughly wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his sweater, he dropped his arm to look at you again. “i would do absolutely a-anything for you. you’re precious to me and the prettiest girl i have ever laid my eyes on and will ever lay my eyes on.”

he hiccuped and crossed his arms over his chest, staring up at your ceiling. “but i know you don’t love me like i love you. i’ve known for years and i just can’t bring myself to let you go. it’s so bad that i would rather you break my heart over and over again than let you go for the sake of my wellbeing and watch you walk out of my life—”

“yuta, can you please look at me?”

“i— i can’t,” he shook his head as his voice trembled, tears slipping from the sides of his eyes as he continued to stare at your ceiling. “i can’t do it—”

you slowly reached out and cupped his wet cheeks in the palm of your hands, tilting his face down gently to look at you, your eyes filled with remorse at the defeated look on his face.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you asked softly. “why didn’t you tell you were hurting so much?”

he shook his head slowly in your hands. “it’s not fair to you. i didn’t want to put you in a difficult position—”

“what difficult position, yu?” you spoke so gently, so sweetly to him that he almost fell to his knees. “how could you have kept this in for five years? i can’t even imagine—” you hiccuped, “i hate that you were hurting because of me-“

your voice began to contort again into sobs, and he quickly shook his head. “no baby no, it was not because of you, you did nothing wrong. you did the exact opposite.”

you wiped more of his tears with your fingers as he spoke, listening intently.

“no one gave a shit about me the way you did. not even my own parents, and not even my stupid brother that pretended like i practically didn’t exist. you were the only one that was there and you didn’t have to be. you could’ve easily ditched me at any given point and you never did, and i can’t thank you enough for giving me a reason to keep going.”

he wiped his eyes. “and that’s why i fell in love with you so hard because you were so selfless and sweet and i love your smile. i don’t think i could ever make up for everything you’ve done—”

“but you have!—” you interjected, but yuta only shook his head.

“no i haven’t. i’m a stubborn asshole who just said a bunch of shit five minutes ago that i didn’t mean and i only hurt you and i never wanted that—”

“yuta.” you spoke firmly. “you’ve literally done more for me than anyone else in my entire life and i hate that you can’t see that or give yourself credit. you were there for me when i went absolutely insane after your brother rejected me even though you loved me then. you put your own feelings aside to take care of me baby..”

you softly took his hands and led him to sit with you on the bed, wiping his wet cheeks with your sleeve.

“do you not remember when even though you didn’t have a job, any chance you got money you would spend it on me instead of yourself?” you laughed softly. “the minute you got your license you drove me anywhere i wanted… and even to little things like the store because you said you didn’t want me to spend gas money.”

yuta slightly smiled.

“you never ditched me either, when there was every opportunity you could’ve. you always make sure i eat and get enough sleep… and you make me so happy yu, i wish you could see how much i miss you when you’re not around.”

he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and leaned in, softly planting a kiss to your cheek. you smiled warmly.

“who told you i didn’t love you back?”

yuta froze. “you did?”

“when?”

“the day my brother rejected you?” he cocked his head to the side. “i had asked you if you saw me as another sibling and you said yes.”

you threw your head back and moaned, “oh my god yu, of course in that moment because i was stupid and into your brother and i had just gotten rejected!”

you deflated and smiled at him warmly then, your eyes shining with emotions he didn’t allow himself to believe were there. for five years, yuta forced himself to believe you could never return his feelings as a form of protection, and now there was a huge wall in his brain that was itching to come down.

you scooted closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, your foreheads touching. “ask me again.”

“hm?” he was dazed, wide eyes staring into yours.

“ask me that question again,” you spoke softly. “the one from that day.”

yuta swallowed thickly, his breathing shaky through his nose, reiterating the phrase he played through his head like a broken record since it happened.

“as another sibling…” he murmured. “is that how you see me?”

you shook your head gently against his forehead, “no… to me—” you leaned back slightly and tilted your head to the side. “you look like the man i’ve been in love with for the past three years.”

silence. nothing.

and then, his eyes welled with tears as he tackled you down and just cried. he cried and he cried into your neck and shook like a little leaf, you holding him so unbelievably tight as your bottom lip wobbled. yuta’s arms were snaked around you as he held you with just as much force if not more.

half a decade. half a decade yuta spent hopelessly lovesick for you that your words burned over his entire body like a fever, his mind reeling and hazy. he held on to you so fucking tight and refused to let go of you, in fear that this was all just some horrendous sick dream and he was going to wake up alone in his bed without you.

you placed a hand on the back of his head as you hugged him, “i love you so much yuta that sometimes i feel like im going nuts.” you laughed softly. “it was always you… it’s been you that’s why i said earlier that i didn’t care if your brother wanted to be friends again, because i love you and i don’t give a shit about him and i’m sorry i made you upset—”

“no,” he lifted his head from the crook of your neck and looked at you, his cheeks flushed with dried up tears and red eyes. “that was just me being an absolute dick and scared of re-living high school all over again. i took that out on you and that wasn’t fair at all, baby. i’m sorry.”

you carded your fingers through his hair. “we both have things to be sorry about, and a lot of years to make up for.”

and finally, yuta grinned so big that his cheeks hurt.

“can i—“ he exhaled shakily. “can i kiss you?”

“please.”

and he smashed his lips against yours, greedily kissing you with so much desperation as he lip locked with you, his hands squeezing and roaming your body. the sound of your lips smacking was loud, and his kisses were so needy and sloppy against your soft plush lips that you squeaked at the intensity. you felt him grin again at your noise and he pulled away from you.

“i’ve wanted this for so long…” he breathed out, his breath fanning against your face as you tried to recover from what was probably the best kiss of your life. you nodded frantically, too dazed and caught up in the thought of his mouth on yours to respond with sentences that made sense.

he chuckled cutely at this, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i love you and i love you.”

and since then, it was like the final wall had finally crumbled down, and yuta began to live like he was supposed to, like he was meant to, with you. his days of yearning and silent torment were over, and most of the time it still felt like a dream whenever he was by your side.

things stayed relatively the same between you two, as you now acknowledge how much of a couple you both actually were acting prior to yuta’s confession. the only major difference now though, was that yuta earned the privilege to call you his and give you sweet kisses as he picked you up from class, or when you make and hand him those ham sandwiches you always do just for him, only this time adorned with a honeyed kiss of your own.

sitting on his living room couch now, your head resting on his lap as a random horror movie played in the background, yuta’s fingers gently brushed over the features of your face as you stared at the tv, his eyes stuck to you like sticky lovesick glue.

you turned your head to look at him after a bit. “why don’t you start playing soccer again?” you hummed. “is there a team at your school?”

yuta nodded, “there is baby.”

“why don’t you try out?” you smiled sweetly at him, and his heart ached. “i always loved watching you play. i miss it.”

“okay,” he tapped your nose. “just for you.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “and i’ll start dragging your brother with me again.”

yuta’s eyes flung open as his jaw dropped, and you snorted, giggling uncontrollably as he tickled and pinched at your sides. “i’m just kidding! i’m kidding! i’d rather die.”

he let out a boyish laugh, his eyes sparkling as he looked down at you. “as much as i hate him, i can’t thank him enough for being a stupid dingus.”

you quirked an eyebrow, “thank him? why?”

yuta gently and softly pinched one of your cheeks as he smiled at you, and it was then that you noticed the bags under his eyes were nearly gone. he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, moving some of your hair away from your face after he did so.

“because he brought you to me.”

and you smiled, that same radiant sweet smile that made him fall in love with you in the first place, as you reached up and ran a tender finger under where his eye bags once stood, your voice light and airy as you spoke—

“i love you and i love you, yuta.”

[sonicblueartist]

What about a one-shot or just a suggestive story where Shadow takes advantage of y/n?

A/n: I'm probably gonna get all the fans' attention with this one huh? I normally don't write anyone but Tails but I am making an expection for some reason today. Have a good read I guess! Idk why I write what I write today XD Sorry for the long wait.

I left you guys in a cliffhanger. hah! idk if I would continue tho

Masterlist

Pairings: Shadow x Reader

They/them // She/her // He/him // Other

Summery; Eggman made a new weapon out of Shadow. Let's see what it is

Warnings: smut, lemon, suggestive themes, blood, marking, biting, tearing flesh, attempted rape

Word Count: 1371

Btw does anyone want to be in the tag list?

As your eyes flickered over him in fear, you were instantly struck by the sharp and scary aura emanating from his breathtaking violet eyes. Shadow stood before you, his chest heaving rapidly as if he had just completed a long and demanding marathon. His fur was damp, drenched in sweat, and his claws peeked out menacingly from his gloves. His fangs were visible, adding to the unnerving sight that confronted you. But what puzzled you most was the absence of any evidentiary explanation for his condition, except for one haunting phrase that echoed in your mind.

"What do you think is the most natural instinct of an animal, the most wild and scary one?" Eggman's voice resonated in your head, reminding you of his words moments ago. "Their bloodlust? Hunger to stay alive? Maybe. But there is something else that is much *more* dangerous and entertaining. 'The will to do anything to death for their mate.' "

The memory of Eggman's sinister revelation half an hour ago flooded your mind. You hadn't expected this game of catch to turn into something so disturbing. Though you had managed to catch your breath, your heart still raced uncontrollably, struggling to make sense of the unsettling situation unfolding before you.

Your eyes widened in fear as Shadow took deliberate steps toward you, raising the possibility of him falling victim to Eggman's trap, turning against his friends. A sense of terror gripped you, leaving you feeling trapped with no way to escape. Desperately, you scanned your surroundings, searching for an exit, but found nothing. You found yourself backed into a dead end.

"And to mate, of course." Your throat tightened as you heard Eggman's words reverberating in your mind. The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning—Shadow was hungry, thirsty for you. Eggman's twisted plans had successfully turned him, and now the true extent of Shadow' instincts became clear. No, this couldn't be true. Shadow wouldn't do this to you, would he? The shocking dishonor of Eggman's manipulation left you bewildered, unable to fathom the torment inflicted upon your friends.

"C-come on, Shadow. This isn't you," you started nervously, your voice shaking. "We both know that you don't wanna do this. Behave yourself! Think logically, like you always do! We're still in Eggman's base. He's playing with you, with your mind, your instincts! You are the ultimate life form, damn it! You can't just succumb to Eggman like that! There are Badniks running around, and if they find us, we're finished-"

Your plea was interrupted as Shadow forcefully pinned both his hands beside your head, a whimper left your lips in fear. A deep snarl escaping his lips as you attempted to slide away. Trapped between him and the wall, you realized the extent of his transformation. No longer the loyal companion you once knew, he approached you with predatory purpose, garnered by one sole instinct—breeding. You were left with a terrifying decision. Would you become the first to fall at his hands before the Badniks got to you?

After examining his prey's frightened face for a while, Shadow slowly lowered himself, his nose skimming along your neck. His actions mirrored those of a true animal, inhaling your scent as his salivating mouth revealed his primal desire for your presence. The sensation of his warm breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, intensifying the horrifying nature of the situation.

Attempting to muster the strength to push him away, you fought against his grip, but his strength surpassed anything you could have imagined. Like an iron vice, his grasp held firm, rendering your efforts fruitless. In spite of the predicament you found yourself in, you couldn't help but be mesmerized by Shadow' well-built form, his muscles flexing in the most hypnotic manner.

You quickly shook away such distracting thoughts, forcing yourself to concentrate on finding a way out of this nightmare. Every fiber of your being screamed for escape as Shadow began to suckle at your neck and shoulder, exhaling his hot breath in sporadic bursts. The sounds he made only served to further ignite the blazing heat that reddened your face, flooding you with a mix of desire and terror.

Suppressing a moan, you desperately struggled to redirect your focus, your mind racing for an escape plan. Yet, how could you concentrate on anything other than the overpowering dominance Shadow exhibited? Pressed against the wall by his scorching body, each breath and moan he emitted only served to remind you of the pleasure he was experiencing.

Amidst his sloppy kisses and teasing nibbles, you fought fiercely against the sensations threatening to consume you, trying to maintain your composure. However, as Shadow momentarily eased the pressure of his body against yours, he replaced it with his leg pressed against your groin, effectively preventing any escape. The mix of pain and pleasure elicited a whine from your lips, pushing Shadow to suckle at your shoulder with renewed vigor.

Finally, he got bored and withdrew from his sloppy territory. The room grew suffocatingly silent as he moved his fangs along your throat, gently biting a few places, feeling your heartbeat increasing. He licked his lips and shifted his attention to your other shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses and sucking hungrily, leaving little marks. But it seemed like that wasn't enough for him anymore; he growled, as if yearning for something more primal.

With his fingers deeply entwined in your hair, he pulled, causing you to gasp, displaying your neck like a plate of meal to him. Without warning, he sank his teeth into your shoulder, his fangs piercing through your skin. Tears slipped from your eyes as you cried out in pain. He let your arms go and held you tightly from your waist, as you gripped his back for support. You closed your eyes, gritting your teeth, and unwillingly scratched his back in pain. It felt as though his teeth were digging deeper into your shoulder, testing your limits.

Shadow let out a pleasured sigh through his nose, not yet satisfied. He continued biting harder than before, his eyes closed as he let out an animalistic growl. The realization that he could break your neck in half if he wanted sent a shiver through your spine. He sucked your blood with such thirst leaving you weak as you sobbed silently, drinking and swallowing it all as if he hadn't had a drop in weeks.

Before things grew any wilder, he pulled back, a string of blood and saliva still connecting the two of you. Panting for air, he tried to lick all the blood flowing from his mouth with his tongue, his breath hot against your face. Your blood flowed from your shoulder to your chest.

Satisfied with the mark he left on you, Shadow now went for your lips. Gripping your form, he forced his lips onto yours, connecting them. You hesitated, not wanting to taste the disgusting blend of your blood and his saliva. He pulled your hair once again, and when you whimpered in pain, he immediately seized the opportunity and engaged in a fierce kiss, taking your breath away.

Your heart raced as his hand wandered across your body in a manner both unnerving and inquisitive. He marked his territory, staking claim to every inch of your being. Your mind battled to comprehend the situation, as your body responded to his predatory touch.

Fighting the rising panic, you summoned your inner strength you managed to wrap your arms around his shoulders in a desperate attempt to distract him. As your lips collided in a feverish kiss, you hoped to manipulate the situation to your advantage.

To your surprise, he welcomed your advances. He tilted his head, letting out a low, carnal moan. Sensing that this could be your one chance to regain control, you decided to play along. You pushed aside your feelings of self-disgust and harnessed your newfound determination.

As you passionately kissed, your mind churned, searching for an escape plan. With each stolen moment, you became acutely aware of his animalistic nature, his primal desires, and his desperate need to assert dominance. Yet, instead of submitting to the imminent danger, an idea began to form in your mind.

[critters-crossing]

The forgotten child

Pairing's : fem! reader x peter parker, tony stark daughter! x tony stark, tony stark daughter! x peter parker

Warnings: really sad angst, jealousy, daddy issues, neglect, lmk if i missed anything! :)

Summary: dad of the year award? surely isn't going too him

a/n : I know the gif doesn't really match the theme of this story I just really liked it. I did not reread this so please ignore any grammar mistakes. Also, I'm not sure if i wrote a panic attack correctly but I wrote based on what their like for me. hope you all enjoy!

you really tried not to become the forgotten child, always tried you're very hardest to live up to your father expectations, trying to make him proud in hope's he'd show some form of attention.

always studying to get straight a's even through countless anxiety attacks from fear of failing and disappointing your father.

all you ever wanted was reassurance, and if you ever got lucky enough a "You did a good job" after getting a high score on a test.

but it never came, it would forever be something you longed to hear. he would usually just mumble a small, quiet "congrats" as his mind stayed focused on his work and his eyes stuck to the blueprint laid out on the table Infront of him.

you always tried you're best not to feel jealous whenever your father held morgan, you had no ressentiment towards morgan whatsoever, in fact she was the one that kept you smiling most days. although you couldn't help but feel your heart tighten from jealousy as you watched them have daddy daughter time

you really did try you're best to be happy for your younger sister, but you couldn't ignore that aching feeling. all you wanted was the attention she had that your heart ached so desperately for, but it never came despite your countless attempts.

you we're astound to hear a new avenger had been recruited, you always enjoyed meeting new people. mainly because they gave you attention they didn't even know you craved.

you always seeked to see the best in people, no matter what the circumstances we're. including peter parker, there was nothing wrong with him, he wasn't a bad person in fact quite a good one, and if you weren't so envious of him you possibly could have been friends with the boy. but you watched how peter and your father clicked so easily becoming like father and son.

it made the knots in your stomach tighten as you watched them spend time together, it made you feel as if something was wrong with you, like maybe if you tried harder or changed, he'd give you the attention you deserved.

your mother, pepper always said he loved you just as much as he loved morgan or even peter, but you knew the truth as much as you ignored it you knew. but oh, how you wish he did.

"Mom, I'm home" you called out knowing if father was home, he wouldn't answer you. after not receiving an answer, you decided to look through the house in search of your mother, after a couple of minutes searching you still hadn't found her and decided she probably went out and took morgan with her. you heard talking but it sounded like your father, and peter?? "what's peter doing here?" you wondered. you decided to peak you're head through the door and saw peter and tony standing with their backs faced away from you, working on some upgrades for peter's suit.

"you're a pretty great kid peter" tony told him as he smiled at him patting his shoulder. a wave of jealously hit your chest as you watched them, your throat tightening. "Thank you, Mr. stark," peter smiled cheekily as your fingers clenched into a fist at your side.

"Becoming like my son."

once those words left Tony's lips, your mouth went dry, your head aching as you backed away from the door as quietly as possible, you're breathing picking up rapidly. you quickly made your way to your room, tears forming in your eyes, you walked into your room and shut the door softly as your hands started shaking as you paced around your room quickly, trying to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. you never liked crying, it made you feel weak.

you're breathing came out in heavy gasp as you struggled to breathe. you leaned against the wall coughing as you squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop the words from replaying in your mind.

"Becoming like my son" continuously echoed through your head as soft sobs left your lips, you didn't want to feel this way, envious of what your father and peter had. it's not peter's fault about what your father feels about you so why hold him accountable. he'll never love you, at least not like he loves peter. you can't figure out why? you always tried you're best to impress him, but nothing seemed to be enough for him, it's like he didn't even care about your existence.

you stumbled over to your bed, taking deep breathes as your body grew exhausted from crying. you plopped down on your bed tiredly as you snuggled up against your blanket that was where your pillows we're supposed to be, you grabbed a pillow and hugged it too sleep.

you didn't want to put the blame on peter because it wasn't his fault, but a little piece of your heart blamed peter parker.

a/n: CLIFFHANGER!?!? I decided to leave it for now because I haven't come up with an ending that I thought fit the way I wanted so if you guys have ideas, please let me know. reblog's are highly appreciated, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[insomaniacat]

orv spoilers

tbh I'm so happy there is no explicit romance in orv (minus the brief stuff that happens with jhw and lhs) and because of that I feel like I've been able to appreciate kdj in such a profound way as a character

like sure i like joongdok and yoohankim but to me at least kdj has this level of asexuality to him that I don't usually associate him with anyone that romantically. And their relationships are still as complex and has such a great depth that they are like THE foundest of families and I can return to the kim dokja company at the end of the day as all of them being my comfort characters. you know that saying like 'i love you so much i'd make the world burn for you'? it's meant to be this dramatic line about how much you love someone (romantically), but kdj's company fully encapsulates this in a platonic way that just isn't cringey or anything like that

they are all so platonic but they love each other to such an unconditional way that they ALL decide to relive through all the scenarios again in the hope of finding kim dokja again. and later, they all help to write and spread a story - stories, the thing the reader loves - again, in hopes of bringing kdj back home. they aren't sure if it'll work, but it is through this love they all have that they don't give up and put their hope in this seemingly impossible method

and this is also what makes them fundamentally different from kdj. unlike kim dokja in the apocalypse, they do not have any sort of proof their methods will work. kdj has twsa - the novel he grew up reading, the novel he fantasized living in, the novel that he's spent 13 years following, learning every nook and cranny and probably even planning out his own way to survive the apocalypse from this lengthy novel. he has some sort of assurance his methods will work, with the amount of time hsy put into describing the settings (remember that twsa was not popular and one of the complaints was that tls123 put too much emphasis on the settings that deterred people from reading it, when really, that too was a way to ensure kdj survived the apocalypse later on). he has had time to reassure himself and plan for it, and probably had yjh case test them all

but kdj's company had no assurance - they did not grow up with a book that confirmed their methods of bringing kdj back would work. they did not have any 'third plans', no 'ressurections', no 'restarts', that kdj had in the apocalypse. all they had was their own hope - something kdj didn't have when he was fifteen sitting in that hospital bed after that failed suicide attempt, feeling like the whole world was against him. Until he searched up those three words on his phone. Those three words that were probably 'Ways of Survival'.

And then he found his hope in twsa. he found his hope in yjh, the protagonist made just for him. he found hope in the story that he believed in for the next thirteen years. the story that got him through high school, the CSATs, the military. his hope was in this tangible book that carried him through the apocalypse.

kdj's company had none of that. they only had their hope in kim dokja - the man they survived the scenarios with. they could only put their hope in their memories of surviving with the man that saved them, even though there was no evidence he lived in their world anymore. they had to put their hope in the fact that they remembered he existed, even though they had to acknowledge that they didn't know everything about him.

sing shong touches upon this idea a lot throughout orv - does something really exist if no one knows about it? or, in a more modern saying, did a fallen tree in a forest really fall if no one heard it? what proves the existence of something? what proves that something truly happened? sing shong seems to make it pretty clear that the existence of something can be represented metaphorically like a 'story', and stories need a 'reader', some sort of spectator that witnesses it, for the 'story' to exist.

for kim dokja, his final sacrifice, where he split into infinite little pieces scattered across the universe, was to ensure that everything existed. that open ending, as tragic as it was, was meant to be comforting. that his sacrifice was supposed to be so existences like you and me, are real. no matter how lonely we may feel throughout our lives, a metaphorical 'kim dokja' is looking at our own stories, spectating our own stories, even living our own lives himself.

and what i hate to say sometimes is that kim dokja is not really a character - he is an idea. he is an idea of some being affirming our lives, that it's real, that what we do from day to day, even something as simple as getting up in the mornings and brushing your teeth, or thumbing through a store catalog, matters. and this is why kim dokja sacrificed himself. for all the stories that may have not 'existed' if no one was watching it.

and it's out of love. this tragic, terrible love for the world, that eats away at yourself until you are nothing. but at least you exist.

[liloinkoink]

last night i asked if people would be interested in me posting a backstory piece for Martyn from the hero/villain / yellow rose au i’ve posted a single oneshot for despite the fact the backstory piece doesn’t seem to outwardly relate to the posted oneshot. no one outright shot me down so. here you go

for some context, the powers in this world of yellow rose come from a catastrophic event that took place almost 20 years prior to the start of the story, which wiped out a lot of the world’s cities/towns and gave many of the survivors powers or mutations

backstory takes place when Martyn is 0-10 years old (he was born shortly before the aforementioned catastrophic event) and focuses on an OC parent character / martyn’s relationship to said parent

anyway. yellow rose is an au made w @cherrifire. time for you all to meet robot dad

It’s hot on the day the world ends. This is not the only thing it remembers, but it’s one that still stands out, even years down the line.

It’d been dealing with a patient with symptoms of heatstroke, the third it had seen in an hour. Heatstroke is an easy enough ailment to give to a nurse bot to treat, so it gets the job. It had stepped out of its patient’s room and run into a doctor, who had asked it to fetch something from the basement storage.

This is why it had survived, it thinks, looking back. It had been in the basement, and by some stroke of luck, the building had not collapsed so completely as to destroy it alongside the rest of the building.

It had not had a concept of luck before that moment, before the shaking had stopped and the dust had cleared, leaving it mostly in tact. Once it had forced its way up the stairs, it found it was not sure whether surviving the collapse was good or bad luck.

When the nurse bot tried to ring its network for help, it found the line inside its head had gone dead. When it looked to the surrounding street, it found hundreds of buildings similarly smoldering. When it called out, it found only its own voice returning to it.

The nurse bot had tried to comb through the wreckage of its practice, looking for survivors. It found nothing, heard nothing, but it still attempted to sift through the rubble, to search for the people it had been built to assist.

A nurse bot’s arms are not meant to move stone and iron, however. It was not used to the strange things that happened in its processing when it thought about what might be under the wreckage, and did not know how to handle them. It made a mistake, lifting things it could not, and when the wreckage in its grasp had buckled…

Well. It had thought itself lucky, distantly, that unlike humans, robots are not generally “handed” in one way or the other. Statistically, it would have preferred its right hand, and it would have been much worse off when the debris crushed its arm, taking its limb from the elbow down.

Ah, and pain, of course. It would have been quite bad if it had been able to feel pain, or bleed. It probably would have died, had this fallen on it, or had it lost a flesh and blood arm.

It… does not look in the wreckage any longer.

The nurse bot did not know what to do, with the practice it had spent its whole existence in destroyed. It had never been outside before—at least, not while activated. It had never left the walls of the hospital it was built for. It had not been intended to function without direction.

It knew its purpose, though, direction or not. The nurse bot had been built to heal. It knew, direction or not, how to do this, and that it must do this. And certainly, if it looks, it would fine someone out there who needed it.

When it comes to matters of health, time is of the essence. With its direction decided, the nurse bot begins to walk.

It finds people, rarely, stumbling and unharmed, or nursing small bruises or minor sprains. It helps these when it can, and gives advice when it cannot. It finds bodies, often, and it looks away, as it has never seen a funeral, and it does not know to help the dead except to assist the living.

It finds a woman soon to be a body, despite its best efforts to help her. It lacks supplies to stop the flow of blood from her wounds, and the woman lacks any hope without stitches or bandages.

It offers her sympathies, and it holds in its one hand both of hers. There is little it can say to her, but it tries, quiet promises of I am here and I will not leave you and you will be at peace soon.

She holds its hand with all the strength in her body, knuckles white as paper, a stark contrast against the dark blood staining the rest of her body. It feels as the strength fades. It watches as the light in her eyes fades with it. She lets it go, and it closes her eyes.

The nurse bot keeps walking, keeps looking, until it hears crying. The sound is loud, a desperate sob of a young child, and it seems to stem from a building sagging in three places, roof and door and floor all ready to give in.

If it were human, the nurse bot may have thought the place too risky to enter. But it is not, and so in it goes, pushing the door open with one hand.

It finds the boy lying in his crib, a round-faced infant wrapped in a patterned onesie and kicking away a thin blanket. He cannot be more than a year old—the nurse boy would guess him to be maybe six months. The fact the boy and his crib have survived the destruction of the city is a miracle, one not offered to the rest of the home.

It reaches down into the crib, brushing its hand over the boy’s face. His sobs stumble, a bit curious, but the baby ultimately doesn’t stop crying.

The nurse bot hadn’t worked with a pediatrician, but it knows about children, as any nurse bot would.

“Are you hungry?” it asks. He doesn’t answer except to cry more, which is understandable—this is what babies do, it knows, and besides, this has been the chosen course of action for most of the people it saw today.

It could not help those people, but it can help with this.

The nurse bot steps away from the crib to examine the boy’s room, though the boy cries louder when its face disappears from his view.

“I will return shortly,” it tells him. This assurance does not calm him down.

It finds what it can in the rest of the home—food for the baby, a warmer blanket, a box of diapers. It finds the living room, where living is not what his parents are doing, and gingerly shuts the door. It finds a photo album and flips through, searching for the information it needs: delicate handwriting next to an image of the boy, held in the arms of the woman on the floor a room over.

April 7th, 20XX: Welcome to the world, Martyn!

His name is Martyn. His birthday is April 7th. The nurse bot usually keeps these things on file about its patients, and so it files them away.

When it returns to the crib, the baby inside is no longer crying, having worn himself out. It reaches down again, face blank.

“Hello, Martyn,” it says, “I am going to be your caretaker for now. I hope we will get along well.”

— — —

They don’t stay in the house. It finds a baby carrier in a closet and a duffle bag in the bedroom, and it packs what Martyn will need and carries him out of the collapsing home.

Martyn laughs a lot. Once he’s been fed and changed and has slept, the nurse bot finds he laughs all the time.

He doesn’t know, it thinks. He must miss his parents, probably, but he doesn’t know. He isn’t old enough to understand any of this. He watches the broken and bloodied street with awe—has he ever been this far from home before? This is all a big adventure to him.

It doesn’t tell him.

— — —

It stops three times a day to change and feed him, and to let him crawl around in the cleanest and sturdiest places it can find.

“Movement is good for development,” it tells him, watching him play with a piece of rubble.

It doesn’t stop to rest at night—it doesn’t need to, and the rocking motion of his continued steps helps Martyn sleep. When that isn’t enough, it tries to replicate the songs it has heard playing in the clinic’s waiting room, or seen mothers and fathers sing in the clinic to calm their children. Martyn seems to like that.

He likes the nurse bot’s hair, too. He tugs on it all the time as the nurse bot walks, held close to its chest, close enough to its head to access it. It lets him—it doesn’t hurt, and besides, it has few other ways to entertain him.

— — —

Martyn grows. He starts to babble, and to toddle. He becomes too big for the bot to carry him, but by then it has become adept at finding places to hunker down for a while.

“Your name is Martyn,” the bot tells him, pointing to his nose.

“Ma,” he tries.

“Very close,” it says. He grabs its hand, tugging, and continues to babble.

“Da,” he says, and it knows that he doesn’t have a concept of fathers or parents or the English language, and he is only making sounds.

“That is me,” it says anyway, and Martyn continues to babble.

— — —

“Dad,” Martyn tugs on its arm, barely tall enough to reach its fingers. “Daaaad.”

“Hello, Martyn,” it says, “What is it?”

“I’m bored,” Martyn says, “And I’m hungry.”

“We still have some food left for you, though I should start a fire soon,” it says, “We will need to move soon. Children your age need a variety of foods to—”

“Grow up healthy, I know,” Martyn whines, “That’s boring. I’m bored.”

“What would you like to do?” it asks, and he lets go of its hand, running off. It stands to follow, but then he’s back, holding a battered old book—some kind of short novel, something with a torn cover that used to have a dragon on it. The title is gone, as is the dragon’s head.

“Read this,” he says. Martyn is learning to read, but he hasn’t quite got the grasp to read a real book on his own yet.

This hasn’t stopped Martyn from searching for them, though, nor from presenting them to his father to read. It had started reading one aloud to Martyn to entertain him when Martyn had come down with a fever last year, and he hasn’t stopped asking to hear them since.

“After you eat,” it says, and Martyn cheers.

—

There is a group of survivors picking their way through town. The bot sees them before they see it, watching the street from a window. It does not know their intentions, and it doesn’t plan to find out.

It crouches down in front of Martyn, putting its hand on his shoulder.

“Hello,” it says, “We’re going to play a game, okay?”

“Okay,” Martyn says, and it nods, once.

“It is called hide and seek,” it says, “There are some people who are looking around town, trying to play, and we are going to hide from them. We will win if we are not found.”

“That’s a dumb game. Why don’t we play something else?” Martyn asks.

“It is their favorite game. We are going to play because that is what they like to do. But we are going to be very good at it and hide very well,” it says, “You can hide with me, okay? If we win, there will be a special prize.”

That’s all it takes to convince Martyn, who smiles and nods and follows it as it ducks away into the closet. Its legs creak as it sits down, and then it opens its arm, letting him sit in its lap. It can’t be comfortable, all cold metal, but Martyn wraps his arms around its torso and settles right in, content with the hand on his back.

“Now we must be very quiet,” it tells him, “I will tell you when we can talk again.”

Martyn nods, and it puts its hand on the back of his head, and it waits.

When the strangers leave, it asks him what he would like for his prize.

“Hug me again!” He says, and it obliges for as long as he wants.

— — —

Halfway through its sentence, the bot’s voice cuts out.

That has not happened before. Martyn seems unfazed, especially when it begins to talk again, but it takes note of the error.

— — —

It happens more. Its voice cuts out, stutters, corrupts. Martyn really only complains when they’re reading, but it starts to fear the worst.

It sits Martyn down, crouching down to meet his eyes.

“Martyn, I have something very important to tell- to tell- to tell you,” it says, and if it could, it would wince.

“Yeah?” Martyn asks, “Are we moving again?”

“Soon,” it says, “But that is not what I want to tell you.”

“Oh,” Martyn says.

“I am… sick. Do you remember what being sick is?” it asks. Martyn nods, reaching up to put his hand on its forehead, the way it had for him when he had been feverish.

“You feel warm,” Martyn confirms, “It’s okay. I’ll read to you until you’re better.”

“Thank you, Martyn. You are very kind,” it says, “But that is not the kind of sick I am. There are many kinds of sick.”

“Oh,” Martyn says, “Then what kind of sick are you?”

“I am… robot sick. I am- I am- I am- I am- getting old,” it says, “And my voice is starting to… not work properly.”

“I know that,” Martyn says, “You talk funny now and you keep messing up reading.”

“Yes, that’s right. You’re very smart,” it confirms, “But it might get worse. I might not be able to talk anymore soon.”

“But you’ll get better, right? I got better,” Martyn says. It shakes its head.

“I might, but I might not. Robot sick is different,” it says, though it knows it is lying. “I just wanted you to know. If you talk to me and I do not respond, I am not ignoring you. I am still listening. I am just sick, and my voice- my voice- my voice- my voice—”

It shakes its head, the way humans sometimes do, to clear the sentence. When it looks at Martyn again, he seems thoughtful.

“Will you still read to me?” he asks.

“As long as I am able,” it promises. And, for good measure, “I love you, Martyn. Do not forget.”

“I won’t,” Martyn says, “I love you, too.”

— — —

It makes a point to show him how to read. He had already been learning it, but it doubles down when its voice begins to waver.

It picks up novels and reads them to him with Martyn in its lap. It holds its arm around Martyn’s waist, and Martyn holds the book for it to see, and it reads the words Martyn points to, so Martyn knows what they are.

It doesn’t want him to lose this. It doesn’t want him to lose his fun, his creativity, his imagination, just because it cannot read to him anymore.

— — —

It loses its voice for good while it is reading to Martyn.

— — —

Its voice is the first thing it loses, but it is not the last.

Control of its fingers becomes… tricky. Martyn has to help it, doing things that require finer movements.

“Is your hand sick?” he asks, and he sounds afraid. It nods, because it knows it shouldn’t lie to him, even if it wants to.

It loses what little control it had over its face next. Then its neck becomes stuck. It doesn’t seem able to walk as fast, though that might just be due to Martyn getting faster—he grows older still, full of energy, constantly wanting to run and jump and play on his longer legs. It tries its best, but it cannot keep pace like it used to. It used to sing and walk all night, and now it cannot do either.

Martyn is as patient as a six year old can be, which is not very. He gets frustrated and bored, and he complains often. It does not blame him for this. He is doing his best, too, and that is all it can ask.

— — —

There are people. It tries to hide—pulls Martyn into a closet, tucks him close to its chest, pets his hair with his hand—but Martyn doesn’t like to play hide and seek, and he doesn’t know he has to be quiet.

“My name is Martyn!” he tells them, once the closet door opens, “This is Dad. He’s sick.”

They’re nice enough, a woman and her teenage son. It—he, now?—releases Martyn to talk to them, and climbs out of the closet. He hovers at Martyn’s side when they climb out, a hand on his son’s head.

“Why were you two in the closet?” the mother asks.

“We were playing hide and seek. That’s what Dad said other people like to do, but I don’t like it very much,” Martyn explains. She nods.

“Most people do like to play that game,” she says, because, as a parent, she must understand his fear. “But we don’t, either. Do you want to travel together for a little while, Martyn?”

“I want to!” Martyn says, and he looks up at his father, and his father would sigh if he could.

He nods, because what else is he meant to do?

— — —

The teenager entertains Martyn, reading to him the book his father never did get to finish. The mother cooks, and she takes a look at his hands.

“I used to be an engineer,” she says, “You’re a bit above my pay grade, but I could take a look, if you want.”

He doesn’t let her crack him open or anything, but she inspects the pieces of his wiring she can see. He’s reminded of his old clinic, though he can’t tell her how ironic this is.

Her prognosis is… grim.

“You probably only have a few years left in you,” she admits, “Your model was supposed to go for regular updates, replacing parts and…”

He doesn’t listen as she explains the old process, his focus instead on Martyn.

Only a few years? What will happen to Martyn? Who will take care of him?

Humans need care until they are eighteen.

Martyn is six.

“I could try and make some minor repairs for some of the obvious damage, but I don’t have tools for anything more. I can also try and tell you some things you can do to try and stretch that time out,” she says. He nods, understanding, grateful, as she does what she can.

He had been in her place, once, years ago, and so he understands, too, when she offers sympathies, when she holds his hand.

— — —

They split off from each other eventually. The other two are traveling to a place they claim never fell. He does not believe in such a place, and so he does not go with them.

Martyn cries. The mother hugs him, as does her son, and they are gone.

As they walk away, he holds Martyn’s hand, and he does not let go.

— — —

He teaches Martyn how to do… anything he can. He is too young to understand how to hunt or set a trap or clean an animal or cook or treat a fever or start a fire or boil water, and it is very difficult to teach when he cannot speak. He’d wanted to wait until Martyn is older, he does not have the luxury of time anymore.

Martyn is clever, is bright. He takes to the skills as well as a six, eight, ten year old can, and it is only partly due to the fact he has no choice.

— — —

He knows he is dying.

Martyn does not.

He picks up a stick, waving Martyn over. There is a patch of dirt that is mostly clear, and he crouches in front of it.

I AM SICK he writes, and Martyn reads it, and he frowns.

“I know that,” Martyn says, and he shakes his head. The dirt is soft, and so he clears it, trying again.

I AM VERY SICK he writes. Martyn reads it, and he frowns deeper.

“What does that mean?” Martyn asks.

I WILL SLEEP SOON he writes. He wants to be delicate, but he can’t—the patch of dirt isn’t very big.

“Oh, well, that’s okay. I sleep all the time,” Martyn says, “That’s how you get healthy again. It makes you feel better. You told me that.”

He wants to nod, but he can’t. This is the bit he was dreading the most.

I WILL NOT WAKE UP he writes.

For a long moment, Martyn doesn’t say anything.

“What if we get you medicine?” Martyn asks, “When— when I was sick, you found medicine. It made me better. It would make you better.”

NOT FOR ROBOTS

“That… that isn’t fair, though,” Martyn says, “Are you sure? We could get some and try it!”

I AM SURE he writes, and then he erases it, I LOVE YOU

Again, Martyn says nothing. He isn’t sure what Martyn is thinking, and then Martyn charges him, hugging him around the stomach.

He has more he wants to say to Martyn—he wants to teach him so much, to tell him to be careful, to tell him he’ll be okay.

He drops the stick, wrapping his arm around Martyn as tight as his failing joints will let him.

— — —

His goal is to find somewhere safe. An old house, maybe, somewhere where Martyn will be able to survive on his own for a while.

He looks, and he does not find it. He’s been looking for ten years, after all—of course he wouldn’t find one now, just because he is dying.

Other than that, his life does not much change. He holds Martyn’s hand as they walk, and Martyn talks to him about birds and books and whatever else he can think of. Martyn has become very good at filling the air for them both. Neither of them let go of the other’s hand.

He doesn’t actually know when it is going to happen, just that it will be soon.

When the moment finally comes, he does not realize.

They stop to rest for a night. Martyn is tired, as he is a child, and his legs can only carry him so far. He is tired, too, but he does not have it in him to think about why, or how strange that is.

It’s nowhere special, where they stop. A random house that has kept its roof, somewhere safe from rain and sun. Martyn finds a place to roll out his sleeping bag, and when he lies down, his father lies with him.

He does not let go of Martyn’s hand.

[riofann]

1. tempestuous

Authors Note: I am trying something new. I like this story line please give me your feedback. Only reposts and likes please don't steal my work. XOXO Rose

Tempestuous: characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion.

Sunday March 3, 2019 

This wasn't just some little miss understanding, this was sabotage at its core. It's why you found yourself in a random warehouse strapped to the chair bruised and bloody.

Rio was convinced you had been under cutting him for months, that the money you were washing for him was short for the past 4 months. He claimed you had been purposefully giving him fake money mixed with real money, which ended up with him having Mick point a gun to the back of your head as soon as you walked in your home. 

Any attempts to have him show proof that you were not were thwarted by Nick egging Rio on, unbeknownst to you.

You had mentally prepared for death mentally prayed that your mother and father, sisters would heal from this pain along with the rest of your family. You hear footsteps approaching your heart begins to race. You had memorized his gait along with Mick's, this was it. Your death day was here.

There's nothing said but you feel your legs being untied along with your hands, he made sure to leave the head covering on. 

���Get up!” Mick says grabbing your arm

You're too scared to move but a strong grip on your arm forcefully drags you forward.

You’re uneasy as you walk because you didn't know where you were going,  you couldn't see anything. Mick helps you step in the van. The drive is quiet, you sit with your hands on your lap, body shaking at any given moment you could be dead. All the thoughts rush through your mind, your bar, your family, your house, your future, it's giving you a migraine. When the van stops, your mouth dries up you could be on a bridge over water or a remote land with a shallow grave.  

When you step out Mick removes the head cover and your eyes take time to adjust. 

You stood at the park near your home. There's nothing said, you look behind you as Mick gets in the van and drives away. You take in the scene, you can't think of how happy you are to hear children laugh in the distance or the sound of people talking. 

It's all still a shock to you. You look around and find a bench. Slowly you walk towards it. You sit at the most remote corner, no shower for a week, you’re positive you looked like you were unhoused. 

Moments pass before you let the tears flow. The deep wound of betrayal that you felt wouldn't be healed by a simple apology hell you hadn't even received one.

After a while as the sun begins to set you stand up slowly. The walk to your house would normally be 20 minutes but since you are weak it will take longer,  and staying out at night wasn't your plan. 

With unsure steps you begin to walk home. You’re happy to not see any familiar faces at the park. You couldn’t handle any one asking you what happened or you would have implicated Rio. 

When you get home you type in the key code to  enter and find your home in disarray. You deduced that Rio was looking for the money he claimed you were shorting him on. 

You search for your phone and find it in the rubble dead. Your house doesn't feel safe, it feels surreal, like at any moment Rio could be sitting on the corner chair waiting for you with a gun in hand and Mick lurking right around the corner, ready to shoot.

After a little more searching you find the charger and plug it in.

When it turns on you see the many calls missed your workers, your mom, your dad, your sister, your cousin, unknown numbers 

You make the first call “Hello! Y/N?!” You hear your mom scream through the phone

“Hey mom” you greet

“Where the hell have you been?! We've been calling you for the past week and you just ignore us?! We were worried about you!” 

It's all too much you begin to cry she didn't know,  no one knew about what you were doing but Rio and his crew

You gather yourself “I'm sorry mommy”  you cut her off

She pauses, “What's wrong?” 

You take in a deep breath “I'm sorry I disappeared mom I won't do it again” 

“Do I need to come over?” she lived a few states away in Ohio

You panic “NO!...” you take a deep breath again “No! I just I needed time to myself I got stressed I won't do that again I promise” you master up a calm tone

She sighs “okay, but what happened? Did you get hurt?” 

“You know the bar and life I just got overwhelmed” you lie 

“Honey I'm your mother you call me when things get tough you don't just disappear!” we called the police!" She lectures. “I couldn't sleep! Y/N it felt like something wrong happened!” your stomach drops she wasn’t wrong 

“I'm sorry mom I really am I won't do it again” 

“Well I'm coming to see you next week”  

“Mom you don't...”

She cuts you off “Nope I'm coming, something is wrong I know my child!” 

You sniffed “okay” you looked at your shaking hands 

“Okay well let me call you back I gotta get in touch with the police and everyone else let them know you’re alright” 

“Okay mom”

“When I call you better pick up and don't go missing again”

“I promise I won't!” 

“I love you” 

“I love you too” 

You hung up and go through similar conversation with your sister and the manager of the bar 

When it all ends you drag yourself to the shower and take one of the longest showers you’ve ever taken, you couldn't help but sob the entire time. You scrubbed so hard a week with no shower in a dingy warehouse you felt so dirty. 

All trust had been destroyed so much for this “partnership”

You hope to be able to sleep but you can't. Your body is riddled with anxiety, with every sound you hear your  heartbeat spiked. You couldn’t even bring yourself to drink water or eat anything that's in the fridge. You just want to disappear, move to a small town in the middle of nowhere and figure things out. 

You received a text in the middle of the night 

Rio: Business as usual 

You had stared at it for hours 

Business as usual as if all that happened meant nothing. 

How could you get out of this? What could you do to free yourself from this and him? Maybe offer up the bar? But this is something you worked hard on, this bar was one of the top bars in Detroit you weren’t willing to give it up to him. You had to think about what life would look like outside of the bar and what did you want out of life? 

Slowly over the course of the week you clean up the house, you eat something here and there and you drink water when you remember. You’re not sure how you managed to clean up the house in the state it was left in, must have been adrenaline.  Even after your mother insisted something was wrong when she came to visit you, that Friday you  faked the funk. How could you tell her that you were deeply entrenched with a man who has a whole cartel like of criminals on his side? All the questions that would come from that. You would have to explain how Rio essentially twisted your arm to agree and how you stupidly didn't go to the police.

When you finally show up at the bar the following Monday  everyone teases about your disappearance and you play along but you have things to do, books to manipulate money to wash. You lock yourself in the office while you gather the money. You count over 10 times making sure it's right each time. You don’t trust the machine as it counts you run it through verify by hand run it through again verify it then set it aside. You added extra just for good measure because you didn’t trust yourself either. 

Wednesday March 13, 2019 

As you wait for him to show up at your usual pick up spot, you feel sick to your stomach, no more sitting down and waiting for him. All sense of security between you two had crumbled. A car pulls up and you grip the bag tightly. 

It's a strange face

Your phone pings 

Rio: Got busy, you’ll be dealing with Jamal moving forward

The man walks up to you with a smile on his face. “You must be Y/N” You nod, he hands you a yellow envelope you hand him the bag with shaky hands “Good doing business with you” he comments before turning to leave 

“Can you make sure it's all there?” you blurt out 

He laughs at your ridiculous comment “can’t do that out here in public lady, I’ll let Rio know” 

You nod again and watch as he drives away. 

This is your routine now, Rio never confirmed instead he would just add the extra back into your cut. You adjust to this new norm of life. 

You don’t see or hear from him for months, maybe it was for the best after all, you were angry with him you had every right to be. Well things don’t last forever and nothing is written in stone. 

Tuesday June 4, 2019 

Your stomach drops when you walk into your house that night, you feel the day you were kidnapped replaying itself. There was Rio on the corner chair with Mick lurking around the corner. 

“Not here to hurt you mama” he comments lifting his hands up to show that he wasn't there with malicious intent

You hadn’t left the door, in fact you were slowly inching away

“I wouldn’t do that”

“What do you want?” You ask in a shaky voice

“We need to talk” “You can text it” 

“I can’t” 

You sigh and close the door 

“I need your help” he reveals as you enter the living room. You don’t respond

“All that money I gave you, I need it, I’ll pay you back” 

You place your purse down “Why don’t you go get it I’m sure you know where it is”

He smirks because that was true  “don’t be like that mama” he tries to win you over 

“Don’t be like..” you pause “FUCK YOU RIO!” You scream “YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST SHOW UP AND ASK FOR MY MONEY, THE MONEY I WORKED HARD FOR?! WITHOUT AN APOLOGY WITHOUT ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF WHAT YOU DID TO ME!?” 

He rolls his shoulders back “It's just business” “BUSINESS?!” You stomp towards him Mick goes to interfere but Rio stops him. You glare at Mick “WHAT? YOU DON’T THINK YOUR BOSS CAN HANDLE HIMSELF, HE'S THAT MUCH OF A BITCH?!” When you turn to face Rio a blank stare replaces his expression no longer amused by your anger, guess that insult wasn’t taken lightly “I’VE BEEN YOUR PARTNER FOR 2 FUCKING YEARS! 2 YEARS! AND NEVER DID I EVER SHORT YOU. I ALWAYS MADE SURE THAT THE AMOUNT I GAVE YOU WAS RIGHT! AND YOU WHAT? YOUR FUCKING COUSIN” he shifts uncomfortable that you know the details behind the scenes “YEA I FOUND OUT, THE MOTHERFUCKER YOU CLAIM TO BE UNTRUST WORTHY YOU ALL OF A SUDDEN TRUST HIM?!” 

He says nothing “YEA JUST BUSINESS THIS IS WHO YOU ARE AS A PARTNER HUH? YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT LOYALTY AND PRINCIPAL, FUCK EVERYONE ELSE SO LONG AS YOU GOT YOUR MONEY RIGHT?” You pause looking at him waiting to see any sort of remorse, regret, something, anything! However he says nothing, his face is stoic like you were complaining about nothing important. As the tears stream down your face, you accept that this was pointless, he was never going to admit fault and you were never going to be able to step away from this life unless you were dead or in prison.  You take a deep breath, defeated you say  “You know where the money is go get it” you step away and motion towards the direction. He gives Mick a nod. He says nothing else, and you watch as they both leave. As soon as the door closes a loud scream leaves your body as soon as they walk out. How were you going to get out of this? Maybe fake your death or  leave the country to start over in a small village in the middle of nowhere!

Nothing changes after that day, still dealing with Jamal and still trying to find a way out of things. You receive an invitation from Nick to some sort of  masquerade ball in the city to “raise” funds for local charities. Mayor "duties". You assume not attending wasn’t an option.

Saturday July 13, 2019

The day of the ball arrives, you booked a town car for the night. No point in driving yourself and as far as you were concerned if anyone wanted to hurt you they could because you had no safety net after all. 

You step into the space you have to admit Nick went all out planning this event because it looked like a scene from a movie. You find your table and take a seat. You know no one who sits at your table you take a look around and spot Rio. It was easy,  anyone could spot his tattoo from a distance. A few speeches, the auction, then dinner is served proceeding with the party next. You look down at your watch, you had spent enough time at the event and you were hungry. 

If there was anything you learned from Rio and Nick never trust them so the most you did was nibble on your dinner plate and take small sips of your drink. 

“This seat taken?” you hear from behind you making look

You smile “No”

“Great!” he pulls out the chair 

“Hi I’m Alejandro”  he extends his hand to greet you 

You shake his hand  “Y/N Nice to meet you” 

He bows his head “Mucho gusto cariño (nice to meet you dear)”

“So do you work with Rio?” He takes a sip of his drink 

Not again it felt like you were being set up “Why do you want to know?” you finally take him in a man the same age as Rio and Nick rocking a gold canine tooth with many necklaces and rings on his finger. Gold to be exact. He had a thick accent, you assume somewhere from Central America or Spanish speaking country. 

He waves his hand around his head “Rumors go flying around” You nod still unsure of the purpose of this conversation “And Majority of the women here are plus one to their boyfriends or husband wasn’t hard to find you, that dress you came in all alone, heads were turning” he shamelessly looks you over biting his lip

“What do you want?” this conversation needed to end quickly 

He smiles, it makes you uneasy “Oh I don't want anything....” he pauses “It's a shame that they put you through that” you shift uncomfortably “But now you know who they are, the Serraño family. This is how they operate, they are vicious, they don’t care how many lives they destroy, they don’t operate with any principals...” 

You cut him off “I have come to that conclusion” 

He stops and chuckles lightly “Anyway I’m a much better option, I honor my principals and partnerships. I will have people reach out to you next week. Maybe I can take you out to lunch and we can talk.  You don’t have to stick with them” 

You nod but look past him to see Rio staring at both of you. Even the women trying to engage with him were failing due to how his gaze was dead set on you and Alejandro.

Alejandro looked back following your gaze as an additional ‘fuck you’ to Rio he raises his glass as a toast before turning back to face you “Ooop! I’ve been caught” with that he quickly stands up “Talk to you later cariño” 

You decide that this is your cue to leave and make your way out of the building. 

Authors Note: Please leave your feedback, again please don't steal. Only repost, like, or give credit.

Oh I can also start a tag list just let me know.

XOXO Rose

[didyoulookforme]

need you tonight

part of give me a moment (aka stylist au as briefly described in this tag)

warning: 18+, smut. probably grammatical errors, typos.

au masterlist here

-----

“sorry—‘m sorry”

you’re pretty sure those are some of the only words that stumble past his lips as you go down on him. perhaps an apology for his ring getting tangled in your hair, trying to keep you close. but to be honest, the more cynical part of you hopes it's pure regret for fucking someone else just hours before.

it was not strange for you to crave a nicotine hit at this time, more often than not stepping out the bus to smoke a cigarette or two prior to calling it a night, that first inhale always making your head buzz a little as the all-too-familiar warmth runs through your limbs, a much welcome sensation to try leave the tiredness behind.

every day was like clockwork. bus arrives at the venue. stage and lighting are assembled. band soundchecks. you have a quick dinner. then it's time for him. after all, it's what you're here to do, work as matty's own personal stylist during the tour.

you had no clue luck had finally struck when you opened those dms earlier this year.

(13:43) trumanblack: hey (13:43) trumanblack: i found your profile via my friend (13:44) trumanblack: i really like your style n you look pretty cool

(13:58) trumanblack: sorry if this sounds creepy. promise i'm a real human tho (13:58) trumanblack: x

you didn’t recognize him. however from a swift scroll through the feed, you gathered that his name was matty. apparently the front man of a seemingly popular band with a fanbase head-over-heels lusting for them.

mostly him, though.

you couldn't help but gaze at his lanky frame and pale skin adorned with ink, zooming in on certain posts to try decipher what they were. he definitely had a point of view when it came to dressing himself—sometimes a bit messy and chaotic, but for the most part pleasing to the eye, a quality you appreciated given your line of work. his seemingly playful demeanour across photos made it seem like he was perhaps younger than you, this time a google search confirming that, in fact, he was born three years later. april 1989.

countless press photos appeared under his name and you spent the next half hour swiping back and forth between articles, finding him intriguing enough and giving you the surge of confidence to respond.

and that's basically why you're leaning against this tour bus now. the friendly banter with a stranger led you to travel the world and do what you enjoy most. the fancy clothes. the colourful glitz. the wild after parties. this stuff that you always dreamed about was somehow now your own reality that you often had to pinch yourself to ensure you weren't just passed out cold on the sofa back home.

however, this almost too good to be true gig also led you to fall for a guy, the same one whose collar you straighten almost every night.

the most fucking cliché story. some assistant falling for her boss just months after being hired. it actually makes you feel sickeningly stupid, embarrassed. still you can't seem to stop digging yourself deeper into a hole with every hour you spend caring for him, not being made any better by matty being nothing but affectionate towards you behind closed doors.

you know he’s the reason your nicotine addiction has increased tenfold, always finding yourself alone at this hour enveloped in smoke, part of you still wanting to pretend you do so to numb out the sleepless nights. took you a while to finally admit you did it as an attempt to cloud out any thought of him.

tonight’s really no different.

you’re not sure how much time has passed, but it’s enough for the cold to start settling on your skin. perhaps it’s your queue to stop and go back in. you snub out your cigarette, watching the red embers fade just as a car rounds the corner. it halts to a stop only a few meters away, and you catch the faint sound of a door creaking open, followed by the murmur of voices filling the night air.

then you hear it. that unmistakable high pitched laugh that can pull you awake in a single second. him.

and, of course. you immediately know why.

you’d learned pretty early on this was a common end to the routine: matty picks up a girl at the gig, goes fucks her somewhere, and has her drop him off right after.

reminds you of the number of red and purple bruises you often cover up before his show. it wasn't rocket science figuring out the cause, yet he never really addresses it, choosing silence and averting his gaze as your fingertips dab foundation on tender skin, temporarily hiding any remains of nights prior.

you didn't even notice your eyes had closed. not until the car door slams shut, jerking them open just in time to see him blow a kiss in her direction. your heart fractures at the sweet gesture, but only hurts for a second before he's walking towards you, his stupid wide grin mending it better.

"didn't expect to see you out here.”

open button-up untucked. blazer over his shoulder. dark curls frizzy and disheveled. everything making it crystal clear he's just slept with someone else and still not you.

"only making sure you make it back alright so i can tuck you in." of course, you wish that were the case.

it's only a few seconds until he settles next to you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. soft lips gently brushing against your skin. the way he always greets you—but only when no one's watching.

"aren't you sweet, then?"

"trying my best." given the circumstances, it's pretty much all you can do.

he pulls out his beat-up cigarette box, flicking it open and offering you one. you decline, showing him the smothered tip of your own before finally tossing it aside.

"guess it must've been a pretty good time today," you lick the pad of your thumb before rubbing a lipstick mark off his jaw. it’s always ruby red or deep maroon. those same tones which he'll compliment you on. a similar shade you left on his lips the only time your mouth had been on his.

you finish cleaning the stains off his skin, matty murmuring a soft ‘thank you’ for having done so. it’s your turn to kiss his temple. “‘tis my job, you know? making sure you look good.” you should be mad, upset, have some sort of negative emotion. instead, you can’t help but have your heart intermittently flutter when he returns a sheepish smile, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you close.

neither of you say much, but that’s alright. you rest your head on the crook of his neck, noticing how nice it feels. how nice he feels. you see the chipped nail polish on his fingers. the wrinkled fabric of his flowered shirt. the dark hair down his torso. the unbuckled belt at his waist. it’s only then that jealousy creeps itself back in and suddenly your shoes seem all that more interesting than the man standing by your side.

"why do you do it, matty?" the sweetness of your voice never fails to mask the envy you actually feel. or at least you hope it does.

"hmm?"

"the sleeping around.” you finally lift your head to look at him, surprised that his pretty eyes were already on you. the toothy smirk is gone, though, replaced by a thin, expressionless line at his lips. he doesn’t owe you an explanation. you know that. thus why you’re surprised when he actually starts to talk.

"dunno, really.” he lights up another cigarette and you notice as he gets lost in his mind. “i mean, it’s kinda difficult to say no to sex or a blowjob when they’re literally throwing themselves at you.” he seemingly tries to joke, but you don’t have time for funny right at this moment.

instead you wonder if it’s actually that easy.

“let me do it, then.”

“so—sorry?” he chokes mid-drag.

“let me give you a blowjob just like those other girls do. just like she did,” you point at the ghost of that green car from before, “ just tonight.”

it’s like his face cannot figure out which expression to land on, flipping between confusion, surprise, and something else that reads between need and desire.

“what the fuck?” his voice is shaky and it stings when he pushes you aside, yet, he doesn’t try hard to put much distance between you two so it’s not difficult to invade his space, standing right in front of him until your face is a breath away from his. large, calloused hands grasp your shoulders tight, halting you from inching closer.

“don’t.”

“what’s the difference between them and myself, then?” seems like a simple enough question to you. “why can they have you and not me?”

but he has no answer, at least not one that he can properly voice. his hold on you starts to lessen, perhaps giving you some permission to let you do whatever you want.

you bring your hands up to his and pull them away, kissing his knuckles before placing them on your waist. an almost incoherent ‘fuck’ leaves his lips, and, as if on cue, his head falls back willingly, giving you the space to kiss his neck. the faint smell of her still on him.

“please let me,” you whisper against his skin.

it’s not even a question at this point.

his fingers dig into your hips as you look at him once more, now noticing a mixture of lust and care in those almond coloured eyes. for a minute there, you get lost in them, admiring how his pupils dilate when your hands find the button of his pants, and how they shrink back as you finally undo the zipper. you don’t want to waste any more time—you’ve already waited too long—so you slide your palm down his pants to grab his half-hard cock, his eyes instantly rolling to the back of his head when you wrap your fingers around him.

“is this okay?”

you take the buck of his hips as a confirmation, giving you the courage to spread the precum along his length. he feels nice. having him in your hand seems just right and you only hope that he won’t regret this when he wakes up next morning in bed.

tonight is your turn to suck on the skin alongside his jaw, the thought of having to cover your own marks making you smile.

“fuck, baby.”

you’re not sure if he even noticed that sweet name leave his mouth, but you like the sound of it, and it’s all it takes for you to drop to your knees, dragging his pants and boxers down just enough to pull out his dick.

you look up at him once more, his left hand coming to tangle on your head, his other loosely holding his cigarette, almost done and fully forgotten. you kiss his tip, your gaze still not leaving his, thoroughly enjoying yourself as he bites his bottom lip each time your thumb hits that spot under the head of his cock. his scent is almost too much to bear so you take him in one go, feeling his cock twitch inside your mouth. it doesn’t take long before he’s fully hard and hitting the back of your throat.

the plastic taste of latex is still on his skin. a sad reminder that you weren’t his first tonight. that maybe you are an afterthought. just another girl who he uses to make himself come. but at least it means you get to have him even if it’s just this one time.

matty. that’s all that’s on your mind. once again. somewhat difficult to not think about him when you’re sucking him off, those heavenly sounds coming from his mouth making your own slick drip down your leg.

you pull away to catch your breath, using your hand to keep stroking him, pleasantly surprised when he pulls on your hair each time your red fingernails graze the underside of his cock. you do it again and again until he breaks and fucks your hand, apologizing for not being able to help himself. it’s a sight you’ll commit to memory as long as you’re alive.

now that you’ve had a taste, it’s only so long you can go without having your lips around him. and that’s what you do, take him again, hands urging his hips to fuck your mouth. to fuck himself senseless in the hopes that you’ll be the one he turns to when he needs somebody else. he doesn’t deny your request, throwing away the wasted cigarette to guide you, setting a pace that allows him to stay steady on his feet.

purely drunk on him, you're barely aware when his phone vibrates in his pocket, matty muttering 'sorry' before grabbing and letting it drop onto the grass at your side. nosiness always gets the best of you, so you can't help but glance down, catching sight of a text from an unsaved number asking if he could fuck her again tomorrow.

you feel his hips falter. he knows you've seen it.

“’m sorry.”

this time it's a mix between a cry and a whimper. perhaps he did feel bad. perhaps some part of him did care about you in the way that you needed him to.

you reach back to place your hand on top of his, making him push your head further into him, to thrust into you until tears pool at your lashes just as he spills hard and fast down your throat. his taste overtakes every cell of your being as you swallow, feeling him soften against your tongue before you reluctantly pull away.

you didn’t even realize your knees were so sore until you stand up, not wasting a second to ask him is he's going to see her again the following night.

"do you want me to?" his thumb wipes away some of his cum off the corner of your lip. you reach out to suck it, slowly shaking your head in response.

he laughs nervously as his mouth clashes against yours, stealing both the air from your lungs. this wasn't the first time you’d kissed, but this wasn’t like before. the way he quietly moans against your lips. the softness of his fingers resting on your face. the crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he pulls back.

"can i see you tomorrow, then?"

you could’ve sworn you heart stopped. can you truly believe those words after watching him leave you behind all those nights? the soft circles his thumbs draw on your skin do feel sincere, the reassurance you need to perhaps let him in, give him a chance even though you know it’s a slippery one.

it’s your turn to brush your thumb against his mouth, slowly pulling at the bottom lip and watching it bounce back up into place. you kiss him one last time before confirming 'okay', immediately turning to finally head back in. not wanting to linger for too long in case he changes his mind.

you catch his reflection on the mirror, noticing as he tucks himself in, and it’s that slight smile on his face which keeps you awake for hours on end.

-----

for this lovely anon here. thank you for the inspo :) <3

[strawberrystepmom]

nsfw - mdni. yami x f!noble reader. cw age gap (reader is in her 20s, yami is in his 30s), virginity loss, smoking. piv intercourse and he calls reader girl 🙂‍↕️ | wc 2k, divider by @cafekitsune

You have heard many stories throughout the years about this particular moment being painful or emotional, an overwhelming feeling of abandonment as what is believed to indicate your girlhood is no longer yours to keep. This feeling is nowhere to be found within you.

Yami has taken care to prepare you. He’s stretched you out with his fingers, kissed every inch of you with his tongue and lips, encouraging your arousal to drip so freely from you the sheets beneath your hips are damp.

You are a woman parting ways with a burden she no longer wants to be responsible for, the one thing that still made you valuable to a parade of men you want nothing to do with.

You are free.

The sensation of your body stretching to accommodate him overwhelms all else, no tearing or ripping or pulling as has been described to you, merely your muscles attempting to stretch wide enough to allow him to slip his girth inside. His tip rests snugly between your walls and he grunts above you, strong arms on either side of your head.

“Feelin’ alright?” He whispers, gray eyes searching yours for any sign of pain. You smile up at him and nod, already breathing heavily. It’s hot and sticky in this room, his weight is bearing down on you, and he’s only just entered your body and you swear he’s in your throat.

“I…I want more,” you don’t quite ask but offer, allowing him the opportunity to slip a little deeper. A gasp is ripped from you, salacious enough that anyone walking through the hallway on the opposite side of the door would be scandalized. Yami smirks, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Heat flushes your body from your cheeks to your chest to further down, his baritone giving you as much stimulation as his cock nestled inside of you. “You’ve figured out so quickly how much I like to know how good of a job I’m doing, smart girl.”

Your walls clamp down around the head of him when he praises you. Of all the things that can be said about this man, astute is at the top despite his aloof exterior. He recognized the first time the two of you ever touched one another that you enjoy being praised - it takes one to know one, after all. He enjoys praising you to feel your body respond, the grip of your walls around his fingers and now his cock, just as much as he enjoys hearing you ask him for more and whimper his name.

“Feel that?” He asks, slipping past any resistance left in your sopping cunt easily, burying himself halfway. There’s a little further to go until he’s fully in but even this slight bit forces a deep groan from him, forehead still pressed to yours. “Perfect fit. Think you were made to take me, what do you think? Were you saving yourself just for me?”

That filthy mouth causes you to squirm beneath him, your parted thighs squeezing his sides, knees digging into them. A slow rhythm develops, a gentle rocking of his hips against yours that is more of a grind than a thrust. It reminds you of the ocean, wave after wave hitting shore, the coarse hair covering his pelvis rubbing against your clit and labia. The sensation is near overwhelming, your eyes fluttering shut, mewling beneath him.

“I want it all.”

In response to your plea, Yami kisses you unexpectedly. He closes the distance between your faces, capturing your soft lips against his rougher pair, gnawing on your lower lip in the way he knows makes your back arch and your tits press against his chest. His tongue slips between your lips and you moan, following his lead by greedily mapping out every corner of his mouth, swallowing his taste. While you’re distracted, he slips the rest of himself in and you both break the kiss to groan, staring at each other with heaving chests.

“Fucking hell,” he hisses, hips stilling so that he doesn’t spill inside of you. He’s no virgin killer or stranger to pussy but he has been going through a dry spell since he met you (at least that’s what he tells himself when he turns down his usual offers, as he has been since that first fateful night he stumbled up on you) and his balls tighten enough he worries he won’t even last a single stroke if he doesn’t calm down.

“Do you feel good?”

The tables are turned enough that he feels like the vulnerable one, a pair of doe eyes blinking up at him curiously. A little smirk plays across your lips and he nods, kissing you chastely, secretly hoping to brush away that smug little look despite the effect it’s having on him. He doesn’t take losing the upper hand well and the gentle rocking becomes a slightly rougher thrust, one of his hands sliding to rest at the dip of your waist.

“About to feel even better in just a second,” he mutters, catching his breath and giving you another thrust. You wait for pain to appear but it never does, just mind numbing pleasure, your head falling to his shoulder while he gradually increases his pace. You’re holding him inside of you, refusing to allow him to fully withdraw, and he exhales sharply through his nose.

“Hope you feel as good as I do, kid. Pussy’s so tight I might never, ah, leave.”

The pause in his words, broken up by his throaty groan, awakens a feeling in you that only arrives when he’s around. Your heartbeat speeds up, palms prickling with sweat while they dangle over his shoulders. Of course you know what this feeling is, it’s a building orgasm, but you feel it even when you aren’t having sex with him - when he laughs at your jokes or playfully tugs at the laces of your dress.

You can’t explain it so you chase it, canting your hips slightly to meet his thrusts. Clearly this catches him off guard and he squeezes your waist, stilling you.

“Nuh uh, not yet.” He’s not out of breath but he’s panting, the lone arm resting on the side of your head shifting so that he can grab the back of your neck, pushing you upward toward his mouth, making it easier for him to kiss you again. “Really are too smart for your own good.”

His praise has the same effect it always does on you. You cling to him, his pace fast enough now that his balls swing against your ass, the steady sound of skin on skin and the slickness of your cunt the soundtrack to your mutual mouthiness.

“You don’t like it when I do that?” You ask, canting your hips upward again. He squeezes your side tighter this time, shooting you a narrowed eye warning glance. “Think I might like it too much, actually. Knock it off.”

If he weren’t knocking you breathless with each thrust, you’d giggle and continue to give him a hard time but it feels silly to do anything but enjoy this. When he’s confident that you’ve followed his directions, his hand slides from your waist to between your bodies. He presses the pad of his index finger against your clit, eliciting a truly delicious near shout from you.

“Tell me,” he reminds you, low voice all but hypnotizing you into doing anything he asks. “Tell me how much you like it.”

You nod, dragging one of your hands from around his neck to your chest, placing your palm between your breasts.

“Think I can feel you here, Yami.” Your heart, in more ways than one. “I’ve never felt anything li–”, you are cut off when he thrusts even deeper, clearly overwhelmed by your vulnerability, the wind knocked out of you.

There is nowhere else he can go. He’s buried as deep inside of you as he can be right now, his own heart rattling its cage, beating as hard as he’s breathing. If he looks down at you for a second too long he’ll be a goner, your lashes fluttering and mouth half opened while babbles and half formed thoughts spill out. He’s making you feel so good, you feel him everywhere, at least that’s what he can sort of make out in his hazy mind.

“Keep going,” you plead, grabbing onto his bicep and squeezing. “A little...a little harder, please.”

Oh it takes every ounce of strength for him not to cum, gritting his teeth and fucking into you so hard that the bed bangs against the wall. He knew from the moment he met you that you’d be just like this, that innocent face hiding a lot more than you ever let on and almost well enough you had him fooled. There are worst suspicions to have confirmed although he wishes you would’ve done so while he wasn’t inside of you, holding onto the snapping threads of his control.

You cum with a cry of his name, face buried in his chest, thighs twitching around and spasming him. He wishes you would have let him see you yet that feels a little more intimate than he feels comfortable asking. He closes his eyes to picture it, though.

Those pretty lips opened into an o shape, eyes and pupils wide and drinking in every flex of his muscles above you. You’d look him over and shut your eyes tightly, fingers grazing over every part of his body…

Before his fantasy can run wild, he feels his cock kick and finishes inside of you, thrusting with every spurt, pushing it deeper and deeper into territory he has now claimed as his own. Perhaps it’s a bit barbaric to ever see sex this way but he can’t help what his urges are telling him to do and he slumps over slightly, body halfway pressed against yours.

“Everything okay down there?” He asks, noticing you’re quieter than usual, and you nod with a blissed out smile on your face, reaching to brush his hair off of his forehead. As badly as he wants to back away and pretend that didn’t happen, he lets you do it again, dark strands pushed backward and no longer dripping with sweat and dangling in his face.

He sits back on his haunches, finally unsheathing himself from inside of you. A low whistle is his reaction when his eyes drop to between your legs, a rush of his release dripping down your ass. “Messy, aren’t we?” He reaches to rub his thumb along said mess, your sticky arousal all over your labia and clit and his spend mixing together.

“Sign of a job well done if you ask me.” You giggle, remaining happily boneless with your legs spread, accepting his thumb when he lifts it to your mouth. Your tongue brushes the length of it and you moan appreciatively, tasting the efforts of what you’ve both done as a reward for the job well done.

Removing his thumb with a pop, he glances down at you for longer than either of you are keeping track of. Dark brows remain furrowed, a little scowl on his face although it’s arguably far softer now than it usually is, and he finally slumps down onto the bed, collecting you against him.

He knows you’ll begin chatterboxing while he dozes off soon, as you always do, but for now he’s content with the silence. It’s giving him the opportunity to consider what any of this means, if he was only babbling lovesick fool shit to make your first time good or because his aching dick was overwhelming his brain.

You shift between his arms, flipping onto your side, facing him with a smile. “Thank you.”

He chuckles, a hand resting on your ass.

“You didn’t do half bad yourself,” he commends, leaning down to press his forehead against yours again. “Might have to test you out again.”

Giggling, you shake your head, wrinkling your nose when you look up at him.

“I hope you do for a long, long time.”

The weight of those words would be heavier if you didn’t immediately dive into a conversation about the cat you found in the garden, leaving him to nod semi enthusiastically while reaching for his cigarettes, puffing while quietly contemplating every word you say.

For a long, long time, he thinks, half listening to you.

He could do this every night if you didn’t live so far away.

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures In Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: You haven’t been babysitting Dustin for very long. Underestimating his tendencies for rebellious behavior, you realize too late that he’s snuck out, with your dire search for the boy leading you to the last place you wanted to be: Steve Harrington’s house.

Content warning: swearing, inter-dimensional demogorgon bullshit, kind of strangers to friends to lovers (not necessarily all in this chapter), stancy, slow burn

Word Count: 6.5k

Author’s note: This is my first fic and it isn’t super original; it pretty much sticks to the plot of the show, but adds you to the mix! I tend to like fics that put the reader directly into the Stranger Things universe, demogorgons and all, so this chapter roughly follows Steve’s involvement in season 1 episode 8 when he goes to the Byers’ residence. This is more of a prologue and I plan to be more original with the story as it goes on, but it will still largely follow the plot lines of the series, so if that’s something you’re looking for, you’ve found it here!

Series Masterlist | Next Part

***

You knocked quickly on the door in front of you, eyes darting left and right to take in your surroundings. You were out of place here among the upper class houses in the neighborhood, with your hand-me-down and thrifted clothes screaming the opposite of prosperity. You were antsy, weight shifting from foot to foot; in fact, you were almost confident that if any of the neighbors were out and caught a glimpse of your obviously anxious form, they’d put a call in to the Hawkins police in an instant. You didn’t belong here. You scoffed at the thought. Though every fiber of your being was telling you—no, screaming at you—to leave, you really didn’t have a choice.

Not to mention the address you were at housed probably the last person you would ever actively seek out. He probably didn’t want to see you either, if you were being honest.

“Come on. Just answer,” You muttered through gritted teeth as you raised your hand to knock once more. However, before your hand could even make contact with the nice, expensive oak of the front door, it opened and you were met with the annoyed and confused glare of the one and only Steve Harrington. The expression on his face didn’t surprise you but the state of it did. Bruises and cuts littered his otherwise perfect skin, leaving you with a lot more questions than you had originally intended on asking.

“What do you want?” His words were direct, his tone short and clipped, drained from what on the outside seemed to be quite an eventful day.

“I-I, uh…I’m sorry, but what happened to you?” You breathed out. You had more pressing concerns, but you couldn’t help but wonder why King Steve of Hawkins High looked like absolute shit.

“I don’t have time for this,” he sighed as he began to shut the door.

You reached your hand through just in time to catch it as you shoved your way into the Harrington household. You knew his parents were likely on some sort of fancy business trip, so they wouldn’t be there to reprimand you for your actions. It’s what made Steve’s house the prime destination for the biggest parties in Hawkins. Parties you were rarely, if ever, invited to.

“What the hell are you doing?! I barely even know you and now you’re breaking and fucking entering into my goddamn house!”

“Technically, I’m just entering. You opened the door.”

“Are you kidding me right now, y/n?”

You were surprised he even knew your name. You tended to blend into the background, flying under the radar in your attempt to make good enough grades to maybe, just maybe, give yourself a fighting chance at attending college on scholarships. “Will you just hear me out. Please.”

You must have sounded desperate because Steve’s furrowed brow relaxed, his expression softening before he rolled his eyes, sitting down on a pristine white couch saying, “Fine. But make it quick because I have a raging headache and my patience is wearing thin.”

You breathed in a deep breath before you rattled off your reason for trespassing.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story, but I happen to babysit Dustin Henderson—or, well to be more accurate, I just started babysitting Dustin Henderson since Jonathon Byers’ brother disappeared—and everything was going fine one minute, but then I went to check on him in his room because he was being awfully quiet, and then I noticed his window was open and he must’ve snuck out, and—“

He cut you off, “Woah, woah, woah. How does any of this concern me? I mean, it’s not my fault you’re clearly a shit babysitter and can’t keep track of some seventh grader.”

“If you would just let me finish,” you warned through gritted teeth, “I’m aware of the fact that it doesn’t concern you, but I’ve been looking all over for him and I can’t find him anywhere. I’ve checked the Sinclair’s, I’ve checked the Wheeler’s, I’ve checked every location a seventh grade nerd might frequent, nothing. So, yeah, though it doesn’t concern you, I thought I might find Nancy here, given the fact that the two of you have obviously been going out, to ask her where the hell her brother is so that maybe, just maybe, I could find the damn kid I’m babysitting before I get fired from my fucking job. Now, if you could stop being so goddamn selfish for once in your life, I would really appreciate the help.”

Steve paused for a moment while he considered this. Being called selfish stung, but you weren’t wrong. The events leading to the myriad of injuries across his face seemed to prove just that. However, there was something about you in particular saying it that cut deep. You were seemingly so perfect, granted a bit odd. You were nice, you made good grades, but other than that he didn’t know much about you, so the expletive-laced explanation was a bit out of place coming from your mouth.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re a little too late to find Nancy here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she didn’t say it, but I take it things are probably pretty over between us.”

This was surprising to say the least. Nancy Wheeler wasn’t someone who you would have guessed would go for a total asshole jock like Steve, but even you had to admit, he was easy on the eyes. Your heart skipped a bit at the thought, as you suddenly also remembered that you basically broke into the house of the most popular kid at your high school. One whom you’d never really spoken to in any meaningful sense before this very instant.

“What happened?” You asked hesitantly, taking a step towards Steve as your fingers hovered over his forearm. Even though you hated nearly everything Steve stood for—popularity, prosperity, assholery—you felt compelled to comfort him. Something about him was different than you expected. When he didn’t pull away, you let your hand rest there.

“Well, speaking of Jonathan Byers, we kind of got into…an altercation. I would like to say that I won, but I think it’s clear that I didn’t. I was with Tommy H and Carol and he spray painted a bunch of awful shit about Nancy and Jonathan all over town, and I didn’t stop him, so yeah, things aren’t what I would call good between me and Nancy right now.”

Your comforting instinct told you to apologize, sympathize, but you weren’t going to condone his actions. You’d seen the “Nancy ‘the Slut’ Wheeler” graffiti earlier in your mad dash to locate Dustin. Though you didn’t know her super well, Nancy had been nothing but nice to you and she definitely didn’t deserve that sort of treatment.

“Well, how do you…feel about it?” You asked gently, internally cringing at your anxiety forcing you to find something to fill the silence with.

“I mean, definitely not good. I was an ass, and I know it, and as much as I hate that I screwed things up with Nancy, I think I’m more so realizing how shitty I was to Jonathan. I mean, he’s got enough going on without me making things more difficult…I need to make things right.” He stood up abruptly, quickly grabbing his car keys from a likely expensive decorative dish on the side table by the door.

“Woah, wait! You’re just going to leave me?” You asked incredulously. “Steve, I-I….I need help.”

“You can come with me,” he responded as he spun his keys around his index finger.

“What?”

“To the Byers’ house? You know, kill two birds with one stone? I apologize to Jonathan, you ask about the Henderson kid. Hell, you might even luck out and find him there, so what do you say?” He explained as he placed his hand gently on your back, leading you out the front door, down the driveway to his car. You tried not to think about the way his hand felt on the expanse of your back. Before you could say no, he was opening the passenger’s side door for you.

Your eyes met his, your mouth slightly parted as you weighed your options. Sure, you could handle yourself fine on the way to Jonathan’s house…but then on the other hand, Steve had a car and you didn’t, and with all of the weird things going on in Hawkins recently, it was probably best not to be a young woman walking around on her own, especially now that you were losing light. Safety reasons aside, the element that settled the internal argument for you was the look in Steve’s eyes. He wanted to do better. He wanted to be better. Who were you to deny him that?

You breathed in once more, shaking your head as you breathed out. “Alright. Let’s go.”

***

Being in Steve’s car was, needless to say, a bit awkward. You both had your own problems, brought together by chaos and regret, a combination which didn’t make for great small talk.

“So, Nancy Wheeler, huh?” You asked in an attempt to ease the tension, needing to rid the car of the weight of the uncomfortable silence.

“Yep,” Steve muttered, eyes focused on the road.

“She’s pretty cool. I mean, she’s always been nice to me.”

“She’s the best.”

You weren’t sure why, but this comment made your heart sink a little in your chest. Though Nancy had always been nice, you couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of her. She stood out in a way that you never could. She was smart but had the money to back it up, which, in terms of social status, meant that she mattered and you didn’t. You were living paycheck to paycheck, barely functioning, picking up odd jobs all the time just to support yourself in the way your family couldn’t. You barely had the time to study or have fun, becoming the background character to everyone else’s life. Hell, you weren’t even sure you had a starring role in your own. She was also pretty in a way that you could never be, with her big blue eyes and thin frame making clearly even the douchiest of douchebags swoon. Steve was living proof.

“Y/n? Did you even hear anything I just said?” Steve’s voice finally flooded your consciousness, drawing you away from your thoughts and feelings of inadequacy.

You shook your head trying to clear out the negativity. “Sorry! I was-I just zoned out for a second, my bad,” You chuckled, your smile not quite reaching your eyes.

“I asked you why you were babysitting the Henderson kid anyway. It just seems like something that you wouldn’t be interested in.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know, you’re…different. Yeah, you’re nice and make good grades and whatever, but you’re also pretty edgy. You seem like one of those weird, alt kids that would be into like pretty heavy music and shit, and babysitting just seems a little too suburban-status-quo for someone like you.”

You stared at him blankly, not really sure how to answer given that his words were more a statement of assumptions rather than a question. You opened your mouth to speak, but he interjected before you could even say anything.

“That came out wrong. What I’m saying is that you’ve always struck me as a little bit intimidating because you’re actually an individual; you don’t follow the crowd which, I mean, is admirable, but babysitting? Come on. I’m as stereotypical as they come, and I wouldn’t even babysit, especially not for some thirteen-year-old misfit who seems like more of a handful than its worth.”

“Well, for starters, you’re a guy, so no shit you’re not babysitting the youth of Hawkins, and also, I just need the money, which I’m sure is a foreign concept to you. And babysitting is kind of a piece of cake…normally. Henderson is a special case; he’s too smart for his own good.”

Steve laughed and you blushed, grateful for the darkness to hide the heat in your cheeks. His words felt like they were trying to be a compliment, but you weren’t sure how to interpret them. You guessed that maybe you stood out at least a little bit more than you had initially thought. By his description, people must be noticing you to some extent. He was noticing you.

You shook your head at the thought. What had gotten into you? Half an hour ago you hated this man, but now you weren’t too sure. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was.

With Hawkins being a small town in rural Indiana, the drive was not long, so your conversation ended here as you pulled up to the Byers’ residence. You felt a pang in your heart as you saw the tarp-covered hole in the front of the house. From speaking with Mrs. Henderson, you knew how much of a toll her son’s disappearance had taken on Joyce. Both of you got out of the car and you made your way to the front door.

Steve knocked. When there was no response, he banged on the door again. “Jonathan! Are you there man? It’s—it’s Steve! Listen, I just want to talk.”

He continued to bang on the door. You were about to reach up and stop him, tell him that it was enough and clearly no one was home, when the door opened a crack and you were met eye to eye with Nancy Wheeler. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw you, but it only lasted for a fraction of a second before her expression settled and her brows furrowed.

“Steve, listen to me.”

“Hey. Nancy, what—“

“You need to leave. Both of you,” she added as she turned to meet your eyes. She was serious, her expression stern, but there was something else there…desperation maybe?

“I’m not trying to start anything, okay?” Steve pleaded. It didn’t make a difference, as Nancy had clearly made up her mind.

“I don’t care about that. You need to leave. Now.”

“No, no, listen, I messed up…I messed up, and I just want to make things right.” Steve was desperate, you could hear it in his voice. You wanted to try and reason with Nancy, speak on behalf of Steve, but it wasn’t your place. You went to cast your gaze downwards, trying to give the two of them a private moment, but Nancy’s gauze-wrapped hand caught your eye instead.

“Hey, what happened to your hand?” You asked hesitantly, brow furrowed, “is that…is that blood?”

You went to gently reach for her hand but she quickly drew it back and out of sight, but it was too late. Say what you will about Steve, but he was protective to a fault, and in seeing Nancy hurt, any desire to make things right with Jonathan quickly dissipated.

“It’s nothing! It-It was an accident.”

“Wait a sec. Did he do this to you? Nancy, let me in!” Steve demanded as he pushed into the Byers’ home, not dissimilar to how you had intruded upon the Harrington residence earlier. You entered behind him. Under any normal circumstances, you probably would have felt awkward, but instead you were too preoccupied with Steve’s short temper and the fires you knew you would inevitably have to put out.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the premonition to know the literal nature of that preoccupation.

Crossing the threshold of the Byers’ residence, you weren’t entirely sure what you were looking at, but it did make your heart stop in your chest. You momentarily locked eyes with Jonathan as you looked around the room. There were multicolored lights strewn about the whole house, makeshift weapons on the coffee table, the entire alphabet painted sloppily on the wallpaper, and Jonathan’s hand had the same blood soaked gauze as Nancy’s.

“What is…what the…what is all of this?” Steve demanded.

“You need to get out of here. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.” Jonathan grabbed the fabric of Steve’s shirt attempting to force him out of the living room, but Steve planted his feet.

“Is that….is that gasoline?!” You stammered as the rest of your senses finally showed up. Your hands were trembling at your sides, and you felt like at any moment you might have a panic attack. You took a shaky breath as you attempted to calm yourself down.

“Steve! Get out!” Nancy shouted. The distinct click of a gun rang out, and Steve froze, eyes fixed on the revolver in Nancy’s hand, pointed directly at him. Jonathan’s grip loosened on Steve’s shirt as he stepped away, shock registering on his face as well.

Something was obviously very wrong. You pushed your anxiety deep down in your chest, and you took a step forward. If I could just talk to her, you thought, I can deescalate this.

“Nancy—“ you began cautiously, but as soon as you took a step she pivoted and now you were the one staring down the barrel of a gun. Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly raised trembling hands in front of your chest. “I think you need to calm down.”

“I think you need to leave,” she responded, her voice icy. Suddenly, Steve bounded forward, grabbing your wrist and pulling you behind him. Once you were hidden behind his tall figure, you allowed yourself to break down a little, pressing yourself against him for some semblance of security.

“Is this a joke, Nancy? Put the gun down!”

“I’m doing this for you.”

“What is this?! What does that even mean?” He yelled back at her, but his words weren’t doing anything to help. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist, and his grip tightened. He was holding onto you just as much as you were holding onto him, with a fistful of his shirt balled into your delicate hand as you attempted to ground yourself. It felt intimate, and if it weren’t for your current predicament, you would have been embarrassed.

“Three. Two—“

“Nancy! The lights!” Jonathan shouted, and you peeled your face away from the solace of Steve’s back, watching as the lights flickered with a raging entropy, making it nearly impossible for your eyes to navigate the small room.

“Where is it? I don’t see it!” Nancy cried out and for the first time in the craze of blinking lights and shouting, you saw the fear on her face, her previous stoic facade shattering in the chaos. Seeing the fright in her eyes made your stomach drop, as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

Something was very, very wrong.

“Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?!” Steve shouted and you couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. Even with the family room being sporadically lit up like a Christmas tree, you and Steve were very much still in the dark.

No sooner had he said it did the ceiling begin to crack, something large writhing as it made its way into the small house from above. Nancy began shooting at it as you stood frozen. Finally, it burst through the drywall, falling to the floor on all fours. If someone asked you to describe what you had seen, you weren’t sure what you would’ve even said. It had pale skin, nearly translucent, and made an awful chattering sound as it started to gather its bearings.

“Go! Go! Run! Go!” Jonathan started shouting as he grabbed Nancy around the waist and shoved her in front of him as she darted down the hall. Steve turned around and did the same, his hands harshly grabbing at your sides to redirect you as you formed a human chain; Jonathan’s hand wrapped around your wrist, and your other hand wrapped around Steve’s as you made a mad dash to the bedroom at the end of the hall.

In all the commotion you barely heard Jonathan shout “jump!” narrowly missing the open bear trap on the floor. You shrieked and willed yourself to be coordinated for once in your damn life as you hurdled over the metal teeth of the trap, blindly trusting that Steve’s athleticism would kick in and he would do the same. A low growl sounded out just as the bedroom door slammed shut behind Steve, his momentum causing him to collide into you. You would have toppled over if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes, as he reached out to steady your shoulders.

“Shhh, you’re okay. It’s all going to be okay,” Steve frantically whispered, his hands still holding together your shaking form, as you stumbled backwards and collapsed down on the bed. His lips were dangerously close to your ear, and he brought a hand to the base of your neck, drawing his fingers down to your shoulder to reassure you. He was barely holding it together himself, scared out of his mind, but he brought you into this mess and he was determined to protect you first. “What the hell was that?!”

“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan yelled in unison. Everyone’s gaze then fixed on the yoyo that was precariously draped over the chair. Your heart thundered in your ears, your eyes welling with tears as you held your breath and waited. The lights continued to flicker, until a jolt of electricity rang out and they became static. The silence was unnerving.

“Do you hear anything?” Nancy asked.

Jonathan shook his head and slowly opened the door. The four of you stepped into the quiet of the hallway, eyes fixed on the undisturbed bear trap in the middle of the carpet. You all cautiously made your way back to the disheveled family room of the Byers’ house, Nancy and Jonathan prepped with their weapons in hand.

“This is…this—this is crazy!” Steve shouted, running his hands through his perfect hair.

You tugged on his sleeve trying to draw his attention away from what just happened; this was already a shit show, the last thing you needed was Steve losing his mind. “Steve, you need to calm down,” you begged, still shaken from before.

“Y/n, how the hell am I supposed to calm down?! This isn’t a situation where you can calm the fuck down! What the hell is going on?!” He continued to shout, grabbing your wrist and shoving it away. You tried not to take it personally, but it still hurt. You hated how quickly he had gone from comforting to cold.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Nancy spoke up, “It’s going to come back! So you need to leave. Right now.”

Steve grabbed your wrist, your body lurching as your trajectory quickly changed, the inertia causing you to stumble while your feet attempted to keep up with Steve’s large strides. Steve fumbled with his keys as you reached the car. His shaky hands finally unlocked the door and he swung it open, about to sit when he realized that you had stopped following him, still positioned in front of the house.

“Y/n, what are you doing?”

“Steve, we can’t leave, are you kidding me? They’re in way over their heads. They need help.”

“It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you in there. It’s not up for discussion,” Steve argued, stepping around the door and reaching out to grab your wrist again. You quickly stepped back, pulling your hands out of his reach.

“Y/n, you’re not going back in there. I’m not joking.”

“Neither am I,” you shot back, turning back towards the door. You heard him call out your name again, but you were already through the front door, back in the discomfort of the Byers’ family room.

“Y/n, what the hell are you doing here? I said to leave,” Nancy warned.

“I’m not leaving. You guys need help, and I want to help.”

“Y/n—“ Jonathan began, but his warning was cut short when the lights began to flash again. You quickly grabbed a large kitchen knife from the pile of improvised weapons on the coffee table and met Nancy and Jonathan back to back in the center of the room.

“Where is it?” You asked, trying to shove the fear in your chest down, hoping it was a false alarm, that the wiring was screwy, that you were safe.

“Come out, you son of a bitch!” Jonathan yelled out. You willed your hands not to shake as you tightened your grip on the handle of the knife. Suddenly the lights went out, plunging the room into inky black darkness. You blinked rapidly, a futile attempt to get your eyes to adjust to the pitch black room.

You heard a low growl before Nancy exclaimed, “Y/N!”

You spun around, eyes meeting the nine-foot hulking form of whatever the hell this thing was, standing less than a foot from you. You didn’t even have time to scream as it lunged at you, pinning you to the floor. Your knife fell from your grasp, clamoring across the hardwood. You wish you could go back to when you hadn’t had a good look at the monster. Now you stared wide eyed as its face opened up revealing countless rows of razor sharp teeth as it shrieked, spewing thick drool across your face.

“Help me! Please! Nancy!” You screamed out as you writhed under the pressure of the beast. Its clawed fingers began tightening around your upper arm, ripping into your skin as you cried out in pain. It reared back to scream its ear piercing scream again, but something collided with it, knocking it off-kilter. Its long claws dragged across the flesh of your arm, etching larger gashes as its grip began to release.

You took this opportunity to slip away, scrambling across the floor on hands and knees as you grabbed the kitchen knife, turning around to slash the monster’s achilles. It cried out, turning back towards you, this time far angrier than it had been in the first place. This was when you realized that the collision from before had been Steve, swinging Jonathan’s nail bat as hard as he could at the creature.

He had come back for you.

He continued to swing the bat with all his might, causing the monster to stumble backwards until the resonant clang of metal hitting against metal rang out.

“He’s in the trap! He’s stuck!” Steve yelled out, causing the rest of you to spring into action.

“Jonathan, now!” Nancy shouted. Jonathan hurtled around the corner, the unmistakable flick of a lighter sounding out before he tossed it in the gasoline soaked carpet. The hallway erupted in flames that were almost too bright to bear, as the four of you covered your eyes. You took this opportunity to sprint back to the family room, quickly grabbing the fire extinguisher laid out on the rug, before bounding back to the hallway.

“Get back!” You shouted as you desperately tried to put out the fire before you were all suffocated in a fiery mix of ash and smoke. You all coughed as the smoke cleared, revealing that the monster had disappeared, no longer stuck between the teeth of the bear trap.

“Where did it go?” Nancy hesitantly asked.

“It has to be dead. It has to be,” Jonathan said, though it seemed more like he was saying it to convince himself; to speak it into existence.

Suddenly the string lights started blinking again, this time in a line leading toward them in the hallway. Your breath caught in your throat, and Steve protectively pushed himself in front of you and Nancy. The lights then blinked again, this time in a line towards the front door. This time they weren’t the erratic display of chaos from earlier, but rather an orderly demonstration of cosmos. The four of you cautiously followed the lights, weapons drawn just in case.

“Mom?” You heard Jonathan quietly ask. His eyes welled with tears, and you immediately wanted to hug the boy. He’d been through so much. He didn’t deserve this; none of you did.

You followed the lights outside the house, watching the streetlight gently flicker before all trace of the paranormal phenomenon dissipated.

“Where’s it going?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t think that’s the monster,” Jonathan responded. He didn’t elaborate and none of you asked.

Steve quickly turned to you, gently grabbing your wrist. “Y/n, you’re bleeding,” he said, his eyes widening as they focused on your blood soaked sleeve.

“It doesn’t matter. Where’s Dustin? Please tell me one of you knows,” you turned to ask Nancy and Jonathan, both of them caught off guard by your question.

“Uh, I think it really does matter, y/n. We don’t even know what the hell that thing was! You can’t just ignore—“

“They’re at the school,” Nancy interrupted. She wanted to argue with you too, to tell you that you definitely needed medical attention, but she also knew you weren’t going to listen. Hell, you’d just run back into a house with an inter-dimensional threat so her and Jonathan wouldn’t have to face it on their own.

You turned back towards Steve. “Steve, I promise I’ll let you take me to the urgent care or the hospital or whatever if you just please let me go make sure he’s okay,” you pleaded. Tears were welling in your eyes and Steve realized that he wasn’t going to be able to say no to you.

“Fine, but this is fucked up.”

***

By the time you pulled into the parking lot of Hawkins middle, it was swarming with police cars and emergency vehicles. You felt nauseous and negligent, as you frantically scanned, looking for the curly mop of hair hidden under a baseball cap. Before Steve stopped the car, you flung your door open, jogging across the lot, calling out for the boy.

“Dustin! Dustin Henderson!”

“Woah, woah, woah! You can’t just jump out of a moving vehicle!” Steve caught up with you. He wanted to reach out and put a hand on your shoulder to rein you in a little, but he decided against it, not recalling which one was torn up. You had to be in excruciating pain, but you didn’t show it. She’s pretty damn tough, Steve thought to himself. Suddenly, you both saw the Henderson boy, chatting away with Lucas Sinclair, as if nothing had happened.

“Henderson!” You growled, marching across the parking lot towards the young child.

“Y/n, I can explain—“

“Do you have any idea the hell I just went through trying to find your ass?! Where the hell were you?!”

“You’re not going to believe me, but there’s this alternate—wait, what the hell happened to your arm?”

You looked at Steve, trying to silently decide how much to tell the young boy. He was just a kid; he didn’t need to be mixed up in all of this, and neither did Lucas. To be perfectly honest, neither did the two of you, but you couldn’t change what happened. You broke eye contact with Steve and looked at Dustin, lips slightly parted as you tried to find the right words to say. Before you could even say anything, Dustin broke the silence.

“It was the demogorgon, wasn’t it?”

“What in the fresh hell are you talking about?” Steve asked, growing tired of this kid who had inadvertently caused you to risk your life trying to find him instead of just listening to his damn babysitter.

“Monster, big and scary, likely inter-dimensional?”

“You…But how do you…you know about all of this?” You asked, your heart sinking knowing that you couldn’t protect him from this.

“It took Will, and we’ve been trying to find him,” Lucas chimed in.

“B-but…but there was a funeral. He died,” you stammered, your heart aching this time as you thought back to Jonathan and Joyce and how miserable they had been over the loss of the young child.

“Look, y/n, I’m sorry I snuck out but it was to find Will. I can explain the rest but it’s going to take a while and you might want to sit down,” Dustin hesitantly spoke.

“You’re so damn lucky your mom is out of town for the next few days,” you spoke through gritted teeth, but you sat down and you listened to the boy.

***

After his explanation, you and Steve were, needless to say, a bit stunned and speechless. How the hell did three middle school boys figure all of that out? And a girl with a shaved head and super powers? You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that Hawkins Chief of Police Jim Hopper knew about all of this either. What was there that you could trust? Your head started to spin and you were getting a bit nauseous at the thought.

“I mean, this is wild Henderson. It’s borderline unbelievable,” Steve chided. Dustin’s eyes widened and his face reddened, clearly mad that Steve wasn’t buying his story.

“Are you serious right now, Steve? You saw it! You saw the damn demogorgon! How could you possibly deny that—“

“I said borderline unbelievable, shit bird. Obviously I know some strange shit is going on, it’s just still fucking insane.”

You couldn’t agree more with him as you attempted to stand up, but your vision blurred and you stumbled. You would’ve fallen if Steve hadn’t immediately shot up to catch and steady you.

“Woah, y/n, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Steve’s eyes were darting all across your face. He wished he could read your mind but you just stared up at him with those eyes and it all remained a mystery.

“I think she needs to get that checked out. She’s losing a lot of blood,” Lucas chimed in, his brow furrowed under his camo bandana. He pointed at your blood soaked sleeve, and everyone simultaneously realized that blood was now dripping down your hand, the fabric no longer able to hold anymore liquid.

“No, no, I’m fine, I swear. Let me just walk it off. I’ll be okay,” you tried to sound confident, but your speech was slurred and there were dark spots invading your vision. Steve gently patted at the side of your face, attempting to keep you conscious.

“Y/n, just stay with us. We’re going to get you help. Just keep those pretty eyes open for me. Y/n, please!” He sounded desperate, and you fought to stay awake. The next thing you knew, he was carrying you, attempting to make it to an ambulance to get your wounds assessed by a real medical professional.

“Hey, we need you to take us to a hospital right now,” Steve spoke quickly as he sprinted to one of the EMTs on scene.

“What happened to her?”

“It’s a long story. Please sir,” Steve’s voice began to falter. The EMT gestured for Steve to hop in the back of the ambulance where he gingerly placed you on the gurney. Lucas and Dustin swiftly followed suit, going to hop into the ambulance, but the EMT stepped in front of the boys to stop them.

“Woah, where do you think you’re going?”

“Sir, if you could please let them come with us. We babysit them and I can’t leave them here by themselves,” Steve argued. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it was the best he had to work with to convince the guy to take Sinclair and Henderson with them. Dustin looked at him with confusion, mouthing the word “we?” before Steve shot him a warning glance to fix his face before their story was invalidated.

You woke up in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. You were no longer in your blood soaked clothes, your frame fitted with a hospital gown instead. You looked over to your left arm which had since been stitched up and was now wrapped in gauze, the bleeding slowing to a stop.

“Steve?” You called out, hoping he was still with you.

“Y/n! You’re awake!” He exclaimed rushing over to the side of the bed. You’d been out for the past hour. They had sedated you once you arrived at the hospital, saying it would be easier to tend to your wounds that way.

“Today didn’t really go how I thought it would.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Steve chuckled.

“I mean, my worst fear earlier was that I was going to get fired. I can tell you that I have significantly worse fears than that now,” you hated crying in front of people, with Steve being the last person you wanted to be vulnerable in front of, but you couldn’t help it as your eyes welled up and one stubborn tear slid down your cheek. Steve was quick to wipe it away, his hand reaching down to hold yours.

“I know, but on the bright side, I think you might be the most qualified babysitter in Hawkins,” Steve tried desperately to make you smile. It worked as you let out a wet laugh through your sob.

“I mean, I guess so,” you chuckled, your cheeks heating up at the compliment.

“You guess so? I know so. I don’t know anybody who would fight a monster with that many fucking teeth for some kid.”

“Nancy would,” you reminded him, your voice getting small again. The light in his eyes suddenly dissipated and he let go of your hand.

“Yeah, no, you’re probably right. I guess we’d all make pretty damn good babysitters,” he averted eye contact, preferring to look at his hands. In the time he’d been spending with you, he kind of forgot about Nancy. He felt guilty.

“You should talk to her, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sure she’s probably ready to put whatever happened between the two of you behind her. I mean, you really stepped up when it mattered today,” you added. You weren’t sure why you were saying it because the thought of him going back to Nancy made your heart ache, but maybe you weren’t ready for the alternative. You weren’t ready for him to look at you the way he looked at her. Not that you thought he would, but you just felt the need to create some distance. A lot had happened and this wasn’t the way you wanted him to realize you were something special, something to hold onto.

“Yeah, I guess…I mean, I guess I’ll go talk to her. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” He looked you in the eye. Instead of seeing annoyance or indifference, you saw something new for a change: sincerity.

“Promise.”

He gave you a small smile, pausing in the doorway as he took one last look at you. You did a small wave goodbye, reassuring him that you’d be okay. With that, he took a breath and turned the corner, making his way back to the hospital waiting room where him and Nancy would patch things up. There was something about you though; something he couldn’t quite get out of his head.

He also had a sinking feeling in his chest that this wasn’t the end of whatever was going on in Hawkins. He had a feeling that the danger would linger, lurking in the shadows. He pushed the feeling aside and smiled weakly at Nancy, moving to sit in the empty chair next to her.

***

a/n: I hope y’all liked it; in theory there’s more to come (like I said earlier it’s gonna be a slow burn so yeah lol). If you feel so inspired to reboot this post that would also be pretty dope and I’d be eternally grateful <3

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 17

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 3.9k

Warnings: plot heavy, a sprinkle of fluff , smut (?) , dark themes

Note: hi! sorry this one took so long i'm not even going to get into it, what's important is that it's finally here lol I'd say there's maybe 2 more chapters left of this story including the epilogue. i'm not too sure yet, but we are definitely nearing the end which is sort of bitter sweet.. but anyway, as always i hope you enjoy this one!

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character

“Here, this should do.” Hermione states in a hushed tone whilst dragging you behind a pillar to hide.

You stood behind her as she retrieved the cloak of invisibility from her bag, quickly draping it over the both of you.

Hermione pulls you even closer to remain as hidden as possible, so you instinctively wrap your arms around her torso.

You were allowed limited time to devise a plan as Snape summoned all students out of bed, all ordered to assemble in the Great Hall at once.

Harry made the impulsive decision to hide amongst the crowd of students so he may confront the Headmaster. The rest of you are forced to follow his lead, entirely improvising as you go.

Despite yourself, you do hope that Ron has managed to sneak out of the castle in time to fetch the other members of the Order. 

The Dark Lord and his followers are expected to march against Hogwarts any minute now, Harry needs all the help he can get.

-

Hogwarts always felt vaguely warm and comfortable to you, but now it is dense and inhospitable. You hardly recognised it anymore.

It is consistently hard to catch your breath, and you can't seem to ignore the uncomfortable chill running down your spine.

Hermione's presence being your only source of comfort, during a time that you otherwise found utterly debilitating. 

“Well, I don't know about you but this is quite nice. I really wouldn't mind staying like this with you, forever.” You attempt to lighten the mood as you further pressed your front against Hermione's back, earning a light chuckle in response.

“Honestly, I wouldn't mind either.” Hermione leans back slightly allowing you to place a quick kiss on her cheek before standing upright once more.

Your girlfriend keeps her eyes on the large group of students marching past, in anomalous unison. The sounds of their rhythmic footsteps echo through the halls. Not a single word is uttered amongst them. 

You can feel Hermione tense against your hold, as if she was trying to fight a similar feeling of deep and inescapable unease.

The final group of students enter through the doors, the large wooden panels shut with a large thud. 

Then, it is only silence, you can only hear the sound of your own breathing, the loud thumping of your raised heartbeat in your ears.

“Y/n..” Hermione's voice is a welcomed distraction from the unbearable quiet, it nearly makes you smile. 

“Yes, darling.” You respond, the other woman turns slightly so she may look at you as she speaks.

“I've been thinking..” Hermione starts. “It is no use that we find the other Hocruxes if we don't have the means to destroy it.”

Hermione's words make you pause. Truth be told, it hadn't even occurred to you until now. You had been so caught up in trying to locate the next object that you had entirely forgotten you no longer had the sword of Gryffindor in your possession.

“There's no chance we can take back the sword.. not now.” You think aloud, searching your mind for a solution. Hermione releases a groan at that, frustration and defeat. “I know.”

Then it occurs to you, a miraculous solution to your issue, or a shot in the dark, you were not yet certain.

“The Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets..” You trail off, now capturing Hermione's full attention. “What happened to it after Harry slayed it?” You ask, hoping your girlfriend will give you the answer you were looking for.

“Nothing, it's still there, left to decay in the Chamber.” Hermione replies, and a beat passes where nothing is said between you, but your girlfriend manages to catch up to your train of thought anyway.

“If we find a way to the chamber we can retrieve the Basilisk fang from the skeleton and destroy the Hocrux.” Your girlfriend voices the contents of your mind for you.

“With some luck.” You add.

Then, Hermione grins, a look of relief washes over her. Still underneath the cloak Hermione manages to turn around, she loops her arms around your neck, quickly guiding you in for a searing kiss, one that leaves your lips tingling even moments after she has pulled away. 

“You are brilliant.” Hermione utters, and this time it is your turn to smile.

“That's all you, my love.” You quip. Watching as Hermione makes a face in contentment before turning away from you once again.

Snape's voice can be faintly heard from where the two of you were standing, you tried to listen but Hermione's kiss ignited something within you. A sudden sense of serenity, now you are convinced that everything will turn out as you plan, as if you weren't currently in imminent danger.

As you held Hermione in your arms you allowed yourself to forget the threat of battle, if only for a few moments.

You can't hardly help the way your hand slips underneath her sweater, you feel her goosebumps forming underneath your touch as your palm grazes her bare stomach. 

This only works to urge you on as you carefully part her hair away from her neck, so you may plant gentle kisses against her warm flesh. Hermione's eyes flutter shut at the sensation, and you can hear her breath quickening. 

Although, you aren't allowed to carry on for long as she finally places her hand atop yours, removing it from underneath her top.

“Stop distracting me, I am trying to listen.” Hermione scolds, half-heartedly, her tone makes you smirk, a fire threatens to ignite, but you relent.

You could still only make out bits and pieces of what the Headmaster was saying, and nothing coherent. 

Soon deciding that you needed to get closer to the doors if you hoped to find out what was going on inside. You observed the lack of teachers roaming the halls, it appears you and Hermione were alone.

“Let's move closer.” You suggest, pulling the cloak off both of you so you may move freely.

“Alright.” Hermione agrees, clutching your hand as you advance forward together. 

Through the crack in the door, you are able to spot Snape, on the podium, addressing the students, the Carrows standing by either side of him.

“Punished in a matter consistent with the severity of their transgression.”

“Any person to have knowledge.. who fails to come forward, will be treated as equally guilty.”

You listened as the Headmaster continued hurling his veiled threats towards the group of blameless students. It makes your blood run cold and it appears Hermione felt as equally unsettled by Snape's words.

“Now then, If anyone here has any knowledge of Mr Potter's movements this evening. I invite them to step forward.. now.” Snape's words are met with complete silence, and your belly tightens with nauseating suspense.

The sound of sudden footsteps that echo from behind the two of you breaks the tantalizing quiet. It makes you whirl around in a panic, only for you to spot Ron next to his brother, Shacklebolt behind him and then the rest of the Order.

“What's going on?” Ron asks, looking between you and Hermione, and you merely hold your hand up to silence him as Hermione continues peeking through the crack.

The next thing that can be heard is a mass of gasps coming from the other side of the doors, students muttering amongst themselves. Before you can question it, the sound of Harry's voice validates your anxiety. 

You freeze, whereas Hermione merely steps forward, bracing her hand against the door, as if prepared to push it open, ready to come to Harry's defense.

“It seems, despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, you seem to have a bit of a security problem, Headmaster.” Harry's voice can be heard clearly as Hermione pushes the wooden doors open, you along with the rest of the Order follow her lead, now wands in hand, entering the hall as a group.

All eyes are now on you, more gasps in disbelief as you all stood behind Harry.

You then make the mistake of letting your eyes wander, it doesn't take long before you catch Pansy's gaze. Her stare, hardened and unforgiving enough to make you look away in an instant. You decide to focus your attention ahead.

Harry's harsh voice makes the walls in the hall vibrate.

“How dare you stand where he stood? Tell them how it happened that night, tell them how you look him in the eye, a man who trusted you and killed him.”

Harry continues to taunt the Headmaster, all he is granted with is silence, for a long moment, until Snape retrieves his wand.

He points it at Harry but before The Chosen One is allowed a chance to properly react, he is shoved out of the way, Professor McGonagall shielding him with her person.

It all happens quickly, the Professor flings spell after spell at the Headmaster, and everyone can merely observe with bated breaths as Snape deflected every blow.

The Headmaster lifts his wand to shield himself but this time the curse rebounds. As a result, the Carrows fall, unconscious.

Professor McGonagall steps closer but before she can attack once again, Snape is no longer upright as he quickly transfigures into a black mass, apparating out of the window behind him. The broken glass falls with a large crash.

A stunned silence before an eruption of cheers from the bystanders. Celebrating the Professor's triumph. 

Hermione glances at you with a similar look of relief, but the both of you recognize that it is fleeting.

Just as you expected, the moment of joy is over as quickly as it began. The mark on your arm, what was a dull ache turns into a searing pain, so sudden and paralyzing that it knocks you to the ground, still clutching your arm.

Hermione rushes to your side, but before she can attempt to question what was wrong Harry can also be seen collapsing onto the floor in front of you.

You catch a glimpse of Hermione's panicked expression, she turns to her best friend and then to you. Your girlfriend attempts to speak to you but you cannot hear her.

The pain in your arm has now spread, you shut your eyes tightly as you endured it. The hall grows dark once again, stagnant and cold. A spine chilling voice of the Dark Lord echoes through the air, easily distinguishable and unsettling. 

Soon there is a mass of screams coming from each corner of the room, students plugging their ears in terror.

Lord Voldermort aims to convey a message; a threat.

Hermione is holding you tightly against her own body, the pain in your arm is finally reduced to a dull ache once again.

“I know that many of you will want to fight, some of you may even think that to fight is wise, but this is folly.”

“Give me Harry Potter, do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded.”

“You have one hour.”

The Dark Lord's attempt to entice has merely immobilized everyone for a prolonged moment.

You finally get back on your feet, Hermione does not let go of you still. “Are you alright?” She manages to find the words and you only nod in response.

As you glanced around the room, you realized that once again, all eyes are on Harry. This time the stares are hostile, some uncertain, others, plain terror.

Pansy's voice is first to break the tense stillness. “What are you waiting for? Someone grab him.” She points to The Chosen One.

Ginny is first to step in front of Harry, followed by Ron, Hermione, yourself and the rest of the Order follow suit.

As Pansy catches your stare again she scoffs, this time your hardened expression mirrors her own.

“Mr Filch, if you would, I would like you to please escort Ms Parkinson and the rest of Slytherin house from the hall.” Professor McGonagall orders the caretaker of the castle. 

The man emerges from the crowd, his tired long haired cat in his arms. “Where exactly will I be leading them to, Maam?” He asks.

“The dungeons would do.” The Professor quickly states. This makes Hermione reach down to hold your hand once again, you respond by intertwining your fingers.

There was more sudden applause from the students as they celebrated Mr Filch leading the other Slytherins out of the hall.

As expected, you notice Pansy walking towards you, and you make the hasty decision to turn away so you could hopefully avoid her. However, you don't get the chance to try as she gets close enough to grab your collar harshly, then you react on instinct, getting a tight hold on her wrist.

“Fucking traitor.” She hisses, the sudden nature of the interaction makes you wince.

You open your mouth to speak but Hermione quickly steps in. “Let go of her, or I swear you will be leaving this hall with no hands.” There is enough vitriol in her voice to make anyone cower, but Pansy was not yet done, in fact she barely acknowledges your girlfriend at all. 

“If I had known you were with your muggle pet this entire time..” Pansy trails off, she shakes her head slightly, repulsed.

“You're an embarrassment. I can hardly believe I ever considered you a friend.” Pansy retorts.

The same Pansy you have known since first year. You can't help the pang in your chest, her words manage to graze you.

She grants you a scowl before storming off, Blaise follows immediately after her, having listened to the entire interaction. He bumps his own shoulder against yours before slipping past, purposefully setting you off balance. 

You held your tongue, reminding yourself to remain calm.

When you turn to Hermione once more the look plastered on her face makes you ache. She recognizes your hurt, and she can't help but feel it too. “Y/n–” She starts but you quickly interject with a change of topic.

“I have half a mind to carve this thing out of me.” You quip, only partly joking. The dark mark now stifled by your sleeve.

Your joke doesn't translate, in fact it only urges Hermione to worry about you more. “You will do no such thing.” She warns with furrowed brows as she reaches up to fix the collar of your shirt, badly creased from Pansy's fury.

Hermione's own wrath yet to dissipate, you feel it in the way her hand trembles. 

You smile faintly at her in gratitude, in an endless sea of chaos, she is your helm.

As the rest of the students begin clearing the hall, Harry rushes past as well, urging Ron, y/n and Hermione to follow. “Come on.” He exclaims without looking back.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Terror pollutes the air surrounding Hogwarts, contagious and unrelenting. It infects everyone, guiding and inspiring frantic behaviour. 

As all the Professors remain in the outer courtyard, securing the castle, students are left indoors to their own devices. Everyone is pushing, shoving. Coming and going. No one knows what to do, the only thing that's certain is that fear hangs over them a dark cloud enveloping all. 

“Harry, wait!” Hermione exclaims, trying to get her friend's attention but dark haired man barrels forward, Ron by his side.

Your finally manage to catch up to him, Hermione tugs on Harry's arm, forcefully urging him to look at her. 

“I've had an idea– well really it's Y/n's idea it's completely brilliant.” Hermione gestures towards you as she raises her voice slightly so she may be heard over the commotion.

Harry stares at you, inquisitive yet impatient so you decide speak quickly. “It doesn't matter if we find the Hocrux unless we can destroy it.” You say.

“You destroyed Tom Riddle's diary with the Basilisk fang, right?” You question rhetorically but Harry nods regardless.

“Well, Hermione and I think we know where we might find one.” You add vaguely, a precaution against prying ears.

“Okay, fine– but take this” Harry seems only half present in the conversation now, he is not even looking at you as he retrieves the Marauder's Map from his pocket.

You grab the bit of parchment, admittedly perplexed by his response. “That way you can find me when you get back.” Harry explains and you nod.

The Chosen One turns to continue up the stairs without looking back, Ron blindly trails after him, it seems asking Harry questions now will only slow them down.

“Where are you two going?” Hermione on the other hand cannot contain her curiosity.

“Ravenclaw Common Room. We've got to start somewhere.” He explains, practically shouting above the clamour.

As Ron and Harry dissapear into the crowd 

Hermione quickly intertwines your hand with her own, dragging you up the stairs in the opposite direction. “Come on, this way.”

–

The girl's lavatory remained vacant as you both made your way down the long winding slope, a pile of something soft breaks your harsh landing, in the darkness you are not able to make out what it might be.

The chamber was dark, every surface caked with dust, you can feel it in your lungs everytime you took a breath. No doubt the chambers has been left entirely untouched since the event all those years ago. 

Every step you took echoed towards the void, the faint noise of critters scampering on the walls was enough to unsettle you.

“Lumos.” Hermione says with her wand in hand, illuminating your path. It was only then you had the sense to do the same with your own.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You finally get to the entrance but only to realize it is locked, intricate stone carvings of serpents mounted proudly on the door; a warning. 

You inspect it carefully, but there is no visible keyhole any clues of how to unlock it.

Hermione bravely places her hands upon it, a feeble attempt to pry the heavy door open, but it is no use.

She sighs, exasperated.

“Any ideas?” Hermione looks to you, desperate.

You remained silent as you deliberated, your first instinct was to enter with force, throw a curse large enough to hopefully break apart the stone door atleast enough for the both of you to fit through.

That plan does not come without it's risks, you set it aside for now.

You begin considering other solutions, and naturally your mind involuntarily turns to the events surrounding the chamber of secrets all those years ago, your second year at Hogwarts. 

The perpetual anxiety that plagued you, and every other student in the castle. Everyday, the Basilisk claimed a new victim and for several weeks, you were only allowed to wonder who it might choose next.

You distinctly recall the way Draco reacted to it all, how he insisted on learning parseltongue so he could gain control of the beast. Feeding into the widespread fear that Harry was the true heir of Slytherin. That he would target him next if he did not learn how to defend himself.

Countless nights where your best friend would stay up memorizing phrases in parseltongue, certain that he would then gain the ability to control the beast if it ever came after him.

Whether he was driven by jealousy or plain and simple fear is unclear, but Draco's relentless efforts, as a result, forcefully imprinted the unfamiliar dialect into your vocabulary. 

Although, time certainly did it's duty, and now you are only able to recall certain words. 

You wonder if it will perhaps still be enough to possibly unlock the door to the chamber.

“I have an idea, but it might not work.” You reply, although entirely lacking confidence.

Hermione doesn't share your doubts, she nods assuredly eventhough she has no notion of what you intend to do. “Go on then.”

You speak the words ‘door’, ‘snake’, and ‘open’ in parseltongue. With your limited knowledge, you cannot hope to form a complete sentence, but luckily enough, the chamber unlocks. The heavy door opens, wide and eerily inviting.

Hermione stares at you wide-eyed in bewilderment. “How–” She tries but you only start forward towards the door.

“Long story– if we survive this I'll tell you all about it.” You quip as you made way for Hermione to step inside before you.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

As it seems your streak of luck has yet to wear off as you succeed in extracting the Basilisk fang. It was just as Hermione said, all flesh has rotted away, now what was left of the beast was only it's skeleton, set to fossilise with time.

The both of you stood unmoving, hovering over the Hufflepuff cup, readying yourselves for the next step. “You do it.” You extend your arm so Hermione may grab the fang but she quickly shakes her head in protest. 

“No, I can't.” She admits but your gaze doesn't falter, courteous and true, you grab her hand.

“Yes, you can.” You state, lightly forcing the fang into her grasp, and she remains hesitant but accepts it anyway.

“I'll be right here if anything happens.” You reassure with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Hermione moves to crouch next to the cup and you do the same, holding it in place.

Your girlfriend glances at you a last time for reassurance and you can only nod. As Hermione lifts her arm with the Basilisk fang in hand, you hold your breath.

In an instant she brings her arm straight down, the tip of the sharp tooth proved sturdy enough to pierce through the ancient relic. The Hufflepuff Cup begins spinning uncontrollably, as if trying to escape the cause of its injury.

Then, the room awakens, the body of water once still on either sides of the pathway you stood suddenly rises in anger. 

The water continues to twist and shape itself into a horrifying sight, the same vision of Voldermort that tormented you when you destroyed the locket.

You grab Hermione's hand, pulling her away from danger, but the being follows you until there was nowhere else to run, you fish out your wand from your pocket but before you can attempt anything, water crashes down onto the both of you. 

You are soaked and breathless, but the room was asleep once more. It is over.

Another Horcrux is destroyed, and air sharply fills your lungs. “You did it.” You state with true relief and Hermione doesn't respond, not with words. 

In one large stride she is directly infront if you, her lips against yours. The kiss shocks your entire system. Open-mouthed, and aguished. Her hand is firmly against the nape of your neck, Hermione melts within your embrace and you react all the same. Before you can protest or question further, your girlfriend pulls away. 

You stare at her, dazed and almost in a trance, consumed in everything and all Hermione. You nearly fail to notice the fact that she was removing her shoes, and then her jacket.

“What are you doing?” You remain staring at her, now with a hint of amusement, but mainly awe.

“We might die today.” Hermione states plainly, the nature of her words do not match her tone.

You observed as she removed her top, now leaving her in only her jeans and bra. She approaches you again, her hands slipping underneath your shirt, warm touch against damp skin makes you shiver in anticipation.

Then you feel her soft lips against the shell of your ear, and soon your jaw. “When I take my last breath I want to remember what it feels like to be with you.. all of you.” Hermione utters, her hands already moving to undo your belt.

[lady-pug]

The Ballad of Green Snakes and Honey Badgers

Chapter I - Wherever We Go, A Hundred Eyes Follow

Summary: Aemond seeks you out so you can go on your first study "date" together, but you have yet to speak to Oscar about what happened the previous night and the agreement you made. But as things go better than expected, you might just end up attracting more attention than you'd prefer

Pairing: Slytherin!Aemond Targaryen x Hufflepuff!Tully!Reader

Word count: 3,4k

Warnings: none

Notes: Oof, okay here we are, finally! I wanted to get this done sooner but got caught up in a lot of stuff and ended up writing quite slowly, BUT I did manage to get it out before the year ended so that is that.

I’m quite excited for this story, and have quite a bunch of ideas for where I’m going with this. The only thing I think is worth adding in terms of additional context for this chapter is that I decided to keep the fact that the Targaryens are dragonlords and can ride dragons. But because of that I cannot add any dragons to the Tournament Tasks, as it would be seen as unfair and possibly count as an advantage to Aemond.

Anyway, as always, if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I’ll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, happy holidays, and I’ll see you all next year! Enjoy!

Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

You were fucked. There was no sugarcoating it. You were absolutely fucked.

After Aemond had left the library, leaving you behind to pick your jaw off the floor, you headed straight to the Hufflepuff common room. You were determined to tell Oscar everything that had happened down to a T, but you took one look at him, staring at you with that sweet and hopeful gaze and immediately chickened out, opting to quickly retreat to the girls dorm where he couldn’t reach you.

And now as you headed for breakfast you knew you should have told him. You had agreed to breakfast with Aemond, which meant he would come find you and Oscar would find out you had agreed to Aemond’s stupid plan when you had promised him you wouldn’t. Perhaps it would be easier to search for Aemond directly at the Slytherin table, that way you could stave off the inevitable conversation you would need to have with your brother. 

But he was nowhere to be found. Not at the Slytherin table, nor those of the other houses. Not even near the professor’s table where he would sometimes walk up to in order to strike up conversation with one professor or another (what they talked about was beyond you, no matter how curious it made you). He was absolutely nowhere to be seen, throwing a wrench in your plans to intercept him before he could find you.

Resigned, you walked slowly to the Gryffindor table where Davos and your brothers were already seated. Considering that both Cregan and Alysanne were also seated at their house’s table, quite a few seats down from the three boys, you suspected Kermit and Davos had chosen to seat there for your sake, to simultaneously keep the couple out of your sight and avoid a situation like the night before but also not to force you to stay within close proximity of them. You were thankful really, while Cregan was not the first thing on your mind at the moment it still stung to see them being happy together.

“Hey!” Kermit greeted you, his mouth full of sausage “How are you on this fine morning?”

You knew he was trying to divert your attention from some people, and while it wasn’t entirely working, you were grateful for his attempt, for him. For all of them.

“Eh,” you shrugged trying to appear nonchalant while taking a seat across from him and Kermit “could be better.”

Oscar waited until you were comfortable next to him and had already filled up your plate before leaning ever closer to you.

“So, how was it?” he spoke, his voice low.

“How was what?”

Oscar scoffed, a deadpan stare thrown your way.

“You know, the whole thing with Targaryen?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, fear gripping at it as you pondered your answer. Oscar was going to be so disappointed when he found out. God, you didn’t want to lose the respect of one of the few people who you had left. You sighed, deciding it was better to tell him now than let him figure it out on his own later.

“Uhm, actually-” you started, but it seemed the universe had other plans.

“Lads,” Aemond’s voice cut you off, your name rolling smoothly off his tongue before pointing to the spot on the bench next to you “is this seat taken?”

He didn’t even wait for an answer, already sliding in next to you way closer than necessary as the boys stared at him flabbergasted, their jaws dropping. Oscar was the only one who got over his surprise quickly, his eyes narrowing in your direction in a way you could practically see the cogs turning in his mind.

“Targaryen.” Kermit greeted coldly “You seem a bit lost, the snakes’ table is over there.” 

“Tully,” Aemond answered in kind, although his tone carried less venom in comparison “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“And what could you possibly want here?” Davos chimed in.

Through their whole exchange you couldn’t properly focus, the feeling of Aemond sitting way too close to you pulling your attention away from the conversation at hand. His leg was flush with yours on the bench, the entire length of his thigh pressed against yours and his shoulder bumping into your own pulling your whole focus towards him.

“We are heading to Professor Orwyle’s class then we are going to study together.” your attention was pulled back into focus as Aemond said your name.

“You two? Study together?” Oscar was still more skeptical than Kermit and Davos.

“Yes,” the Slytheirn boy shrugged, nonchalantly, and for a moment you feared he was going to reveal your whole ruse but he surprised you even further “I promised to help her with her History of Magic studies and, in turn, she’ll help me brainstorm ideas for the first task of the Tournament.” 

Oscar seemed unconvinced but let it slide in favor of eating his breakfast in peace, but one glare from him in your direction let you know that you had a lot of explaining to do later on. Your twin and your cousin seemed to get distracted by the mention of the Triwizard Tournament, starting to animatedly argue about past editions (or, in Kermit’s case, sulk, as he had applied for the Tournament and eventually lost the role of Hogwarts’ champion to Aemond, something he was still somewhat resentful about).

You tried going back to your breakfast, hell bent on not attracting any more attention back to yourself and your current incredibly awkward situation, but that quickly went out the window when Aemond leaned even closer to you, his breath fanning your ear.

“It seems Stark and his new girl are staring.” he whispered, and you could tell from his voice alone that his lips were turned up in a smirk.

And true to his word, both Cregan and Alysanne were staring at your little group, more specifically you and Aemond. Alysanne seemed a little weirded out by the whole exchange, but ultimately shrugged, going back to her cuppa. Cregan on the other hand looked positively bothered by the sight, his eyes narrowing even further as Aemond cheekily bumped his shoulder against yours, as if he had simply whispered a funny joke to you.

As much as you loathed to admit, and even though it went completely against what you had told Aemond last night, a bittersweet satisfaction started growing in your chest at the reaction you elicited from your ex-boyfriend. While you didn’t wish to make him jealous, you truly wanted nothing to do with the guy anymore, you didn’t mind shoving in his face that you had already moved on from him, that his actions didn’t bother you at all (even though in reality they did). 

“I would say our little… plan is already working, don’t you agree?” Aemond continued whispering, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You hummed in agreement, finishing the rest of your breakfast in silence. You’d occasionally see Oscar glancing at you quizzically from the corner of your eye but he didn’t say anything else. You felt awful hiding things from him, but what could you do? Come clean to your brothers and cousin and just hope the rest of the Gryffindor table simply didn’t hear a thing? No, the less people knew your little stunt with Aemond was a ruse the better. You’d tell him later that night.

After you were both done eating, Aemond pulled you up and out of the Great Hall, regardless if your brother Kermit, who was usually your partner for Potions class, wasn’t finished yet.   

“I’m sure he can partner up with Bracken for today’s class, can’t you Tully?” he asked, knowing full well your brother truly disliked Aeron on behalf of Davos.

You felt eyes on you all the way down to the dungeons; people from every house were staring at the two of you, the way Aemond’s palm rested on you just shy of the small of your back, pushing, no, guiding you forward. If this was an indicative of a pattern that would remain present the rest of your time together, you just knew it was going to be a long day.

It was, indeed, a long day. 

During Professor Orwyle’s class the hairs on the back of your neck refused to go back to their usual position, a prickling sensation on the back of your mind telling you everyone was staring at you. And it wasn’t just your self-consciousness making things up in your head: more than once you caught another student glancing your way, quickly averting their gaze once they realized they’d been caught. The only one who was brave enough to keep on staring even after being noticed was Maris Baratheon, and by the glint in her eye you simply knew it couldn’t mean anything good. 

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that being in the spotlight brought you. And Aemond? He didn’t seem to give a flying fuck.

“Stop fidgeting,” he said, completely unbothered as he led you through the hallways towards the library. The walk had been made even longer than usual for he had to take a detour to grab something from the Slytherin common room, giving other students ample opportunity to continue their scrutiny.

“Everyone is looking at us.” you spoke, voice lowered to try not to attract more attention to yourself.

“No, they aren’t.” he said, walking between rows of bookshelves and collecting an assortment of different books.

“Yes, they are!” you said in an exasperated whisper, trying to keep your voice down in order to not attract any attention from Professor Strong, the librarian (though rumor has it his true ambition was taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class over his brother).

“Then just don’t mind them.” he shrugged, turning around towards you and placing the ever growing pile of books on your arms with a sigh “Look, let them stare. The more people see us together, the more believable it becomes. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

No, that’s what you wanted! you thought, but given your feelings towards Cregan’s reaction this morning you knew he was right.

“Now stop worrying and go find us a table, I’ll be there in a second.” he was off before you could question him further, leaving you to carry the books to the nearest table.

Aemond returned quickly enough, carrying yet another book with him. This one though was unlike any you had ever seen before, its hardcover weathered, either from old age or from excessive use you couldn’t tell.

“What is that?” you nodded towards his hands.

He placed the tome on the table as he sat down in front of you, staring at you quizzically.

“A book?” 

“I’m not stupid, dragonbrain, I know it’s a book!” you snapped at him, offended “I just meant which book.”

He hummed, amused at your snippiness, and pushed the book towards you.

‘Secrets Of The Dark Arts And How To Spot Them, by Archmaester Gyldayn.’ the cover read, and something dawned on you.

“This is from the Restricted Section.” you stated, to which he hummed in agreement, not bothering with a verbal response “How did you even get this?”

Aemond stared at you then, really stared at you, his one good eye settling on your face with such an intensity you had to look away. Something in the way he looked at you intimidated you now, whereas in the past, before, you felt safe under his gaze. Seen.

“I asked Mister Strong to open the Restricted Section for me.” he said casually, breaking his intense stare to flip over the pages of one of the other books he had selected.

“And he did? Just like that?”

His lips curled in the tiniest of smirks, but something about it felt… wrong. Bitter almost.

“The perks of dating his much younger step-sister I guess.” 

Ah. 

That made sense. You always suspected Alys Rivers was related to Professors Harwin and Larys Strong, but could never make the connection. 

“Okay,” he stopped flipping the book, seemingly having found the page he was looking for. You weren’t going to probe any further, but if you had any intentions to, this was his way of signaling the previous conversation was over “We’ll start from the beginning.”

Glancing at the open book he turned towards you, you caught a glimpse of a familiar painting, three white-haired siblings atop their dragons with their wands raised.

“The Conquest?” you questioned, pulling the book from his hands “That’s First Year material.” 

“I know, but it’ll be easier to catch up on the more recent content if you have a stronger base.” he explained, and although all he was saying made sense, it still vexed you somewhat.

“But I already know all of this!” you whined, immediately regretting it, for it made you feel childish. Once upon a time you had been sure he wouldn’t judge you for such a thing, but now? You barely knew him anymore.

“I know for a fact you doze off in almost all of Professor Mello’s classes.” he replied, smugly. 

Something weird, a feeling you couldn’t quite place, stirred in your chest at the thought of him noticing you in class, but you quickly brushed it off.

“I didn’t pick this up from Mello’s class.” you countered, and his face fell for a moment.

Your summers leading up to your First Year were more often than not spent in the Targaryen’s household. At the time you were quite close with two of the white-haired siblings, Aegon considering himself too old for your childish antics and Daeron too young to join in yet. At the time you’d even go as far as to call Aemond your best friend, before Helaena inevitably took the title after… everything. Back then, he’d spend his days showing you paintings and illustrations of his ancestors, of Aegon I and his sister-wifes arriving from Old Valyria and founding Westeros as it was known today. Although the Targaryen family lost a lot of their former glory (even though they remained quite influential still), it was clear Aemond was proud of his roots, a glint in his eye whenever he mentioned most people from his bloodline.

He grew silent, as he couldn’t deny what you were saying. You wondered if you were wrong to bring this up, for you felt incredibly unprepared to open this specific can of worms right now, but it seemed the feeling was mutual, as he grabbed the book from your hands and propped it up on the table, the pages facing him so you wouldn’t peek.

“Alright then. If you say you already know all of this,” he smirked once more, and you started rethinking your choices leading up to this moment “how about a pop quiz?”

It wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. You managed to get through the whole of The Conquest without fumbling, all the way to when Aegon defeated the dark wizard Harren the Black in his castle, Harrenhal (which some believe was demolished, and Hogwarts was built on top of its ruins). After that point, though, the details started getting a little confusing, your mind jumbling dates and locations into an incomprehensible mess inside your head. Aemond then promised to help you study from then on out, little by little, three times a week.

“We have till the end of the year to turn you into a History of Magic expert,” he had said.

“Till Christmas, you mean.” you pointed out, remembering your previous agreement, to which he shrugged, humming a ‘whatever you say’ under his breath.

You started collecting your things, but paused when he didn’t follow suit, only picking up another book from the pile. Herbology.

“That’s certainly… an interesting selection.” you commented, only now noticing the different subjects all the books covered.

“I have some research to do.” he said, not taking his eyes off the page.

Something he had said earlier came to the front of your mind.

“She’ll help me brainstorm ideas for the first task of the tournament.” 

“Is it about the first task?” you questioned, genuinely curious.

He hummed in agreement.

“Do you have any idea what it will be about?”

He shook his head with a sigh, finally looking up at you.

“I do have a hunch, but it’s fickle. A hypothesis really.”

“Do you need any help ‘brainstorming ideas’?” you quoted him.

He chuckled, amused. 

“Next time perhaps. You did well today, you deserve your rest.” your cheeks felt warm under the praise, and you had to look away from him for a moment “But I will be taking you up on that offer. If I remember correctly, you used to be quite good at solving puzzles.”

It was strange, really, how much he still knew about you even after so long without speaking to one another. You’d have to get used to it again.

After saying your goodbyes you headed back to the Hufflepuff common room, a light feeling in your chest. The ‘study date’ had gone well, not at all as bad as you had predicted it would be, unashamed stares from other students aside. But then a cold, bitter guilt replaced that nice feeling, damping your mood slightly.

You had to tell Oscar. He deserved to know.

Feeling determined, then, you entered the common room, resolute in looking for your brother. But, (un)fortunately, you didn’t have to look very far, for you found him sitting in one of the couches facing the entrance of the common room, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

“How was your study date with Aemond Targareyn?” he questioned, his voice hard.

Panicking, you gripped his upper arm, not minding his yelps of pain as you pulled him to a distant corner, away from the other students.

“It wasn’t a date.” you hissed.

“No?” his voice held a hint of sarcasm “Because Kermit said you two were awfully close in class-” 

“It wasn’t a real study date.” you interrupted him, keeping your voice down and mentioning for him to do the same.

“How so?” he still seemed mad, but at least now he was whispering as well “You just pretended to study?”

“No, the studying part was real.” you averted your eyes from him, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment “It was the date part that was fake.”

“Again, how so?”

Time to come clean.

“Yesterday Aemond asked me to…” it sounded stupid now that you said it outloud “pretend we’re going out together. And it will culminate in me being his date to the Yule Ball.”

“What?!” he squeaked, and you shushed him, worried about people overhearing your conversation “So he wants you to be his pretend girlfriend?” 

“Something like that, yeah.”

“And you agreed?!” 

“I panicked, alright?!” you already felt stupid enough about your decisions without him scolding you like a child.

“What does he even get out of this?” he asked, exasperated “And what about Alys Rivers?”

“His admirers backing off, I think. And apparently they broke up over summer.” his jaw dropped “I know, surprised me too.”

His face softened a fraction, finally getting over the shock.

“And what’s in it for you?” his tone dripped concern, and you felt your heart clenching with love for your younger brother.

“I-I’m not sure, exactly. To show Cregan I’m no longer hung up on him? To prove to people I’m not pathetic?”

“You are not pathetic.”

“Sometimes feels like I am.” you shrinked into yourself a bit “You know how much it hurt.”

Oh, he knew. He was the one who found you after you had read Cregan’s letter, curled into a ball on your bed, clutching the roll of parchment to your chest as tears steadily ran down your cheeks. 

“I know.” he placed a gentle hand on your arm “But do you think this is a good idea? This is Aemond Targaryen we’re talking about.”

You smiled at his worried face, ruffling his hair.

“I can look after myself, you know.” you grinned at the grimace that covered his face as he tried to fix the mess that you had made of his locks “It wasn’t all that bad today. And besides, it’s only until Christmas.”

He still seemed hesitant, but slowly nodded.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful with him.”

Your grin softened, pulling him in for a comforting hug.

“I promise.”

He squeezed you back and you knew everything would turn out okay in the end. You just had to endure it until Christmas. 

Right?

Tag List:

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@bey0nd-1he-stars

[jpitha]

Call on Me

Everyone has a "meeting the Humans for the first time" story.

Everyone.

I don't know what it is about them, but they are memorable. They have this... ability to be so odd and yet so intriguing. I think it must have something to do with that planet they come from. I've seen it, but you'll never catch me down on its surface. Even if I could breathe their atmosphere, I'd worry my stuff would just burst into flame. I know it's stilly, but I'd still worry.

My Human story?? Mine is years old at this point, but it still sticks in my memories.

I was working in - I guess the humans would call it Border Patrol - a few years ago in a star system. It wasn't my home system, I just worked here. It was a pretty boring job. Ships would Flash or Flip in, we'd scan them, ask for their destination, they'd pay us their tariffs if they needed to, and they'd be on their way. Sometimes people would attempt to smuggle contraband in, though most of the time that didn't happen.

I can neither confirm nor deny that once or twice we accepted a little "bonus" to be somewhat... lax in our contraband scans. But, you know how it is. Everyone has bills to pay.

Anyway, This one time, we received report that a ship had Flipped in. By now, other members of the Coalition had bought the human made Flip drives, so it wasn't guaranteed that a ship that Flipped was human, but it was still more likely than not. As we completed our initial scan, we were able to verify it was indeed a Human ship, a freighter that was named Honeysuckle.

This ship was odd though. Most of the time when a ship would Flip or Flash in, we'd ping them, they'd reply and we'd scan. Then. if we needed to, we'd intercept.

This ship was completely silent.

No lights, no engines, no comms. We hit them with everything we could think of - even the emergency frequencies - and there was nothing. We called the main station in-system for advice, and they said for us to come up along side and if able, to board, and see what was wrong.

We approached, slowly and carefully; we knew all about how Human ships are well armed and... are quick to defend themselves. The whole time we approached, we were signaling on all frequencies asking if they needed help. Once we were close, we even tried flashing our maneuvering jets to see if they had a complete communications failure.

Nothing.

We circled around the ship once or twice, searching for damage and found nothing. This close we were able to do some deep scanning, and our ship reported that there were many life signs onboard, and that most of them were concentrated in a large hold towards the middle. The command deck and living spaces were empty. Almost as an afterthought, the ship reported that Honeysuckle was vibrating slightly.

I looked up from the report at the camera the ship AI uses. "What does that mean?"

"Unknown. Their reactor does not seem to be operating in overload, though it is currently outputting a high amount of energy."

I stared out at the image of the ship, floating in the midnight blue, wondering.

I clacked my wing covers together once, a gesture of resignation. "We've been ordered to board. Do you see any reason why we shouldn't?"

"We will have to connect directly. We do not have suits with maneuvering jets, and we do not have a docking umbilical. The humans have a Coalition standard airlock though, we are able to connect."

My antenna twitched. "Very well. Proceed to connect directly. I will lead the party onboard the ship."

A short while later, me and two others suited up and went to our airlock. We were just wearing regular suits; we didn't have any armored suits, and we carried no weapons. Remember, we were glorified inspectors. I watched out the small airlock window as the human ship grew closer. With a puff of reaction gas and a heavy thunk we were attached.

Immediately, we noticed the sound.

The human ship wasn't just vibrating, it was playing music. In the vacuum of space, we couldn't hear anything, but as soon as our ship made physical contact with theirs, the vibrations transferred to us, and our ship at once began to play a strange repetitive song. We hadn't turned on our translators, so we couldn't understand it, but it had a strong, regular beat and lots of repeating phrases. I looked at my colleagues and they gestured confusion.

"Ship, what's going on?"

"Unknown. Honeysuckle's vibrations are apparently in the form of a song."

"Is it on purpose?"

"Unknown."

"Is it safe?"

"...Unknown."

I buzzed my wings - like a sigh - and sealed my suit. I couldn't breath their atmosphere anyway, and I had a... feeling that something was wrong.

Our airlock cycled normally, but theirs would not obey our commands to open. However, being humans, theirs did have manual override levers and wheels, so after a few minutes of struggle, we were able to open theirs. Our ship took on the puff of their breathing gasses and safely vented them to space.

We stepped into their ship and before we could close the airlock from the inside, we started to hear the music louder. I snapped my translator on, and the song was translated.

Call on meeeeeeeeee/ Call on me Call on meeeeeeeeee/ Call on me Call on meeeeeeeeee/ Call on me

I listened for a few seconds, but that seemed to be it. I closed the airlock and opened the internal door.

The music was deafening.

Even through our suits, it was loud enough to make my wings vibrate. I can't imagine how loud it was in the ship with all their thick air.

Everything on board was vibrating.

We did a quick tour of the small ship and found nobody. We confirmed from the scans that the Command Deck was empty, the living quarters were empty, seemingly the whole ship was empty.

Finally, we made it down to the cargo hold that our ship had said was the location for everyone. It felt impossible, but the music here was even louder.

I looked back at my colleagues, and they were clearly frightened. This whole thing seemed so unusual and odd and neither of them had met humans before. I'll be honest, I was terrified. I only knew the stories.

Humans were incredible warriors.

Humans were banned from fully a dozen stations.

Human weapons would reduce most Coalition species to a pile of viscera.

Humans could take over the whole galaxy, but found that boring, so they didn't.

Humans make friends with anything.

Humans will take incredible risks, especially if it means helping one of their friends.

I had figured that half of the rumors were fakes put out by the humans, and half were fakes put out by their enemies. Which were which though, I had no idea.

I pressed the toggle to open the door.

My senses were assaulted. It's the only way I can describe it. Besides the music, there were flashing lights, some kind of vapor in the room and the people.

So many people.

More than I had ever thought would be on a ship this size were in the room.

All dancing.

They seemed to be completely lost in the music. I've never seen anything like it before or since. The three of us stood in the doorway, completely in shock.

Everyone danced around us, oblivious. I keyed my external speaker, and said "Hello?" but I don't think anyone heard me. I dialed the volume louder.

"Hello?"

Finally, one of the humans heard that and turned to me, and was so startled they screamed and jumped back. This startled us and we jumped back as well. The scream caused everything to come to a halt. The music stopped, the lights came up, and a voice called out over a speaker system, "It everyone all right? What's wrong?"

I stepped forward, their small binocular eyes pointing directly at me. "Um. Welcome to Coalition System 4589. You didn't respond to any hails or scans, so we were dispatched to check on you. Is..." I looked around again to the dozens of humans staring at me, most of them damp from their odd active cooling system. "Is everyone all right?"

A tall human with closely cropped hair seemingly materialized next to me. Even covered in their... cooling fluid, with her hair damp, she had an air of authority to her. "I'm Captain Lina Franklin. Everything is fine here, it's just-" She turned to look at the crew and turned back to me. "-It's 'Dance Party Wednesday'."

Even through the clear bubble of my suit, I must have made quite the expression. She was familiar enough with our body language - or her ship told her - and she seemed to fall over herself to explain things.

"We have some themed days in the week to help relieve boredom. We do the Dance Party once a month, and the last two times, we had to postpone it because of engine issues, or problems with the ship. This was our first one we were able to do and we must have... gotten carried away. We're fine, thanks for checking in on us. We'll get cleaned up and signal the Coalition Station our destination and purpose."

The spell broken, everyone started to shuffle towards us and make their way back to their stations. The lights in the room were bright and sterile, and the vapor slowly dissipated. Soon the only evidence of what was going on were the lights in the ceiling, now dark, and a rather large speaker system in one corner.

I turned to the captain. "Sorry for interrupting your celebration."

She smiled with her mouth closed. "It's all right. We'll get cleaned up and get on our way." She stopped at looked at the three of us. "It's too bad, really."

"What is?"

"That there are so few Coalition sapient species that breathe the same atmosphere as us. People rarely get to see what we're like. When we're on Coalition stations, we're always in our suits. You got to see us as we are."

We said our goodbyes, and headed back to our ship. As we disconnected, their ship came back to life, and they took off towards their destination, and I sat in my chair, wondering if I really was missing out by not being able to know the humans better.

[jeankluv]

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 18

summary: While everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as " hate " was a strong word, rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths. Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you.

tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

warning for this chapter: +18 nsfw content, p in v, ridding

notes: it’s been a while since I posted this fic, but I was on vacation and right now, I’m stuck writing chapter 19, like I already have Birdie planned out but chapter 19 is like stuck there and I don’t know when I will be posting the next chapter, I hope that in two weeks time. So let’s pray

Sorry if there are any mistakes or typos, this was published unedited

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist | ao3

You clung to the blanket that Satoru had given you after changing into one of his shirts, no matter how hard you tried you were unable to stop shivering.

But your pulse and breathing were agitated after the encounter with Naoya. You clenched your fists and cursed yourself for letting it get to you so much.

“Here you have.” Satoru entered the room with a cup of chocolate in his hands. 

You smiled and grabbed it, feeling the smell of chocolate and the warmth of the cup. “Thank you ‘Toru.”

He sat down next to you on the bed and put an arm around your shoulder, while gently caressing your arm. “Do you want to talk now about what happened?”

You took a deep breath, feeling Satoru's presence and comfort with you, and you began to tell the story of what happened.

2 hours earlier 

You took the wine Utahime gave you and drank it. The taste of the wine went down your throat and you felt a sweet taste run through your mouth. Your lips became slightly sticky and you ran your tongue over them. Utahime was drinking her wine and your eyes drifted to search for Satoru’s figure, hoping he would come soon.

You didn’t mind spending time with Utahime, but your heart ached thinking Satoru needed to face his parents on his own once again. You wanted to stand beside him.

“He will be here soon.” Utahime smiled. 

“Yeah�� I just.” You sighed. “I wanted to be with him.” 

“I get it.” She nodded. “But now, relax and try this one.” She gave you another glass.

“Utahime.” You cried. “I think it is too much.” 

“It is not.” She smiled. “Take a sip, it’s really good.” She said drinking it. 

You did as she told and in fact it was good, it tasted really expensive. “It’s really good.” 

“Yeah right?” She grinned.

“Oh, there is no way.” A voice spoke and your eyes slowly opened.

Your hands started to sweat and your breathing started to be irregular.

“Ugh Naoya.” Utahime spoke. “What do you want? Go to another place and bother someone else.” 

Naoya laughed and the laughter, which was familiar to your discomfort, stabbed you like knives. “I’m here to say hi to my old worker.” You saw how a smiled crossed his face.

Utahime turned to look at you. “You know him?” 

“Yes…”

“Doll…” He walked towards you. “Last time we met your friends were pretty rude, but I know Utahime won’t do shit, so why don’t we speak?” 

Utahime ground her teeth and positioned herself next to you. “I don't know what the fuck you want, Naoya. But get out of here.”

“I just want to talk.” He said smirking. “Did you come as Utahime’s plus one?” He questioned. “That seems unlikely… oh.” He gasped. “Don’t tell me you came with the Gojo kid?” 

You frowned. “That doesn't matter to you.”

He laughed. “So yeah…” He scratched his chin. “Did you just jump on him like the bitch you are?”

You could feel the gazes of those present rest on you. Your breathing began to accelerate and unlike in class, where you had behaved calmly and had ignored what they said about you, you couldn't there. You felt enormous helplessness.

“Gojo probably needed somewhere warm to stick his…”

“Naoya! Shut up!” Utahime shouted out. 

Utahime's voice only caused the stares to grow and your nervousness to increase. You had wanted to go unnoticed, to go there to support Satoru, but now…

“What? It’s the truth… Rumors say that he likes to sleep around.” He smirked. ““He probably saw it as easy to get under the dress of a poor thing like her.” She took one of the glasses from her and took a sip. “Who would want to date a woman like her? Two jobs, scholarship, living in a one-room apartment, abandoned by her father, dead mother.”

“You stupid piece of…!” Utahime tried to slap him but you held her hand.

“Utahime… no.” 

You didn't want to cause any more fuss, you didn't want it to escalate any further. You squeezed Utahime's hand tightly, feeling like tears had begun to fall.

Why?

Why are you crying?

You weren’t the type to cry, you could hold yourself pretty well but right there, you were feeling every emotion possible. You were ashamed of what Naoya was saying, ashamed because everyone was looking and hearing those words. You didn’t want Satoru to have bigger burdens, he already had enough dealing with his family matters, you didn’t want now for him to be pointed out for dating someone like you. 

Without realizing, you started to shake, as if you were out in the cold of a winter night. Utahime quickly noticed it and stood next to you, trying to calm you. 

“Naoya you better leave or I will make sure they kick you out of here.” Utahime said loudly. 

Time began to distort around you and when your mind reconnected you felt a familiar warmth next to you, a relaxing caress and safe eyes.

Present time

“That’s it…” You whispered, waiting for Satoru to say something or do anything, but his silence was killing you. “I’m so sorry…”

“Why are you saying that?” Then he spoke with a harsher tone than the one he usually used, one that made you feel intimidated.

“I… I caused a fuss.” 

He moved in the bed and positioned himself in front of you. “Listen.” He said your name while holding your hands. “You didn’t cause a fuss, Naoya and Naoya alone did it, okay?” You looked at him. “Please love, tell me you understand.” He raised his hand to your cheek. 

Your stomach turned as you heard that word from his lips again, “love”. The way he had said it, on both occasions, made you lose all sense of the world and make you feel dizzy. God, you loved that man and you didn't want to let him go, you didn't want to lose him for anything in the world.

Satoru's eyes widened, panic showing in them. "What happened? Why are you crying?" He said, wiping away the tears that had wet your cheeks.

“I love you.” You said and you noticed Satoru’s surprise look on his face. “I love you ‘Toru and I am so afraid… I am afraid of losing what it’s starting, I don’t want to lose you, lose us.” You hugged him. “I was so afraid, because I don’t know your world and… everyone was looking and I thought… what if his family finds out about who I am about my family.” 

You stopped talking, to hug him even more, if that was even possible. “And I felt so small, so vulnerable. I didn’t want to cause a scene, I didn’t want to be a burden to you.”

Satoru broke the hug and cradled your face, he kissed your tears. "Don't say that." He told you in a whisper. “You would never be a burden to me.” He emphasized the words “never” and then placed a soft kiss on your lips. "I love you." He whispered. 

Satoru wrapped his arms around you while caressing your back and kissing your head, it felt good, very good. You would like to stay that way forever, to feel his warmth, his love, for all of it to invade you.

“You wanna take a bath?” He whispered.

“With bubbles?” You looked at him. 

Satoru chuckled and smiled. “If you want it that way, I will do it.”

“Thank you…” You kissed his lips. 

“Anything for you my love.” He kissed you. 

The cold caught you as soon as Satoru left you, even though you were wrapped in a blanket you felt his absence. You watched from the bed as Satoru prepared the bathroom, he was still wearing his suit pants and his white shirt. He looked so good. 

“I can feel you staring.” Satoru looked at you from over the shoulder. 

“I was just thinking that my boyfriend looks so good right now.” You said.

“Well my girlfriend looks better, she was stunning tonight, a real queen, a goddess.” He walked up to the bed and placed his arms on either side of your head. “The bath is ready…” He whispered against your lips.

 “Will you bathe with me?” You asked him. “I want to do it like in the movies, to cuddle and relax.”

“Of course.” 

You stood up from the bed and took off your clothes, you didn’t mind anymore. Satoru did the same, although you weren't embarrassed to strip naked in front of him because he had already seen and touched every part of you, it was still hard not to feel nervous when you looked at him. Turning your head, you walked to the bathtub and got into it, so that a few seconds later Satoru got in with you behind you.

He leaned down and his lips gently brushed against your shoulder before he began to rub your back. The touch was tender but deliberate, each stroke of the sponge carrying a silent intimacy that seemed to envelop you both. In the tranquility of that moment, the closeness between the two of you felt palpable, as if the outside world had become insignificant, as if it had been erased and only you and Satoru existed. You could feel the warmth of him against your skin, his soft breath against your neck.

You wanted that moment of intimacy to last forever. To keep it in your mind and in your soul. 

“Babe you are going to fall asleep.”

A new nickname, how many did he have to keep calling you? But now you didn't care, you liked them, every one of them from birdie to my love, all of them.

“It’s just… it feels so good.” You closed your eyes, letting everything invade you.

“I’m so glad…” He whispered against your skin. 

You could feel his hot breath against your wet skin, how your skin bristled under that warm breath. Satoru placed wet kisses on your shoulder, while he continued soaping your body, treating you like you were royalty, a queen.

“Okay… I think it is time for you to rest.” He moved behind you and got off the bath. 

“But…” You pouted.

“No buts.” He kissed your cheeks. “Let’s get ourselves dry and sleep okay?” 

That night you gave yourself completely, letting yourself be cared for and loved without reservation. Every word Satoru whispered and every soft touch of his fingers left a lasting imprint on your skin, etching itself into your heart and soul. 

The warmth of his body wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. It was an eerily familiar sensation, evoking memories of home, peace, and a deep sense of security.

The dream welcomed you like an old friend and in the arms of the one who had captivated your heart you managed to rest and let all worries go away.

When the first light of day began to filter through the large window of Satoru's room, your eyes stung, that light was annoying, you wanted to continue sleeping, dreaming of dreams that you would later forget. But as you turned to circle Satoru's torso, you found the cold sheets next to you. Your eyes snapped open and you looked around the room. But it was completely empty, there was no sign of him.

You got out of bed and walked to the kitchen in search of your white haired boy. A smile appeared on your lips when you saw him sitting in one of the seats on the island. He was wearing gray sweatpants, his torso was exposed and his hair was a mess.

With a slow step, trying not to let Satoru hear you, you approached him. When you were close enough to him, you wrapped your arms around him and let out a “bo!” causing him to get scared.

You smiled at him. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning.” He kissed you. “Did you sleep well?” 

“So good…” You closed your eyes, enjoying his hug. “You look good this morning.” You said looking at him.

“I know…” You rolled your eyes with a smile drawn on your face. “You liked this morning view princess?”

You bite your lip and nodded. “A lot.” 

You knocked your kiss together, feeling how this one was deeper and hotter than the one you just shared. 

Satoru ran his hands under your thighs and sat you down on the kitchen island, causing a small moan to escape your lips as the cold marble collided with your skin. He placed himself between your legs and began to draw drawings on your legs, while the kiss you shared was filled with passion and heat.

His hand began to go up until it got under the hem of the borrowed t-shirt that you had taken from him last night and his fingertips, hot like a burning fire, traced your abdomen, causing a soft but lustful sigh to escape from your lips.

“‘Toru…” You gasped as his hand started to go up on your body.

“What love don't you like it?” You saw his smirk, his blue eyes now dark with the desire that had settled in them.

Your head snapped back when you felt his fingers pinch your nipple. “Oh…”

Satoru grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, making you stick with your legs on either side of his body. Your body was beginning to burn under his touch, feeling how his hands began to explore your body.

“I love how good you look with this t-shirt on, but I need you without it.” He whispered against your ear, his soft, hot breath hitting you.

“Take it off…” You said under your breath.

Satoru clacked and he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up, taking it off and throwing it away. The difference in temperature between the environment and your body, which was almost on fire, was evident, and a chill ran down your spine. 

Your fingers tangled in his white hair and he began to kiss your neck and then your collarbone, biting and sucking on the places where his lips landed causing your body to react. 

His right hand pinched your nipple again and you pulled at his hair, feeling the arousal corrupt you. His tongue began to descend along the edge of your breasts until it reached your nipple, which was already swollen from the pinches that Satoru had not stopped giving it.

Your legs surrounded his hips at the same time his mouth sucked on your nipple, you were too excited, too hot. Your hips began to move instinctively, seeking friction with Satoru. You knew he probably was hard rock down there.

“F-uck…” Satoru trembled when you touched his boner.

“Sa-toru… please.” You said moving your hips again against his boner. 

You could feel his grip tighten and his shoulders tense with every movement you made begging him. The atmosphere had become fucking hot, your bodies were burning and you had begun to sweat, while your hot breaths had become disordered.

Satoru pulled away from you and began to pull down his sweatpants. “Get off and turn around.” Your skin crawled as you heard his husky voice and the authoritative tone he had used.

That turned you on even more. You got down off the island and got off your underwear, leaving you completely naked. You felt Satoru's hands on your hips, as his thumb gently traced circles on it. Even though the atmosphere was charged with lust and excitement, Satoru was still delicate and careful with his movements. 

You felt his breath hit your skin and instinctively arched your back and neck back against his bare torso. “You seem so needy?” He bit your shoulder and you pursed your lips. “Come on little bird, what do you want?” You hated that he hesitated like that, you hated it but at the same time you loved it.

“Sato-ru…” You heavily breathed. “I… need you.” 

He chuckled and his grip around your hips tightened. “That’s what you want? Huh? You want me inside of you?” 

You nodded. “Please ‘Toru…” You looked at him with crystallized eyes and you could see how the fire lit in his. 

“You're so fucking beautiful.” He said, smashing his lips against yours at the same time he entered you. 

The moan in your throat was drowned in the wet kiss you shared. One of Satoru's hands left your hip and began to move up your abdomen, burning every place his fingertips touched. His hand came up to your chin and he grabbed it, breaking the kiss.

“You are taking me so well princess.” He smirked and your nails dug into the island counter, feeling him move inside you.

“Ah…” You moaned as Satoru's hand landed on your neck and made you throw your head back.

Satoru was rough and his movements were strong and penetrating, each thrust he gave felt like it went deeper than the previous one, causing your eyes to rotate inside your skull.

His left hand surrounded your neck, while his right hand rested on your lower abdomen. His mouth laid on your ear as he moaned and said your name softly. You bit your lip feeling each thrust, you wanted to be able to turn around and dig your nails into his skin, but you had to settle for being that way.

In the place only your gasps could be heard, mixed with the clash of your naked skin. 

You could feel how Satoru had grown more confident than the first night you spent together. You enjoyed that night, you couldn't deny it, Satoru had made you reach orgasm and he had made you feel like a queen but you had felt that he wasn't letting go completely, that he was holding back on you. But at that moment? Oh no, at that moment he was making you feel everything.

“Fuck baby!” He said deep inside of you. “I need to see your pretty face.” 

You protested when it came out of you, you wanted more, you wanted everything. Satoru grabbed your hips and turned you around, so that you were both face to face. His face was agitated, his hair on his forehead and cheeks were crimson red. 

Without letting you breathe for long, he grabbed your legs and put them on his hips and then entered again. You stifled a scream and buried your nose in his neck, it was the first time you were doing it in that position.

“C’mon babe, let me see your face.” He said as he moved his hips.

You looked at with tears of pleasure running down your cheeks. “Oh Satoru!” You tightened your grip on his shoulders as he moved in and out of you. “Fuck…”

“That’s my girl, taking me so well, doing that beautiful face.” He said biting your bottom lip and then kissing you. 

He came out of you again and you felt how you moved around the room and then sat on the couch. 

“Baby, do you know what I want you to do?” You looked at him through your tears and nodded.

You took his member in your hand and gently lined it up with your entrance and then let yourself fall into it. Your entire body reacted, with that position you felt bigger and deeper. Satoru raised his hands and began to massage your breasts, pinching your nipples while you moved your hips seeking orgasm.

Satoru’s face was red and his eyes were so dark, full of desire and pleasure, and completely focus on your chest as you were riding him. You grabbed his face and kissed him, in a burning kiss thirsty for pleasure, accelerating your movements even more.

“Fuck babe.” He mumbled. “I’m gonna cum…” He squeezed his eyes shut.

You let out a moan, you had come all over him and your entire body was vibrating and leaving you without energy. Satoru pulled out of you and took off the condom masturbating a bit more, cuming on your abdomen.

Neither of you moved, your chests rose and fell and you rested your body on his, closing your eyes and resting.

“You were…” You began. “So rough.” 

“You didn’t like it?” He said, and you were able to hear a hint of concern in his voice.

You shook your head. “I love it. You were rough but gentle.” You looked at him.

He sighed with relief and smiled. “I'm glad, I thought you didn't enjoy it.” He kissed your lips. 

“We're all sweaty…” You whispered against his lips. 

“Yes, we should shower.” You nodded. “Round two?” He asked. 

“Were you not satisfied?” You asked. 

“Oh yes I was, but I will always need more of you.” 

You couldn't help but laugh when Satoru started kissing and making ribs all over your body, so much so that you felt your belly hurt from laughing so much. After that you both took a shower and yes, there was one more round and in the afternoon you spent watching movies and to your surprise, Satoru was more emotional than you had thought, since you couldn't help but cry after watching La La Land. 

When the sky began to turn orange and pink, Satoru took you back home. He had insisted that you stay the night but you had no clothes, only the dress from the party and the giant sweatpants and t-shirt that he wore. Satoru had lent you. So at the door of Kyoko's house you said goodbye with a tender kiss, wishing to see each other again the next day.

As soon as you stepped inside the house Kyoko appeared and rushed to you with a huge smile drawn on her face.

“Who was it?” She asked. “Did you enjoy the night? You looked like an absolute princess.” She smiled. 

You bit your lip, remembering the night, you couldn't keep hiding the fact that you had seen Naoya and you couldn't pretend like nothing had happened either. Kyoko quickly noticed your look of circumstance and the smile on her face disappeared.

“Something happened right?” You nodded. “Okay let’s talk about it.”

“Yeah…” 

Kyoko took the dress from your hand and you both headed to her room, where you sat face to face.

“Did something happen with Satoru's family?” She asked first.

You shook your head. “Not at all… I only met his grandparents but they were nice.” You told her. “No… the thing is that I… I met Naoya there.” 

Kyoko looked at you, as if she was holding her breath.The more she looked at you, the more nervous you became, you felt every inch of your being speed up and your breathing become more and more erratic. You knew what she would say and you knew how she would react when she found out you had met at the club.

“Oh…” She finally said. “Did he do something?! Did he try something?”

You sighed. “He was his usual disgusting self.” You looked at her. “And he said some mean things, but… doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. If it affected you it does matter.” She held your hands.

“Utahime was there and then I talked about everything with Satoru, so it’s alright.” You smiled trying to calm her down.

“You are sure?” She questioned.

“I’m sure…” You looked at her. “There is something else, I never told you this but… I also met him at the club that time.” 

Kyoko opened her mouth. “What?!” 

“Kyoko, relax please.” You tried to calm her down. 

“No, no, you are telling me that asshole appeared there and… wait was when you got hurt on your wrist?” You avoided her gaze. “Was him?!” You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

“Because you were going to get worried and it was pointless, besides you were having a good night I didn’t want to ruin that for you.” 

She sighed, obviously mad. “I don’t understand why you would do that. I’m your best friend, if you get hurt I will obviously get mad and want to kill someone, especially that someone.” 

“Well… sorry okay?” You whispered. “But… I just…”

“Stop, don’t say it was nothing or that I didn’t deserve to be worried because that’s something I decide.” She looked at you. “Next time, I don’t care what it is, I don’t care, you must tell me. Alright?” 

You felt your eyes getting teary and nodded. “Yeah… I will.” 

Kyoko hugged you and you let yourself be enveloped by her essence and warmth, closing your eyes on her chest. You stood there in silence for a while and then resumed your casual conversation. Before you knew it, your conversation had gone on for longer than expected and you knew that tomorrow you would wake up with dark circles under your eyes.

That week you spent it between Kyoko's house and Satoru's. Your boyfriend insisted on picking you up from work and that you stay the night with him. You didn’t mind, you actually liked spending time with him, the quality time both of you were creating was comforting. 

But spending more time with Satoru didn't stop you from spending time with your friends, and you also found time to be with Kyoko and now your extended group, which also included Shoko and Utahime.

You couldn't wait for the weekend you would spend with Satoru in Kamakura, and show him the place where you were raised.

Your only hope for one thing, that made your heart feel in your mouth.

Everything needed to be okay, you just wanted that.

notes: bit of nsfw content before the things that will happen in the future, hehehe

— comment if you want to be tagged

🏷️: @lavender-hvze , @crybabytoru , @sanriosatoru , @norvacaine , @sadmonke , @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic , @gojoful , @kitzusune , @sh0jun , @manyno , @ropickle , @anniegojo , @milk3evee , @crunchypotatoooooooooo , @catobsessedlady , @zoeyflower , @starlostwish , @tinydonkeysforlife , @mimisq11341 , @n1vi , @olanii1019 , @vtrulvamp , @yjuisu

[gigabyte-flare]

He Comes Alive (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: More hikers are going missing and now one of them has been found dead, seeming having been attacked by a strange animal. Meanwhile, Leon stops by your work, giving you an offer you can't refuse.

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, kidnapping, breeding kink, blood play/kink, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

You awake the next morning at around 7:00am, stretching your arms and yawning loudly before rubbing your eyes, the events of the previous night gone from your mind as you climb out of bed. You throw on your pajama pants before going downstairs, where you find both your parents now huddled in front of the TV.

“What’s going on?” you ask, standing in the threshold of the living room before stepping in to join your parents.

What you see, shocks you. It’s a breaking news report. Fish and Game had found one of the hikers, Alicia Walker, dead off of one of the Mt. Lafayette trails.

“They’re calling it an animal attack,” your father suddenly breaks the silence, “there were signs she had been attacked by some kind of animal like a bear or… a coydog. But… I’ve never heard of bears or coydogs attacking people around here.”

Your focus returns to the TV, where you watch the reporter at the Mt. Lafayette trailhead.

“Fish and Game is asking hikers to never hike alone, let friends and family know if they plan on hiking and where, as well as bring adequate protection to defend themselves against wildlife until they can find and euthanize the animal responsible for this attack. Fish and Game believes this same animal is responsible for the other missing hikers, the latest being 21 year old Nathaniel Dion of Oakvale who was last seen Monday--”

Your eyes widen at the name; you went to school with this guy. He wasn’t anyone you knew personally, but he was one of the more popular guys in your high school class. You recall he was a huge fitness junky. He was also Chief Bob’s only son; you could only begin to imagine how much this probably distressed him and his family. 

“Poor Bob and Nancy…” you hear your mother say before she abruptly walks into the kitchen, “I’m going to call them up and see if there’s anything we can do to help them, Mick.”

“Yeah, it’s the least we can do, maybe we should have them over for lunch. I’m sure they could use the company,” your father suggests before turning off the TV and joining your mother in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, you remain in the living room, staring at your reflection in the TV screen before you turn, going back upstairs to your bedroom to get dressed.

Later that day, Chief Bob and his wife Nancy do end up coming over for lunch. Your mother had made up sandwiches and fresh ice tea for everyone. Sitting at the dining table with them was unfortunately awkward, Chief Bob and Nancy were clearly distraught, understandably so. 

“He said he was doing the Lafayette, Lincoln and Liberty loop, which normally only takes him a day or two. When he didn’t come back Wednesday…” Nancy begins, wiping tears from her eyes.

“That’s when I reached out to Fish and Game to report him missing, they immediately organized a search party. That’s when they stumbled upon that other hiker, Alicia. They found her when they were looking for Nate.” Bob finished, clearing his throat as he attempted to regain his composure. 

“Is it true what they’re saying? That an animal is attacking hikers?” you interject before biting into your sandwich.

“That’s the weird part. I asked for a copy of her autopsy report. The poor girl’s throat was practically ripped out, her blood drained out of her body almost completely--”

“Bob, honey, we’re eating.” Nancy scolded.

Bob continues, paying Nancy no mind, “when I talked to the coroner that did her autopsy, he said the bite wound was unlike anything he’s ever seen. I don’t know of a single animal up here that would do that and… drain the blood out like that.”

“I can see why they’re keeping that hush-hush. We don’t need any crazy rumors that we’ve got vampires or some bull crap like that,” Mick replies with his mouth full of sandwich.

“Fish and Game is still looking for Nate, I’m praying to God he just got off trail and got himself lost. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him,” Nancy says with a sigh, resting her hands in her lap as she stares down at her untouched sandwich. 

Your mother reaches over, putting her hand over Nancy’s, giving them a pat, “I have faith that he’s out there. Mick and I and our daughter are here for both of you if there’s anything we can do to help.”

Nancy suddenly bursts into tears, sobbing at the dining room table loudly.

Your mother looks at you, “sweetheart, can you grab the box of tissues that is sitting on my nightstand for Nancy?”

You give your mother a quick nod as you stand up from the dining room table to head upstairs to the master bedroom. So many thoughts were racing through your head, mostly about how the hiker had died. Chief Bob was right; yeah there were bears and coydogs, but nothing would or could suck a person’s blood dry like that. Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you find the box of tissues on your mother’s nightstand, right where she said it was and brought it downstairs.

You sit back down at the table but you can’t help but zone out, thinking about Nate, lost in the forest.

That evening, you get yourself ready to go to work, heading into the garage of your family’s home to get into your bright yellow 1977 Chevrolet Chevette. It was kind of a beater, but it was reliable. Your dad had made sure it was running well prior to you flying back home. You turn the key, the engine roaring to life; you turn around in your seat and slowly back out of the garage to go to work.

You hear Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ come on the radio, you turn up the volume and sing along. After a few minutes, you arrive at the gas station, parking your car on the side of the building before heading inside.

“Hey Peggy!” you call out as you walk in, walking into the back office to drop off your purse and car keys before heading up to the register.

“Hey sweetie!” Peggy replies when you come back out to relieve her from her shift, “how was your day?”

“It was ok, we had lunch with Chief Bob and his wife. I’m sure you heard his son Nate’s missing in the mountains.”

Peggy shakes her head, “I did hear about that, poor kid. I really hope they find him safe and sound. They found one of the other hikers dead, right?”

“Yeah, supposedly attacked by some kind of animal.”

“God help us…” Peggy says under her breath as she walks out from behind the register to let you in.

“Have a good night Peggy!” you say to her, seeing her off as you take up your post.

A couple hours go by, you watch as the sun sets behind the mountains. It was a slow night, so you took that opportunity to mop the floors, zoning out the roar of a motorcycle pulling into the gas station. The sound of the door chime snaps you out of your daze. You look up to greet the customer.

“Hey there, how can I help-- oh! Leon!”

Your heart immediately starts racing again upon seeing Leon. He’s wearing a blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with a black vest on top and tight fitting black pants with black boots. The outfit makes him look otherworldly; simply stunning.

“Hey there, I was hoping you were working tonight,” Leon says, giving you a gentle smile.

“R-Really?” you reply as you haphazardly put your bucket and mop over in a corner, “how… can I be of assistance, Leon?”

“Well, as I’m sure you’ve heard, I bought that old house on the end of Hemlock Drive.”

“Yeah… Mr. Mason’s place, right? Oh… right… you wouldn’t know who that was…” you say, your voice trailing off. 

Leon lets out a playful chuckle before continuing, “well… I’m starting to realize I could use an extra pair of hands to help fix it up.”

“You want me to ask around to see if anyone can help?” you say, crossing your arms, shifting your weight on one foot.

“I was actually hoping I could hire you.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and your mouth hangs slightly agape as you process his words. The door chime going off again snaps you out of your shock.

“Hold that thought,” you gesture your finger at Leon as you walk behind the cash register to help the customer that walked in, a stranger passing through getting gas.

Leon stands behind the customer but off to the side, waiting for them to leave so that you two could continue your conversation. You send the customer off on their way after they pay for gas, drawing your attention back to Leon.

“So… what would I be helping you with? I don’t know much about… building stuff,” you explain, feeling your cheeks turn red.

“Oh no, nothing like that. I’d have you help with painting, cleaning, maybe nailing stuff down. Easy stuff, I promise. And I’d be paying you.”

“How much?”

Leon shrugs his shoulders, “I was thinking… $10 an hour? I’d have you do Monday through Friday from 7:00am to 3:00pm, give or take.”

$10?! you think to yourself. 

That is way over what you’re making here, which is minimum wage, “I’ll do it. I’d have to put my notice in here first.”

Leon smiles, “think you can start next Monday?”

“Absolutely!”

Leon leans forward against the counter, reaching across to give one of your shoulders a pat, “excellent! See you on Monday then.”

Leon gives you a subtle wink, turning to walk out of the gas station. You watch as he gets on his motorcycle, jumping a bit when it roars to life, your eyes remaining locked on him as he drives off. You can’t believe your luck.

Pulling up to his home at the end of Hemlock Drive, Leon parks his motorcycle out front, climbing off it before heading inside. Immediately upon entering the front door, he lets himself finally relax, taking off his vest before he works on unbuttoning his shirt. He walks into the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror as he pulls his shirt off, revealing his chiseled chest. 

Before long, dark veins begin to sprawl across his body as he rubs the knots out of the back of his neck with one of his hands, his eyes closed as he lets out a low groan. He slowly opens his eyes, his ocean blue eyes now a brilliant red; they appear to glow in the low light of the bathroom. He snarls his lips at his reflection, revealing his sharp canine teeth that have descended, licking the points with his tongue before he steps back, admiring his physique in the mirror. All the while, something deep and primal within him, at the very core of his being, begins to nag him once more, something that wouldn’t stop since he first laid eyes on the cute girl that works nights at the gas station.

Breed.

In fact, he had gotten himself so worked up that night he met her while filling his motorcycle’s gas tank that he had to go out and hunt. Smirking in the mirror, he turns, walking out of the bathroom, approaching a door in the rear of the house that was padlocked shut. He pulls his keys from his pocket, unlocking the padlock and setting it aside on a small table before opening the door. It leads to the basement, the smell of blood immediately hitting his senses, driving his hunger wild. He descends the stairs slowly, flipping on a light at the bottom that turns on a single set of fluorescent lights.

Under the light, there is a support beam that a young man is tied to, bloody, battered and his neck covered in several bite marks, with duct tape wrapped around his mouth and eyes. The young man immediately hears Leon approach, struggling as much as his weak body can against his restraints. Leon stalks over to the young man, grasping him by his chin and squeezing tightly, smirking down at him. Today he learned this imbecile is the Oakvale’s chief of police’s only son. Just his luck. It was because of this moron hiking alone that Fish and Game had found the remnants of one of his other meals looking for this idiot. He could feel his frustration boiling within him, causing him to suddenly twist the young man’s head, snapping his neck instantly.

“Whoops.”

He didn’t mean to snap the poor kid’s neck, he was hoping to enjoy him for a few more days, now he has to enjoy as much as he can before his blood starts to go stale. Opening his mouth, his fangs and mouth latch onto the dead young man’s neck, growling as he begins to feed upon him. He gets his fill, unlatching himself from the young man’s lifeless form with a gasp, breathing heavily as blood runs from his lips, dripping down his chin onto his bare chest. The young man’s body slumps forward as Leon steps back. He’s going to have to get rid of him before his cute angel starts her new “job” on Monday.

Thinking of her, his eyes flutter shut, his right hand smearing the blood that had dripped down across his chest, bringing his hand to his lips to lick off the blood. Before getting himself too worked up again, he turns around, leaving the basement, shutting off the light as he ascends back up the stairs. He goes back into the bathroom, turning on the shower. As he waits for the water to warm up, he looks at himself again in the mirror. His pupils dilate upon seeing the blood on his skin. Turning away from the mirror, he removes what’s left of his clothing and steps into the shower to clean himself up, watching as blood runs down his naked body, the blood swirling on the shower floor before going down the drain. 

His mind wanders back to his cute angel, to that night he watched her from the window while she played with herself, his own blood rushing straight to his cock. Grasping himself with his right hand, he begins to stroke himself aggressively, chasing his orgasm as he pictured his cute angel lying beneath him, her undoubtedly beautiful cunt squeezing around him. It doesn’t take long for him to climax, ropes of cum shooting out and covering his hand; some of it managed to land on the shower wall. He takes a moment to rinse his hand off as well as wipe the cum off the shower wall before turning the shower off. 

Stepping out of the shower, he grabs a towel off the rack, wrapping it around his waist as he steps out of the bathroom and heads into the master bedroom. He lays down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he continues to think about his cute angel, excited about seeing her on Monday. He thought his plan was ingenious; getting her closer to him under the guise of a job. He knew luring her wouldn’t be difficult, she practically eye fucked him every time they saw each other. Still, he had to offer her pay that he knew she couldn’t refuse. Then, he could take his time courting her and before she even knows it, she’ll be his.

His Mate.

“Absolutely not,” your father says to you sternly the next morning at the table at breakfast.

“What do you mean, absolutely not? I already took the job, Dad, I’m putting in my notice tonight. He’s paying me $10 an hour! I couldn’t say no to that!”

“And have you in that house, alone with some guy we don’t even really know? I don’t think so.”

“Dad come on, he’s really nice…”

“We have plenty of retired guys in town that he could have asked.”

“Mick,” your mother tries to interject.

“For all we know, he could be some psychopath or something--”

“MICK! THAT’S ENOUGH!” your mother finally shouts at him, startling both of you.

You look over at your mother who is glaring at your father; the look on her face could have set him on fire. Your mother was always soft spoken and kind. It took a lot to get her angry, and you’ve never seen her this angry.

“In case you forgot, Mick, she is an adult. Besides, not only is that good money, that would be a good experience for her, too. Yes, we don’t really know Leon, but from the handful of times I’ve spoken to him, he seems fine. He used to work for the government for Christ’s sake. You can’t get more trustworthy than that.”

Your father lets out a loud sigh, his attention back on you, “fine… but at the first sign of trouble, you get the hell out of there, understood?”

“Of course,” you reply with a nod, taking a bite out of your breakfast, “I didn’t know he used to work for the government.”

“Heard it from one of the guys at Moe’s,” your father replies, “he was some kind of special ops agent, or something. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Maybe he can figure out what’s happening to all these hikers,” your mother suddenly says, “they still haven’t found Nate.”

“Poor kid, I hope he’s alright,” your father shakes his head, finishing up his breakfast and getting up from the table, “I’ll be in the garage, I’m going to get that car finished up today even if it kills me.”

You watch your father walk out of the dining room, the unmistakable sound of the door being whipped open and slamming shut following him. You and your mother finish breakfast in silence until your mother finally speaks up.

“He just wants what’s best for you. But, he needs to understand that you are a big girl now,” she lets out a sigh before continuing, “when I was your age, my father wouldn’t let me think or do anything for myself. I’m not letting that happen to you.”

You give your mother a smile, “thanks, Mom.”

Before you know it, Monday rolls around and you’re up bright and early. You were the epitome of a bundle of nerves, getting yourself ready and prettied up to ensure that not only you get there on time, but that you were presentable. 

Might as well give him something nice to look at while working, right?

It’s about a ten minute drive to Mr. Mason’s-- Leon’s house, so you make sure you’re out the door by quarter of eight to give yourself plenty of time to get there. Getting in your Chevette, you back out of the driveway and make your way there. Hemlock Drive is just on the outskirts of town, the entryway actually not too far from the gas station you had been working at. At the very end, you see it, an old ranch style home with a farmer’s porch; you guess it was probably built in the 30s. How many times had you come down here with your school friends and knocked on that front door, only to bolt when Mr. Mason came rushing out, red faced and furious as he chased the kids away. You immediately spot Leon’s motorcycle parked in the front. Over on the side of the house you see another vehicle parked: a black Jeep Wrangler with its unmistakable square headlights.

You park your car, turning off the engine to pull your keys out of the ignition, throwing them into your purse before you climb out of your car. You look down at your watch; it’s five of eight, early like you had intended. You approach the house, climbing the small set of steps, your heart pounding in your chest. You stand in front of the door, raising your trembling hand and give it a few knocks. You can hear movement inside the house and before you have time to collect yourself, Leon opens the door and you almost gasp. He’s shirtless and you can’t help but admire his built form. You force your eyes up to his, his ocean blues looking back at you as he smiles at you. 

“Good morning, sweetheart! Ready to get to work?”

Part 3

[nerdraging4point0]

Said and Done (Noah Sebastian and Reader) Part One

Tropes and Tags: friends to lovers, third multiple POV, angst, 18+ content, voyerism, exhibitionism, public sex, public adjacent sex, oral: female recieving, oral: male recieving, infidelity, PinV.

Fanclub: @lma1986 @friedchildblaze @skulliecadaver-blog @rumoured-whispers @missduffsblog @ladyveronikawrites @tearfallpixie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mysticdoodlez @beaker1636 @amelia-acero @flowery-mess @sorrowsofsilence

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Notice(Please read): This story originally had a (y/n) insert. I find them annoying and therefore I adjusted to have it removed. The story is in third person with a female reader who uses she/her pronouns, looks, name, specific body type or ethnicity is not specifically mentioned-or at least I tried to stay as neutral as possible-once again, the story was edited to be more neutral but the original plot and tone is still there. Please enjoy!

She didn’t want to come at first, the night started at a different Halloween party and there had been no plan on hopping to others, but when Nick texted saying she should come by she found it hard to refuse. Music was blasting, drinks were flowing, and the energy in the house was electric as she walked through the open front door. Making it through the throng of people crowded in the living room, somehow Nick had spotted her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards the couch. Trying desperately to be heard over the music she leaned into him, asking where Noah was.

“I don’t know to be honest. He’s been all over the place.” The smell of the beer and weed on his breath was pretty pungent, it was safe to say he’d lost track of the birthday boy a long time ago.

“Here kitty, kitty.” Folio's beckoning finger and mocking tone only heightened her irritation. With a resigned sigh, she reluctantly approached the intoxicated bassist. The meager cat costume she had hastily thrown together was a last-ditch attempt- a hodgepodge of items scrounged up in a desperate bid for someone’s attention. Fuzzy ears and a matching tail from a novelty store were paired with a mini skirt, black nylons, and a tight-fitting top from her own closet, forming a rather pathetic excuse for a costume.

The rest of the band and crew, ever the observant bunch, had long ago labeled her as "Noah's girl" - a dismissive, possessive term that infuriated her, as the reality was she and Noah were nothing more than close friends, despite their delusions. With an exasperated eye roll, she gave Folio a firm backhand to the chest, eliciting only laughter from the oblivious musician as he returned his attention to his drink, completely oblivious to her growing frustration.

“I better go find him. I’ll catch you later, Nick. Folio, know your limits.” She sauntered off, determined to find the person she was searching for. She made her way through the crowded kitchen towards the back patio, stopping to exchange greetings with various friends and acquaintances of the band along the way. Weaving through the crowded partygoers, she scanned each room. The first place she tried was the guest room that the boys had effortlessly turned into one of their at home studios. Trying the door, she found it was firmly locked, and with a sinking feeling, she realized that Noah, the only one with the key, was nowhere to be seen. Undeterred, she knocked loudly, calling out his name, but the din of the party drowned out any response he may have given.

Deciding her best course of action, she turned and headed for the stairs, carefully picking her way past the giggling, intertwined couples sprawled across the steps. As she ascended, she had to dodge a sudden barrage of food items - chips, pretzels, even a stray slice of pizza - as a group of rowdy young men above her engaged in an impromptu game of catch. Shaking her head in bemusement, she reached the top landing and turned left, making her way down the dimly lit hallway towards Noah's room. Grasping the doorknob, she paused, Noah was a very private person, and she knew he didn't take kindly to others invading his personal space. Her mind bantered for a while about the pros and cons, the pros winning out without much of a fight. To her surprise, the door clicked and swung open.

She stood there in the doorway, eyes wide with a mix of shock and intrigue at the unexpected scene unfolding before her. There was Noah, pressed against the wall with his sweatpants pooled around his ankles, his shirt bunched up in one hand as a girl in a Princess Leia costume knelt in front of him, her head bobbing up and down rhythmically, his free hand holding the back of her head. The sight was simultaneously scandalous and strangely alluring - she had never seen Noah in such a compromising position before, and the forbidden nature of it all sent a thrill of excitement coursing through her.

Yet as she observed the interaction more closely, something seemed off. Noah's face was contorted in discomfort rather than pleasure, his nose wrinkling and his body twisting as if in pain rather than ecstasy. His eyes then landed on her, wide with panic.

"I came to say, Happy Birthday," she said, her voice dripping with feigned innocence as the girl whirled around to face her. “But I see you’re busy,” A mischievous smile played on her lips as Noah struggled to extricate himself from the situation, pushing the girl away with obvious desperation.

Deciding to take advantage of the moment, she slipped off her high heels, letting each one fall to the ground with a deliberate slowness.

"Don't mind me," she purred, turning to close the door behind her and locking it for good measure. "I'll just wait." With that, she sauntered over to the bed, settling herself down with an air of casual confidence. "But..." she added, her gaze burning into Noah's, "I think I will sit on the bed and make myself comfortable."

Noah's heart pounded as he watched her saunter across the room, her hips swaying seductively as she approached his bed. His mouth went dry with anticipation as she climbed onto the mattress, settling herself against the wall with a sultry, confident grace. The other girl, kneeling obediently at Noah's feet, glanced up at him uncertain, her shoulders rising and falling in a small shrug before she refocused her attention on the task at hand.

Noah tried to suppress a groan as the girl's lips parted, slowly enveloping him once more. Her technique was clumsy, lacking the practiced finesse that his girl on the bed possessed. She wasn’t really his, but it was the only way he liked to refer to her. As she sat on the bed with a small, satisfied smile, her eyes glinting with a knowing amusement. She had explored every inch of Noah's body, learned the map of his sensitive spots - where to linger, where to tease, how to draw out the most exquisite sensations. This novice could never hope to match her intimate familiarity.

As the young woman on her knees bobbed her head rhythmically back and forth, her movements in sync with Noah's thrusting hips, a growing tension started building within her own body. Watching his thick shaft disappear between the girl's eager lips, glistening with saliva, sent a jolt of electricity through her. She felt her thighs instinctively squeeze together, the delicious friction fueling her growing arousal. Glancing up, she met Noah's dark, intense gaze, his eyes unabashedly roaming over her curves. A wicked idea took hold, and she slowly brought her thumb up to her mouth, sensually slipping it past her parted lips. Hollowing out her cheeks, she mimicked the motions of the girl below, her gaze locked with Noah's as she suggestively sucked on her digit.

The action seemed to push Noah over the edge, a stuttered moan escaping his lips as he reached down, fisting a hand in the girl's hair. "Noah, don't be rude," she purred, popping her thumb from her mouth. "Let her finish giving you your birthday present." Despite the white-knuckle grip Noah had on the girl's hair, she continued, the lewd sounds of her gagging filling the air.

The scene was utterly captivating, and she couldn't resist raising her legs, bending at the knees as she slowly traced the soft skin of her inner thighs with featherlight touches. Noah's eyes were glued to her, drinking in every rise and fall of her chest, every subtle shift of her body. His hips began to move with more urgency, rutting sharply into the girl's mouth as his brow furrowed in concentration.

She knew he was close, and a satisfied smile spread across her lips as she watched him finally still, his head thrown back against the wall. She relished the sight of his come spilling from the corners of the girl's mouth. Noah's gaze remained locked with hers, his expression one of pure, unadulterated desire, and she knew that the night was far from over.

“You can leave now sweetie. Thank you.”

The poor girl full of shame and dissatisfaction hoisted herself up from her rug-burned knees and slipped out of the bedroom, leaving the pair behind.

still trying to catch his breath, Noah reached down pulling his pants back up, practically snarled the question, "What the fuck was that about?”

She turned to face him, a coy smile playing at the corners of her lips as she gestured to the costume she still wore. "She took the work for me. I wasn't going to get on my knees in this outfit," she explained, the fabric of her skirt rustling as she toyed with the hem, slowly drawing it up her thighs. His eyes roamed her figure hungrily, taking in every tantalizing curve.

Scoffing, he made his way over to the bed, hands braced on the mattress as he stared deep into her eyes. "So, you were coming up here to get on your knees for me?" he questioned, a hint of challenge in his tone.

Sitting up on the bed, she balanced her body on her hands and knees, her nose grazing his as she gazed intently into his eyes. "I was coming up here to wish you a Happy Birthday," she breathed, her warm, fruity breath caressing his skin. The subtle notes of berry and something smooth lingered in the air.

"Did it turn you on?" She couldn't help but smile, nodding her head slowly as she met his gaze, sensing the unspoken implication behind his words. He seemed almost offended by her reaction, dropping his gaze as he blew out a frustrated sigh.

"Gives me an idea of what you might do on tour, when I'm not around." The accusation hung in the air, his discomfort noticeable. "You know I don't do that when I'm on tour," he replied firmly, unwilling to back down. Undeterred, she crawled towards him on her knees, fingers walking purposefully up his arm as she spoke.

"Well, what if you did?" she purred, her breath tickling his skin. "What holds you back?" He didn't respond, just grunted and cleared his throat, helplessly avoiding her probing eyes. The unspoken question lingered - "Did she feel good?"

A wave of uncertainty and insecurity washed over her as she felt an odd, unsettling sensation creep up in her chest. A part of her desperately wanted to know the answer, to understand if there were truly other women out there who could make him feel so much more satisfied and fulfilled than she ever could. The mere thought of that possibility was enough to make her stomach twist in knots. She knew there were likely countless women who would be willing to do anything, to go to any lengths, just for the chance to be intimate with him in a way that she could not. It was a sobering realization that filled her with a mix of jealousy, self-doubt, and a deep longing to somehow be enough for him. Reaching out tentatively, she let her hand slide beneath the soft cotton of his shirt, her fingertips tracing the waistband of his sweatpants. Slipping beneath the band she let out a soft sigh.

To her relief, she could feel that he was already growing aroused, his length hardening under her touch as she began to stroke him slowly, her thumb grazing the tip and collecting the small bead of slick that had formed there. The sensation elicited a satisfied sigh from him, and she could feel him shifting on his feet, his head dropping forward as his brown locks fell in curtains over his face. Pumping him a little faster, she could feel his cock growing even more rigid under her skilled hands. "Noah," she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of insecurity, "did she feel good?"

“Fuck,” he panted “Not as good as you.” her hand pumping him faster, humming to herself, pride swelling in her chest at how good she could make him feel.

“Fuck, baby, please let me,” He stuttered, having trouble finding his words.

“What Noah? What is it, sweet boy? What do you need?”

His lips parted slightly, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet them in a gesture that was both sensual and nervous. “T-t-taste you.” his voice cracked as she stroked down his shaft, letting go slowly so he could catch his breath.

“You want to make me come now?” she teased, uncurling her legs, letting her thighs fall open to reveal the enticing sight of the dark purple lace underneath her skirt. He nodded, his expression hungry and eager, silently communicating his desperate desire. He dropped to his knees, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp at the temptation. Wrapping his long fingers around each ankle he pulled her to the edge of the bed. Leaning back on her hands, watching intently as he stared unabashedly, his eyes roaming hungrily over her exposed skin. With a small, coy smile, she scooted closer to the edge of the mattress, bringing herself within reach of his waiting mouth. Reaching out, she tenderly ran her fingers through his soft hair, eliciting a shiver from him as his eyes fluttered closed in blissful anticipation.

“You can either move them or take them off. I won’t do it for you.” The decision was his, but the outcome was inevitable as his hands disappeared beneath her skirt, his fingers hooking into the delicate fabric and slowly dragging it down, exposing her to his eager gaze.

She was glistening already, it was such a beautiful sight, he had to swallow the moan at the back of his throat. Lowering his head, his tongue dipped into her warm, slick folds, savoring the sweet, intoxicating taste of her. The sensation was electrifying, making him feel like the most powerful man alive as her body undulated beneath him. He worked his tongue tirelessly, drinking in her cries of pleasure and reveling in the way her hands tangled desperately in his hair, pulling him closer. The familiar ache of his own need grew ever more insistent, but for now, all that mattered was drawing out every last shudder from her.

As her thighs clenched around him, he clutched her flesh hungrily, determined to wring every last drop of her release. The thought of missing even a single taste was almost maddening, and he nearly growled in frustration as the evidence trickled down his chin. Still, the sound of his name on her trembling lips, the way she begged him to stop, only stoked the fire within him.

“Noah,” her cracking voice whined his name as she tugged at his hair “Noah, please, no more. I can’t. I can’t take it.”

With a primal hunger, he slowly crawled up her body, his eyes locked onto hers. She reached up and tenderly wiped a stray droplet from his chin, the intimate gesture fueling the growing desire between them. Unable to resist any longer, she leaned up and captured his lips in a searing kiss, her tongue sliding into his mouth. He sighed into her, savoring the taste.

Breaking the kiss briefly, he gazed down at her, his swollen lips barely leaving hers as he uttered the three words that he was sure were the right ones: "I want you." Her response, whispered against his lips, sent a jolt of electricity through him, fueling that base, carnal urge. "Take me, then."

Without hesitation, he lined himself up and pushed into her, a hiss of pleasure escaping her lips as she stretched around him. It had been far too long since they'd been together, but the way her body seemed to mold perfectly around him made it feel as though no time had passed at all. They lay there, motionless, as she adjusted to his size, her inner muscles fluttering around him in a silent plea for more.

Finally, she began to move her hips, urging him to take her. He started to thrust, slowly at first, savoring the delicious sensation of her velvety walls caressing him with each withdrawal and driving him deeper with each push. But his cautious, almost timid pace was beginning to frustrate her. She wanted - no, needed - more. Wrapping her legs firmly around his waist, she pushed against his chest, easily flipping their positions so that she now straddled him. There was a brief, awkward moment as they adjusted, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed, she wasted no time setting a punishing rhythm, determined to chase the release for both of them.

She had always adored his goofy, carefree spirit - the way he would effortlessly make her laugh and feel light-hearted, even in the midst of life's stresses. But as she observed him through the filtered lens of social media and interviews, she noticed a distinct change had come over him. The vibrant, playful young man she had once known now appeared somber and weighted down, his infectious joy seemingly dimmed. She couldn't help but wonder what had happened, what had caused this transformation from the endearingly silly partner she cherished to the sullen, serious individual portrayed in the public eye.

Yet, as their bodies intertwined with a familiar, sensual rhythm, she caught glimpses of the old Noah she'd fallen for - the one who moved with a carefree fluidity, whose touch sent electric sparks through her core. The awkwardness of their reunion quickly melted away as she surrendered to the overwhelming sensations, grinding her hips against his with a primal, unrestrained fervor. She craved the feeling of his hardness filling her, the way he hit that sweet spot inside that made her vision blur and her mind go deliciously hazy.

“Fuck. Does anyone else make you feel like this?” he groaned pushing his hips up to meet her own. Bringing her down on him harder with each thrust.

“N-n-no.” She was bouncing so hard on him the cat ears were slipping, when her head fell forward just enough and in his reach, he grabbed them tossing them away. Her head tipped back again as she leaned bracing herself on her ankles.

“Who makes you feel good?” Her mind was on fire with the absolute pleasure she was getting. He was like a new drug; he’d been good at fucking before but the confidence of his music and touring had made him extra powerful. She was on a high at this very moment and the crash was going to be one of epic proportions.

“You, Noah.”

The intensity of the moment had completely consumed him, causing him to momentarily lose his typical composure and self-control. Years of broken promises and emotional wounds inflicted by others had left him jaded and guarded, wary of letting anyone get too close. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even register them, “You’re mine. No one gets to make you feel this good but me.” He gripped her hips tighter, determined to draw out every last shudder, the wet, sticky evidence coating his skin. The sight of her writhing and moaning beneath him, her voice reduced to barely-there whimpers, threatened to shatter his tenuous hold on restraint.

Trembling with exhaustion, she persisted, driven by a desperate need to please him. Slumping forward, she balanced herself precariously on her hands, every muscle straining to maintain control.

“Tell me your good baby. I won’t stop till I know you’re good.” he groaned, eyes tightly shut as he bit down on his bottom lip. The shaking in her body was relentless. She was spent, her reserves depleted. A slight nod of her head and her voice reduced to a mere whisper was all he needed.

He continued to move his hips, pounding into her with unyielding force. The moans that escaped her lips were softer, barely audible, his name chanted like a mantra. Her body, overstimulated and overwhelmed, tightened around him once more, triggering another powerful orgasm. She pleaded with him, her voice barely a whimper, "Fuck Noah, Please." He felt her body clenching around him, the sensation pushing him to the brink of his own release. With a final, forceful thrust, he spilled into her, his back arching and his mouth agape in a silent scream.

Desperately trying to stop the relentless sensations, her body too sensitized to continue. Noah watched as she pulled herself off him, collapsing onto the bed beside him, her energy completely drained. Noah's heart was pounding as he sat on his bed, everything replaying in his mind-sounds, touch, smell, feelings, words-as if he was digitally filling it away like a computer. She curled up on his bed resting on his pillow, her hair now a tousled mess, the headband with her cat ears lost somewhere.

As if it were normal he straightened up to lay next to her, legs stretched out, his feet still tingling. He had been so caught up in the moment, the warmth of her body pressed against his, the soft caress of her skin. But then, just as quickly as it had begun, it had all come crashing down. He had reached down to pull his sweatpants back up, unsure of where things were going, when he felt her suddenly stiffen beside him. Grabbing the edge of the blanket, he had pulled it up to cover them both, enveloping them in a cozy cocoon. But the minute she was covered in the soft fabric, her eyes had snapped open, wide and glassy with terror. Before he could even process what was happening, she had shoved the blanket off and scrambled to put her underwear back on, her movements frantic and panicked.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion and concern, his heart racing in his chest. Had he somehow hurt her? Done something to scare her? The look of pure fear on her face had cut him deeply, making him question everything. Without a word, she had hurriedly gathered the rest of her clothes, leaving his room in a rush and closing the door sharply behind her. Noah sat there, dumbfounded, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Had he misread the situation completely? Was she okay? He reached for his phone, sending her a quick text to check on her, but her terse response - "I'm fine. Happy Birthday" - did little to ease his worry. The day that had started with such promise now felt tainted, the happiness he had anticipated quickly giving way to a sense of unease and uncertainty.

The following morning as Noah slowly stirred from his restless sleep, he instantly knew this was going to be one of those mornings where he felt like he had been hit by a truck. However, to his surprise, he didn't have the usual pounding headache or queasy stomach that typically accompanied a night of heavy drinking. Instead, he found himself feeling confused and unsettled, the events of the previous evening weighing heavily on his mind. Pulling himself up from the tangled sheets, he made his way through the disaster zone that was his house, stepping carefully over the scattered remnants of the party - crumpled paper cups, discarded paper plates, and half-empty pizza boxes that littered the floors. In the kitchen, he spotted an untouched slice of pizza sitting in one of the greasy cardboard containers and, despite its slightly stale and unappealing appearance, he couldn't resist the urge to take a bite. As the familiar flavors hit his tongue, he was momentarily transported back to simpler times, when a late-night snack was all he needed to satisfy his hunger and soothe his weary soul.

With pizza in hand, Noah retreated to the solace of his bedroom, plopping down on the edge of his bed and reaching for his phone. Scrolling through his messages, he paused to re-read the brief, cryptic text from her - "I'm fine. Happy Birthday." The words seemed to mock him, taunting him with the memory of her sudden departure and the confusion that had consumed him in the aftermath. His gaze then fell upon the small, cat-eared headband that lay discarded on the floor, a remnant of the Halloween costume she had worn earlier that evening. Picking it up, he couldn't help but smile, a glimmer of hope igniting within him as he snapped a quick photo and sent it to her, accompanied by a simple message: "You left something behind."

Perhaps, he thought, this could be the olive branch he needed to bridge the gap that had so suddenly and unexpectedly formed between them. Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to lure her back and give him another chance to make things right - to show her the depth of his desire, to have her on her knees before him, yielding to his every whim.

Noah's mind raced as he tried to pinpoint what could have possibly gone wrong the night before.

“Well don’t you look disappointed.” Nick’s raspy voice floated into the room from Noah’s open bedroom door, leaning against the frame, palm on his eyes rubbing the sleep away. He was in his pajamas’ hair pulled into a messy bun; the bun was lopsided suggesting he had just rolled out of bed-or couch. “I can see it from here.” Noah didn’t answer him, just tossed the cat ears over to his desk while his friend made his way into the room to take a seat on his bed.

“How was she last night?”

“Perfect. As always.” He tried not to sound as if the topic itself was bothering him. “She left her cat ears; I texted her seeing if she wanted to come get them.”

“Come being the main point in that sentence, right?” Noah’s eyes snapped up to his friend who had a cheeky grin and a raised eyebrow. It was no secret to the band that Noah had a thing with her on the side, Nick knew for sure-they’d had a couple threesomes a time or two. Folio wanted to get in on it once, but Noah refused. The idea made him cringe.

“What did you do?” Nick asked, sliding onto his side keeping himself propped up on his forearm.

“It’s obvious what we did.” Noah was sure his friend couldn’t be that thick in the head. What else would they have done, discuss the weather?

“Yeah, I know what you did. I also saw her run out of here like her costume was on fire.” Nick flopped onto his back hands placed on his chest. “She didn’t even say goodbye. So, again, I ask, what did you do?”

Noah wasn’t sure, they had sex, he covered her up, she left. Everything had seemed perfect - sex was electrifying and fulfilling as always, and afterward he had tenderly covered her with a soft blanket, fully intending to let her rest peacefully until morning. But when she took off without a word, a knot of worry had formed in the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t know.” He replied weakly.